Chapter 4:

When I got home after school that day something felt different. It was a fairly nice day out, the sun occasionally disappearing behind the soft clouds, everything in autumn colors. The kind of colors that reminded me of Charlotte. Ever since I talked to her in Biology there has been a constant battle in my head over thinking about her and focusing on the real world. I had to talk to her. Somehow, someway I would get her number. Even a text would make a difference. I just had to get to know her.
~
Its now 8:03pm and I’m laying on my striped navy blue bed sheets with my computer in my lap, continuing my search on Charlotte Asher. A big blue sign popped up on my screen that read “Facebook”. Finally something I could work with. I click on her name and scroll through her information, she seemed like your average girl. But I knew there was more. An average girl didn’t describe Charlotte, she was something more, and I was determined to figure it out.
~
There I was again, the seat next to Charlotte in biology, her manicured fingernails gliding through her hair as she watched Mr. Anderson write today’s plan on the board. I’m the kind of person that thinks out loud, in other words, sometimes I don’t have a filter. This was one of those moments. “Charlotte,” I said without thinking, “What are you doing after school?” And there it was, word vomit, uncontrollably pouring out of my mouth as we speak. “Umm,” she started to reply, “I have to study.” “Want to meet me at the library?” “Yeah, I guess that could work.” I was beyond excited, and maybe this one time my word vomit didn’t turn out to be so bad. But now the real issue, what am I going to talk to Charlotte about? There’s always the “awkward-new friend-what’s your favorite color” introduction, but she deserved more than that. After thinking about it a lot I finally decided what the subject would be. I found out while I was searching her, that she really loves writing and that the studying she’s doing at the library today is writing. Perfect for me, writing is something I use to express myself, yet no one really knows it. I take advanced writing in English but its not something usually tell everyone. I was hoping that charlotte could be someone I could trust, especially with things like this. I no longer wanted to be just “the athlete” I wanted to be different, and that is one of the many things that continued to attract me to Charlotte, her differentness.
~
I pull the tall silver doors open and make my way slowly to the back of the library. The back was the place where there were study rooms and I was hoping that Charlotte had already gotten one. When I finally walked all the way back there, I didn’t see her anywhere. So I decided to get a room myself. As I sit down, I take a moment to go over my introduction to Charlotte that will hopefully win a friendship with her. But my mind goes blank and I start to focus on myself, I looked at the clock, it was 4:30, and she wasn’t going to be here for another 30 minutes. Before I knew it I had a piece of blank lined paper and a blue ballpoint pen in front of me. I began to write, and before my rapid writing began all I pictured in my head was charlottes face. So that’s what I wrote about. Describing her slightly wavy long chestnut hair, greenish-brown eyes that caught your attention when you make eye contact with them. I kept going, naming things about charlotte. The crazy thing was is that I just met her. I walk out of the room for a second to go ask the Librarian something when I see out of the corner of my eye familiar chestnut colored hair. I quickly rush back into the room and grab the paper that I had just written, crumble it up and stick it in the way back pocket of my backpack. There was no way I was letting charlotte get a hold of that piece of paper. I gather my composer and go back out to get her. Standing by the Fiction section I found her, “Charlotte.”

“Hi Levi.”

“I uhh got a room for us to study in.” I say hesitantly. I had never had this many nerves when it came to talking to girls. She follows me till we reach the glass door; I hold it open for her. “So you like writing?” She asks me as I start to sit.

“Yeah, but not many people see me as a writer. How’d you know?”

“You look like a writer,” I smile.
“I also enjoy it, it gives me somewhere to go when I don’t want to rely on others when it comes to my problems.” I’ve been with her for slightly over five minutes and I was already getting to know this girl I’ve wondered so much about. “I can completely agree, it’s almost like my safe house when I need comfort. Writing has always given me that.” The words just glide out of my mouth like smoothing frosting over a cupcake. It was easy to talk to her; I liked the way it felt to talk to someone that doesn’t always care about what the crowd thinks.