Hey everyone! This is my second story. Hope you like it!
Note: The POV changes within every line, so just keep that in mind.


Matthew's POV

My name is Matthew. Or Matthew Colin Farrell, my full name. That's what my dad calls me whenever he's mad at me, like super pissed. Anyway, I'm thirteen years old and in middle school. If you ask me, middle school sucks. I guess my second year started off better than the first. I mean, sixth grade was absolutely horrible. I had the worst homeroom teacher possible, and it's a wonder that I stayed alive. Literally, he probably would have skinned me alive if he had the opportunity.

I'm not a teacher's pet. In fact, I'm the opposite of that. Some may call me a jock, even though I only play three sports. Okay, I guess that's a lot. Soccer, hockey, and basketball. I don't really like basketball. The only reason why I still play is because Mom signed me up in the first place. I guess playing basketball is a way of holding on to her, even though I don't enjoy it that much. On the other hand, I like playing soccer and hockey. Especially hockey. I don't know what it is, but I just feel some kind of sensation when I get onto the rink. Makes me feel better about life. Yeah, pretty cheesy.

Anyway, there's this girl named Kendall. There's something about her that intrigues me, I guess. She's different from anyone I've ever met. I think her last name is Barney, or something like that. I'm a tad forgetful. No, it's not Barney. I know it starts with a b… or was it a d? I'm not sure.

I hadn't met Kendall until the night before the first day of seventh grade. Apparently my dad was friends with her parents, because during curriculum night, he chatted with Mr. and Mrs. Barney (or whatever their last name is) a lot.

My experience was awkward, because my friends and I were trying to play football in the halls, which may have been a bad idea now that I think about it. As a result, I crashed into Kendall by accident. She had spun around, and gasped in horror. I had no idea what was wrong. I'm pretty sure I'm no wild animal.

Regardless, I found out the next day that Kendall was in my homeroom. Thankfully, she didn't think of me as some creep who was hitting on her. In fact, I think she even smiled at me once. Sadly, I noticed she didn't have many friends. She only had one friend, whose name is Kath Mitchell. I've known her ever since fourth grade, when she moved to our town. We have a little history. Kath isn't exactly the nicest to boys, but I know that she can be a good person. So Kendall's in good hands.

About a week before I began seventh grade, Dad sat me down for a conversation. At first, I thought I was going to get "the talk," about puberty and all that, but relaxed when he began to lecture me about my grades. Okay, I'll admit, my grades from sixth grade were not perfect. I had pretty much gotten straight B's, with the exception of an A and an A-. I thought those grades were fine, telling myself that they could be much worse. I mean, my B+ in math could have been an F! But Dad wasn't pleased. Both him and Mom had gotten straight A's, even in college. So he told me I had to "step up my game" or else he wouldn't register me for any eighth grade sports. I mean, what an outrage!

All seemed to go well for me on the first day of seventh grade. My sixth grade teachers had warned us that seventh grade was going to be "much harder with much higher expectations," but okay, really? Seventh grade is the same thing as sixth grade, except with different teachers and different curriculum. And this time I would need to get straight A's.

My seventh grade homeroom teacher was much more friendly than my previous one, which relieved me. She seemed to intercept the brain waves emerging from my head, grinning from ear to ear, as if she were promising that she would be a better teacher.

Her name was Mrs. Clover, which I found kind of funny because it was so easy to imagine her with a clover as a head. But after five minutes of fooling around, I stopped because a) I didn't want my relationship with my homeroom teacher to go downhill like it did last year, and b) Kendall seemed to be annoyed that I was disrupting the class. So I quit misbehaving, and after awhile, my friend Ethan caught on.

I don't know what it is about Kendall. She's pretty, even compared to the "popular" group, the girls who tried constantly to approach me. There are so many; Kathleen, Sasha, Caroline, Charlotte, Theresa...the list goes on. But if you ask me, those girls are just trying to use me to skyrocket their popularity. Truth is, I don't really feel for girls like them. Kendall, on the other hand...it's clear that she doesn't have the same intentions as them. Hell, she doesn't have intentions at all. Technically, I was the one who made the first move. I remember the first look we shared. Her hazel eyes staring into my bright blue ones. Was it weird that I wanted to live that moment again?

I have no idea how I'm going to survive seventh grade.


Kendall's POV

As a nerd, life isn't easy. My name is Kendall Barnett. My parents think I spend too much time reading, and that I should get some friends. Of course, they don't say that out loud, but I know they think it every time they look at me. Some may call me a disappointment, but I'm fine just the way I am. I have plenty of friends that live in my bookshelves, who will never judge me by my antisocialness. But unfortunately, life is not a book and I have to deal with middle school.

I do have one human friend, besides my parents. Her name is Kathleen Mitchell, but she prefers that I call her Kath. I believe it has to do with the fact that the school's biggest bully, Kathleen Lake, aka "Queen Bee", shares her first name.

I got Mrs. Clover for seventh grade homeroom this year. I've heard from Kath that she's pretty nice, but I haven't the slightest clue how she knows. She must have asked her older sister. One thing Kath and I have in common is the fact that we are both burdened with older siblings. Kath's sister's name is Amanda, so Kath and I came up with a great nickname for her: Amanda the man. Amanda obviously doesn't find it so funny, but it's pretty laugh-worthy to me.

My older brother, Luke, is coincidentally in the same grade as Amanda. Sophomore year. Since both our parents have allowed Luke and Amanda to date, Kath is betting me a hundred bucks that they'll end up together by the next two years. I'm really hoping they won't, because Amanda is a real snob and I don't want Luke getting involved with her.

For a big brother, I'd say Luke is exceptionally nice. He doesn't treat me as if I'm inferior to him, like how Amanda treats Kath. In fact, in kindergarten I didn't have any friends. After my first day, when I had come home crying buckets, Luke had comforted me. He told embarrassing stories about himself for a whole hour. But sometimes he's distant, like when it comes to his grades. I think his average is a C, which is pretty marginal for a second-year high schooler. His life is pretty much dedicated to soccer, with practices and games taking up a large amount of his week.

Luke is a real ladies' man. There have been random girls coming over, girls who I've never even heard of before. Evidently, they had the nerve to come over to his house. It's strange that there's such a difference between Luke and I. Luke has admirers and I just don't.

Which is why I was extremely shocked when someone crashed into me during curriculum night. Sure, it was probably an accident. But I can't help thinking that it was intentional, by the way his friends snickered and smirked at me. The person who crashed into me was Matthew Farrell, one of the most popular boys in the school. I haven't talked to him before, but our parents are friends. Well, my parents are friends with his dad. I don't know what happened to his mom.

Anyway, he's incredibly handsome. Like, mucho, drop-dead gorgeous. His sandy blond hair and greenish-blue eyes just kind of go together. Not that I stand a chance with him at all. According to Kath, Queen Bee is going after him and I do not want to conflict her. I don't even want to think about the consequences. I'll just stick with reading about handsome boys, thanks very much.

My take on middle school is that the dividing line between kid and adult. It's like a wake up call for us children to live our immature lives to the fullest before we mature and become adults, with responsibility and all that. I tried to explain this to Luke once, and he listened, but I could tell he didn't understand a word of it. That's the thing with my big brother. He just doesn't understand me.

I don't really have anyone who understands me, with the exception of Kath. I guess it's because we're the same age, same gender, and both on the verge of that dreaded p word. Like I said, we're on the verge of becoming adults. I don't know what it is, but that fact just makes me shiver. Kath has been my friend ever since she moved to my town in fourth grade. Even though she's my only friend with flesh and bone (with the exception of my parents), she has changed my life a lot. Now I can look back on those days when I was a lonely, lost child, and chuckle. Never again.

According to Mom, Friendship is like a book. It can take forever to write, but seconds to burn. I don't know how many times I've heard that quote. I know it's oh so true, but nothing like that could ever happen to me. I only have so many friendships to ruin. When I told her that, Mom had just shook her head and sighed.


Matthew's POV

"Okay everybody, take out a pencil and a piece of paper," Mrs. Clover started. She was standing in front of the whiteboard. It was already one week into school. On the first day, we pretty much just introduced ourselves to the class. I found myself listening very intently while Kendall made her introduction. She said she loved to read, and she liked soccer.

Huh, I thought when she sat down. She likes soccer?

I was daydreaming, wondering what sports Kendall might play. Does she play soccer? If she does, then we have something in common!

"Mr. Farrell?" Mrs. Clover repeated. I snapped back into the present. Whoops. I had been so absorbed in thinking about Kendall. Sometimes I forget that I'm inside a classroom and that it's considered "bad behavior" when I don't pay attention.

"Mr. Farrell?" Mrs. Clover repeated yet again. "Please take out a pencil and a piece of paper." She didn't sound very pleased.

I really wanted to sigh, but I knew that it was a bad idea. So I reluctantly grabbed a pen out of my backpack. Ethan poked me in the shoulder. "Pencil."

This time I really sighed and fished a pencil out of my backpack. Gosh, sometimes that kid was a real pain.

Mrs. Clover gave me a warning look and resumed teaching the English lesson. I scanned my classmates, and to my horror, Kendall was looking at me. I never really cared about what other people thought of me, but Kendall was different. I quickly turned my gaze to the clock, as if I just wanted to check the time. I think maybe Kendall was laughing at me. My cheeks were burning, too. Ugh.

After what seemed like a whole day, Mrs. Clover released us from her class. I closed my eyes, relieved. It felt like Kendall had been staring at me for the whole class, which flattered me, but also made me feel self-conscious. I have no idea why I thought about Kendall so much these days. I thought about her almost every minute I was awake. My mind just went, Kendall, Kendall, Kendall. Crap, this was hard.

I had no idea how she felt about me. What if she hated me for some reason? What if she didn't feel anything at all? In some way, that would feel worse than if she hates me, I thought.

I turned my attention to Ethan, who was poking me again. He was really starting to get annoying. "What is it?" I groaned.

"What is it with you?" Ethan replied immediately. He had always been smart mouthed and I knew I could never match his smart alecky words.

"Ethan, I'm not in the mood." I growled. A few girls passed by, and their eyes were trained on me. I almost growled at them, but reconsidered.

Ethan pressed on. "You're never in the mood." he replied.

Ugh. "Can you not?"

"Not what?"

I stopped short, so that Ethan almost crashed into Ms. Hartford, his history teacher. He gave me a dirty look as I smirked.

"Not crash into teachers?" I volunteered after we were a safe distance away from Ms. Hartford. Ethan rolled his eyes, knowing that I had won this round.

The rest of my day wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. The teachers went easy with homework, since it still the first week of school. I only had one paper for history, and they were just questions regarding what us students wanted to learn during the school year. The less the merrier, I thought. I had a soccer game that afternoon to kick off the season and I wouldn't miss it for the world.

As soon as I got home, Dad prepared a light meal for me to eat before my game, to give me energy. He began his weekly lecture, a routine we went through every time I had a hockey, soccer, or basketball game. According to him, I needed some "extra pushing" as captain of two of my sports teams.

"Matthew, I want to see you play with passion. And energy. Aggression, too. Treat the ball...like your girlfriend. You do not want to see them get stolen." I winced as he said that. He was hitting too close to home. Dad winked at me and added, "Not that you have one…"

"Okay, Dad, I get it." I cut him off, careful to add a grin. I didn't want him to question me about my feelings. For a second, a little flicker of suspicion cut across my dad's face, but disappeared after a second. I sighed, ever so slightly, in relief as he messed up my hair and whispered, "My son's growing up so fast."

I gave him a thumbs-up, then raced up to my room to change into my uniform. My jersey was dark green with horizontal black stripes, with the number imprinted on the back. 11. Mom's favorite number. Why, I have no idea. Coach Harlem told me I could choose my number first, as captain of the team.

Dad and I arrived at the field at around 4:00, where my teammates were already warming up for the game. The two teams were allowed twenty minutes to warm up, and then it was game time. Coach Harlem greeted my dad as we approached, giving my father a high-five.

"What's up?" he greeted.

"Nothing much, how about you?" Dad asked.

"I'm well. Ready to score some goals?" Coach Harlem exclaimed as he turned his attention to me.

I nodded, looking confident for my team. I had courage, since we were a strong, tight-knit team with great skills and communication.

Dad couldn't fight the urge to mess up my hair again. As he started to walk away, he turned back and informed me, "By the way, the Barnetts are here to watch the game."

At first, I had no idea who these Barnett people were. Then, a blast of realization hit me. Barnett as in Kendall Barnett. Oh, God.

Mr. Barnett was also the coordinator of Northway's soccer association.

"They're going to be coming over for dinner after." Dad added. Then he smiled, waved goodbye, and proceeded towards the bleachers.

The Barnetts? I squeezed my eyes shut. Kendall was probably on the bleachers right now. I wondered if her parents forced her to come, or if she decided to watch my game voluntarily. I risked a glance at the bleachers. Sure enough, I noticed her pretty face and brown hair, which was put up into a messy ponytail. I tried to stop my heart from pounding as I subtly stared at her. She was in the front row. My face turned as pale as the moon, and I massaged my forehead.

God, I really needed to pull it together.

How in the world I was going to play a Division A boy's soccer game without being aggressive, I didn't know. If I was too aggressive, maybe Kendall would get the wrong message and not like me. Dad's words echoed in my head. Treat the ball like your girlfriend. You do not want to see them get stolen.

Coach Harlem tossed me a ball. "Two laps around the field," he ordered my team. "And I do not want to see one mistouch on the ball."

After I finished my third lap (Coach Harlem told us to run an extra lap), Coach pulled us in for a huddle. "Kyle, you'll be in goal, as always. Don't be afraid to challenge the striker. Jason, Tyler, Declan, centerbacks. Andrew and Gavin, left and right midfielders. Colin and Cody, center midfielders. Derek, left forward, Jack, right forward. As always, Matt as striker. Greg, Jake, and Mark, bench. I'll get you subbed in before the half."

Our classic 3-4-2-1, which meant Coach was trying to overwhelm the defense. Which also meant he wanted us to give it our all. A few of my teammates were looking at me expectantly, and I snapped back into reality. Right. Before games, I always gave a little pep talk.

"We're here to win, and we aren't going to let this other team think for a second that they have an advantage over us. For the tip-off, if we have the ball, I want my midfielders sprinting up the sides of the field. If they have it, attack them. No matter what, winning is our top priority. Now, are we ready to beat these guys?"

With a shout, my teammates and I ran to our positions on the field. I only spared one glance at Kendall, who happened to be looking at me. I quickly flicked my gaze back to the referee, who was holding the ball and a coin.

"Northway, since this is a home game for you, I'm going to flip the coin for Fallmeadow." the ref addressed me.

I nodded. What kind of town name is Fallmeadow? I thought.

The ref, who was a teenager that looked like he was 15 or something, held out the quarter he was holding. "When I flip the coin, say either heads or tails." he ordered the Fallmeadow captain.

The captain nodded and braced himself as the ref flipped the coin.

"Tails," he bet as the coin reached the summit of its arc. Sure enough, the coin flipped to tails.

Unlucky, I thought superstitiously.

"Fallmeadow will start with the ball," the ref announced, dropping the soccer ball onto the field. "You may start on my whistle."

The ref turned to both goalies to ask if they were ready, then finally I heard the shrill whistle being blown. The game had began.


Kendall's POV

"Kendall, honey, do you have a lot of homework?" my mom asked me. I was lying down on my bed, reading The Fault in our Stars. I almost wanted to lie, since I was at a really good part.

Reluctantly, I replied, "No."

"Okay, then that's good," Mom nodded. "Mr. Farrell just invited us to come to Matthew's soccer game, and then come over for dinner. Luke's reffing the game anyway."

I looked up when I heard Matthew's name. "S-Sure," I stuttered. "That would be great." It had been a long time since I had been to a soccer game, despite my brother being on the high school team. Ever since his grades started to plummet, I hadn't had an invitation to any of his soccer games. So for more than one reason, I was excited to see Matthew play.

"Alright, then get dressed. The game starts at 4:30." my mom instructed.

I tried my best to look presentable, but not over the top. I wore a pair of denim jeans and a pastel plaid button up. I thought about braiding my hair, but I had layers. I could ask Mom for some hairspray… I thought, but then dismissed the idea. Instead, I flipped my head over and tied it into a messy ponytail.

According to Kath, it was "unacceptable" to try too hard. Yet it was unacceptable to try too little. Apparently you had to be somewhere in between.

Thinking this, I applied a coat of lip balm. I'd never tried makeup before. The concept was just weird, like, who would voluntarily put unknown stuff all over your face?

Before I knew it, it was 4:20 and time to drive to Matthew's game. Mom and Dad piled into the car, with me in the backseat. Dad was at the steering wheel, while Mom was texting on her phone.

"Kendall, you've met Matthew before, right?" Mom asked. I shrugged. "Yeah," I replied as if it were no big deal, even though it was to me.

Mom nodded thoughtfully and then turned her attention back to her phone. She was texting Kath's mom, Mrs. Mitchell. Something about a Sweet Sixteen…

Oh, shoot. Amanda's birthday was next week.

That witch was going to be throwing a party. Of course, Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell would allow Kath to invite me, but Amanda the Man was sure to pull off something sneaky. Three words to describe Amanda: Mean, smart, and tricky. The worst combination ever.

There was no way I was going to buy something for Amanda with my own money!

Kath and I would just have to beg Mrs. Mitchell to buy something for her wretched daughter and say it was from us. Which would feel bad, since I don't like to take advantage of people. But I guess it would be worth it, if I didn't have to spend time thinking about Amanda Mitchell.

Sooner than I expected, we arrived at the soccer field. The field was right next to the high school that Luke and Amanda attended. The grass so neatly cut, I almost felt bad that seventh grade boys would be trampling all over it. I had seen Luke's games, and I knew that soccer games could get really ugly.

Well, of course, not bloody. But those Division A boys fight for the ball like they're fighting for their lives. I only know Matthew is in Division A because I heard Ethan Walters talking (rather loudly) about him. So I'm not exactly sure if the fact that Matthew plays on the best team possible is accurate. But anyway, it would make sense for him. He plays two other sports, so there's no way for him to get out of shape.

Mom and Dad found spots for us on the bleachers. The metal was cold and hard. A violent gust of wind blew my hair, and I was glad that I had put it up into a ponytail. If I hadn't, it would be flying all over the place. Anyway, the game looked like it was about to start. I tried my hardest not to stare at Matthew, I really did. Luke flipped the coin in front of the Fallmeadow captain. Fallmeadow must have won the coin toss, because they started with the ball. As Luke blew the whistle, I felt another savage flurry of wind. Then there was rain. I looked skyward and saw the angry gray cumulonimbus clouds gathering.

I tugged Mom's sleeve. "Mom, look at the clouds," I warned, my voice shaking. "It looks like there's going to be a storm."

I turned my head to Dad, hoping he would do something. As Northway's youth soccer coordinator, he would surely be able to do something.

Fallmeadow kicked the ball out of bounds. One of Matthew's teammates ran to pick it up for a throw-in. Dad held a hand out to him, stopping the boy in his tracks.

"Ref, please stop the game," Dad ordered. Obediently, Luke blew the whistle. Without wasting a second, Dad sprinted to Matthew's coach, surprisingly fit despite his age. He confided with Coach Harlem for about thirty seconds, then went to the middle of the field, where the boys were standing around and looking up at the sky. It had started pouring, and Mom had offered me her sweater in order to keep me warm.

Dad slicked his hair back onto his head and addressed everyone in the bleachers, "Due to the unexpected weather, this game will have to be rescheduled. Sorry for the inconvenience." With that, he walked towards Mom and I. I saw Mr. Farrell beckon to Matthew, whose uniform was soaked. Mr. Farrell was holding his jacket over his head, which served as an umbrella.

"Dinner's on?" Mr. Farrell inquired my dad.

Dad nodded. "If it's okay with you," he replied, shivering.

Mr. Farrell nodded and lead Matthew to his car. "Take your shirt off, it should help." he instructed Matthew, who looked like he had been plunged into the Arctic Ocean. Matthew shook his head, and Mr. Farrell asked, "Why not?"

To my embarrassment, Matthew jerked his head towards me. Despite the cold, I felt my cheeks burning. I could hear Mom and Dad chuckling, so I practically dove into the car. Luke joined us, still wearing his referee uniform.

As soon as we were all packed into the car, I saw the first bolt of lightning.


So...How did you like it? The next chapter will be coming out in a few days or something...
In the meantime, please review!