A MIRACLE HAS BEEN DONE! I HAVE UPLOADED TWICE IN ONE DAYY! *PARTTYAAAYYY!* lolz, SUPRISEEE! and here it is: chappy 5! review as alwaysss! and give me cookies !

ashalayy aka freddi d yall =]

oh, and i think i will correct my name lolz =]

*Chappy 5*

"Stop," I groaned. Something was poking me, and it was getting really annoying. I opened my eyes and found eight eyes peering at me expectantly. When I sat up, Carson didn't move to give me space, so there was little space between us. We both blinked at the same time, and I felt the others leave the room.

"We're alone," he whispered, his voice husky. His eyes lowered their gaze down to my lips. I felt his warm skin on my lower back. When I looked down, I saw his arm around my waist, pulling me closer until we were chest to chest. He pushed me down on the bed, and I could fell his lips on my neck, his warm breath, leaving me slightly intoxicated. Carson's lips went lower, but suddenly rushed back to my lips. I don't know how long we lasted, us making out—it couldn't have been more than a few minutes, right? The randomly burst opened. The dull light blinded me slightly, and there was a shadow of a figure—which I immediately recognized as Elmo.

"Your mom," he whispered. H thrust the cell phone into my face, and left.

"Where are you?! Where have you been?! I called Tabitha's house, and she said that a strange man came to pick you up!" Wow.. I rolled my eyes at the last statement. Imagining Elmo's face in my mind, he did not seem strange.

"He isn't strange," I protested.

"So you did go with a random guy!" she declared. "This, guy, or whatever, answered the phone and said you were busy. I said who and he said 'with a friend who will help her feel better." I smiled, thinking how Carson did make me feel better. "You better come home right now and—" I hung up the phone. I didn't need this—not now.

I looked at the time on my phone, and it said it was 10:14. I looked past Carson, who was now moving toward me, at the alarm clock, which proved my phone so be, sadly, right. As Carson came behind me, pulling me closer to him, I was staring wide eyes at the number of missed calls and unread texts I had. Carson and I couldn't have been… like that, for that long. But I remembered it was around five-ish when I woke back up. I felt Carson let go of me, and watched him head for the door.

"You should go eat," he said. Carson left without another word, not even another look back. I sat quietly in the dark silence, taking in all that has happened. It felt surreal—like it was all a bad dream I was having, and when I wake up, I'll find Felicity on her phone, putting on make up and doing her hair. I felt Felicity's note burning in my pocket. No, nothing would be the same, no matter how hard I wanted to believe. I stared at the note, putting it back on the bed, closing the bedroom door, and heading down the stairs for dinner. Seconds later, the note was back in me pocket, going down the stairs with me.

When I got downstairs, I didn't see anyone, but I heard voices coming down from the dining room. With my bangs hiding my eyes, they wouldn't be able to see my eyes—which you could always tell how I was feeling—but I could see theirs and that suited me just fine. Judging from the looks I was receiving, I looked like crap—and I felt like it too. They instantly knew something was wrong.

"Come and join us for dinner if you're hungry," Mr. Nottell said, attempting to break the awkward silence. Kobbie got me a plate, mat silverware, and a glass, as AJ got me an extra chair. I had to wedge in between Carson and Elmo, but I managed well. The air was really tense, and the whole dinner seemed awkward—except to Carson, who seemed oblivious to it all—so I pretty much figured the whole awkwardness was because of me and Carson.

We really didn't do anything bad, it was simply making out on a bed and that was it. He was only trying to make me feel better—I think. I doubt there were any other motives, since he didn't push or anything. We will probably never be together, and it will stay like that. This was really only a one time thing—it was impulse. Even though I knew this, I couldn't help but hate the fact that he was acting distant and ignoring my presence. Yeah, it hurt, but I guess there was really nothing else to expect.

When dinner was finally over, I pulled Elmo aside. He noticed that I didn't look at him, and guessed that I was finally going to tell him what was wrong. I was about to pull the note out of my pocket, but then I suddenly didn't want to. I wanted it to be my little treasure—a dirty little secret that only I knew. Elmo lifted my chin and kissed my nose lightly. He was assuring me, telling me that he would be there to help me as much as he can. I sat down on the stairs that were behind us and he took his cue to follow suit. Putting his arm around me, pulling me closer to him, I pulled the note out of my pocket, and handed it to him with a heavy, pounding heart.

For some reason, I was suddenly ashamed of it. I didn't look at Elmo's face when he was reading the note, afraid of the emotions I might see. When I finally mustered the courage to look at him he was simply staring at the note. I felt awful showing him the note, and instantly regretted showing it to him. I felt something rising in my chest and throat. I tried to swallow it, but it was painful to swallow. There was an awkward, painful silence, and my tongue felt heavy. Whenever I opened my mouth, no sound would come out.

"When did this happen," he finally whispered. His voiced cracked, which never happens.

"I'm not sure. I was probably between late last night and this morning. I just came into her room to apologize about what I said to her, and then I found her… She," my voice could barely raise above a whisper now.

"She what," Elmo urged.

"She hung herself," I managed. He held me close, barely letting me breathe. I tried to be aware of my surrounding. The sound of the TV playing softly behind us, the canned laughter, padding of footsteps, light conversations… All of these things reminded me of Felicity.

"They thought it was you, didn't they," he whispered softly in my ear. I didn't respond, but he knew the answer already. Lifting me up, he carried me up the stairs and back into bed. As soon as he laid me on the bed, I instantly noticed how tired I was. Elmo was beside me, and in a few minutes was sleeping, gently snoring. I sat listening to his soft breathing, so soothing and comforting.

I stared up at the ceiling, trying to sleep, but failed, even though I was tired. After a while I gave up, so I tried to clear up my mind and think of absolutely nothing. I managed to that, but there was one thought that stood out, and would not be forced back into the dark shadows of my mind: I never got to say goodbye to Felicity.

I ended up waking at 4:28 in the morning. I quickly whipped up some breakfast, and then climbed back up the stairs to leave a note for Elmo, telling him I was gone. Before going home, I headed for Tabitha's house, and sneaked through her window. Her room was in the front of the house, and in front of her window, there was this tall tree. She always left her window open, and it was easy to get in because of the tree. Quietly, I took all the clothes that were mine. I hesitated on taking the things that I thought were really cute, but instead thought it wasn't worth it. She was now the enemy—our once powerful alliance was completely tarnished. A couple of times I heard some noise coming from the bed, but neither Ayden or Tabitha woke up. (There were two different noises and I saw Ayden's favorite shirt, it was pretty safe to guess that it was Ayden and Tabitha in the bed.)

When I got home, it was roughly five a.m. I took a shower, changed—ended up wearing mostly black: black Converses, black skinny jeans, black hoodie, and a black and white shirt—and walked for a while, then finally heading off for school. When I knocked on the doors in the front entrance loudly, no one answered. I banged on the door the second time and someone came moments later. I surprised the custodian who wasn't used to seeing students at five a.m.

"What do you want," he grunted. I didn't say anything for a moment. I looked into his grim expression, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Can I stay here?" He looked like he was going to close the door on me. "Please," I begged, my bizarre blue and green eyes pleading him. A few minutes later, I was sitting in my desk in homeroom. The custodian didn't ask anything, leaving me alone in the empty room.

About an hour later, Mr. Fisher came into the room, merry and all, whistling a happy tune. He stopped dead in his tracks, surprised to see a person, a student at that fact, sitting alone in the room, staring off blankly into space.

"Um, Cammy, what are you doing here?" he asked slowly, as if I was a dumb child. "How long have you been here for?"

"Since five, sir. I needed someplace to be, and the custodian let me in." I finally looked at him, and he saw I looked miserable.

"What happened?" he asked softly. Too weak to actually say it, I handed him the note, which now went with me everywhere. He read it quickly, and didn't say anything for a while. I already expected that part. "Um…" He coughed and cleared his throat awkwardly, obviously unsure of what to make of the situation. "Normally, you would be in deep trouble being in school this early, with practically no one in the building. But, I can make this an exception, as I can understand that you want to be alone." He packed his things and told me he would be back later.

"Um," he coughed, ribbing the back of his neck, "don't mention this to anyone. And stay here in this room, okay?" I nodded briefly, and he went off to attend to his business.

"About another hour passed, and I could hear the chit-chat of the students filing into the halls. I had my bangs covering my eyes, my headphones over my ears, blaring with music and deep base. Most people passed my, simply assuming that I had fallen asleep listening to music.

"Oh, my God! Cammy's dead!" a person yelled. I heard a lot of footsteps, felt it shaking the floor.

"She's not dead, maybe sleeping," another person yelled. People were shouting different comments, poking me in an attempt to "wake me up." At first, it was gentle and easy to ignore. But then, they started to get more forceful; people were shaking me roughly and violently, screaming in my ear. And when I showed no sign of response, I was presumed dead. At long last, a teacher came into the room, to check on what the whole ruckus was about.

"What is going here?" he barked.

"Cammy is dead!" someone cried, their voice sounding like they were on the verge of crying. "We pushed her, yelled her name, but she didn't move or anything!"

My arm suddenly shot out, grabbing the wrist that was reaching towards me.

"Don't touch me," I commanded in my most hostile voice. It came out all raspy—my throat was sore and dry, there was a lump in my voice, my tongue was heavy—but you could still detect the menace in my voice. "Did it not occur to you that maybe I am tired? I haven't had a decent night's sleep, I'm tired, and I want to sleep." I must have looked death itself, because the poor innocent person who had the misfortune of trying to help me at the wrong time was looking petrified. I had noticed everyone else had instantly shut up, dropped there hands to their sides as if my flesh was on fire, and there was no sound left but the eerie silence that had been blanketed over us. My eyes were steel—cutting through the people who were pissing me off. If looks could kill, mine would cause a bloodshed.

A moment or two later had passed, and my head dropped to the desk with a loud thud.

About ten minutes later, according to my phone, forgetting what happened and feeling slightly disoriented, I woke to terrified faces. There was a general buzz of homeroom, but once my head lifted, everything was dead silent. Vaguely remembering what happened, I mentally slapped myself for doing that. Right now, people were terrified, thinking I had the power to their very own misery of torture for the rest of eternity. It was as if they have never seen a person who is grumpy when they are rudely awoken from a much needed and deserved sleep. Well yeah, my reactions are slightly—scratch that, a lot—worse than the average person, but that doesn't make me any less human. Just a lot more terrifying.

At that moment, I had a really strange feeling in my stomach, so it was almost instinct when I looked over towards the door. There was a guy, apparently new, looking into the room with a slightly confused expression masking his face. I was about to ask him if he needed help, when our eyes locked. Brilliant green eyes, dark curly hair, olive tanned skin—for some reason, this person looked familiar. He seemed to be debating on whether he knew me or not.—he was staring at me with an even more confused expression than before.

I was about to give up trying to remember where I knew him from, when another guy appeared behind him. He had shining blue eyes, dirty blonde hair that was arranged in a messy way, muscular, looked preppy, and an unforgettable smirk that was directed to me only. He leaned back, his upper body disappearing from view, and then I could see all of him, plus another guy. More and more came until there were about fifteen if them, all smirking at me—except for the first guy I noticed. He looked back to the other guys, obviously noticing their smirks that we aimed in my direction, and looked at me, seeming completely clueless.

I had a random flash back of me in a park.

There were little kids running around with finger paint, screaming, trying to get paint on the others. I am sitting alone in the swing set. On the outside looking in. All the other kids avoided me. They said mean things behind my back, their rumors whispered behind their chubby hands. I was only there because my sister and brothers—I mean brother—were invited, so I had to come too. All the kids around my age were huddled in a large group, with one kid not in it. The other kids pointed towards me, and he came and sat next to me. In his small hands, he had a pen and paper.

"Can you draw with me," he said, giving me a friendly smile. I return the smile because he has been the kindest person to me that day.

"Sure," I said happily. We take turns drawing something, when he finally stops.

"I have an idea. We can make tattoos for each other," he suggested.

"What are tattoos?" I asked, having difficulty saying the word.

"They are drawings on your arms. Do you want one?" I nodded yes, bobbing my head up and down. He lifted my sleeve so my whole arm was bare. He pushed the pen down, harder and harder, even when I yelped in pain.

"Ow! It hurts!" I cried, tears springing to my eyes. He pressed further until the skin broke and I was bleeding. The tears started flowing, as he left me to join the other kids. He came back again, with other kids following him, and they all pointed their fingers at me and laughing.

"Stop laughing at me," I whimpered. They all continued, and then left me.

The cake was being served.

My mind returned back to the present, and the scar where the pen stabbed me suddenly burned.

I knew who the new guys were. And by the smirks they were giving me, this was going to be bad.

Very bad.