CHAPTER ONE

All my problems started on that stupid day in March (the fourteenth, to be precise) that I decided to pick up the ringing payphone outside the school library.

Really, shouldn't they teach kids not to pick up random payphones that ring after school hours?

I mean, apart from helping prevent the biggest mistake I made in my life, it would probably be more productive that what we usually learn. That being safe sex and how to properly put on a condom whilst using a banana as a substitute for the male reproductive organs.

Pshah. As if half the school (which is highly populated by nerd-turds, as my friend Jasper creatively named them) ever had any shot at getting laid.

Anyways, I curse the curriculum for not having at least one lesson a year on this kind of prevention. Seriously, back in middle school we had police officers come in, like, twice each year to teach us about drugs, bullying, and safe Internet use. Don't you think somewhere in that conversation they should have included safe payphone use; the do's and don'ts of public communication devices?

Maybe I shouldn't even be blaming the school; maybe your parents are supposed to teach you that stuff. Well, in my case, the question is, what parents?

Unless parents count as a father who's only there half the time and usually ends up falling asleep on the couch the minute he gets home. And your only other family being a brother who practically lives in the basement, except for those few hours each day he spends at college.

So because my family is dysfunctional, and the school board has a bad curriculum, I was never educated to not pick up randomly ringing pay phones after school hours in empty, big hallways.

Ahem...let me go back to the day in question, and maybe you'll understand exactly what I was talking about.

Fourth period had been boring, as usual. We have an extremely stupid Math teacher who speaks in an annoying yet slightly cool British accent. His name is Mr. Grey, and he has a freakish passion for square roots and exponents. He's the only person I know who enjoys solving extra-complicated equations in his spare time.

Anyways, Mr. Grey always succeeds in boring us to near-death in the first fifteen minutes of his lecture. Most people start passing notes or finishing homework for some other subject.

I was doing the former with my best friend, Athea LaRussey.

You should never judge Athea by her name. I mean, it's not her fault her parents were most likely on crack/had high levels of alcohol in their bloodstream at the time of her birth.

Athea is a very cool person. Her nose is pierced, which is actually a funny story. I'm not going to bother explaining it to you, however, because most people consider it dumb and it involves us doing a good three or so illegal things.

Her hair has one purple streak, and one blue streak. She usually wears dark colors, but that's because her little brother dropped his pen in the washing machine and the ink spilled out and turned everything a mix of dark blue and black.

During Math, we were mainly scribbling pointless things: after school plans, what we wanted for our birthday, stuff like that. Mr. Grey was totally oblivious to the fact that everyone else would rather watch a snail crawl across a four metre plank than listen to his lectures.

Athea threw the paper to me, and I caught it expertly. I brought it down under my desk and opened it.

Don't you think Mr. Grey looks like a gorilla? it said, in her scrawly handwriting.

I looked up at him, and snorted. It was true. He held his hands at his side and stood in a very gorilla pose. His nostrils flared occasionally when he talked, turning three times normal human size, and his ears looked floppy and large. His whole head was covered in a somewhat mullet-y hairdo. I giggled as I noticed this.

You're right, I wrote back. He does look like a gorilla.

I threw it back to her, and got my response in less than a minute.

A British one, it said. One that likes eating fish and chips.

I quickly wrote back, He could so play the part of that snowboarding one in those movies.

She laughed lightly. If only his butt was smaller, it said when I caught it.

I laughed again.

Unfortunately, it only seems to be growing, I responded.

When Athea caught it and read it, she cracked up. And not silently, but loudly. She caught the attention of everyone - including Mr. Grey.

"Ms LaRussey, what seems to be so funny?" he asked, walking towards her.

She quickly sneaked the paper underneath her desk, but unfortunately, she wasn't fast enough.

Mr. Grey wagged his finger at her.

"No, no," he said. "Passing notes? Why don't we share it with the entire class?"

Athea shook her head. "I don't think you want to - "

He cut her off by grabbing the paper, reading the first line his eyes fell upon.

"'Don't you think Mr. Grey looks like a gorilla?'" he read. The class cracked up, and his face reddened.

"Who wrote this?" he demanded. "This is absolutely disrespect for staff."

"But it's funny," spoke out Alvin Tennsae, from the back of the classroom. "Continue, please, we'd like to hear more."

Mr. Grey shot him a look, then silently read the rest of the page. With every sentence, he seemed to grow angrier.

"Ms LaRussey, who wrote this with you?" he demanded, slamming his fist down onto her desk.

I decided to take the honest approach, raising my hand lightly. He turned to me, smoke practically coming out of his ears. I instantly regretted my actions.

"DETENTION! BOTH OF YOU! AFTER SCHOOL!" he screamed angrily as I flinched. The rest of the class was thoroughly amused, I could tell.

And so, I dragged my butt back to his class after last period ended, watching the lucky students walk out of the school and home, feeling sad.

Once three more students - including Athea - had gathered, Mr. Grey spoke.

"Each of you are here for detention," he said. "I want you to put your heads on your desks and do not talk, look up, or even cough, or the consequences will be severe."

We did as he asked, and he sat at his desk, scribbling on some sheets of paper. I presumed he was marking his evil, unexpected pop quizzes that he liked to conjure out of nowhere on random occasions.

I managed to catch up on some sleep, fortunately, but just as I was in the middle of my dream, his voice broke into my head again.

"Alright, I expect each of you to be back here everyday next week, or else I'll be contacting your parents," he said, dismissing us.

As I walked out, I talked with Athea.

"Everyday?" she asked incredulously. I groaned in agreement.

"It's not fair," she continued. "Now I'm going to miss art classes." She started throwing curse words at an imaginary Mr. Grey. I listened to her rant, amused.

We were walking past the library. Athea stopped dead in her tracks.

"Wait right here," she said, taking a book out of her bag. "I have to return this to the library; it's overdue."

I sighed impatiently as she rushed in. Slinging my bag down to the floor, I leaned against the cool, hard brick wall.

And then it rang.

Briiiingggg! Briiiingggg! Briiiingggg!

I looked over at the cause of commotion, confused. Was it even possible for someone to call a payphone?

It continued ringing. I was hoping it would just stop. I wouldn't have to deal with any complicated situations, and that was the way I wanted it.

Unfortunately, it wouldn't stop. I cursed under my breath. I couldn't just let it ring, because someone would notice. Someone would have to pick it up.

I sucked my breath in. Just do it, I told myself.

Taking another deep breath, I walked over and picked it up.

"Hello?"

In that instant, I cursed myself. What if the person on the other end was a rapist? A serial killer? Some escaped lunatic convict who enjoyed torturing sixteen-year-old girls?

This was by far the stupidest thing I've done, I told myself.

I was an idiot. Totally, completely, one hundred percent. I was just about ready to hang up and run like hell when a voice responded.

"Hi."

I was sure of three things. First, it was definitely male. Second, it was the most beautiful voice I'd ever heard in my entire life. Third, I'd officially just made the biggest mistake of my life.

But it was probably the best also. This voice - it was like heaven. Like an angel was singing. It was better than chocolate. It was thick. There was an accent - British? I couldn't tell - that sounded like it had taken several centuries to perfect. A voice that chilled me to the bone, made me shiver, made my head pound, made my heart speed up, made me want to just jump up and kiss this person.

With one word, he'd changed my world.

With one word, I was certain of it: this stranger was perfect. I knew he had to be. This voice had to belong to some insanely handsome, smart, nice, kind, caring, funny person. Someone who was beyond average. Someone who wasn't human, who couldn't be who never would be.

Just with one word, he'd convinced me he was better, a million times better, than all the hot, smart, nice, funny guys in the world.

I choked a bit, clearing my throat. For a long moment, I was speechless.

"Are we having a silent conversation?" he asked lightly. My heart sped up again.

"N-no," I managed to get out, before taking a very deep breath.

Pause.

"Okay," he said, and I closed my eyes, trying to relax and breathe. His voice was so soothing, so wonderfully beautiful I couldn't get my mind off of it.

"Who are you?" I asked him, amazed I could get the words out.

"I like to think of myself as...Helper," he finally decided. "Who are you?"

"I'm Wendy," I said slowly, making sure I wasn't revealing too much about myself. "People call me Wen."

"Alright, Wen," he said, and I adored the way my name rolled off his tongue.

"How did you call this number?" I asked him curiously.

"Wrong number," he admitted sheepishly. "I was trying to get someone else. But I guess you're an okay alternative."

Oh God! This beautiful voice said I was an "okay alternative"! He didn't think I was horrible, or a freak!

"Is this your home number?" he asked curiously.

"Um, no," I said, thinking fast. How could I turn this around so I didn't sound like a weirdo who went around answering random payphones? "Actually, this is a payphone. I picked it up because it wouldn't stop ringing and it was...annoying."

"Smart, Wen," he said, and my heart picked up speed again. What was wrong with me!?

I noticed Athea out of the corner of my eye, at the checkout desk.

"Listen, I have to go," I said quickly. "This was nice and all, but..."

"Wait!" he said, desperate. "When can I call you again?"

I smiled faintly. He wanted to call me! I felt nervous but excited. This lovely voice was showing interest in me, something no other guy had ever done before!

"I'm sorry...I can't," I apologized, feeling crummy. I really really wanted to talk to him. To get to know him.

"Please," he said. "Look, here's my number. Just type 2575 and you'll get me."

I wrote in on my hand.

"Bye...Helper," I said awkwardly.

"Bye Wen." The line went dead, and I managed to pace my breathing. At that moment, Athea came out of the library.

"Who were you talking to?" she asked me curiously, a new stack of books in her hand.

"No one. I was just calling my dad to check if he's home yet," I lied. I had a feeling I said it way too fast, because her eyebrows slowly crawled up her face, as though she didn't quite believe me. Fortunately, she decided not to press the matter.

"So, what books did you get?" I asked, casually changing the topic.

She went into a long explanation of some history project she had to finsih, although I was only half-listening. I couldn't get the voice out of my head. It was chilling, beautiful, memorable. I could still remember the way he said my name.

Wen.

I'd always hated it, but he made it sound so beautiful, almost like a song.

Athea noticed I wasn't completely there.

"Wen? Hello?" she said, waving her hand in front of my eyes.

"I'm listening," I said distractedly.

The whole way home, I thought about the voice.

AN: There you go, the first chapter. If you read it, please tell me whether or not it's good, and if you like the idea of the story. I'd really appreciate if people reviewed because it motivates me to write. As well, it helps me improve my writing, when people tell my what I should change/fix.

I'm really looking forward to writing this story, because it's a little weird (okay, alot). This chapter is shorter since it's like an intro, but the next ones will be longer. I've got a plot in mind, and I really want to develop the story. It's my most original one (at least I think so). So review and tell me what you think of it.

Thanks!!