It was my first day at Peterson High School and I did not want to be there. I was halfway through my senior year of high school when my father decided to get a promotion. That's great and all, but did he really have to accept the offer and move his family to a different state? I wanted to smack him when I heard about it.

So here I was now, standing awkwardly by my homeroom teacher as he showed me my new locker and its combination. Deciding to test it, I quickly rolled to the numbers, 5 – 17 – 22. Ohh, they add together. Awesome.

I pulled on the handle and nothing happened. I sighed under my breath and tried the combination again. When I pulled on the handle and it still didn't work, I become frustrated and lifted the handle a little more forcefully than necessary. The stupid thing completely came off of the locker!

"You've got to be kidding me!"

"Holy shit, what are you?" It was a boy – a cute, nerdy boy. He was standing at the locker next to me, staring at me with laughing eyes.

"Well, I'm a little Irish, a lot German, a bit of Slovak, and a handful of Taiwanese. Oh, and I'm also like Superman…but better, as you can see." I said, with an obvious wink. Sarcasm was my defense mechanism. I can't help it. If I'm nervous, it just starts spouting out. A lot of people think I'm a jackass but I'm not. Really.


"Oh damn, you found me out. I'm not a super - "

"You aren't Asian." I just stared at him like he was an idiot. Which he was.

"I'm not Asian?"

"No, you're not." he replied resolutely, his shaggy hair swaying a little as he nodded once, as if to emphasize his point.

"Are you stupid?"

"Nope, but you're a liar."

"Alright," I replied, blowing strand of hair away from my face, "please enlighten me on why I would lie about being Asian."

"Well, for one, it would make you that much more interesting," I snorted at that. Right, that was my secret motivation, "and you think Asians are cool."

"First off, being Asian would not make me exciting. Being a kick-ass ninja would make me interesting. Being a modern-day pirate would make me fascinating. But, the one thing that would never make me interesting would be being a descendent of someone from a country in Asia. Second off, Asians are cool. I would know, since I am one, kinda."

"Prove it." I stared at him blankly. Again.

"Do you expect me to produce some official card that says I'm twenty-five percent Asian? Maybe you want me to show you a super-secret-only-Asians-know handshake?"

"Both of those would do nicely," he answered with a smirk. Asshole. The bell rang with some awful squawking sound which signified the end of homeroom.

"I'm leaving now." I told him as I shouldered my book bag and carefully closed the door and placed the handle where it should've been. Great, now I have a faux locker handle.

"You'll be back. They always are."

"You'll be annoying. You already are." I replied, pulling my long hair out from underneath the straps of my bag.


When the lunch bell rang, I made my way to the library. Peterson hadn't been too bad so far. I'd met a couple nice girls in my AP Literature class, but I didn't feel like suffering the embarrassment of sitting by myself in the cafeteria. Instead, I went to the library.

I grabbed Native Son and a granola bar out my bag and plopped down onto an atrociously orange couch. Even if it was butt-ugly, the thing was comfortable. I started flipping through the book when a shadow fell onto the pages. I looked up and saw it was Locker Boy. "I knew you'd be back for more. The ladies always are." Oh lord, he pronounced "ladies," lad-ehhs. I stared at him with a horrified look on my face before he said, "I was joking. You should have seen the look on your face though."

"Don't you have someone else to harass?"

"Nah, you're my favorite."

"Lucky me."

"Too right," He sat down next to me, "so, what's your name?"

"Isabella. Don't you dare call me Bella or Izzy. If you do, I'll do something very, very mean to you."

"Ha, what could you do to me? Look at these guns!" he cockily replied, shoving the sleeve of his polo up and showing me something akin to a twig.

"Are you even flexing right now?" I asked, eyeing him quizzically.

"Yeah, of course – can't you tell? Oh, my name is Lawrence, by the way. But you can call me 'Baby'"

"Uh-huh. So…now that you know my name and I know yours, are you going to leave now?"


"Didn't think so." For the rest of the lunch period he quizzed me on my entire life, while I continued to try to insult him and make him leave. Unfortunately for me, it didn't work. In fact, he stuck around for the rest of year. I came to like him, but I would never tell him that. I didn't want to boost his ego.


"So, Isabella…"

"So, Lawrence…"

"Tomorrow is prom…"

"Continue." I demanded.

"Would you give me the great pleasure of…" Oh please don't ask me to prom. Please don't. I do not want to go, "skipping prom with me."

"Why Lawrence! I'd thought you thought I was one of those girls. I am happily mistaken."

"And what type of girl is that?"

"The feminine one. Or the school-spirity one. I am happy to know that you know me better than that." Lawrence looked offended.

"I would never peg you as the feminine type!"

"Are you saying I'm not a girl? Are you saying I'm not pretty!?" I shrieked.

"No, no!! Isabella! You're gorgeous! You know that. I would never, ever – "

"I know, my dear Lawrence. Only joking."

"I knew that…" he replied, unconvincingly. I leaned in and whispered into his ear,

"By the way Lawrence, I have you whipped." I patted him on his head as I got up and told him to call me when he got home.


It was 5'o'clock when Lawrence came. Apparently, he didn't like doorbells. I was watching some news segment about a local high school having a crap-load of asbestos when he started pounding on the door. Loudly.

"LAWRENCE! STOP IT!" I screamed as I pulled myself off of the couch and started towards the door. As I opened the door, he fell onto me and knocked me to the floor. "Lawrence."


"Why were you leaning on the door?" I asked, staring into his eyes. I had butterflies in my stomach. Oh lord, I like Lawrence.

"To look snazzy."

"That's logical."

"I thought so," he agreed, pushing himself off the floor and onto his feet. He held out a hand to me and I grabbed it. "Come on! I want to play hangman!"

I watched him happily run into the living room and I all I could think was that I wanted to be near him again.


"What's the topic of the hangman?"


"…I don't think that can be a topic Lawrence."

"It is though! I'll make a question, and if you guess it correctly, you get to ask me any question. If you don't get it, you have to answer the question that I was spelling out for you. Got it? Good. I'm going first."

After five minutes of guessing, I lost at hangman and the board looked like this: _ I _ _ / _O_ / _O / O_ / A / DA__ / _I_H / ME?

"So, what's the question Lawrence?"

"Will you go on a date with me?" For the first time since I knew him, he didn't look cocky at all. In fact, he looked embarrassed and shy.



"Of course I will!" A wide grin erupted on his face and I smashed my lips to his. His confidence returned, he stated,

"Man, I'm awesome."

"Yes you are, Lawrence, yes you are."

I know there was a large lapse in time, but I only wanted it to be a one-shot. If I included everything I could have, it would have been way long. This was my first attempt at humor, so tell me how I did!