Maggie Bogaerde's Story

Maggie Bogaerde parked her black Maserati in a -surprisingly- empty parking space closer to the first building, which had a small sign over the massive double doors reading MAIN HALL. There were other cars parked around there that were moments later being overcrowded by other students who had barely arrived. Cars that were insanely flashy. It was a common thing to see a new Mercedes or BMW in the student lot because, well, this was California. Home of the riches, just like Maggie.

Minutes passed and Maggie sat in her car longer than she would have if she'd been sitting with a companion. She was just getting used to that smell of gasoline from cars with a fuel tank leakage, and the rotten stench of smoke coming from the Free Spirits. Days like this made Maggie just want to sit in her car, and stare at the all the fascination of school life.

She loved school. She loved the smell, the scenery, the students, EVERYTHING.

After taking one last deep breath, she grabbed her keys, her Micheal Kors floral print satchel, and stepped out from inside the toasty automobile. Almost instantly teens hanging around the parking lot recognized Maggie Bogaerde from a distance. She was statuesque. She had a beautiful thin figure, the kind you'd see on the cover of a Teen Vogue magazine, the kind that made every girl around her take a hit on her self-esteem just by being in the same room. Her hair was golden, gently waving to the middle of her back, and eyes the color of blue made people assume that they were gazing at the sea.

Maggie turned, her hair flipping over her shoulder in one motion, to take a look of all the gaping kids; she smiled, then waved. Don't let Maggie's perfection fool you of staring at a snobby little prick. She's really warmhearted and genuine if you got to know her.

The eyes from the students followed Maggie's movements as she walked down the parking lot with grace; her legs moving mechanically in her pair of black Mary Jane pumps. Maggie passed groups organized by popularity, and waved at the Hippies. The Preps took a look at Maggie, and began gossiping. One girl from the circle called her over, but Maggie refused. She was anxious not to be late for class on the first day of the week.

At the Main Hall, Maggie saw an extremely thin girl whose hair was the color of dirt she was trying to open one of the double doors, but it wouldn't budge. The girl struggled and struggled until Maggie stepped behind her and pushed it open effortlessly. Without looking up at Maggie, the girl had mumbled a quick, "Thank you," and scurried away through the crowded hall so fast that Maggie thought she had to bladder, or something. "I didn't even get a chance to introduce myself." Maggie thought to herself.

In the building were thousands of students huddling up in their usual groups, or just shoving their way through the building. Lockers, left and right, towered high up and were being slammed shut by their owners.

"This is the life."

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As of right now, Maggie is just standing in the halls looking around the hall. This might be a good chance to introduce yourselves. :)

The mansion was still cold. Not physically. The temperature was kept at a pleasant 72 degrees Fahrenheit, but it was cold all the same. The mansion had just been finished being built a few months ago. It was a symbol of wealth and influence, a house of someone who was self-conscious about his image and despite their wealth, was still seeking to prove himself better than the working class status which he had been born into by marrying a woman whose family was "old money" and still debated the merits of changing the family's surname to something less Irish.

That was Stephen's father. He was always striving for the money and status that he had sought since he was a young man, even as most people envied him for his wealth, success, and the fact that he married a pretty young heiress half his age. The house felt spiritually dead to Stephen, despite his mother's attempts at livening it up with the latest fads back in New York before deciding she'd much rather imitate the styles in California. His (adopted) brother was still in New York, being his dad's physical representative on Wall Street while his father ran things on the computer and tried to ingratiate himself with his mother's relatives.


At dawn, his alarm rang with the Adhan and he woke up before deciding between performing the salah or meditating this morning. After making a decision, he meditated on the different chakras coursing through his body and reminded himself how best to prevent them from being blocked before taking a shower and dressing. He chose one of his favorite outfits. It was sort of a dark version of a Buddhist robe with prayer beads around his neck and dark pants. Of course, he decided to wear a black T-shirt under it, ruining a little of the effect, but he wasn't sure how strict the school was with dress code and he decided it'd be best he didn't present his bare chest, Freedom of Religion/Expression or not.

Breakfast was a quiet affair. Don't get him wrong, his dad and his mom were there along with a few servants that he never grew used to, no matter the fact he grew up with them around. There was a lot of food, but he simply chose a bowl of rice and vegetables along with an orange and some tea. His father looked at him over his steak and eggs in disapproval, but he at least tried to give him a pleasant smile and make small talk this morning.

"This is one of the best high schools in the country and I hear it has a lot of your type. You'll fit in fine," he stated gruffly.

"Yeah, Dad. Thanks. I'm sure we moved here for a reason. I'm sorry for losing my temper earlier."

"It's fine. It's good you have a temper," his father grunted and that was that. It was the most civil conversation they had had in months, but their issues bubbled just beneath the surface. Stephen wanted to ask him how long he would try to be something that he should never try to be. He wanted to ask if he bought some new cocaine since Stephen threw away the last batch. Instead, he finished eating and got up and kissed his mom on the cheek. She looked up from her cellphone and smiled at him.

"Bye, honey. Have fun at school. You should take the chauffeur. There's nothing like showing up on your first day of school in a limo."

"Yeah... Sure, Mom. Tell Mrs. Hamilton I've kept her in my prayers and meditations. Have fun at the spa."

"Oh, she thinks your phase is just darling!"

Stephen smiled at her one last time and left. He had no intention of taking the limousine. Instead, he slipped the driver a 20 to say he did today and grabbed his lunch. He had to walk about a half mile before he found a bus stop and took one to school. It was about 7:30 when he arrived, drawing stares from many of the students. He mumbled a rosary on the bus ride here and it had raised his spirits. He drew a strange picture: dressed like a monk, an old backpack emblazoned with Our Lady of Guadalupe on the back his grandmother over his shoulder, his school books along with a copy of the Bhagavad Gita packed tightly within it. He ignored the stares as he walked entered the building serenely.

He looked around the hallway in interest. There was one blonde girl there. She was good-looking in the way that drops jaws in this culture and she wore expensive clothes. Unusually for girls in position, she looked content. He smiled slightly before looking around again. His eyes fell on another student wearing expensive clothes. Her hair was a little bit stringy and she let off a sort of defeated aura. He approached her.

"You are unhappy."

It was not accusatory or mocking. He sounded faintly concerned, as though she had tripped and he was offering to help her up.



Yet another day of either hell or opportunity in the public school system, Ian noted. His alarm was blaring with Japanese rock and after a moment of laying in bed, he turned it off. He hated the clique system and his only solace was that the government hadn't gotten involved in it yet to make it even worse. He ran into the shower and thought about the people at school with a sigh. There were good people. Nice people. Then there were idiots and bullies. He was officially at the bottom of the food chain at school. He had no real clique and few friends. He was withdrawn and didn't know how to reach out.

He finished showering and dressed himself neatly in a pair of jeans, shocks, and a t-shirt. He was going to go for a casual look today. He heard his mom shouting for him to come down for breakfast and he hurried down, telling himself over and over again that things would be great today. In anime, it was a nerd like him that was suddenly thrown into something exciting and life-changing, right? His mom had cooked pancakes, bacon, and eggs and he wolfed it down. It was a miracle his mom could cook like this and have time to work. Unlike most teenagers, he was closer to his parents. His dad didn't pressure him into being a doctor and he could tell his mom almost everything. When he was done, he hugged her.

"See ya, mom," he murmured.

"Have a good day, love. Call us if you're going to spend time with your friends today," she told him. He smiled slightly. His mom had more faith in his social skills than he did. He nodded and walked out the front door and slid into his car. It was an old Dodge model, but well-taken care of. He was there early and managed to get a good parking spot.

He walked into the main hall and headed for his locker. He couldn't help but notice Elizabeth. She was actually talking to someone. He smiled slightly. It was good for her to talk more. She was even shyer than he was. The guy looked like some type of monk and he instantly categorized him as a hippie or free spirit. He saw Maggie surveying the hall and he couldn't help but smile again. She never talked down to him even though she was at the top of the pyramid and he was near the bottom. He was grateful for that. He waved at her.

He was early so he took a moment to lean against his locker. He didn't feel like being too early for class.

---

Mercy had already been awake for hours before her alarm clock started blasting Cassadee Poppe. She had heard her mother bustling around the kitchen just after 3a.m. and went downstairs to see what the problem was. Her room was right above the kitchen and living room, so it was easy for her to hear everything. Lorelai Reid chose the oddest hours to bake, and Tuesday night during the wee hours happened to be one of them. Mercy ascended the stairs that night just in time to see Lorelai slit her finger open trying to remove the lid from a top the Pillsbury crescent rolls. Lorelai had laughed about it so Mercy had laughed as well, but they both had quieted themselves quickly so as not to wake the man of the house, James Reid. James was a character, always grumbling about something or other, and especially negative whenever Mercy was around. The two women had been laughing quietly and eating the crescent dough when the alarm song started playing and Lorelai jumped out of her chair in fright. Mercy laughed and Lorelai swatted her with a dish rag before shooing Mercy up the stairs to go turn it off.

She walked in to her room just in time to see James throw the clock out of the window. Mercy pursed her lips and huddled against the wall, creating as much space in the door frame as she could. James looked at her fiercely, then his lips curled into a sardonic smile and he pointed out the window. "That was almost you," he said. She didn't respond and instead waited there while he pushed his way out of the room, ramming her shoulder in the process. She knew better than to say anything at this point. Taking a deep breath, she walked into her room and laid on her bed, looking up at the poster of Max Irons and blowing him a kiss. Sighing, she sat up and frowned at her closet. Is today Friday or Thursday...? Wait no, it's Wednesday duh because of the rolls... She thought of baking with her mother as last night even though in reality it was Wednesday morning instead of Tuesday night. Since it wasn't Friday, she was allowed to wear whatever she wanted to school. Her cronies--ahem, fellow cheerleaders--would no doubt be wearing tight little mini skirts and crop tops, taking advantage of the lax dress code. She looked towards her Boyfriend-cut sweatpants longingly, but instead decided on high-waisted grey jean shorts and a long sleeve red flannel crop that tied in the front. Brushing out her thin blonde hair, she fluffed it and let it rest in waves on her shoulders. She applied a few layers of mascara and a dash of clear lip gloss, not bothering with eye shadow. Pulling on a pair of brown greek sandals, she swung down the stairs and kissed her mom on the cheek.

"Bye bye," she said. She grabbed her bag with her favorite leather-bound specially ordered math textbook in it and keys before exiting the house and unlocking her bright red Jeep. She was lucky to live in California, because a car with no windows or ceiling wouldn't really fair well in the colder seasons that plagued the rest of the country. As she drove, she turned up her radio to country and waved at a group of preps and jocks driving in a Porsche. They waved back, shouting and wolf-whistling at her. Mercy was at the top of food chain at school, and they knew they had to play nice or face social plummeting. She particularly didn't care, it was her squad that would do the shoving and raging if someone messed with her. She cared for them personally, they cared for her socially. It was a good unspoken agreement.

Parking in the last open spot closest to the school gates, she walked inside and tried not to chuckle at the little girl who couldn't open the doors. While she looked no older than fourteen, Mercy recognized her as Elizabeth Williams. She knew Elizabeth came from money, but people who made nothing of their status were nothing of importance to her. She of course would be kind to Elizabeth if she approached, but Mercy had a feeling the girl was much to timid. Recognizing Maggie as she opened the doors for Elizabeth, she smiled in greeting. As Maggie stopped in the middle of the hall, Mercy swerved around her and almost crashed into a guy leaning against the lockers. Stumbling and putting her hand to her forehead in embarrassment, she shook her head at herself. "I'm...sorry. Completely my fault," she said. Looking up, she knew his face looked familiar and she internally scolded herself for not knowing his name. She made sure she always knew who people were, and it irked her to the extreme not knowing someone. "Do I know you--" she started to say but then her arm was jerked and she was pulled away back into the stream of students.

"Hey, girl. Saw you talking to that nerd and thought I'd save you," one of her cheerleaders, Beth-Anne, said with a laugh. Mercy smiled as if grateful but as Beth-Anne chattered she couldn't help but look back at the boy leaning against the lockers and mouth 'sorry again' to him. It just wasn't in her nature to leave a conversation without fully completing it, and even more to not know someone's name. She knew he looked familiar...

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Left that open for you, insane. Thought maybe he could be in her math class or any other class or something. Beth-Anne is NPC, I just created her because there aren't any other cheerleaders. Feel free to bitch about Mercy or talk about her some other way idk. There's usually rumors about cheerleaders so yeah. Anybody can interact with her.

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She was in a rush. Dashing through hallways, rounding corners, and tramping up three flights of stairs. Mrs.Pryor, the honor orchestra director, made the whole class stay after until they were finished writing down the melodies for Beethoven's Violin Concerto in D major, a song Maggie has never heard of let alone had even played before. So, of course it took her longer to complete the stupid assignment and once she did there was only about a minute left until her next class; Junior and Senior AP Statistics. Grabbing her belongings and slipping off her Mary Janes, she took off running down the deserted halls. Her feet were alternately slapping against the linoleum tiled floors, her legs working smoothly moving her up the stairs. She did not stop to catch a breath, though she was starting to feel a bit light-headed and her feet were starting to feel as if she were stomping on rocks. She did not stop because she HAD to get to class, and being late was not what she had in mind.

❤❤❤❤

Once she was at the door, she took a deep breath before making a scene. She didn't even realize when she first walked in that class had already started. Well, there goes her perfect attendance record.

Thank you for joining us, Ms.Bogaerde.

Her Statistic teacher, Mr.Chapman, said in a disparaging tone.

I am truly sorry, Mr.Chapman. Mrs.P-

Maggie started to explain, but Mr.Chapman raised a hand, cutting her off.

I expect more from an honor student and future valedictorian, Ms.Bogaerde.

Maggie nodded,

Understood, Mr.Chapman.

Do you not flipping understand that it wasn't my fault? Geez.

Is what she really wanted to say, but decided against it.

Mr.Chapman studied her before shooing her off,

Take your seat.

As she walked down the aisle, eyes were scrutinizing her in amazement that the brightest girl in school turned out to be the lastest, in terms of her tardiness. Maggie bowed her head in shame and embarrassment, her blonde hair making a curtain to block out the student's attention. Her legs felt like jello as she moved down the aisle- the aisle that seemed endless to Maggie despite all the stares and muttering. She stumbled over a backpack in the walkway and had to catch herself on the edge of a desk. The girl sitting there was infact a jock, caught the clumsy act, and snickered with everyone else who had seen it.

Smooth, Maggie. Just smooth.

She didn't look up as she sat her satchel and violin case down beside the desk before taking her seat.

Alright, Alright. Everyone let's settle down now.

Mr.Chapman said over all the laughter. Maggie took out her polka dotted spiral bound notebook when her best friend, Vivian Taylor, pulled on her arm and leaned close.

Where were you?

she whispered close enough for only Maggie to hear.

Well, Mrs.Pryor thought it'd be best for the whole class to write the melody of a song we had no clue about.

She said taking out her pink reading glasses from her case and slipping them on which immediately made Maggie look even more attractive in a 'nerdy' type of way. Vivian raised an eyebrow,

Tough teacher?

Maggie sucked in a breath full of air, and held it.

You have no idea.

Hmm.

Vivian hummed.

Anyway, now that you're here I need to know what's your opinion on gossip?

Inevitable.

Maggie replied without looking up from her notes.

True,

Vivian admitted reluctantly.

Let's be reasonable now.

Maggie rolled her eyes.

Fine. They are...rude, but can be entertaining.

She struggled with the inexplicable understatement.

Yes!

Vivian agreed with a giggle.

That's what I'm going to do, my dear Mags, entertain you with some rude gossiping.

Oh, joy.

Maggie said; lacking enthusiasm in her tone. She hated gossip. Probably not hated, but despised would be a better word to describe her feelings toward it. Vivian, on the other hand, loved it. Which is the very little thing that got their friendship working ever since kindergarten except that they have this dynamic where Vivian was the gossip-monger whereas Maggie sat back waiting to hear about the humiliating deeds of others. It's always been like that. Things never changed because if it did, their friendship wouldn't work anymore. Especially because Vivian was a Prep, and Maggie was only a Prep thanks to her wealth. But if Maggie wasn't a Prep, would Vivian and Maggie even become best friends?

Oh, joy!

Vivian mimicked the Southern English accent from Maggie's voice.

Lighten up, Mags.

She then playfully ruffled Maggie's hair as Maggie stuck her tongue out teasingly.

Okay, there's this new kid his name's Stephen Caedon or something like that, but I heard he does this weird voodoo meditation stuff at home. His parents are supposedly Irish and has him wearing these bizarre looking Buddhist robes.

Maggie narrowed her brows, while pushing up her glasses,

And you know this how exactly?

Vivian crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat,

I know people who know people.

Maggie bit her lip to hide the smile on her face. Then glanced at Vivian again.

So not true.

Whatever, but never underestimate the Caedon's. By the way, are you starting to go with the Ian Butler look today?

She tapped a finger on the lens of Maggie's reading glasses before bursting out into laughter.

I am not! That's absurd.

To her embarrassment, her voice broke and she felt her cheeks growing hot.

We've practically known the guy for six years and why would I pick now to do such a thing?

Mr.Chapman began talking. She sighed.

Good point.

then she added,

Who would want to look like that freak anyway?

That made Maggie look at Vivian in a way she's never looked at her before. It was a look of disgust.Then, she looked two rows behind her where Ian sat.

Ms.Bogaerde?

the teacher called, seeking the answer to a question that Maggie obviously hadn't heard.

Find the probability. The problem of what is the probability that the male sample will have at most three more days of absences than the female sample, requires us to find the probability that the average number of absences in the boy sample minus the average number of absences in the girl sample is less than three. To find this probability, we enter the z-score which is negative one decimal point eight one eight into Stat Trek's Normal Distribution Calculator. We find that the probability of a z-score being negative one decimal point eight one eight or less is about zero decimal point zero three five.
Therefore, the probability that the difference between samples will be no more than three days is zero decimal point zero three five.

she answered, seeming reluctant as she turned to look at Mr.Chapman.

Everyone within a three seat radius turned to look at her. Even the teacher stared at Maggie as if she was an alien species invading Earth. Then his jaw locked, and he turned away to continue writing different formulas on the whiteboard.

Let's start paying more attention, class.

he said.

Afterwards, Maggie tried to pay attention to the teacher, but somehow couldn't stop herself from glimpsing occasionally at Ian.

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The girl refused to look at him. No, Stephen thought, it seemed that she was unable to look at him. He watched her fiddle with her hands. Her fingernails were long and painted white. It was a French tip, he noted, recalling the number of times his mother got a new manicure. The girl paused for a few moments until, at last, her quiet voice broke the silence.

"Excuse me?" she asked. He smiled. Her voice grew stronger as she looked away from her fingernails and up at him. She didn't make eye contact with him, but she was gaining confidence even as she gazed at something behind him. Stephen suppressed the urge to follow her gaze. Instead, he attempted to catch her eyes with his own and gave her a reassuring smile.

"You know what nothing is wrong or unright and my happiness is in check." the girl spoke and Stephen laughed good-naturedly. She had a wit. He was about to respond when she suddenly deflated, "Uh-uh th-thank you for the concern."

"You're welcome! But happiness shouldn't be in check. It's time you learn do something for your own enjoyment," he told her before singing.

Hey dol! merry dol! ring a dong dillo!
Ring a dong! hop along! fal lal the willow!
Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo!

Hey! Come merry dol! derry dol! My darling!
Light goes the weather-wind and the feathered starling.
Dawn along under Hill, shining in the sunlight,
Waiting on the doorstep for the cold starlight,
There my pretty lady is, River-woman's daughter,
Slender as the willow-wand, clearer than the water.
Old Tom Bombadil water-lilies bringing
Comes hopping home again. Can you hear him singing?
Hey! Come merry dol! derry dol! and merry-o,
Goldberry, Goldberry, merry yellow berry-o!
Poor old Willow-man, you tuck your roots away!
Tom's in a hurry now. Evening will follow day.
Tom's going home again water-lilies bringing.
Hey! Come derry dol! Can you hear me singing?



Ian grined at his joke's success as he accepted a sip of Jade's slurpee with a quiet thanks. He laughed as Jade hit him over on the shoulder.

"Look at you Mr. Trying new things. Hey, I'm going down to the skatepark after school, wanna come? I think I'm gonna invite a couple more people but I wanna hang and see you skateboarding."

"Oh, you make me feel so special. I will be delighted to have you and a couple other people as an audience as I try not to wipe out," Ian told her with a laugh. Maybe he was wrong. Things were looking up today. Then they both heard the bell ring.

"Shit."

"Ian the bells about to ring, what class do you got?"

"I have math class right now. What about you?" he asked as he put in the combination to this locker, opened it up, and gathered up his math textbook and notebook in a hurry.

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Stephen watched sadly as the girl left. With a start, he realized he never caught her name. He completely forgot to ask. He shook his head at his mistake as he headed for his own locker. He took his time to place his books, notebooks, and folders inside the locker before grabbing his math book, notebook, and folder.

"Math... My greatest enemy," he mused as he walked into the classroom. The teacher raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing. Thank God this was the first day of the school year. He took a seat by a blonde haired girl and smiled in greeting before he placed his things on his desk.

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Jade smiled in resignation as she realized what class she had. She spoke, "Unfortunately I have math in the morning too, like really whose bright idea was it to give half awake children math in the- ow!"

She turned around angrily, but saw that it was Rhapsody and smiled. Ian couldn't help but laugh slightly. He wouldn't have the courage to pull such a stunt. Nonetheless, he spent a few minutes making faces at Jade as the teacher droned on. Eventually, Jade returned to her phone and Ian looked around. With a start, he realized he had taken a seat next to Mercy. He wasn't sure how to feel about that. They had never spoken much before, but she did seem to approve what her fellow cheerleader said about him.

"Hey," he greeted politely before opening up his notebook.

Maggie was extremely early for class that she had nothing better to do than slump back in her seat, and stare as her classmates came filing in the classroom in groups-some were in pairs. She felt a bit dreary for those that came in groups. She wished she had friends like them rather than acquaintances, or her "best friend" Mindy two rows behind her. However, Maggie isn't all that great at meeting new people, sure she has the capability to do so, but she doesn't know what to do when it comes to making friends. Even when she was little it was difficult for her to develop friendships because not everyone is very fond of meeting a girl who was likely to be a prissy brat like one of the Preps. It didn't worry Maggie much because she was used to people thinking of her that way.

Class didn't start for a few minutes, and the room buzzed with conversation. Maggie kept her eyes away from the door now as she was doodling idly on the cover of her notebook. She heard very clearly when the desk next to her squeaked and the sound of school supplies were being slammed on the desk, but her eyes stayed carefully focused on the pattern she was drawing. When she finally looked up, she was stunned to have found some guy smiling at her. He was sitting as far away as the walkway between them allowed, but he was staring right at her with a slight smile on his face indicating a greeting. His hair was blonde and curly-disheveled even so. Maggie smiled back reluctantly; giving a short wave.

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Stephen was glad to see that the girl next to him returned his greeting more readily than the previous girl. She seemed friendly, though a little uncertain. That was normal for people who met him for the first time. Stephen knew that he wasn't the most... conventional person out there. He was perfectly fine, with that, though. He was as God made him. Heedless of the teacher, he spoke.

"Hey. My name is Stephen Caedon. I hope you are having a blessed and enlightening day."

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Surprisingly, the girl spoke. Ian wasn't expecting her to speak to him at all. They hardly spoke the whole time they had math classes together. He couldn't help but laugh slightly at her statement.

"Hey," she whispered, "Sorry about earlier, Beth-Anne can be a little...harsh," she told him.

"You don't say," Ian said dryly, remembering previous interactions with the girl he affectionately nicknamed "Harpy" in his mind. Still, it seemed Mercy didn't like what she said to him. That was a plus. He raised an eyebrow at her next words, however.

"So, I do know you from somewhere...don't I?" She asked him, "Or am I just being totally weird..."

"We've been in the same math classes since middle school, Mercy," he told her, "We just... Never hung out. I wouldn't know why."

He may have said the last part sarcastically. They both knew what the clique hierarchy was like. Officially, he was a Wallflower and some popular kids hung out with Wallflowers. Unofficially, however, he was a nerd and one of the few people at this school who did not come from a rich family. You didn't need to be a genius to know he was near the bottom as far as preps, jocks, and cheerleaders were concern.

Not much had happened yet in school but Jim's History class was eventful. To say the least it was to him. The first few minutes of Class were pretty boring and uneventful. Eren Floyd, was in his class. He knew Eren, and thought he was a pretty good guy. A couple of other people were present also like Stephen Caedon and Elizabeth Brown. The girl he was sitting next to stood up and began to move when the teacher came in and told her to sit down. Class finally started to get interesting as he watched the beautiful girl next to him. What was her name it was a city.....Barcelona? Vienna? No wait It was Florence! Jim quietly watched Florence as she kept eyeing Eren Floyd. That's when it occurred to him.. He smirked as he realized her affection towards Eren.

Jim quietly sketched a nervous looking picture of Florence. It was meant to be very light hearted and not malicious. He her and a small sketch of Eren in the distance as she watched him. Jim chuckled to himself as he finished the the quick sketch on a piece of notebook paper. By this time Class had gotten over and She bolted out of her seat towards Eren. "Hi You are Eren Floyd right? I believe we haven't met, my name is Florence Brown and I just wanted to say hi since I saw you in quite a few of my classes" She said. Jim wrote in big letters on the bottom of his sketch. RELAX. Smiling, he then folded it up and made his way over to them. "Sup Eren" He said nodding to Eren casually. He then Looked to Florence. Miss I think you dropped this he said handing her the folded up sketch. He then made his way back to his desk and grabbed his stuff and headed towards the door.

While adding a bit more detail to her drawing, the guy beside Maggie had spoke to her, "Hey. My name is Stephen Caedon. I hope you are having a blessed and enlightening day." his voice was a quiet, musical voice.

She looked up again, meeting his eyes, and hadn't recognized his dazzling face before. It was friendly, open, the small smile on his flawless lips. But his eyes were careful. Maggie knew that boys aren't suppose to be beautiful, but this one was in an unusual way."Margret Bogaerde,"she said her full name carefully, and regretted it."But I go by Maggie. The name Margret is a bit dull, y'know? And it doesn't matter whether or not I've had a good day, or a bad one. What matters is whether or not I'm still breathing in oxygen. Now that, my dear friend, is what makes a great day because death is quite inevitable. May I ask how your day has been so far? I don't recall ever seeing you in this school before."

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"Margret Bogaerde," the girl introduced herself, sounding like she was taking him in carefully. She continued, "But I go by Maggie. The name Margret is a bit dull, y'know? And it doesn't matter whether or not I've had a good day, or a bad one. What matters is whether or not I'm still breathing in oxygen. Now that, my dear friend, is what makes a great day because death is quite inevitable. May I ask how your day has been so far? I don't recall ever seeing you in this school before."

Stephen grinned at the girl, considering her words. She was exactly right in all her observations. He chuckled and replied, "Death indeed is inevitable. Or it is an illusion. In that case, that would make it an inevitable illusion. My day has been pleasant. You are correct. I am new here. My parents and I just moved here from New York City. The weather here is much more plesant. As for my day, I've been exploring my new school. The people here are quite interesting."

Maggie carefully listened to the guy's words- nodding and smiling after every sentence he spoke. She was always a good listener, no matter how dull the conversation may be, she seemed to have understood every word they spoke as if she -herself- was in their shoes.
.."The people here are quite interesting." Maggie was most attentive towards that of what he had told her.

She rolled her eyes rather lightly as a huge grin plastered across her face, "Define interesting." The teacher began to give his first lecture, and Maggie turned to take in his basic words about: Bronte, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner. She was already familiar with everything thanks to the past two years being in AP English. As of right now for Maggie, it was all very comforting… and boring.

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Sorry if it's short. ._.