It was sophomore year and I didn't think anything worth while would come from it but was I wrong.

Cynthia kept telling me that new crazy things happen every day but I and my stubborn self didn't want to hear any of it. And the one thing she kept telling me I decided to ignore.

Quaid Richards had a crush on me.

I would laugh and tell her she was crazy but she would immediately protest and claim she heard it from Rachel who heard it from her older brother who was best friends with Quaid's I guess it had to be true?

Not entirely.

He has never really spoken to me. Maybe, one time since the beginning of High school when he wanted to cheat off my Chemistry test. He did wind up passing the class because I let him cheat though. So maybe he felt like I owed him? But I wasn't going to go out with him when I didn't know him. And that is why he caught me completely off guard when he scooted into the seat beside me in Calculus. I'm a sophomore and taking calculus…it comes easy to me.

"Hey," His voice was deep and his smile bright. His hands fidgeted against the metal spiral of his notebook.

"Hey," I greeted back.

Quaid was how do you put this? Quaid was gorgeous. He had tan skin, dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes. A smile that could make you melt. He was on the football team, quarter back, I believe and the top of his class in most of them. Mostly the ones I wasn't in.

And then there's me.

Short at the whopping height of 5'2. And unruly curly hair that didn't know when not to frizz. My brown eyes were hidden behind a pair of bifocals. I wasn't even fully developed. Maybe B cup at most while every other girl had the whole shabam. I felt like a short skinny twig stuck in a world filled with large curvaceous pieces of fire wood. The ones that don't like you speaking to one of the most handsome men in our school so they give you the stink eye. Just like Wendy carter is doing right now.

"How are you today?" he asks again trying to start a conversation.

I smile at him the best I could. Mr. Greene was teaching us a new lesson today and I can't miss the notes but I answer anyways, "Great and you?"

He nods and smiles a light blush creeping across his perfect tan cheekbones.

"I'm doing well. Are you going to Homecoming next Friday?" He asks looking me dead in the eyes and I could've sworn I melt into a puddle right then and there.

Ah, Homecoming. Dresses. Dates. Drama. Food. Out all night. Sore feet. Why would I go when I could be home studying for my SAT's that following Saturday morning?

"I don't know. I don't usually go to those types of things, Quaid."

Now it was his turn to look confused. A dark eyebrow arched and his lips pursed as he asks, "Why not? What's stopping you?"

I shrug and quickly jot down the new formulas I missed. Me not paying attention is going to bite me in the butt later on.

"Well, Cynthia usually drags me along and I don't really have fun,"

"Do not like the dance?" He asks.

"Oh no it's not that," No I'm lying it is that, "I don't like going with her all the time." I can't believe I can lie this easily. My mother would not be proud.

"Don't get me wrong. I love Cynthia she's my best friend but she gets kind of crazy at dances," I say.

He chuckles and my heart beat quickens. His laugh is so airy and light.

"Well," he finishes writing down the formulas he missed also in neat blue ink, "would you like to go with somebody else?"

Somebody else? Cynthia always pays for my ticket since she's the friend with the job. But I have the car.

"Umm I don't know who else to go with." I tell him.

"Can I take you to the dance on Friday?" He blurts. He must've been dying to say that all day.

"You wan to take me to the dance?" I ask shocked.

He nods,"Yes. I did just ask you."

I swish his words around my in my head trying to get a taste of what might happen. Will it be nice and sweet or short and abrupt and filled with sour moments like all my other bad dates that I might add were all set up by Cynthia?

"Um, sure why not,"

His face lights up and I know by the shocked expression on Wendy Carters face and his huge smile of joy I chose the right thing to say.

But now I watch my pool of blood quickly etch its way to him. Almost as if it's reaching for him. And then it's soaking his already drenched white shirt and I know he isn't going to mind the stains. My breathing is shallow and quick. Blood spurting from my neck and my body shivers. My skin on my hands are paling to a dull gray and I know I'm only minutes away from death but the only thing I can think of is how Quaid's arm is still stretched over me. Protecting me from the shooters. They don't know I'm alive. My hand glides threw the sticky copper smelling, warm liquid to touch his shirt. I bought this for him last year for his eighteenth birthday and now it was stained and ruined. He loves this shirt. My fingers are shaking as they light brush against the cotton. I suck in a breath and let it out when my fingers latch on to his shirt and hold tight rolling the cool fabric against my fingertips.

I loved this shirt. He loved wearing this shirt. Now this white shirt was stained with both of our blood more so his than mine. I used the last of my strength to pull my body threw my own pool of blood to rest against his chest. I was expecting it to ride and fall against my forehead and to hear his heart beat like I was have been able to before. But I didn't hear or feel any of it this time. His stiff warm body that wasn't breathing anymore life into him. My breath hitched as I realized he was actually dead. The one an only in my life. The one who caressed me when I freaked over a thunder storm. The one who told me he loved me and said he always. The one who cheated on me. The one that I knew regretted it. The one who was trying to get me back. And now he won't ever have that chance.

I won't ever have that same happiness ad I had with him. Ever again. So as I held myself to his chest willing him to breath I waited for death.

Death is cruel and heartless/He should just claim me now. End my suffering. If I live through this the first thing I am doing is taking a sharp object of any sort and slitting my throat in one easy movement. No regret or turmoil. Yes, if death was going to take me he should do it now because I would be damned if I was going to commit suicide.