The Gray Letters.

I didn't know she existed up until the first day of senior year, when I realized that our lockers were right next to each other.

Her strawberry blonde hair was tied into a messy ponytail, strands peeking out here and there. Her arms were full of books: physics, calculus, that English book that we're supposed to read in the next few days, and that damn thick history book. She was wearing a pink sweater then, paired with black jeans and black doll shoes.

She was walking quite fast, hurrying over to where I stood. When I saw her walking, I dismissed her knowing she was just another student in the hallway. I continued shoving my bag inside my new locker, groaning that it didn't fit when I felt someone touch my shoulder.

I jumped, because no one touched me. And if they did, it wasn't exactly a soft touch.

"Hey, is your locker number 425?"

Her voice flowed evenly, controlled even. I was surprised to see her there, her olive green eyes staring up at me. I didn't even feel her presence. I only did when she tapped my shoulder.

"Uh, yeah."

"Oh good. The locker numbers were missing so I thought I'd ask," she said as she twisted the lock's combination before dumping in her books inside the locker. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and I found myself staring.

I nodded without really saying anything and slammed my locker shut. The only thing in my hands were my binder and my notebook.

"I guess I'll see you around, Dex." I heard her say.

I stiffened and turned to her only to see her gone, walking down the hallway with her hair swishing back and forth. My feet were planted on the floor as my gaze narrowed down on her.

Back then, the only thing that was running around in my mind was this: how did she know my name?