Okay guys so this is the first chapter of the story told through the eyes of one of the main characters. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Enjoy!


I've heard stories about people who have written books about the simplest things and made millions off of it. How they started out as regular people who spent eight hours of their day, five days a week, in school or at their part time jobs, and then went home and wrote about it. How they would burst in through the front door of their house or apartment, brush a quick kiss on their mother's or girlfriend's cheek, and settle down in that large leather chair in front of their computer screen and just type away.

And that was kind of what happened to me.

Only instead of sitting on a plush leather coach across from Oprah Winfrey or Ellen DeGeneres talking about what a crazy roller coaster my life had become because of my new-found fame or sitting in my seat on a plane destined to take me to L.A. for the biggest book signing of the century, I was stuck spending six hours a day on Saturdays at the library. I know what most people think: what a boring job. But truth of the matter was that it really wasn't. At least, not in this library. It was too bad that they didn't give out diplomas for what a person learned at the library because in all honesty, I could graduate with honors and a scholarship. No, really. Since I started working here, I had to say that I was an expert at what went on around here.

So why would a 17-almost-18-year-old girl want to work at a library you ask?

Simple. When you found yourself in a tight synch where your best friend wasn't standing at your left jabbering away into her cell phone or your mother at your right wondering if she should leave the Honey Nut Cheerios or the Raisin Bran behind, you started to realize things. Two weeks ago, as I stood in front of the Smith's cashier digging through my purse for extra change was when it hit me like a ton of bricks. I needed a job. So here I was working the information desk on Saturdays with my butt going numb in my chair for six hours earning fourteen bucks for each one of those long, excruciating hours.

And if you did the math in your head…yeah, that was some good money I was making.

Why was I working from ten in the morning to four in the afternoon?

Another simple question: because I had nothing better to do when I wasn't writing about the things that I watch happen in my everyday life.

Most girls had things going for them; they had to get up early and make it to school just so they had time to make out with their sex-driven boyfriends in the back of their father's new car, spend half an hour crowded in a bathroom where you had to bust out your claws and fight with the other girls just to use the bathroom and snatch a spot in front of the three lengthy mirrors to apply ten pounds of makeup, and finally decide to go to class. Twenty minutes after the first bell had rung.

And that was just their morning routine. Hard to believe right?

Afterwards was lunch where they went arm-in-arm with their hubbies and popularity-starving friends to the cafeteria where they would simply sit down, toss a twenty to one of the awkward, acne-ridden freshman, and demand that they go buy them a pizza while they sit at their tables loudly guffawing and jabbering. Once it was time to ditch the classrooms and go, where do you think they went? Bingo. The Dana Mall where they got into their size 2 uniforms and stood around pretending to work while they just filed away at their nails or squawked on their fancy new iphones.

Don't get me wrong; I was not a hater. I just wasn't a fan of girls like that.

There was nothing wrong with spending your weekends working at the library instead of having sex with Nobel High's star quarterback in his parents' bedroom during one of his infamous weekend rendezvous. Festivities of which I was never invited to simply because Bryant McAllister and I hated each other. Not that I wanted to be caught dead showing my face and wasting my time at one of his stupid parties. I mean, as far as I knew the following always happened: (1) everybody always drank and/or popped pills irresponsibly, (2) everybody always ended making out with their hubbies or complete strangers without realizing it, (3) someone always had to pick a fight with someone else, (4) the police showed up to bust everybody and this always resulted in sobs or threats when the parents were called.

Ugh. Honesty, it was people like Bryant that really made my blood boil. You know those guys: tall, blonde, and blue-eyed. The all-American type with an ego bigger then the state of Texas; the kind of guy who purposely showed up late to class just because he knew that it would tick the teacher off, the guy that had all the girls at school drooling over him and shooting daggers at the girl unfortunate enough to date him, and the guy who made all the guys step aside to let him through in the halls with grudging respect. Simply the 'I-can-get-any-girl-I-want-when-I-want-her' kind of guy. The kind of guy, according to certain books that I've read that indicate a sort of self-esteem problem underneath all that arrogant and conceited bravado that showed on the exterior.

Oh god. Speak of the freakin' devil himself.

He stood there, hands tucked into the pockets of his torn, dirt-stained skinny jeans; a haughty grin playing on the corners of his lips. He paused at the door and glanced around the nearly empty library with one arm draped over the shoulders of an anorexic blonde, who was cooing something into his ear that made him laugh. I groaned aloud and dropped my head in my hands. Good lord what bad luck I had. Honesty. I couldn't get through one day of work without having to run into this pathetic excuse of a person now could I?

I sighed and raked my hand through my tangled ringlets of auburn hair. Bryant never stepped into a library unless it was to torment me somehow for being the only girl in this whole entire world that wasn't stupid enough to fall for the lame pick up lines and the overly greasy hair. He finally spotted me all the way across the library (as if he didn't know I was there) and sauntered toward me, the small grin turning sinister and resembling that of a Cheshire cat.

Here we go, I thought glumly. Keep your cool Julie.

"Hey Jules," Bryant called out casually and waved. "How's it goin'?"

I glanced down at my computer screen and pretended to look busy. This was just part of the game: he'd come in and wave casually, get close and try to strike up a conversation, start pushing my buttons because he knew that I couldn't stand him, and then get me in trouble with my co-workers and superior because I blew up and yelled at him. Did I mention that he always had to have a girl draped on his arm to try to show me what it was that I was 'missing' by not wanting to go out with him? Pathetic right?

"Hey Bryant," I grumbled through gritted teeth as I let my fingers fly over the keyboard, randomly hitting the keys. "I'm good thank you. And yourself?"

"Fine," He replied coolly and raked a hand through his tousled blonde locks. "Just fine. I want to introduce you to my new girlfriend, Desirae."

Oh please. Like I didn't know that he spend hours in front of his bathroom mirror trying to get his hair to look like he didn't care enough to do anything with it when he actually spent more time then I did fussing over it. And as for this Desirae…I glanced up at her and smiled as wide as I could. She looked as orange as a traffic cone and I could totally tell that she had blonde extensions in her hair. If she was going to wear that, then she could at least put it in right.

"Hello Desirae," I said in a sickly sweet voice. "Welcome to the library."

"Uh, hi, Jenny," Desirae said in the same kind of voice before she rolled his eyes and wrapped her bony arms around Bryant's waist.

"Julie," I said and clenched my teeth together to maintain the smile on my face. "My name is Julie. It says so on my name tag. Look."

I pushed my chest forward to reveal the square sticker that was stuck to the front of my blouse.

"Oh wow Des," Bryant said and ran his fingers through his hair, clearly pretending to look bored. "No tits."

Desirae and I blinked in unison. Then she burst out laughing and lightly swatted his shoulder.

"Oh you!" she said through fits of forced hysterical giggles.

My face grew warm. He did not just say that to me. Stupid, cocky, low self-esteemed jerk. Bryant laughed along at his own joke, but his eyes didn't shift away from my face. Oh no they didn't. I took a deep breath to keep myself from flying off the handle. There was no way I would lose control today. But how could I not? Bryant knew how to push my buttons and I couldn't do anything but sit here and take it.

Don't lose control, don't lose control, don't lose control….

"Ha-ha," I said and curled my hands into fists in my lap. "Good one Bryant. So what can I do for you?"

"Oh nothing really," he said and sat down on the edge of my desk. He picked the INFORMATION DESK tag up with one hand and played with it.

I took a deep breath and smiled.

"Well you can't be here if you don't need help," I hissed under my breath. "So beat it and don't come back."

"Aw, come on, Jules," he pleaded and then leaned over and ruffled my hair. "Don't get mad, get glad."

Desirae burst into another hysterical jag of laughter. I rolled my hands and slapped his filthy hands away. Really? She was laughing? What was so funny about quoting a stupid garbage bag commercial? Was this girl realty that dumb?

"I'm. Not. Mad," I snapped, then quickly lowered my voice so no one else could hear me. "So take your Daisy Duke and beat it. I have work to do."

"Sitting in a chair in a boring library all day is hardly work, Jules," Bryant replied and started flung the tag back on the desk.

"Oh? And you would know what work is?" I challenged. "You've never even had a job! What the heck do you know?"

I knew that I was being stupid, but so what? This stupid jerk was trying to get me fired because I wasn't into him. I had just as much right as anybody to get upset, didn't I?

"Well, I know that it's not work if there is no one around in need of your services," he said and winked at me. I shivered.

"You don't know anything," I growled. "So why didn't you go and get a job before you come talk to me about what work is all about instead of sitting around shoving your tongue down to dumb girl's throat and depending on mommy and daddy to give you gas money!"

Bryant recoiled as if I'd slapped him. This, however, earned me a murderous glare from Desirae, and an unblinking stare from Miranda, the girl from the front desk.

"Shut your mouth, Julie." He leaned forward and narrowed his deep blue eyes into slits. "You don't know what you're talking about."

I leaned forward and returned the glare. "Aw, did the wittle boy get offended? Stop. Living. Off. Your. Parents. You. Pathetic. Excuse. Of. A. man."

I leaned forward even more so that our noses were touching. Mental note: shower when I get home. I'd just made skin contact with this filthy cockroach.

"You better watch what you say to me, bitch," Bryant hissed and pressed his forehead into mine. I could smell barbequed chicken on his breath. "If you know what's good for you."

"And you better get out of here and let me do my job, mama's boy," I retorted hotly. "If you know what's good for you."

Okay, so right now I was just talking, but it seemed the perfect thing to say. I mean, come on. Wouldn't any girl in my position jump at a chance to leave her worse enemy and the biggest scum of the Earth looking stupid in front of his half-brained girlfriend?

"You're nothing but a pathetic, useless, loser who needs to make other people feel like crap in order to feel loved yourself. You don't get attention at home so you have to use every single trick in the book just to get everybody, no anybody, to even look at you twice or so much as give you the time of day."

I shot out of my chair and grabbed him roughly by the collar of his shirt. "You may have everyone here fooled Bryant, but not me. I'm no fool nor am I blind so I would suggest that you pick your enemies wisely, you stupid jerk. I am not your mother. I. Will. Not. Put. Up. With. Your. Crap. Got. It?"

I was breathing heavily by the time I was finished. Desirae looked like she'd just seen a ghost by the way the color had drained visibly from her face underneath her tan. Did I mention that she was shaking?

Bryant, on the other hand, looked flat-out pissed; nostrils flared, eyes narrowed into thin lines, heavily rising and falling heavily. His fists trembled at his sides and his mouth was set in a menacing snarl, making him look like a ferocious dog. I still had him by the collar of his shirt, but I didn't dare let go. Not when I was close enough to punch him in his ugly face.

"You'll pay for this, Jules," he said and shoved me away from him. "Don't you worry."

I fell back against my chair, but glared up at him defiantly. Why did I have a bad feeling that my 'paying for it' would cost me my job?

"Let's go Des," he snarled and roughly grabbed his bewildered girlfriend by the arm. "Leave this bitch and her books be."

I clung to the arms of my arms to keep from leaping over the desk and attacking him. Keep calm, I told myself as Bryant shot me a final glare before stomping away like the big baby that he was, dragging a pale-faced Desirae with him. She looked too stunned and confused to say anything. Not that I felt bad for her anyway. It was her fault for being one of the stupid girls who would even bother going out with trash like that in the first place.

But instead of leaving like I expected him to, he paused in front of Miranda at the front desk by the sliding double doors.

.Lord, I thought and scowled. That jerk just doesn't quit, does he?

"Excuse me," he snapped. "I would like to file a complaint against that ugly sack of shit over there for…"

I didn't get to hear what he was saying because I met the very angry stare of my superior Lillian.

"Coming," I moaned as scooped my purse off the floor before I let out a huge sigh and made my way across the library towards my boss.