Chapter One: My name is Jonas

Let's cut the crap here. I'm not here because I want to be. I've been forced to write this – my life's story – as an extra cred assignment for English. Mr. Ludan? I'm sorry, but since when you forced me to do this shit and you said I could be as 'blunt' as I wanted, don't expect any high brow literature. I'm going to be so honest, Mr Ludan, that you're going to regret that you ever asked me to write about my life.

I find it odd how people say that they have 'stories' to tell, when they don't really. What they have are scenes, or short moments that are vaguely humorous. Stories have a narrative structure, there's a beginning, a middle and an end. In real life there is no structure. I guess, the closest thing I have to a 'story' in my life began last summer. It hasn't ended yet, but that's another story, if you'll pardon the pun.

Anyway, people tend to want boring details when they read these sorts of accounts. So here's what you need to know. My name is Jonas Lee and yes, before you ask, I hate my bloody name. You know what else I hate? The band Weezer and the fact that they did a shitty song using my name. People sing it to me in the corridors of my school, for god's sake. It makes me want to punch them.

Oh and I know what else you're wondering: How does he look? I would like, very much, to tell everyone who will ever read this piece of shit that I am the hottest thing to walk the earth's surface. That I am God's gift to women and that Edward Cullen – that vampire dude girls seem to love – is nothing next to me, but that isn't true. It just isn't.

I'm tall, but I'm also lanky, so it doesn't really make me attractive. My hair is brown, my eyes are brown and my skin has been tanned brown. My lips are nicely shaped and so is my nose. All in all, I like the way I look, but there's no bloody way that I could become a Bonds underwear model or something. Can get a good looking girl to like me though and that's all I need.

Ok, back to my story. It began last summer. It was scorching hot and I was dividing most of my time between the beach, the air-conditioned mall and my cool bedroom. There was one day, however, in my lazy summer which was not quite as idyllic as the rest. I had been assigned work by none other than Mr. Ludan (you're really nice? You know that sir?) and I had to do it. So I went to the library.

On my way there I grumbled under my breath and scared an old lady at a bus-stop shitless. I felt really guilty about that later, though. But still. It was kind of satisfying at the time. I also tripped up a kid on a skate-board – I'm a bit of a walking disaster zone. If you want to keep your good health avoid me. Like the plague.

So, I finally get to the library, fully expecting to be bored out of my mind. And I am. There is nothing good about the Sandford Bay library. It's four shelves in a rectangular room with a minimal number of books and nothing much else. Worse than its general boringness is the fact that it has absolutely no air-conditioning. It's ridiculous.

My hair was stuck to my face in a matter of minutes and the hands that clutched the books I was using to do my assignments were slicked in sweat. It's disgusting, I know, but like I said before, I'm no goddamn Edward Cullen. So, I kept on doing my work and trying to get it out of the way. Eventually though, I just gave up because it got so annoying. "Fuck!" I said when I reached the peak of my frustration and it earned me a dirty glare from the librarian. I smiled right back at her, but then someone else giggled at me, just quietly.

Curiosity's a funny thing. If some girl had giggled at me on the beach, I would never have looked at her twice. Too many people giggle at me when I'm on the beach, because there are so many people there. But since this happened in a library – well, I was interested to know who my co-sufferer was in the too-hot room.

So, I got up from where I was sitting and walked around the shelves real casually so I could see the girl (she was definitely a girl, since she giggled). When I saw her, it was all I could do to not whistle loudly. I mean, I know it's wrong to stereotype, but I'd expected the sort of girl who could be found in a too-hot library on a day like this to be kinda nerdy looking. You know, with glasses and all that. The real deal. But this girl wasn't that at all.

She was real pretty. One of those strange beauties who isn't quite here or there. She wasn't classic good looking but she wasn't the height of modernity either. She was real pretty, though – I think I've already mentioned that, but it can't hurt to say it again – and so I stood next to her, trying to be subtle and pull out books so I could sneak peeks at her subtly.

There I was, standing in a library with my clothes stuck to my body and perspiration literally slipping off my hands and I had decided to try pull books off the shelf while not paying attention. So, while I was busy noticing how nice the shape of her nose was, I knocked over about five books on the shelf.

I blushed beet red and then even redder, since I was embarrassed about the fact that I was embarrassed. I swear, embarrassment's a vicious cycle like that. Anyway, she just stood there and laughed like anything at me and then picked up the books and stuck them back on the shelf.

Unfortunately, she brushed past my sweaty hand while she was taking the books away and she said, "Ew."

And that was how I met Samantha. She brushed her hand against my sweaty one in a library and told me that I was 'Ew'. It was the beginning of my story. Which still has no end.