The red-haired girl continued to embarrass herself. Usually Emo, or skater at least, she was wearing teal pajamas and holding a teddy bear. She carried it throughout the school, to all her classes, and even showed her crush with pride.

How do I know?

That was me.

I was always known for wild antics. That was my first PJ Day in High School, I was in the ninth grade. I was fourteen. The school knew, by then, that I was known as many different things: clown, slut, and even being called a whore. None of that was true.

I was constantly filling a void, being sweet-talked by guys all around me, sometimes just minutes after my last break-up. I realized so many things after my boyfriend, whom I had known since the third grade, broke up with me.

Go slow.

Wait it out.

Don't go bouncing to the next.

And that was only the beginning. This time, I actually had someone who liked me, for me. He told me flat out he wouldn't go out with me at first because he didn't want a relationship, and also because it had been two days since the break-up. Even still, my heart was flying. I knew finally, after years, this was someone with a brain.

And a heart.

I tended to take things out of hand after that, though. I was falling in love slowly with someone online, knowing nothing good could come out of that. Knowing that nothing could happen, knowing that my heart was failing in the limelight, and knowing that I had so many good things right where I was. But still, I was loving him.

Him and then the one person near me. And another too far away. It hurt, emotionally, but I knew it could be a good thing in the long run.

Hopefully.

That's when I realized I was going crazy. It wasn't just seeing the Class President walking into fourth block with make-up on, or that the same person who told me to wait was my boyfriend, or that the person who said he had loved me so many times was in truth falling away from me, slowly. It was this insanity that brought me back to life in my tenth grade English class. I had been asleep on my desk, and there was a red mark on my face where my cheek had made contact with the cold, coated wood.

"Nice of you to join us, Miss Fetterson." My teacher's eyes addressed me more than his words. His words were futile to me, but his eyes made it seem as if I had commited a crime. He gestered to the clock, pointing out that I had slept the better part of 90-minutes away. In fact, there were about two minutes left.

"Sorry, Mr. Taylors," I whispered, putting my books into my bag. The guy next to me snickered, laughing at the way I just gave in to authority. I never would have last year. I changed way too much over the summer. Way too much.

When the bell rang I made it my priority to get out of the classroom. Nothing else mattered, just getting out of there. I was constantly worrying that something would go wrong this year. I was just constantly worrying in general. When I finally got through the crowded hallways to my third block class, I was being waited for.

By him.

I ran over to my boyfriend, of now over a year, and he wrapped his arms around me tightly. He ran his hands through my hair, which was now more of a light brown than the red it had been the yaer before, and kissed my cheek. He looked at me knowingly.

"You fell asleep in English again, didn't you?"