I toss my backpack on the bed, and head over to my sleeping laptop. I open up the usual websites I go on, and do what I normally do: listen to music as I chat with my friend.

"Hey," I type down, "school's been awesome! Hope you're doing well!"

"Hi! I have homework, so I'll be right back!" my friend replies. I shrug, reach for my backpack, and pull out my homework for the day. I grab a television remote, and switch the T.V. on to the news channel, and a lady comes up.

"A shark attack has just happened in Venice Beach, and fifteen people were killed or severely injured." I flip to another news channel, talking about a burglar that robs people's homes right under their noses. They show an image of a silhouette of a man with curly hair.

"His last house robbery was in Costa Mesa two days ago on Wednesday night, and citizens believe he is lurking in the city of Fountain Valley." I change the channel to a soccer game with Brazil and England going against each other. I throw my head back and groan in annoyance.

"I don't like math at all," I mutter. I stare back at my laptop screen, and noticed that my friend that went "B.R.B." wasn't exactly away after all. She's been liking photos and statuses, commenting on them, and poking me via Facebook. I'm not sure if we have different meanings of being away from the social network. I shake my head, and go back to homework.

"Goal! England wins!" the commentator in the TV shouts. Cheering is heard in the background, and two guys in the crowd hug each other with joy.

Ding dong!

I reluctantly stand up, and walk over to the front door. I peer through the peephole, and I see a redhead with curly hair. His brown eyes were wandering around the place. Maybe he's a student at my school. I open the door just a little bit so he can hear me, but not see me.

"Is Dannielle here?" he asks

"Speaking," I say, "how did you find me?"

"Long story." This guy's creepy. "Can I come in?"

"I don't know, can you?" He narrows his eyes, not amused at all.

"May I?"

"First, tell me what you're doing here?"

"You know Keith?" he begins.

"Yeah. He's supposed to come over today and work on a project with me for our Physics class."

"He's not able to come, so he sent me."

"Good enough reason. Come in. Shoes off, please." I widen the door for him, and he steps inside. He removes his shoes, and places them by a wall.

"The name's Roger," he explains, sticking out his hand, signaling for a handshake.

"You know me," I smile, and shake his hand, and then I mutter, "somehow."

"So, what do we do first?"

Two hours pass, and Roger and I are almost done with the project, which is a bridge made out of Popsicle sticks.

"Just need to add the finishing touches... there!" I exclaim, with relief that this project is finally done.

"Great! You finished!"

"Without Keith's help," I roll my eyes, "thanks, Roger."

"No problem." I show him out the door. He grabs his shoes, places them on his feet, waves goodbye to me, and leaves. I shut the door, and rush to the room where the bridge is at.

A few minutes later, someone bangs at the door loudly. I rush over to the door, shouting that I'm going. I look through the small peephole to see who it is.

It's Keith!

Quickly, I open the door, and he just intrudes without saying anything. He sits down on a nearby sofa, and breathes heavily.

"Sorry I'm late. I had to stay at the school for some reason," he apologizes.

"That's alright. I finished the project already."

"What? By yourself?"

"No, your friend came over and helped me."

"Friend?" His confused expression made me confused. Doesn't he remember?

"Roger? You sent him to my place to help me with my homework because you couldn't make it," I explain. His face doesn't change.

"I didn't tell anyone to come help you out, and I don't know anyone by the name of 'Roger.'" My face soon went from being serious to complete confusion.

"If you didn't send anyone, and you don't know a Roger, then... who did I let in my house?"