Anonymous

I bit my lip as I walked into school that morning, panning the hallways for signs of Elena’s dark hair or the brightly-colored bag she always carried around with her. I could feel my long, wavy ponytail swishing against my back with each step I took, especially considering that my head scanned back and forth across the corridor like I was watching a particularly intense tennis match.

I finally spotted her next to her English classroom, just as she was about to step in. I wanted to stop her right there and spill my guts, just so that I could get her reaction over with. But then I thought about it some more, and I realized that her reaction was probably going to be explosive if I confronted her in the middle of the hallway. Crowds were not something substantial enough to keep her anger in check.

And then it occurred to me. If I told her in the library, there was no way she’d be able to scream or carry on about what I told her. Sure, she could ignore me, which could, arguably, be worse, but I was willing to take the chance.

“ELENA,” I called after her, darting toward the room to catch her in time.

She turned slowly, as if she didn’t recognize my voice or who was calling her, before connecting her eyes to mine. Immediately, her eyes narrowed in irritation. Clearly, she was still angry at me from the argument the two of us had a couple days previously.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted, feeling my face flood with color. “I really am sorry. I have to talk to you during study, and I need help with my French homework. Can you come with me to the library during study?”

Ah, French. Her weakness. Her tough outer exterior faltered for a second before she sighed. “Yeah, of course. I’ll see you second to last period.”

“Fabulous.” I shot a bright grin at her before starting back down the hallway, scurrying to ensure that I made it to class on time.



“Alright, what do you need help with?” Elena questioned as she threw herself down in the chair next to me. Unlike that morning, her eyes looked bright, and she was decidedly much happier. Which, I was sure, was caused by the fact that I admitted defeat in our argument.

“First, let me just say something.” I pulled out my French materials and put them on the table for show, even though the French homework over the weekend had been incredibly easy, and the French excuse had merely been a ploy.

Elena let out an almost inaudible sigh as she nodded to give me permission.

“I’m sorry about our argument. You were right about Louis. I know that the two of us don’t know each other well, and I shouldn’t be such a romantic about the whole thing.”

Smiling, Elena shifted in her seat to sit up straighter, clearly chuffed with herself. “I’m glad that you see what I was trying to say. Because I’m not saying that he wouldn’t be lucky to have you. I just think that things won’t work out well for you.”

“Right.”

She leaned forward, sensing the conversation as over, and reached for my French folder. “So what-?”

“No, there’s more,” I interrupted.

“Oh, no,” she groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Please don’t say it.”

“What?”

“You’re still talking to him, aren’t you?”

I stayed silent, which was all the answer she needed.

“Oh, Jessie,” she breathed, rubbing her temples forcefully, as if she were trying to massage out the bad energy. “Oh, Jessie, Jessie, Jessie.”

“Elena, just hear me out,” I whispered. “Please. I’m telling you, Louis and I are talking. We’re getting to know each other first. We’re just feeling each other out-”

“Oh, great choice of words.” The way her voice wavered made her sound like she was preparing herself to be sick all over the floor.

“Okay, sorry. We’re…” I searched for a minute to find a wording that wouldn’t sound so sexual, “talking to each other and finding out each other’s personalities. We’re not even technically friends. And we’re just going to see how things go before we actually meet each other.”

“No, no, no.” Elena looked up at me, and I was afraid she’d be incredibly mad at me. But instead, there was nothing but pain and fear written all over face. “You’re not going to meet him.”

“I might. But nothing’s certain until we’re sure that we know each other well enough.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “I’m trying to be careful about this, Elena. Will you keep an open mind?”

A very long sigh burst out of Elena’s lungs, and her fingers found their ways back to the sides of her face. “You know what, Jess? I tried to warn you. And now, I’m going to be supportive, if that’s what you need me to be. I just want to tell you that you need to be careful, and you need to respect yourself. Don’t let him take advantage of you just because he’s Louis Tomlinson. Okay?”

“Okay. I won’t.”

The quiet that settled between us was excruciatingly awkward, and I could hear the sound of the boy a couple tables down from us flipping the pages of an old copy of an Ernest Hemingway book.

“You didn’t need help with your French homework, did you?” Elena accused after a couple minutes. Although her tone was irritated, there was a smirk pulling up one side of her lips that she was unable to hide.

“Nope. It was a trap.” I laughed lightly and pulled my binder closer to me. “I figured that if I just said that I wanted to talk, you’d know what I was going to say, and you wouldn’t show up.”

“I would definitely do that,” she chuckled in acknowledgement. “Now what do we do?”

“Uh…I don’t know.”

“What about your writing?” Elena questioned, raising an eyebrow. “You always do that in study when you don’t have any work to do.”

“Well, yeah, but…” I cleared my throat and squirmed in my seat uncomfortably. “I haven’t been writing since I started talking to Louis.”

“Why? Afraid he’s going to read it?”

“No, it’s just…awkward.” My teeth latched on to my bottom lip for a second before I elaborated, “I guess, since I now know Louis, writing about any of the boys is really weird. I knew they were human before, obviously, but now they’re…real.”

I looked up at her confused face and snickered out of my nose. “I’m not making any sense, am I?”

“Nope. Actually, I guess I get where you’re coming from a little bit, but…it’s still weird. But if you can’t write fan-fiction anymore, why don’t you try originals?”

I paused for a minute. “Um…I don’t know. I guess I never thought of it. I’m not even sure what I’d write an original about.”

“Then just start writing and see where it takes you.”

“You make writing sound incredibly easy. It’s not like that, you know.”

“I know. But maybe something will click.” I gave her a look of disbelief. “What?! I’m trying to help.”

I dropped my binder on the table with a bang and flipped it open to a random blank page. “Let’s see how this goes,” I muttered to myself as I put my pen to the paper.