Keegan Parker sat on the bench outside of the school building, watching as other students filed inside to get out of the cold January air. Slushy snow covered most of the ground save for paths worn by people shoes as they trudged through it. No one paid him any attention as they walked right by, kicking dirty snow onto his converse. Keegan was used to being invisible; it had always been that way. In a way, he kind of liked it. There was no pressure of people expected things from you. He could do whatever he wanted and not have to worry about what people thought of him.

The last bell rang, but still Keegan sat unmoving on the bench. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his black jacket. He removed one hand from his pocket and smoothed down his mop of dark hair, something he found himself doing more often than probably necessary just out of habit.

He didn't want to go in; though he knew in a few minutes the principal would be making runs around campus to ensure that no one was skipping. He should go to English. Mrs. Finch would give him detention for sure if he missed another of her classes without a note. As much as he didn't want to go to English, he wanted to go to detention much less. Keegan stood, dusting the snow that had been tossed onto his dark jeans, and going inside the building.

The warm air inside was shockingly different from the frigid air that had been chilling his skin previously. The halls were empty, as class had already started, but Keegan felt no need to rush. He was already late so he would already have a detention, no point in rushing.

He leisurely made his way to room 14B and looked through the small rectangle of glass in the door before entering. Everyone was leaning over their decks scribbling onto pieces of paper, or at least pretending to. Keegan groaned inwardly, thinking that if everyone was writing so furiously that they must be taking notes for an upcoming test. Like most people, he hated taking tests and found the repetitive task of taking notes extremely dull. Ignoring his strong urge to walk down the hall and go back outside, he pushed the heavy wooden door open and went inside the room.

As soon as he took a step over the threshold, Mrs. Finch turned her beady eyes onto him. Keegan always thought that Mrs. Finch's appearance was fitting. She was named after a bird, and she very much looked like one. She was a thin, wiry looking older woman with a long nose and thin lips which were always pulled into a tight line. For such a small woman, she was very intimidating.

"Mr. Parker," She said in her shrill, angry sounding voice, "Care to enlighten us to the reason for your tardiness?"

Keegan knew that she didn't really expect an answer. More than likely she wanted him to stutter out an apology. He just shrugged, restraining a cocky smirk, and headed to his seat beside his friend James in the back of the room.

Mrs. Finch glared daggers at him and he could feel her eyes drilling holes into his back as he walked through the aisles to the back. James merely shook his head in Keegan's direction, completely used to the way Keegan sometimes got into random moods where he was rude to everyone. Those mood swings happened more often than not and sometimes James didn't even know why he bothered being friends with someone who was so difficult. But Keegan was loyal to a fault and would stick up for James when he couldn't stick up for himself. He was a good friend.

When Keegan sat down, ignoring the glares he was receiving from one very pissed off teacher, he pulled a piece of paper from his black notebook, which looked like it had been through a tornado and back, and a half-broken pencil from his pocket.

"Now class," Mrs. Finch said loudly, "As most of you already know, we will be writing letters this semester. To help improve your writing skills, you'll write a full page about yourself and I will give it to a student in another of my classes. They'll do the same and you will write back and forth until I decide the assignment is over. I won't be reading your letters, for privacy's sake, but don't take that as an excuse to slack off. You'll have the whole class period to write today, so begin."

Ten minutes later, Keegan decided that he should start writing.

After another ten he actually did start.

Dear Person I have to write a letter to,

Uh…I don't really know what to say. I was told that I have to tell you about myself, but the truth is I don't have the slightest clue how to do that. This is really hard. And pointless. This isn't even being graded so how is it supposed to help our writing skills? I swear Mrs. Finch is losing it in her old age. Anyways, since I have to write this I guess I better get it over with. My name is Keegan Parker. I'm seventeen years old and my birthday is August twenty-fifth. I don't really play any sports, but I used to play soccer when I was a freshman. I don't like school. At all. But if I had to pick a favorite subject I would say math. I like running. My favorite color is blue. Um…I think that's all this is to me. I'm not very interesting, just a normal guy. This thing is supposed to be a full page, but that isn't going to happen. I guess it doesn't even matter since she isn't even going to read these. This is so stupid.


He folded the sheet of notebook paper, which was only half-way covered in his messy scrawl, and set his pencil on top of it.

He sighed and looked over at the clock above the door, the plain black numbers telling him that there was still thirty minutes left in that class. Keegan passed the time by doodling on the outside of his letter, not really paying much attention to the random lines and figures that his hand was forming with the pencil.

By the time the bell rang, releasing him to gym class, the entire back of the page was covered in random drawing produced by his bored mind. As Keegan gathered up his belongings and exited the room, he couldn't help but wonder who would be receiving his letter and how they would respond.

After he'd changed into his gym shorts and a plain gray t-shirt, he stood in line with the rest of his PE group and waited for instructions. He was only half listening as the coach called roll and made sure that everyone was dressed out and wearing the proper shoes. Once the middle-aged man had worked his way down the line of students he blew his whistle which hung around his thick neck on a string and announced that they would be running laps around the track.

Keegan gave a small grin at this; he really did like running. It was something that he was in control over, he could determine how fast or how slow he went, he could decide when to stop or where to go. It was all up to him.

Coach Henley blew the whistle again and everyone started running around the perimeter of the gym. Shortly after everyone started running, the group they had been in separated. Some people fell behind and others who ran much faster were up ahead. The majority was somewhere in the middle, keeping a steady pace but not straining themselves.

Keegan was in the middle group. He could run faster, but he wasn't in the mood to show off like several of the other boys, most of whom played sports, were doing. He enjoyed the feeling as he pushed with his legs, propelling him forward. When he was running he didn't pay attention to anyone else. He didn't even listen to his thoughts that were constantly buzzing around in his head.

Then he felt something bump into his back. Confused, he stopped running and turned around to see a small girl sitting on the floor. Her long blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail and she was wearing the same gym uniform as everyone else. Keegan recognized her face as someone he'd seen many times before, but he couldn't remember her name for the life of him. If he had to guess he would say something like April or Summer. Something like that.

He held his hand out to her and helped her up. She smiled gratefully before they both returned to running.

A/N: Okay, I already have like four more chapters after this written. Once I know that people are reading this and want me to continue, I'll update them. Reviews for sure spark creativity!