"Have a good day at school!" My mom shouts through the window of her car, before depositing me into a pile of snow and racing off plto work. I grumble appreciatively and roll my eyes, shivering slightly, as I survey the sights around me.

    I sigh, the wisps of my breath turning cold against the air, and huddle deeper into my jacket. Going outside at these temperatures should be illegal, I decide, and shiver accordingly as the air bites against the edges of my of my ankles. I should have worn my longer jeans.

The sight of a lanky, blonde boy loping down the side of the hill warms my cheeks, and suddenly the cold is not so unbearable.

    "Hey!" I wave, my hands clumsy in their knitted prison. I try to keep myself from smiling like a complete fool, but my mouth has a mind of its own.

    "Hey," Jordan says with an uneasy smile and grimace, "What's your name again?"

    My breath catches, surprised. We've met plenty of times.

"It's Jess," I say,

    "Well, Jess, it's a pleasure to meet you," He says  it kindly, his smile reaching up to his eyes and his cheeks ruddy with snow and pleasure. He must be one of those people that likes going outside. I have suddenly decided that I hate those people.

And that I hate him.

    My mouth opens, and it seems that I have no control over it as it starts moving, sounds exploding from my lips, "We've met before, actually. Dozens of times. We have, like, four classes together. You've copied my homework before. I'm friends with Casey, your ex."

    "So?" He asks, defensive. My nose scrunches in frustration. He just doesn't get it. And this irritates me much more than it should.

    "So, you should know my name. I mean, it's kind of common decency."

    "Well, I'm bad with names." He says it with a shrug, checking his watch anxiously, like he can't wait to escape my glare.

    I look at him, tilting my head back so I can stare at him right in the eye, "There is no such thing as being bad with names. But, there is such thing as being an asshole. Tell me, are you an asshole?"

    "Hmm.... maybe. I haven't decided yet."

He's fucking jocular.

    I stiffen.

            People should not mess with me before I've gotten my coffee in the morning.

    "Okay, what is your problem? Is it your period or something" He asks, before checking his phone again.

I roll my eyes and sigh heavily. That comment was wholly unworthy of a response.

I reach into my pocket for my phone, doing my best to ignore him. Technology normally worked best in these cases.

    However, I hadn't yet acknowledged how clunky my gloves were, as they were unable to wrestle my phone from the clutches of my pocket.

    "Are you having some issues there?" He asks, his eyebrows cocked in an unprovoked smirk. I want to slap it off his face, but my hands are otherwise preoccupied.

    "No," I scoff, confident as I possibly can be without eating the fur that lined my jacket.

    "Okay," He smirks, his grin deepening, giving way to two perfect dimples.

    I finally pull it out, triumphant, a grin shooting off my lips.

But then, slowly and painfully, it slips in my grasp, shattering onto the ice.

    "Shit," I whisper, the word so quiet and harsh that it blurs in with the bleak surroundings.

    He chuckles at that, my whole catastrophe, his voice scratchy in its teasing.

I want to throw the glass shards from my phone at his adorable dimples at that instant. But, I refrain myself, and try to strangle him with the sheer power of my mind.

    "I am not going to go all ape-shit on you," I warn him, my voice quiet and controlled.

I only momentarily relish in his frightened expression before continuing, "I need you to call the bus company and see where the bus is. Because, if I have to be stuck in the cold, with you, and no phone, then I just might lose my fucking mind."

I growl the last part, and he sticks his hands out sheepishly.

    I grab his phone, plugging in the bus number with twisted vigor.

    "Hello?" A woman picks up, her voice nasally enough to make me grimace.

    "Hi, it's two students from Mayside High. We are at stop seven, and we are wondering where the bus is. Do you know when it will be here?" I say this all very slowly, trying to prolong the time before she starts to speak in that God-awful tone again.

    "Is this a prank call?" She asks, her voice going up to octaves and practically unbearable.

Suddenly, Jordan isn't my least favorite person of the morning.

    "No," I say, slightly obnoxious.

    "Well, then, go home. There isn't school today," She sneers, and hangs up on me promptly. Good riddance.

    I hand the phone over to Jordan, and mutter, "Snow day,"

    "Why do you look so sad, Jess?" He says my name in this taunting manner that makes me want to smack him repeatedly with his stupid tassle hat.

            I just stare at him, trying to think of a way to get back to my house.

    "Because, Jordan, darling," I mutter fakely, "I don't have a way of getting home."

    "You could walk," He offers, still delighted over the most recent piece of news.

    "Five miles?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

    "Don't you have any friends nearby?"

    "Not in walking distance."

    "Where are your parents?"

    "Working,"

    "And no friends that would drive you?"

    "They don't have cars." I growl, fed up.

    Silence ensues, and I brace myself for what will happen next. It's inevitable, as Jordan Ackerman is not a completely awful human being,

    He sighs, long and hard, before looking away and murmuring, "You could come to my house. It's close."

    I copy his sigh, and mutter, defeatedly, "That would be my best option."

    "We should probably get going then," He mutters, summoning me with his hands.

    "We probably should," I agree, with a curt nod, and as I glance at his tumbling curls. I realize, for the first time, that this might not completely suck.

    And with that, we walk.

"Would you stop humming?" I growl, the sound basically displaying my desperate need

for caffeine to deal with the specimen that is Jordan Ackerman.

"Why on earth would I do that?" He grins, his smile annoyingly perfect.

"Because I asked you nicely," I say sweetly, my hands shoved in my pockets and my grin taunting. There is nothing sweet about me.

"You're not nice," he says, spewing the obvious.

"I am too. I am a wonderful person," I argue sarcastically, the words biting in their falsehood.

"Wonderfully annoying,"

"That doesn't even make sense."

"Neither does your face,"            

"Ooh, that one burns."

"Ugh, shut up," he mutters, defeated, and I smile. Point Jess.

We walk in silence for a bit after that, the pure simplicity of the world crashing down on me. I don't fancy myself to be thoughtful--brash and loud perhaps--but not thoughtful. But, there is something about being surrounded by so much purity that renders me speechless, leaving my thoughts to whisper into my ears.

Casey crawls into my thoughts, and I wonder if I might actually have to apologize after a week and a half of not talking. I shudder at the thought— I have nothing to apologize about!

She was the one who was stupid enough to cheat off of my math test. When the teacher found out, what was I supposed to do?

I tried lying, but Mrs. Hathaway thought I was an accomplice and started threatening suspension. I was not an accomplice.

Casey had cheated and I hadn't known. She had taken my work, her best friend's work, and used it to her advantage without telling me.

Who does that?

And now she is mad that I told the truth under the principal's threats of suspension and a loss of scholarship money?

Obviously, I am the worst best friend of all time. According to her last text, at least.

"Hey, we're almost there," Jordan's voice cuts into my thoughts, and I want to hug him for helping me escape them. And then I take it back, because, ew.

"Awesome," I say, the smile on my face genuine. He looks taken aback by my open glee and I can't help but snicker at his surprise.

"I am capable of being happy, you know," I warn him, my voice more teasing than anything. I'm sick of being mad at him.

    "So, you're capable of being happy?" He asks, snapping me out of my daze.

    "Sometimes, when I'm around more tolerable people," I say, my voice almost detached from the insult.

    "So, you think Casey is less annoying than me?" He says her name with a forced type of nonchalance, something he could never pull off, but thinks that he can. But, I am far too distracted to focus on that, as the mere mention of her name feels like a punch to the gut.

    I strangle with my words, trying to look calm, as tears flood my eyes. I focus on my feet as they trudge through the snow, leaving marks that will soon be covered and stay silent next to his question.

    "You okay?" He asks after a while, turning around to make sure I'm behind him.

    "I'm fine," I call back, my voice echoing against the nothingness that surrounds us.

    "Hey, if talking about her makes you uncomfortable, I get it. I mean, it's kind of putting you in an awkward position. I mean, she being your best friend and me being the greatest guy ever who is putting a roof over your head in the middle of a blizzard, whom you owe immensely. It definitely makes it hard to choose a side," He says this all with a smile tugging on the tips of his lips, very good-naturedly.

    "We aren't really on speaking terms right now," I reply, surprised at my own openness, I normally wasn't one to share secrets.

    "Oh," He says, his smile becoming full-fledged, "I like you so much more right now."

    "Wait!" I say, having a realization, "If you knew I was friends with Casey, then you obviously knew my name. You guys dated for, like, three months."

    "Would you believe me if I told you that I had a momentary lapse in memory?" He asks the question sheepishly, his arms in front of him, totally lying.

    "No," I say calmly, a fake smile spreading from ear to ear. I giggle as he cowers from me, giving me all the power.

    "What about lapse in judgement? I mean you were my ex's best friend. I didn't want her to have the satisfact--"

    I smile as the snowball that I threw hits him right in the mouth.

    "JESS THATCHER YOU BETTER FUCKING RUN!" He screams at the top of his lungs, and I can't help  but smile that he knows my last name.