Hey everyone, well, I am submitting my story in parts, sorry if they're a little long but I've been working on this for a while. I'll be fixing it up when I get reviews so keep checking back.

Rainy Days

It was a sunny, cool morning as Emily Watson stepped out of her limo. She looked around for a moment and, seeing her group, sauntered over to them. She had confidence, but if you could look inside her, you would see a scared and insecure little girl. She was a girl who had strong emotions, beliefs, and to top it all off, a strong will. It was the middle of the beginning of spring and puddles were reflecting colors that danced with the mirrored images of passers-by. The wind was playing casually with Emily's hair as her gentle face remained solemn and her eyes, pools of deep nothingness. She seemed to be in a trance as she chatted with her friends…like she would never again wake to see the light of day. Then, Emily felt a hand on her back and a swift breath on the nape of her neck. She turned to look into the cold black eyes of Brent James, one of the meanest guys in school. Brent wasn't going to tease Emily, no; he was actually interested in dating her. He was an idiot, any girl would say that but Emily or any of the people in the popular crowd, they needed hard proof. As Emily turned, she hadn't realized that she'd dropped her notebook.

Tristan hopped off his skateboard and walked casually towards the school. He was a strong-minded fool whose anger sometimes got the better of him. His shaggy hair blew into his face, blinding him and causing him to stumble towards one of the places he truly hated. The wind suddenly died down and he could see again. As he looked around he saw all of the typical clicks: the jocks, cheerleaders, nerds, skaters, preps, punk/emo kids, rich kids, and the popular kids. Then, he saw a girl talking to his least favorite person, so he decided to ruin the situation. Tristan was a fast thinker and he quickly observed that the girl had dropped one of her books, so he went to go and "help," but he didn't have time.

Brent continued to flirt with Emily as she blushed and played with her hair. A few minutes later, Brent was turning to leave and go bother someone else. Emily smiled and almost shouted goodbye, waving stupidly. She began to chatter excitedly with her group and then felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned bright pink thinking of how Brent would ask her out, imagining having a boyfriend. Though Emily was one of the most popular girls in school, she had never had a boyfriend; the boys had always gone for her more skanky friends. As Emily sucked in a quick breath and turned around, she let the breath out quickly in disappointment while her smile turned to a frown and her eyes became as cold as ice. Here, before her stood a shaggy-haired skater boy who wasn't worth her time. He clearly didn't have much money, for his jeans were badly torn and stained. The only thing he had of worth was her notebook. She snatched it away from him angrily and turned her nose up. She had no time for the likes of him. She rolled her eyes and quickly turned away to make snotty remarks to her little group.

Tristan smirked; she was just like the rest, a common snob. There was something about her though, when she was with other people, an unmistakable phoniness in her attitude that made her hateable, yet a gentleness that made her somewhat…the ear-shattering bell interrupted his thoughts. He ran to class so that he wouldn't be late, he didn't want detention on a Friday.

The last ten minutes of class were always the worst. Tristan hated school altogether, but the class he truly hated was Biology. Ms. Pierson droned on and on about something with the classification of living things but no one was paying attention to that. In fact, most of the guys were only interested in her legs or her sparkling green eyes. Tristan almost snorted at poor Nick Stephens in front of the class. He was practically drooling at Ms. Pierson, and when she asked him for the answer to one of her silly questions, he answered, "I'd love to, how does Saturday sound?" The class erupted with laughter. Nick's face turned a ghostly white as he slowly sank down in his chair. Ms. Pierson, clearly devastated, could only gape with surprise at her student's odd answer. She quickly turned and called on Tristan. He asked her to repeat the question and then, knowing the answer, gave the correct response. A smile lit up on Ms. Pierson's face and glares were shot at him from all the directions of the class. Tristan shrugged, he hated Ms. Pierson, hated her guts. She was just a young teacher trying to get attention from her students so she could brag about it. He'd seen it before, a teacher just showing some leg and gloating about it later when all the boys talked about her, making her seem like a favorite. She had cast a spell on the room, one that Tristan seemed to be immune to and would never fall under.

Emily sat, bored, in her Math class. None of the teachers ever called on her, she knew the material, so why bother? Emily sat with her clique, fixing make up, hair, and nails. The school was very lenient and didn't care about anything but sports. Some of the boys were gelling their hair and writing notes to the girls. Emily turned and saw Brent eyeing her, he winked and she flushed. As the girls were putting their junk away, the bell rang and the students ran for their lockers. There was no rush for Emily; her clique had rides home from all the older jocks.

Tristan jumped on his skateboard and raced to the skate park. Only the best skaters went there most of the time, so this was Tristan's chance to show his stuff. He went on the half-pipes, ramps, stairs, and rails and was about to go off a rail that stood by the pool. It was the hardest one to go off of in this mediocre park. He had already gone down the attached stairs and decided to go off it on a 360° spin. He climbed the stairs and set his board up right. He mounted it and took a deep breath.

Emily had been home for a while when she decided to go out. She wanted to go to the mall, but her mom had taken the limo so she walked. The mall was on the other side of town, and there was no sidewalk so if you wanted to get to the mall on foot, you had to go through the skate park. Emily walked slowly but surely through, having angry stares shot at her throughout her journey. As she neared the center of the skate park, she saw a serene pool. It sparkled in the sunlight and she couldn't help but go over to get a closer look. As she was walking, a swift but strong forced knocked her over and she tumbled into the pool headfirst. She let out a large cluster of bubbles underwater and her eyes opened wide. The water was crystal clear, a pleasant surprise. Just then, she was jerked upwards by a pair of strong arms. She opened her eyes and found she was staring in the face of the skater boy she had met earlier. He was soaking wet. He shook his head and his hair sprayed little water droplets everywhere. The boy's hair took on a floppy texture as it got in the way of his mischievous eyes. He began to laugh and Emily giggled. Her skirt stuck to her legs and her hair was a frizzy mess, yet she felt truly happy for once.

Before long, Emily's true smile came out. First, her eyes began to sparkle, then, she bit her lower lip and, finally, her brilliant teethshowed and her eyes squinted and glittered. Her laugh was next, it began subtly and gradually got louder and it reminded Tristan of a child's laugh, sweet and happy, yet gentle and calm. Another thing it reminded Tristan of was a bell ringing. Tristan didn't know it, but in fact, Emily did have a fake smile. Most didn't recognize it, though the difference was huge. Emily's fake smile didn't accentuate her eyes at all; she merely smirked, like she did with Brent. As Emily walked home to change, Tristan turned to his friend Joe who was giving him a concerned look. Joe later told him that Emily was probably just being nice because for all Joe knew, she was the biggest, most stuck-up snob in the whole school besides her best friend, Helen Cooper. Tristan, though he was listening, was thinking a completely different thing.

Emily returned home and was looking through her yearbook when the phone rang. It was Helen. She had called to ask Emily to a party she was having that Friday. Emily said yes and then Helen proceeded to tell her about something about her nails. Emily liked talking on the phone; you could multitask, make faces, and make up random excuses for not hearing what the person you were talking to had said. Emily flipped through her yearbook and focused on the boy's picture, "TRISTAN SAMUELS." Emily hadn't realized she'd said the name out loud and got a reply from the phone, "EWWW! What a LOSER!" Emily agreed, semi-listened to the rest of what Helen said, and hung up.

The party came faster than Emily had expected. She put on a jean skirt and a halter with a jean jacket. Then, she fixed her hair. She scrunched it and bedazzled it with clips and sparkly hair spray. Emily then realized that she had forgotten to put on tights. She let out a small growl and wrestled with the tights for what seemed like forever. She finally put on her shoes and doused herself with perfume before waltzing over to the mirror and asking it, "Do I look great or what," while striking a pose. A reply came from outside her door, "Or what is more like it." Emily whirled around and felt her face get red hot. It was her butler, Nicholas. "GET IN THE LIMO NOW," she screeched. He walked off laughing and she clenched her fists. She then looked around the room, grabbed her purse, and stomped out the door.

The phone rang and Tristan ran to it. It was Joe. He wanted to know if Tristan wanted to crash Helen Cooper's party. Tristan replied with an enthusiastic yes in less than a second. He slammed down the phone and got ready, he had to look nice, after all, this was going to be a classy party.

Emily danced for a while before she got tired, drank some punch, and sat down in a corner. She sighed deeply, this was a great party, but it would've been better if… she didn't know what to think, she was thinking about her week and about Tristan. "He's not here," said a voice from behind her. "Oh, I know he's not-" Emily quickly jerked around to see Tristan leaning against the wall and smirking at her. She smiled and stood up. Tristan asked her if she wanted to go take a ride. She nodded and out they went.

Emily climbed on the front of Tristan's bike and they sped off towards the park in the center of town. It was quiet, except for the pitter-patter of the rain that was beginning to fall. The rain smelled sweet and felt cool. Everything got foggy and Emily and Tristan found shelter under a huge willow tree. They sat there, talking and listening to the rain, then Tristan took her home.

Emily got home well before her curfew and was surprised to see her mother glaring at her. She figured it was probably because of Tristan, but she really didn't care. She got screamed at and grounded by the end of the night, and she was feeling very depressed so she went to her room. All she could hear was her slow, heavy breathing as she drifted off to sleep in her quiet room as thoughts of Tristan eased her troubled mind.

Tristan went home feeling very strange. He had never felt this way about anyone before, not even his ex girlfriend, Tina. He got out his CD player, popped in his favorite CD, and closed his eyes. After some time, someone knocked on his door. He barely heard it over his favorite guitar solo and had to pause his CD to make sure he wasn't hearing things. Tristan got up and stretched, then he lazily staggered to his door. "Laundry!" It was his mom. Tristan could never understand why she was always so happy. His family lived in a sad excuse for a house and had a low income, what was there to be happy about? After his mother left, Tristan took his clothes, shoved some of them into his drawers and threw the rest on the floor of his closet. His mother hated when he left things on his floor. He opened his window and climbed onto his roof with a lighter and some pot. No one ever went outside, so no one would ever know. He sat there, smoking, thinking about the day. He started to cough, that was normal. Then, he decided something, he was going to cut down on drugs, he should try something else. Besides, smoking pot was getting too risky, and he didn't want to get Joe in trouble. He had enough to last him a couple more months anyway. It would also save him some money…maybe to pay back Joe for what he owed him. He took another drag and blew the smoke out slowly, yes; it would work, if he could quit.

Over the next few days, Emily was becoming more curious about Tristan. She had found out much about him during their talk. She couldn't stop thinking about him, and it was getting in the way of her and Brent. Brent approached her, but it did no good, she insisted on telling him to go away. He didn't understand, every girl wanted him; there wasn't anyone he couldn't have…except for Emily. He decided he would leave her alone; she'd come around eventually.

Emily went home, rushed upstairs, and got dressed. Tonight was Brent's party; she had to look nice. This was the first party she'd been to in months. She had to maintain her social status; it wasn't like she could just look pretty. For her, being popular wasn't all it started out to be. At first, it was kind of fun, but after a while, it got old. She liked being elite, she liked the attention, but she didn't like the drama and the constant criticism. Emily felt like everyone was always watching her; it was like paranoia, but at school. Her only escape was sitting on her balcony outside her room, watching the clouds go by, taking in the crisp afternoon air, and letting the wind brush through her hair, as she would listen to the birds.

Months passed by and Tristan's addiction was slowing down, but not as he had planned. His supply continually diminished. He knew he needed to try something else. Tristan walked downstairs and rummaged through the kitchen cabinets. As he was pushing some paper dishes aside, he saw an old looking bottle of what appeared to be scotch. He figured his parents wouldn't miss it too much, so he took it up to his room and started pouring. It went slowly at first, then, it became more enjoyable. The sweet scotch stung his sore throat, but it made him feel so much better. After about two hours of his pleasure, he passed out on his bedroom floor. Tristan woke up and saw that he had almost emptied the bottle. He hid it in his video cabinet and cleaned up the cups on his floor. His head hurt, he felt dizzy, he had never really had that much to drink. Sure, he'd had a few shots once in a while at Joe's, but he had never full out drank until he passed out. His breath smelled terrible and he went to wash his mouth out. The water felt cool and refreshing on his tongue. Tristan hadn't realized how thirsty he was. He looked in the mirror; the circles under his eyes from smoking the pot were clearing. Tristan hadn't smoked in about a week and it was beginning to show. He wasn't as tired as usual, the circles under his eyes were fading, and he was becoming less irritable. Tristan looked at his clock, it was 8:30. He pulled off his shirt and slipped on some flannel pajama pants. Then, he lay down on his bed and the dizziness returned. He could tell it would take a while to get used to this.

Emily was becoming somewhat distant from her clique. They all didn't really notice, she was one of so many, it was hard to keep track. Helen had filled Tina, Tristan's ex, in on everything that had gone on between the two, which was really nothing but caused Tina enough frustration. Tina still wanted Tristan back. He had broken up with her because after a while, she'd gotten kind of annoying. Emily had recently gotten word that Tina Herrin was out to get her. She didn't know why; she hadn't done anything to her. One night, as Emily was looking through her gossip books, she found something about Tristan and Tina. Apparently, they had gone out about a year ago, Emily hadn't remembered that. A thought sprang into her mind; maybe that's why Tina is mad at me. Emily cleaned off her bed and took out all of her gossip books from the previous school year. These books held every tidbit of information one might want to know about anything that happened in the year they were written. It wasn't necessarily all bad stuff; it was kind of like a school journal, except most of the school didn't know about it. This was the popular crowd's way of keeping tabs on people and deciding who fit in and who didn't. It was all a game, and Emily was very good at it. There was nothing bad about her in the book, or any book for that matter. She was so elusive that no one could catch her doing something that would be deemed bad for her image. Helen was the one who wrote the books, she always had the dirt on everyone. Emily flipped through and saw Brent's name about twenty times next to about thirty girls' names. Her face became twisted in disgust every time she saw his name next to another girl's and what had happened between them. Most of it was stuff that Emily didn't even want to read, but something kept her glued to that book. She saw why on the next page. Brent had the highest, "sleep number," as they all called it. Emily slammed the book closed and threw it on the ground. She almost went out with him. She couldn't believe it! How could she forget all of what had happened last year? It was all coming back to her now; all of the drama, all of the tears, all of the laughs, and, of course, the constant climb to the top of the popularity ladder. She shook it all from her mind. It was too much for her to bear. She wanted to think of good things, but she couldn't, she'd ruined it. Now she pulled out her iPod and scrolled to Nine Days. The backlight blinded her as Story of a Girl instantly flooded her ears and mind. She felt relaxed, but she didn't know why. It was the only song she had from that band, she had been too lazy to find any others at the time. Her foot twitched to the beat and she tapped her hand nonchalantly on her bed. She sat upright, but it felt as though she was in a deep sleep. Her eyes were slightly closed and her breathing was slowing. She fell back. Normally, this would've scared her, but she was so stressed, she needed to fall back on something. Her bed just happened to be there. Her pillow made a soft thud and she rolled over. The earpiece on her left side was jabbing deeper into her ear from the pressure of her head on the pillow, but she didn't care. The music was good, and after it was over, she pulled the earphones out, wrapped them around the iPod, and set it on her nightstand. She looked up at her ceiling. The plain whiteness bored her. She rolled over and looked at her wall. There was picture of her and Helen. Upon closing her eyes she studied the picture. Helen was sticking out her tongue and hugging Emily. Emily was staring off in another direction. It was odd to Emily how she was interested in something else when what she should've been looking at was right in front of her face. She did that a lot. Her eyes closed slowly and she yawned. As her mouth closed, she felt how dry it was. Since she didn't feel like getting water, she licked her lips a few times, took a deep breath, and waited for sleep to take her off on one of its wild and unpredictable journeys. In less than fifteen minutes, she'd gotten her wish.