Tabby

The next morning, I was greeted by a bright blue sky outside my window, the bitter smell of my father's black coffee wafting up the stairs and in through my door. I held back the urge to gag, knowing I'd probably make myself literally sick. I'd always hated Mondays. In my opinion, they gave off a bad vibe. They weren't something to be excited about at all, new beginnings start with new lives, not new weeks.

I'd voiced the thought to Corey once, when I was 10. He'd agreed. It had been one of the only things we hadn't fought about, not that he cared to admit it. I knew exactly what Corey thought of me, no matter what Lance said, I knew it wasn't jealousy my brother held towards me. It was just pure annoyance and loathing. I wasn't something to envy and I knew that.

I repeated it to myself over and over as I got ready for school, deciding to just walk half a mile instead of getting on the bus like an 8th grader. I only had a few more days to go until I could finally get my license, something I was anticipating more than anything else. Being able to drive where ever I wanted without someone in the seat instructing me for my own good was surprisingly enticing.

The morning was like any other, the air filled with Relient K and Jimmy Eat World as I walked to school, the loud music blaring from car stereos regulating it's way around the campus. As soon as I'd reached the sidewalk I spotted my brother hanging around with the other skate-crazy hipster kids, several of them half asleep on the front steps with cigarettes strategically placed behind their ears. I half wished Corey had just dropped out before his senior year. Everywhere I went here, people stared. They didn't understand how two people could be related and be polar opposites, the way we were.

They didn't understand that it puzzled me, as well.

I hoisted my bag up higher on my shoulder, blowing my fly-away bangs away from my eyes as I started up the steps. Corey was nearest to my leg, and he looked up through his dark mass of brown hair, barely narrowing his eyes before turning back to the conversation at hand. I swallowed the sick taste back into my throat, doing the same and averting my attention elsewhere. I was on the third step when I noticed Lance.

He was on his skateboard, flying through the air as gracefully as an angel would have. He soared over step after step, his face never once showing a sign of fear or hesitation. Surprisingly, it held a dim smile, so faint I had to squint to make sure it was really there. I couldn't take my eyes off of him, hypnotized right up until the moment the wheels cracked against the brick and his foot came down on the edge of the board, flipping it up into his waiting hand.

My stomach starting turning in circles immediately. He wasn't supposed to be here, was he? Lance was older than me, I'd never even seen him in Jerison High! Could it have been possible that he'd existed all this time, so close to me every single day? No, it couldn't. Had I been this unobservant? What else was I failing to notice?

I hadn't been aware of the fact that I was still standing on the same step I had been on when Corey had glared at me until now, when he sent the same dark look my way. I didn't budge though, not this time. I gripped my bag tightly, I wasn't stupid. Corey was only noticing me again because someone else had, too.

Our eyes met in the same moment, and something inside of me froze. I couldn't force my eyes to look elsewhere, I couldn't calm my pulse. I was being completely irrational and I knew it, there was no reason to be so anxious over Lance, but here I was, being just that. I took a breath, trying to regain a little bit of composure. Or at least enough to carry me into the building before the bell rang. I knew hanging around this group was no good for a clean record, more than likely they never showed up until lunch.

Lance's lips turned up into a mischievous crooked grin, his head tilting to the side as he watched me, probably waiting to see if I was going to say anything. I knew I wouldn't be able to, not with my heart beating like I'd just cuddled with an electric fence. I managed a small, timid smile though, glancing back down at my now livid brother to see if he was still watching me. He wasn't. His attention was now directed at some pink-haired girl sitting beside him.

One look back at Lance told me his was, too. Instead of his skateboard, his hand was now holding anothers tightly, his eyes no longer casting glances my way and his smile no longer meant for me. Instead, all of his previous attention was now being projected onto a short black haired girl, who appeared to be much younger than I was. I tried to fight the urge to study his expression, but failing miserably led me to see how his smile had changed, how his grip was loosening. She was a freshman, I realized. He wasn't interested after all.

I punched myself in the thigh immediately, turning around quickly and sprinting towards the school. I knew I looked stupid, but I was angry at myself, and for many reasons. The first being that I had even bothered to stare at Lance for as long as I did, the second being that I'd felt a stab of jealousy when the little girl had come into play. What was wrong with me? Just a few days ago, I'd all but loathed him. Now here I was, wondering who she was and what she meant to him. I'd literally been amazed by something he'd done, something I'd thought was so stupid all the years I'd watched Corey do it.

I pushed the front doors open. I'd always had to throw all my weight - which had never been a lot - on them to get inside. I didn't weigh much more than 110. It seemed wrong to my ballet instructor; a fat ballerina. I'd never been able to indulge in the normal junk food type of stuff that other kids loved. I didn't mind it much, every now and then I'd treat myself secretly, but having numerous bumps and bruises on my skin just emphasized the fact that I was smaller than other girls.

I ran a hand through my hair as soon as the door had slammed shut behind me, refusing to turn and see where Lance was now that I'd run off. I stared instead at the half empty hall ways, watching all the other teens loiter by their lockers. The only people in the school at this time were here only because of a lack of a social life elsewhere. Sadly, I was one of them this morning.

The door slammed loudly behind me and I jumped, turning around in time to see the object of my current dilemma, smiling at me. His skateboard was nowhere to be found, nor any books or papers. The latter didn't surprise me.

"You look like I've got a gun or something," he said, raising an eyebrow when I didn't return his impish grin. I said nothing, unable to function correctly now that it was apparent that I actually looked as stupid as I felt.

"Are you okay? I - "

"Y-yeah, I'm fine," I interrupted him quickly, blinking for a moment before completely clearing my head of my previous feelings. Lance laughed, reaching out for my dark gray bag.

"You're definitely not. Let me carry that for you." I paid no mind to his outstretched arm, rolling my eyes and regaining my normal stubborn aura. He narrowed his eyes, obviously fighting to keep the glimmer out of them, tapping his foot impatiently. I grew tired of the noise and gave in, shrugging it off and dropping it, figuring he'd catch it before it hit the ground. I was right.

"Why didn't you stay out there with the rest of - I mean, me?" he asked, walking beside me as I started down a hallway to my locker. I rarely used it, but I didn't want to have an awkward moment where he was just standing there holding my stuff for no reason. I realized he'd changed his question midsentence, probably already knowing how I felt about the rest of the gang. I tried not to blush.

"I don't know," I offered lamely, staring down at the tiled floor and crossing my arms. I wondered if he'd noticed how often I did that. He probably had his own theories as to why it happened so frequently.

"You should have."

"I don't think Corey would really appreciate it," I mumbled, a slight guilty tone falling over my voice. Lance snickered, nudging me gently with his shoulder as he laughed. I looked up at him, noticing the different shades of blue in his eyes, how light they seemed today. I couldn't remember if the morning he and Steven had brought my brother home had even existed; he seemed so nice now. So friendly, like he actually wanted me around.

"Then we'll go off on our own." His words caught me by surprise and I laughed out loud.

"He'd hate that even more."

"If you haven't realized it already, Corey doesn't make the rules. I do," Lance said. I raised an eyebrow. I couldn't decide if Lance was just full of himself or if he had a reason to be so cocky.

The seriousness in his voice was apparent as we stopped at my locker. I said nothing for a while, twisting and turning the dial until finally, the door popped open for me to shove my things into. I could suddenly see why people were friends with Lance. They loved the aura of confidence he had.

His low chuckle shook me from my thoughts and I shut the door, glancing over at him as I picked at the slowly tearing paper on one of my textbooks I'd need for the day. He had that same small, knowing smirk on. I must have looked confused, because he spoke immediately.

"You're so small," he stated, shrugging when I narrowed my eyes. Was he just now noticing this? After a moment of silence he sighed, shaking his head and looking up at the ceiling. I wondered if he was going to continue stating the obvious.

"Sorry. It's not a bad thing." Lance looked back down at me, his height emphasized by the fact that he was now leaning against a row of lockers and his head nearly reached the top. I nodded, still unsure what the point of his statement was, but he said nothing more.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked, genuine curiosity laced in my question. Lance looked confused for a moment, his brow furrowing as his eyes studied my expression. He chewed his bottom lip for a second before reaching up and brushing a single strand of hair out of my eyes, an innocent smile on his lips. My face burned.

"What do you mean?"

"I - I mean, why me? You never showed any - "

"I didn't really meet you until last Friday, Tabby. I couldn't have possibly shown any interest before then, could I?" he stopped me, his hand still lingering near my face as I tried to form a complete sentence. He knew what kind of affect he had on me, didn't he? He had to. It was impossible to ignore.

"Did you even know we went to the same school?" My voice was small and timid; I wanted to kick myself for it.

"No, and from the look on your face when you saw me this morning, neither did you." I forced a laugh, staring down at the floor nervously. His hand fell away from me and I no longer felt so self conscious. The bell rang out then, signaling the last five minutes before class, and Lance sighed. I was sure he wouldn't be attending.

"I know it's pretty stupid of me to ask, but you don't skip, do you?" Lance inquired curiously, his head tilted to the side as he waited for an answer. I shook my head to his chagrin, pleasure coursing through me as I realized he was asking me, in other words, if I'd go with him. It was tempting, and I hated that. I had no idea why I was so attracted to him, why I felt so shy and yet so light when he was around.

"That's too bad...I was hoping I'd be the exception. Some other time then?" he sighed. I watched as he pushed the sleeves up on his long sleeved shirt, winking at me before stepping away from the lockers and starting down the hallway we'd come, towards the 12th grade wing. He was a senior, I realized. One year ahead of me, that wasn't too bad, was it?

Why did it matter? I was thinking too much about him. Every single thing that rolled off his tongue lingered in my head, each long gaze and small touch sent shivers down my spine when I replayed them over in my mind. He was too much for me to handle and I knew that, but it didn't seem to register to him yet that I was starting to melt in his hands. None of it was fair, but long after I'd made it to first period, I realized something else. He hadn't answered my question. I still didn't know why I'd suddenly become the object of his interest.

As evasive as Lance seemed, I figured I'd never get an answer.