"Listen Khloe," I remind her...yet again. "I don't want to like anyone. Could you please stop listing every guy in the school?" I roll my eyes, and shut the door to my locker. A gust of grotesque smelling wind whooshes up my nostrils as the door closes. Leaving milk in your locker over winter break is not a good idea.

"But you have to like someone!" She throws her arms into the air, expressing her frustration with her normal dramatic gestures.

"No. No, Khloe. I really don't," I fold my arms.

"But you really should," she assures me.

"Keep dreaming," I snort, and turn to begin the long journey towards study hall.

"Fine, I will!" She retorts, running after me. Her steps double in speed, as she tries to keep up.

I stop dead in my tracks when I see him. My chest tightens, my mouth goes dry, and my heart leaps into my throat. I press my lips together, anxiously. My mind spins in circles, round and round and round. My pulse speeds up, dramatically, as if I am having a heart attack. It's amazing what Luke Solton can make me feel. Just by crossing my mind he can do this. Just by passing me in the hall he can do this.

"Uh...Adriann?" Khloe waves her hand in front of my face in confusion. "Hello?" she knocks her fist on my forehead, "Anyone home?" I turn my head over my shoulder as he passes by us. Then he turns the corner, and is gone just like that.

"Yeah..." I shake my head. "Sorry, I zoned out." I begin moving again, swiftly towards the end of the hallway.

"What happened to you right there?" I can feel her eyes burning into the back of my head. Though I can't see her I can still feel the intensity of her commonly used 'confused-glare'.

My sneakers squeak against the floor, the rainy bottoms slipping against the polished tile with each step. The soft scent of distant candy entices me to flare my nostrils, to figure out the origin of the smell. The tang of burnt toast from this morning's breakfast, still floods my mouth. I swallow the gathering saliva, trying to clear the taste.

"I zoned out..." I assure Khloe, trying not to be more suspicious than I already am. Khloe raises an eyebrow, skeptically. I roll my shoulders backwards, trying to untie an invisible knot of insecurity beneath my skin. I continue down the hall, picking up pace to escape Khloe.

I enter the classroom, and move to the back corner swiftly, where I usually sit. Seconds later, Khloe comes into the room, and sits beside me.

I lift my pencil to the desk, and begin rocking it back in forth in my hand like a seesaw. The tapping always drives our entire class insane, but I find it comforting. I glance around the classroom, looking for some source of entertainment. Ah, my good old friend, the clock. The agonizing ticking of every second, reminding you just how slowly time passes, and just how long the day will drag on. Tick. Tick. Tick. I mentally facepalm, unwilling to accept the inevitable boredom the next few hours have in store.

I look to the window, and let my eyes graze the dewy blacktop in front of the school. A rumble of thunder, and flash of lightning fill the room. Students don't even flinch. Rain is invincible, undefeatable, impregnable to sunshine. As children we would sing the nursery rhyme, 'Rain, rain, go away, come again another day.' Now we just watch lazily from our desks, listening to a combination of the lackadaisical ticking of the clock, and the deafening rhythm of the rambunctious rainfall. It hasn't let up in weeks. So much for long summer bike rides, now we sit inside, boredom overwhelming our brains as we longingly gaze at the grey storms swirling above us.

I look to the right of me, and see Khloe. There she sits, perfect, a ray of sunshine, in all her glory completing this morning's assignments that are not due for weeks. How are we friends? She is intelligent, beautiful, and ambitious. I am bored, stupid, and I like to think a little rebellious. A smile crosses her face as she writes her answers, clearly impressed with her above and beyond effort. What are friends for, if not to help other friends do all their homework? That's Khloe and I. Not that we don't do other things, but a good portion of our relationship is her helping me with my schoolwork. We've been friends since the first day of tenth grade, and have grown closer within those four months.

She is no Ari though. Ari has been my best friend since kindergarten. He and I stay up late texting and hang out after school all the chances we get. Ari and Khloe have only hung out about three times. They don't hate each other...that doesn't mean they get along though.

The door swings open, and a girl I don't recognize enters. I glance back to the maleficent clock. Only two minutes have passed? Ugh! Still fifty-nine to go. How has it only been two minutes? This clock is messing with my brain, keeping me on the edge of my seat with anxiety for the day's never-coming end.

"Ahem," Ms. Jacobson clears her throat. Her nasal tone hurts my ears every time she speaks. I unconsciously raise my hands to my ears everytime I see her mouth open to say something.

The girl is wearing a black Nirvana t-shirt, and tight black leggings. She has maroon leather bracelets lining her wrists, and there's a rusted, silver ring resting on her index finger. Something is engraved on the ring, but from back here, I can't tell what it is. She covers most of her Nirvana shirt with a black hoodie. Her face decor and fashion choices lead me to the instant conclusion that she is goth. The long black hair only confirms my suspicions.

"Ahem!" Ms. Jacobson repeats her signature attention grabber for the class. Heads lift this time, feigning compliant behavior towards the front of the room. "We have a new student with us today," My hand reaches towards my ears, to find out if I am hearing a strange crackle or if that is just the aftermath of her sentence. "This is Ava Blackwell," the class nods, and looks back down to whatever they were doing. "Tell us about yourself, Ava."

"My favorite color is black," she begins, unsurely.

"No duh, Goth Girl." A boy coughs. This wisecrack's presumptuous comment, is followed by scattered giggles. She takes a deep breath, revealing her first trait: Hothead.

"I like to kick the asses of smart alecs who call me names, and that's about it." she smirks, and winks at the kid in the front row. The kid sinks into his seat, embarrassment flushing his cheeks. I like this girl.

"That's enough, Ava. You can take a seat in the back row, next to Khloe." she points to Khloe. Ava slowly makes her way down the rows of desks. As if she is imagining it is a runway. Next top model: Goth Girl. "Excuse me a moment," Ms. Jacobson steps out of the room, revealing her 'pee dance'.

Ava slouches boredly in her chair. "Hey," she turns around, as Khloe greets her. Ava's eyes widen momentarily, as if she is starstruck.

"Khloe, right?" she asks, returning to her original attitude.

"Yeah," Khloe answers, a grin tugging upwards on the corners of her mouth.

"Cool," the two look at each other for an agonizing seven seconds, till they return to their seats.

"Cool," Khloe whispers under breath, slowly glancing towards the back of Ava's head.

I grab a sticky note from my pencil case, and begin scribbling doodles, furiously trying to pass the time. Another day to get through. Another endless day.