He was considered perfect by many of his peers; he seemed to live in a glittering world that only the rich and confident inhabit. Maybe it was just an image, but the fa├žade fooled everyone. Well, almost everyone. He was naturally handsome, and knew how to use that to his advantage. He wasn't actually rich, he'd been the sole supporter of his disabled mother since he was 13, but he could pretend he was. If you just had the right clothes, played sport and could make a few decent jokes, you would jump straight to the top of the social ladder in high school. It was just superficial, but it didn't matter to him. He had a plan, and being popular and apparently flawless was essential. He could get into a good, local college on a scholarship, get his degree and get a high flying job in the city. Preferably, of course, with a large salary. He knew that his mother wanted him to pursue his dreams, but he had priorities. He would look after her and get rich enough so they could both live in luxury. He had everything sorted.

She was unpopular. There was no other word for it; she just didn't have any friends at school. No matter that she was rich, fairly athletic, and gifted with the kind of smile that can light up an entire room. There was a problem with her that made any normal, self-absorbed teenager avoid her like the bubonic plague. She was mute. She couldn't make a sound due to a stupid accident when she had been 12. She fell of a tree she was climbing, hit her head in an unfortunate place, and her life was transformed for ever. Everything she had imagined her life was going to be had disappeared in a second. Who would ever want to date a girl they couldn't have a basic conversation with? What job could she do that didn't involve talking? Obviously, there were solutions. The doctors had been optimistic on her chance of leading a near 'normal' life. She had learnt sign language, and for those who didn't know it she could write on the notepad she carried everywhere with her. That didn't change the fact she would never sing a song completely out of tune with her friends, she would never laugh loudly at an inside joke nobody else got, and she would never whisper gently into someone's ear that she loved them.

It was a normal day in Blossomfield High School. The wind was blowing autumn leaves down the street, there were empty drinks cans on the grass, and a teacher was yelling at her class.

'How can you take your education for granted? 'Mrs Dailey demanded frustratedly.' Do you not understand' she continued 'how lucky you are? Many children in this world will never get the opportunities you have now, and you are wasting them by messing around! You never pay attention and in 20 years, you will regret squandering away your study trying to be cool.' She glared at the class fiercely. She was one of the school's oldest teachers, who dressed slightly eccentrically and only taught because she loved it so much. Normally all of the pupils respected her, but it was that odd time between autumn and winter, where you get the feeling of something coming, but it hasn't quite arrived yet, and it made the students restless.

'With respect ma'am,' began one of the loudest troublemakers 'I don't think all of us were making this noise. Shouldn't you only punish those who were disrupting the lesson?

She regarded him imperiously over her glasses. He was handsome, and unfortunately he knew it. He had wavy bronze hair that was long and in dire need of a cut, and very blue eyes that several girls in class had written soppy poems about. He grinned cheekily up at her.

'Well, Mr Richardson, it is my opinion that matters here, and I think you will all be in detention.' Here she addressed the entire class.' I expect you in E3 at 4:00 to reflect on your misdeeds! And don't look so upset, it's your own fault.

The bell rang shrilly and the class traipsed out of the class, muttering mutinously. Daniel Richardson was at the centre of the largest group, which contained only pupils who had looks, money, and the infinitely more rare charisma. He was halfway along the corridor, heading eagerly for lunch, when he realised he had forgotten his notepad. He sighed, and explained the situation to his acquaintances (you couldn't really call them friends) many of whom desperately offered to accompany him, but he turned them down. He would appreciate the time not bombarded by trivial chatter. He was just about to enter the classroom when he saw there was already a student there. She was wearing a baggy grey jumper and black jeans. What was her name, Macy, Mary? Something beginning with an M anyway. She was showing the teacher a piece of paper, and had a frown on her face. The teacher read whatever was on the paper swiftly and nodded. 'Of course Miss Sedgwick, you don't have to attend detention. I'll see you tomorrow in class.' The teacher's voice was surprisingly gentle, even though the girl was obviously getting out of detention somehow. The girl turned to leave and the teacher noticed Daniel lurking in the doorway, somewhat awkwardly. 'What are you doing here Mr Richardson?' her voice was like a whip.

Way to play favourites, thought Daniel.

'I came to fetch my notepad' he explained, pointing to his red binder discarded carelessly on a desk by the window.

'Very well. Hurry up.'

He picked up the offending object and hastily stuffed it into his battered rucksack( he told his friends he had bought it like that, not that it was a cast off from his neighbour's son).He left and casually strolled down the hall, anticipating lunch. He then caught sight of the girl from the classroom several metres ahead of him, and jogged to catch up with her. 'Hey, wait up' he said confidently, flashing the captivating smile that had half the girls in school harbouring a secret, or not so secret, crush on him. She was very small, especially compared to his 6ft, so she had to look up to him. He was strangely disconcerted by her large eyes. Could eyes be such a light grey? They reminded him irresistibly of early morning mist in the meadow he used to go camping with his father in before- anyway. 'How did you get out of the detention? I'm Daniel, by the way.' As if she would need the introduction to know his name. He held out his hand for her to shake; girls liked guys with polite manners he remembered. She turned her peculiar eyes down to his hand and back up to his face. Then, without a word, she turned and quickly stalked off. He was shocked; girls never did that to guys on the football team, especially him.

After a lunch filled with meaningless conversation that left his head as soon as it entered, Daniel was sat in Calculus, twirling a pen around his fingers. He had finished the work ages ago, and now had half an hour to sit and wool-gather. He glanced around the room, and noticed to his surprise, the girl from before sitting three rows across from him. He took the opportunity to study her, as his attempts to gather information about her at lunch had failed miserably. None of his 'friends' knew anything about her, and quickly forgotten about the entire subject. Her clothes were good quality, but nondescript. He could tell that she had a great figure; she just didn't show it off like some girls he knew. Her face wasn't exactly pretty, but her eyes were remarkable and something about her made you look twice instead of ignoring her. She had the pallor of someone who spends lots of time indoors, but her skin was surprisingly clear of the spots that have plagued the teenage generation since the dawn of time. She had long dark brown hair tied back in a messy plait, and was absentmindedly playing with the ends of her hair as she stared down at her work.

He flashed his eyes up to the clock and realised with a slight twinge of horror that there were only five minutes left to the end of the lesson. Had he really spent all that time staring at a girl who name he didn't even know? She wasn't even pretty!

The rest of the day passed quickly enough, as he shared no other classes with mystery girl that day. Daniel was wandering along a corridor after a mind-numbingly boring detention with Mrs Dailey. 'Stupid b-'the rest of this sentence was cut off as he froze in the middle of the hall. A haunting melody was flowing out of a small music room just to his left. It was beautiful, but achingly sad, and reminded Daniel of feelings he'd long buried. He frowned, and strode quickly down to the parking lot where his bike was. It was only as he'd picked the flimsy lock (He had lost the key over a year ago, but he couldn't afford to get a new one) that he realised he didn't find out who was playing.

A/N Inspiration strikes. Please read and review.