***NOTES*** I'm just going to be up front here, if you know me personally, you will not expect this story from me.

Chapter One-Half:

Her long blonde hair sliced through the air as she walked: back, forth, back, forth. Hypnotic. Today she was dressed in a pink sweater so fluffy it looked as if it could float away. Her short black velvet skirt fit snugly around her hips then flared mid-thigh, and swung along with her peculiar rhythm: back, forth, back, forth. Her build was round and slender in all the right places. She teetered atop two thick platform boots, noticeably clumsy for a girl so pretty. When I think back, I must have seen her before; we were in high school together up until now. She was popular, though. Perhaps that's why I never noticed her—I lumped all of them together into a giant preppy soup.

"You okay?" she asked, kneeling down beside me. Her breath smelled ironically of winter (her name was Summer), peppermint and cinnamon and just a hint of chocolate. It was then that our eyes met for the very first time. I only got to see them for a second—she modestly flicked them back down to the floor, but a second was enough. This was a person I wanted to know much better.

"No different from the last time this happened to me," I replied, managing to create an indifferent tone regardless of my quickening pulse.

"It happens often?" she asked, reaching over my lap to grab my battered old copy of the history book. "Oh, I thought this was the book we had in eighth grade," she said. She bit down on the right corner of her lower lip, which was obviously a habit. Her pearly pink lipstick was worn completely away in that exact place.

"It is," I replied, gathering up some of my papers. I resisted a sudden urge to grab her fingers and put them in my mouth. They looked so tiny and delicious, and her nails were so perfectly oval. They were painted, of course, in a shade of pink to match the sweater and the lipstick. I glanced at my own nails, uneven and peeling. Disgusting. "I rather enjoyed it, so I carry it with me for reference."

"Oh. Well anyway, I'm Summer." She stood and put her hand out to help me up. I couldn't bring myself to touch it.

"I know," I said, struggling to my feet without her help. "You're wearing a nametag."

She laughed. It was a nice laugh, not the giggle I would have expected from her. She tucked and re-tucked some stray hair behind her ear. "I forgot about that. I'm taking in some freshman cheerleaders today and wanted to present a friendly image!"

"Thank you for your help," I said politely, rearranging the black layers of my skirt. "Perhaps I will see you again sometime."

She laughed again. Her eyes nearly disappeared when she smiled, crinkling up into an arch of thick, mascara-coated lashes. "Perhaps."

As I watched her swirl away in velvet and angora, I realized: I never told her my name.

STILL MORE NOTES: Here's the deal. These characters are mine, all mine. They started off in a fanfiction, and I decided to bring them into real life because my fanfiction was SUCKING ROYALLY. The idea was great but it wasn't mine, so I was completely incompetent to use it. But these characters…they came indirectly from that idea, so I have to give credit where credit is due. So thank you to Rowen of Strata, or Daniel Wilson, or whatever the hell you're calling yourself these days, for the prompt that got me here.