At first, I was skeptic my fairy Godmother's ability to help me get close to Jord. But Cindy has proved me wrong. By filling a form, he accomplished more than I have since the beginning of the school year.

I'm starting to treat him like a friend, because he is one now in a way.

I have to admit I wasn't that interested at first, but I actually want to know him better now. I don't have enough freedom at home to talk to Cindy for hours without drawing attention to me. You don't need to be as smart as Mara to know how that would go. So, instead, Cindy walks to school with me every morning, a half-an-hour walk to Gordonfield High.

All of this means I need to wake up earlier than usual to get to class on time. And definitely cannot not afford to postpone my waking up when the alarm rings. It's a struggle but forcing myself out of bed spares me from the silent breakfasts with Lia and Soni: a silent morning ritual between the three of us since Lia has found a new job.

After a months-long search, she now works as a hairdresser next to Washington Town, some five miles away from home.

I didn't even know she was a hairdresser to begin with, but I'm not about to start asking her questions. All I hope is that the job will make it less difficult to be around her.

By the looks of it, Cindy isn't just going to help me with guys. Avoiding mom, too. As a bonus, I don't have to deal with the awfully packed school bus. I never understood why school bus makes five turns around the neighborhood before taking a turn at the roundabout in the end of 38th street to finally head straight to Gordonfield High.

Cindy's appearance out of nowhere sometime during my walk is now something I look forward to. Maybe it is his scandalous outfits that sometimes shine, and other times seem to radiate a light of their own. Or the original hairdos that are a novelty every time I see him.

This morning he's wearing a long curly hair, tips darker and curly falling down to his back. He looks beaten up and has been silent during the whole walk for some reason. I wonder if I'd been too hard on him last night.

His magic is becoming a pain. In an attempt to help me tidy up my room last night, he painted every piece of furniture in a sick baby pink with an accidental swing of his wand. It took an hour and trying out about fifty spells to get things back to normal.

I'm sorry but I don't think I was wrong to scold him. Even so I feel obligated to start a conversation.

"Hey," I say and he turns to me. "That first night we met at the Sweet-T, you told me you needed to land some job as a fairy Godmother, but you have never really said much about where you come from."

His smile isn't as cheerful as usual and it bothers me more than I would want it to. He looks up to the sky for a brief moment, a reflective look on his face. "Things are different there," he says, his look still reflective.

"Where exactly is there?" I ask

He looks down to me, almost as if he wanted to emphasize our difference of height. He shrugs."Somewhere," is his answer. "Up or down, in the past or in the future. It's hard to tell because outside this world a lot of things don't make sense according to human logic. So, let's just stick with there."

A silence ensues before he continues, "We see things humans cannot and we have our own way of doing things. Society is stricter there. When you're born, you're cut out to do something very specific and have to enter a company that works in that field by the age of twenty-five."

"You're twenty-five then?" We walk ahead in a silence I'm starting to find oppressive. I don't like moody Cindy. We stop in front of the line of shrubs where begins the gardens next to the entry of the school.

He's looking straight to the entry with those same distant eyes. "Twenty-seven," came his response, the words half muffled by the hiss of the school bus stopping beside us. "If you don't go now, your classmates will start thinking you're still stuck at the phase when children have imaginary friends."

He told me he has been reading a lot about human stuff-- as he puts it. I guess this is his way of showing off his knowledge on humans.

This time he doesn't just disappear into thin air like the other days. I watch his gracious walk to the end of the street. I'd pay to know wherever he goes or what he does when he's not trying to help me with his failed spells.

"Hey, airhead." I turn to face Mara; Rafael is by her side straightening his square glasses on his face.

I haven't seen both together in ages. Strange since Mara was the most upset about Rafael breaking Lindsay's heart in middle school. I don't recognize Rafael's shy vibes this time. I'm guessing he's finally decided to come out of his shell. I'm even ready to comment on it. But just as Mara starts walking in my direction, Rafael stays behind. He purses his lips and his green eyes seem to be saying the bashful good morning his lips cannot.

I nod to him without putting much thought into it. Rafael turns to the building.

"Rafael is so weird," I comment, watching him disappear inside the school.

"You think?" Mara asks, and I'm confused because this used to be a consensus back in middle school. "Still up to study for the math test at home later after class? Since you're finally not grounded anymore," Mara says.

At first, I'm a bit salty that she just brushes off my question like that, then I remember I have plans after class. I almost panic at the thought. "Oh, shit. I forgot to tell you. Cindy...I mean, I signed up for the poetry club after class, and this will be my first session. I don't want to start out with a bad impression. So, I have to be there."

Mara looks at me funny. "Okay?" She nods slowly. "You're really serious about getting to Jord whatever it costs," she says, and I can tell she's not too pleased judging by her tone. "I mean I don't blame you. He's popular, handsome, nice and will be graduating this summer," she says counting with her fingers. "That's surely more important that passing the math test tomorrow."

She's being sarcastic? I just purse my lips as a response.

"I'll head home right after class though. You know my address, just text me when your poetry session is over," she says, turns around and heads to the building.

I follow behind after a few seconds of questioning my life choices.

The halls are extra-packed this morning, filled with sounds of chatter and locker doors clanging shut. I'm not sure when exactly Mara and I part ways. Just maneuvering through the crowd to get to my locker takes me three bumps on the shoulder and a groan from a senior guy whose grumpy face makes it look like he slept on the dozen can of beers he probably emptied to the last drop last night.

I act like nothing happened though. Getting punched in the face by a hungover guy wouldn't exactly be a good way to start my day. Having to study math later is bad enough.

In the end I'm able to reach my locker to get my books. I press them against my chest as I struggle to lock it. And just when I turn to head to class, another bump sends my books away from my grip, thudding on the ground where they all sprawl open. I fight everything in myself not to curse out loud. Fuck this guy.

I glare at him with devil eyes before I'm able to realize how much bigger he is compared to me. But he's red-faced.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he says, walking ahead to crawl on the ground and collect the books. I join him and pick what he can't fit in two hands. I get what I need and shove it inside my backpack. I give him an awkward smile and his comes full and apologetic. I turn away from him before I start playing things in my head.

"Don't forget this," the guy, now standing behind me, says. He picks a small piece of paper from the ground and hands it to me with a tight smile. I'm ready to tell him it's not mine when the word Jay at the top of the small text, written in italic font, jumps to my eyes. I can't help but hold my breath for a few seconds.

"Thanks," I say, my eyes already scanning the text that's apparently been written for me.

I force myself not to read yet. Is this what I think it is? What grade are we in, third? Who sends small notes these days?

For you jay-I read the top line, and can't help my eyes from scanning the rest of it.

❝𝘐𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦

𝘈𝘯 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥, 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦

𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯, 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴'𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘬, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳'𝘴 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘥𝘶𝘦

𝘕𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵'𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥, 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘭𝘥, 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘶𝘦

𝘖𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘦, 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯, 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘶𝘦

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘶𝘦

𝘑𝘢𝘺, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘑𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯, 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶

𝘖𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦

𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘨𝘭𝘶𝘦

𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦, 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦, 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘰 ❞

A poem. Written for me. My smile quickly bursts into sweet, warm laughter. The kind of laughter that makes you feel alive. Those rare ones you share with friends when you do things you shouldn't during summer.

This guy in front of me probably thinks I'm crazy, but that doesn't make me stop laughing.