Chapter One: Wistful Dreams

The sound of children's laughter echoed throughout the park. A girl and a boy sat side-by-side on a swing set, eating ice cream. The children were complete opposites. The boy was dark, with brownish black hair and the darkest eyes to match. He had an olive complexion with a small scar by his left eye. He was slightly shorter than the girl, who often teased him about that fact. The girl on the other hand, had honey blonde hair with large cerulean eyes framed with thick lashes. Ellie was light while Donovan was dark. They were like night and day - competing to master the sky.

Donovan snuck behind Ellie, pushing her swing abruptly. Ellie jerked forward, her ice cream falling off its perch. Ellie's eyes welled up with tears and shone brightly as she turned around to give Donovan a glare. He blinked a few times and whispered, "I'm sorry," in an apologetic voice, immediately regretting his action at the sight of tears. Ellie sniffled and looked down at the ground, playing the guilt trip act to a "T."

Donovan looked around, distraught, and offered, "Would you like my cone?"

Ellie snapped her golden head up, fighting a smile and solemnly said, "Really? You'd do that?"

At Donovan's nod, Ellie jumped up and wrapped her arms around his neck exclaiming, "You're the best friend I could ever have!!"

Donovan wrinkled his nose and said, "Eww, get off me…" wiping his cheek on his shoulder where Ellie had slapped a wet kiss. Donovan sighed and handed his cone over to Ellie's expectant hand, staring at her grinning face. He said hesitantly, "We're still friends right...?"

I sat up with a gasp at my dream and dragged a hand down my tired face, thinking about that old memory. I hated it when I had that dream; it reminded me of what I lost. Or rather, what left me. I laid back in bed, allowing a small pity-party for me. "Snap out of it," I muttered to myself. I hated it when I pondered over that kind boy, who used to be my best friend. Times change. The alarm clock started its daily screaming and glanced to it, wanting nothing more but to throw that smug clock against a wall. I resisted though, knowing that the satisfying sound of it breaking would wake my stepfather, Steve the Asshole.

My father died in a car accident two years ago, and my mother didn't waste any in finding a new husband. That so happened to be Steve Billy, a mean drunk that had a temper with no limits. Damn brute. One of these days I swore I was just going to kill him. My mother and especially me had suffered from Steve's cruelness more than once. I had warned my mother before the wedding, but she didn't listen, brushing my concern off like a fly on her jacket.

I rolled out of bed, discontinuing my depressing thoughts. Nothing was going to make it better by thinking of it. I stepped into my petite bathroom, taking a five-minute shower. I twisted my hair into a towel and strolled to my small closet. My style was simple - not filled with trashy clothes to attract the boys. I laughed, what boys? I grabbed a plain, nicely fitting red T-shirt and tugged on the size three long jeans. I sometimes regretted not wearing "nice" clothes, but this was simple. It's not like they could afford it anyway. Thank you, Steve, for wasting our money, I thought viciously as I pulled my long, blonde hair into a messy bun. I didn't wear much make up besides the usual swipe of mascara and lip-gloss. It worked for me. I didn't have much time for that nonsense anyway with all cleaning that was to be done around this place. I laughed; I'm like a slave in my own house. I chuckled again, humming a tune along with it.

I turned to look at my alarm clock and saw it was annoyingly blinking: 6:30AM. Shit! I was going to be late for school! I practically flew out of my room thinking that I must have the world record for speed. I ran down the steps… and straight into a hard wall. I stood there for a second, dazed, as I stared at a white, stained T-shirt. Great. Steve's chest. That's just what I need, another distraction. I was considered short, being only 5'3, and Steve had to be at least 6'2. Steve growled at me and shoved my body against the unrelenting wall, ouch! my mind yelled. Steve was staring down into my face, "Watch it, stupid girl" I tried not to wince; it showed weakness and Steve hated weakness. I nodded and Steve rolled his eyes, walking away from me with that annoying strut of his. God, what an asshole. One of these days, I just wanted to hit him. But I knew that would probably end up me being on the floor, bloody. Still, I mentally added him to my off-the-record hit list. Why did my mother have to marry that beast? I rubbed the back of my bruised head and slipped out the front door, breathing a sigh of relief. I already sensed that today was going to be bad.

I jumped off the last step of the bus and hurried to the school entrance, knowing I was probably late. Another day of full-fledged fun. Woo-hoo. I glanced over and memories came rushing back as I noticed my old friend, Donovan. He had accelerated on the social status bar, while I was stuck in the same place. I always felt like a fool when I thought about it, knowing HE probably never thought of me. I mentally hit my forehead and walked past, my head lowered.

"Hey, baby!" I heard one of those bigheaded, arrogant jocks call out sarcastically to me from a group of jocks that included Donovan. A round of laughs passed through the group and I quickened my pace, shooting a look of full venom at the boy. He smirked at me and winked. God, how I hated jocks! My eyes unwillingly passed to Donovan, silently condemning him for not saying anything. I know we weren't friends and that he probably didn't even care for me AT ALL anymore but for old time sake's, couldn't he just have told that guy to shut up? But nothing happened. Donovan returned my stare and turned away, murmuring something that made his friends laugh.

That was a low blow. I turned around, realizing I hadn't been looking where I was going, but it was too late. For the second time already that day, I slammed into a hard chest and stumbled backwards. A fair-skinned hand shot out and grabbed me by the wrist roughly and pulled me forward, saving me from an embarrassing fall. I mentally kicked myself, way to be, Ellie. I looked up into bright green eyes peering down at me and flushed,

"Are you all right?" A soft voice reached my ears. I nodded, mumbling an apology. His eyes searched mine and then he relaxed, "Hey, aren't you in my math class?" I quickly searched my memory as I untangled my hand from his, feeling flustered. I was certainly not used to this attention. I took in his features: flaming red hair, straight nose, a soft and relaxed mouth and fair skin. Think, think, think!

"Uhh.." my mind was practically having a seizure, trying to remember. BAM! A sudden recognition hit my mind. Dylan McKade. He played in some of the sports around here, I didn't remember at the time, but I barely knew him. "Yeah, you are in my class." I finished off lamely.

"Awesome. I knew I recognized you, Goldie Locks." One of my eyebrows arched as I peered up at his green eyes. Goldie Locks? I subconsciously reached up and brushed back a strand of blonde hair.

"Yeah…I'm Ellie." I said. Awkward, awkward, awkward!

"I know. So where are you headed?" Dylan asked, falling back to be in step with me. This was definitely weird. I mean I never really talked to anyone with the occasional girl friend. I glanced over my shoulder and noticed Donovan watching us with an odd expression on his face. Huh. I wonder what was up with that. I mentally laughed, thinking, what, jock-boy, jealous? Psh. Like that would ever happen. We're probably never going to talk again. This was after all, senior year.

Dylan nudged me and I glanced up at him with annoyance, "What?" I hissed. He looked surprised at my outburst and responded with a light humor, "I asked you a question." Crap! That he did.

"Oh…uh… I'm going to English." I said quietly. Dylan brightened and said, "Well, I'm going in that direction so I'll walk you there." Okay. I was creeped out. I mean, I barely knew this kid and he's offering to walk me to class. Maybe I'm being paranoid, but it's not like I have a row of boys wanting to walk me to class.

I glanced suspiciously up at him but nodded, "If you wish." Dylan laughed and replied with good humor, "Oh I do."


Should we continue with the story? R&R,please!

Next chapter: Conicidences