Written In The Stars

<> Chapter 1/Prologue: The Breeze That Always Ruffles Me <>

"'Ol Auntie Griffon got another diamond chime?"

Breeze Legend. My old co-roommate back at St. Snow's Republic School for Male Youths, along with Jax Pheonixson. He lives in the apartment next to my aunt, and him and my mom are best friends. They're a weird sort of bunch—Auntie Griffon, Mom, Mrs. Legend. They're the type that believe in transcend-al, universe, fung shuey type of stuff. Destiny and horoscopes and all that crap.

Breeze insists we're exactly alike. I beg to differ.

Breeze is okay, I guess. But he has a tendency to come over, berate me with endless questions about windchimes, then fanboy over his crush Lucy or whatever.

"Yeah, whatever," I mumble. I pick at the zipper on my hoodie, hoping Breeze gets the hint. But, then again, he never does. "What's it do again?" Breeze asks with wide eyes.

I lean back on the wall and I look as bored as possible. His curious, childish gaze doesn't even blink. It's actually sorta creepy. Sometimes I forget he's only one year younger than me and not ten years. I sigh. "Makes you really easy to see-through, you know?"

Breeze stares at the Diamond windchimes in awe, running his fingers over if. I don't need the windchimes to see that he's stupidly impressed. Five minutes pass, and he's still whispering to himself and staring at the windchimes. I clear my throat, and I whistle weakly, hoping to show my obvious uncomfortableness. Breeze doesn't notice.

"So, how's Lu doing?" I ask casually. Maybe if I break his concentration and embarrass him, he'll just leave. I catch a glance of blood-red in the reflection of the wind chimes. I instinctively look away.

Breeze shrugs. "Good, probably. I don't really care about her that much anymore."

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "She was all you could talk about for, what—three years?" I'm suddenly aware of how long I've been enduring Breeze's conversations with me. Are we friends? I guess I never really considered the thought, considering how annoying he is. He's the classic dumb-blonde with blue eyes.

But who am I to judge by hair or eye color?

Breeze's cheeks slowly flush red. I inwardly groan. "Well, I got a new girl," he mumbles. Damn it, I let my curiosity get the best of me and now I’ve accidentally engaged him in conversation.

Please don't tell me who it is.

"Arcadia," he sighs dreamily.

If the 'universal force' really exists, I'd like to say that you never answer my pleas you jerk.

I narrow my eyes, in a mixture of concern and confusion. "Isn't she that girl that you always hang out with?" I wonder out loud. I think back. Gold eyes, brown hair, always seems to be glaring at people. "Wait, does she know you like her? That sounds like a deal breaker for your friendship," I say. I mean, I guess I wouldn't know. I just watched Princess Diaries with Auntie Griffon, so that about sums up my experiences with girls.

"Yeah," Breeze mumbles, picking at the zipper of his own hoodie. I immediately cease my own. "But I think she might like Eros. He's all handsome and cool."

Please don't continue telling about your love problems.

"And you know what the worst part is?" Breeze groans. "Arcadia had a major crush on me—until I told her I liked Luella."

Universe, if you can hear me, rid the world of one less albino and kill me.

Breeze glances at his dolphin watch and whistles. "Whoops, late for school. I gotta pick up Cady." Fortunately, he doesn't notice when I literally pump my fists in thanks to the universe. He does a little skip-hop, then pats me on the back as he runs off. "See ya, Griffith. I'm sure you'll find a special lady of your own."

"Thanks, you old man," I bark at him. "Good luck with your Arcade girl."

Breeze gives me a thumbs-up from the bottom of the stairs. He gives one final shout, "Check your pocket!" before running off, and disappearing in a gust of wind. I mat my white hair back into place, and I take my glasses off and polish the dirt off. Blood-red irises are faintly reflected back at me in the glass. I quickly put my glasses back on, and I take a deep breath.

I count to three, then I shove my hand in my pocket. Fortunately, it is neither a bomb nor a clump of worms, per the last times Breeze told me to check in my pocket. It's just a—now, crumpled—small piece of paper. A clipping from a newspaper. "I remembered your birthday" and a smiley face is written in messy red sharpie across the back. I flip it over. It's a Capricorn horoscope....

Aw, what the heck. Let's see what loops the Universe may just throw me for today.

You will find your soul mate today. They appear opposite you, but have a heart nearest to you.

Well, look at that. Little 'ol Griffith Snow is gonna find his Cinderella today. If the Universe can find this Albino Monkey a princess, I'll never complain today. But, of course, that'll never happen, so I get to complain all I want.

<> Chapter 2: The Day I Met Her <>

I swing my backpack over my shoulder, I throw my hood over my head, and I clatter down the steps. I had to sleep over at Auntie's because we have an early morning assembly for something so huge (yay) and she's way closer to the Boy's Republic, for short. I can already see the statue at the end of the mile-long culdesac. A tall, golden statue of our principal's grandfather and the Republic founder, Griffith Snow, glinting in the slowly rising sun.

Yes, I know, it's tragic. There's nothing worse than going to school when your Uncle is the principal. Uncle Axel is the one that gave my dad the idea to name me Griffith in the first place.

And he will never, never let me forget it.

I dread assemblies. Because he always has to wink and wave at me five times throughout the entire speech. And I have to slide down in my seat and hope someone tall and scapegoat-y is sitting in front of me.

My breath turns to fog. I breath out a few times, pretending I'm a dragon (like everyone does on cold days) before I pull my scarf up above my mouth, heating my breath. By the time I arrive in front of the statue, my frozen lips are thawed. I do a mock salute to my past doppelgänger, and his shiny scowl, and I head through the creaky, rusted gates.

Vine grows over the stone walls, outranking the stone in quantity. Even at this early hour, I can see Zander and Nixon, also known as just The Twins, having a race to climb to the barbed wire top. Zander punches Nixon in the face and laughs as he touches the top. Nixon climbs up the ivy, then punches Zander right off the wall. Zander grabs Nixon's arm and pulls him down with him. They start a new race. It's the same every day. Sometimes vice-versa, but you get the point.

Through another pair of gates, into the tall, looming stone walls, like a castle-turned-prison or something. Each pair of footsteps and voices echo and mix until it's an endless bustle, just like any other school. The navy blazer and pants, and the polished black shoes aren't exactly winter wear, so I wear a hoodie underneath it like most everyone else. It's technically not allowed, but we usually get away with it.

I take a few lefts, rights, and diagonals down identical stone hallways, past open wooden doors to identical uniform classes with wooden desks and chairs, until I come to the tall, intricate wooden doors of the assembly hall, big enough to hold a small European country. Exaggeration, but at least you've got a mental picture. Like every classroom, every square wooden chair is bolted to the floor, and each has a golden plaque with a number that matches up to the ID plaque on our jackets.

I have to glance down at my jacket. I forget after each weekend, like everything related to school. Ah, yes, I forgot—Z99. A.K.A., the last chair in the entire auditorium, right at the back. I was late to enroll, so I'm stuck with the leftover. It may not seem important, but the earlier you enroll, the better your chair is. It may just mean the difference between a sore back or a cup holder.

The chairs at the front—early-enrolled chairs—are the newer ones. Seat cushions on both bottom and the back. The middle—mid-enrolled—have only bottom cushions. The chairs all the way in the back—later enrolled, me—are the oldest constructed chairs, all the way from Griffith Snow's era. The bolts are falling off and it's made from the hardest wood in the entire world.

And I'm going to sit in this chair for the next four hours. Thanks great-grandad.

I attempt—and fail—to lean back in the rigid chair, and I close my eyes to rest.

For about five seconds.

Good old Uncle Axel runs onto the stage, his sinewy figure nearly tripping and slamming into the wood. He recomposes himself, then claps his hands. All the boys bustling about the assembly hall stand at attention, silenced, and file to their seat, spare only a quiet murmur. I can feel the stares and whispers directed at my snow-white hair, my pale skin, the brief glances of my blood-red eyes as I flutter them open.

'There's the cursed Albino monkey. Better stay away from him.' So that's why I don't mind the back seat.

Uncle Axel smooths back gelled salt-and-pepper hair, and he straightens his tie. His usual calm, mischievous smile is forced and gritted, and discreet beads of sweet travel down his forehead, captured by the rapid, shaky dabbing of his silk handkerchief.

What could have him so nervous?

A few other staff and teachers run onto the stage in a various order, whispering things to Uncle and shaking their head. Lots more dabbing and gritting. I'm starting to get worried. The various supervisors and teachers stroll down the aisles with searching eyes, each with their own handkerchief with similar purposes. The cameras peppered around the edges of the ceiling are more active than usual, spinning around wildly, red lights flashing. They're usually meant for making sure the very old, very flammable and fragile assembly hall stays a power-free zone. But everyone looks so...on edge. Like they're looking for someone.

Someone dangerous. Someone who most definitely doesn't want to be found.

I twist my tie a bit, and I start to chew on the hoodie strings anxiously. I'm at the back, so that could go both ways—I'll either be closest to the exit, or nearest the entrance for the mad murderer to shoot his first victim.

"Alright, kiddies," Uncle Axel says in his usual introduction. He chuckles nervously and dabs his forehead once more. The air starts to get thicker. People shift and whisper. Everyone else is starting to sense it, too. When Axel is nervous, something is wrong.

"Well, we're going to make this quick." Axel clears his throat and rubs his hands together. A bit of fire spits out his fingertips. He sputters, and quickly glues his hands to his side. The air gets ever tenser. "W-Well, this is a pretty big announcement, so I'll just come out and say it."

Axel stares gravely out over the crowd, his fiery red eyes blazing with seriousness. "St. Snow's Republic School for Male Youths...is no longer an all-boys school."

The room is deadly silent as the news slowly sinks in. I catch a glance of a grin spreading across Nixon's face for only a split second—before hell breaks loose.

Zander jumps up onto his middle-section chair, throws his fist into the air, and screams, "Finally!" Dozens, hundreds of boys quickly follow, jumping up from their seats and pumping their fists. Just as many boo and groan, shouting things like, "Boys rule, Girls Drool!" and the ever classic, "Ew, cooties!"

It takes quite a few claps to get this crowd calmed down, and even so it's only to the point where only about ninety percent are loudly whispering to each other. Axel straightens his tie and gulps audibly into the mic. "Principal North of Sunny Jr. High down the road has a dire overpopulation problem, and we're the only other school in the entire town," he admits, with a face that says, 'this is official.'

"As this is a new change, we've only received one new non-male—excuse me, female—student, as of this new semester, and um..." Axel trails off, and his eyes seem to beg for good news from the teachers. They shake their head. He clear his throat roughly and continues, "Well, um, this student is currently...she may or may not be on school campus, so for now, go about your normal day, and we'll do a formal swearing in as soon as we, er, find her." He claps his hands five times, and we all stand up. Two more claps, and we've been freed.

"I bet she's been eaten by Eli's tigers."

"Maybe Landen struck her with lightning."

Quiet whispers of accusation travel across the crowds as we messily file out of the assembly room, trying to catch whose boy's powers killed the new girl. I can't even begin to fathom why everyone instantly assumed that the new girl died. Does everyone in this school think that girls are the equivalent of dumb bunnies who've wandered into electrical lines?

I wander back down the halls, and into Classroom A. The rule for seats applies to, well, everything, so once again, I'm stuck in the back. I drop my backpack on the floor, kick it under the desk, and I sit down. Then I close my eyes, and I lean back into my chair. Fortunately, I'm mostly spared from the stares as I'm friends with most of my classmates. A few of them greet me, and I lazily nod in acknowledgement.

Then, that's when I hear it.

A sound crossed between a piccolo and a flute, a whimsical woodwind sounding instrument, playing a folksy tune.

"What's got you scowling, Al?"

I open my eyes, and I realize my nose is wrinkled in a scowl, just as Zander said. He cocks his head to the side in question, blinking wide green eyes at me. "Oh, just that annoying flute music," I respond gruffly.

"Hey!"

I whip my head quickly to the side, looking around wildly. Where did that voice come from? Sure enough, the flute music starts again, even louder and tinnier than before. Zander cocks an eyebrow at me. "Dude, you're going crazy. There's no music. You okay?"

"...You don't hear the music?" I ask slowly, my brow furrowing in worry. "Or the voice?"

"Haha, the old man in a little boy's body is already going senile," the voice teases, giggling. It almost sounds...

"Nixon!" Zander calls to his twin across the room. "You hear music?"

"Naw. Why?" Nixon calls back.

"Cause old Albino here's finally lost it."

They both laugh identically, and they start to joke about placing bets on when I'll go to the asylum. But I'm not listening.

Because there's a girl staring at me.

<> Chapter 3: Opposite Me, But... <>

She's just...there. Sitting cross-legged on top of the desk. Not in the seat, in case you're confused. On top of the desk. Sitting criss-cross apple sauce on top of the desk, facing me, and playing a mini flute doohickey. Twilight blue eyes behind neat, jet-black bangs glare at me coldly as she plays.

"Hi," I say slowly. She seems to have this...transparent look about her. I can see her, but at the same time she isn't as defined as everyone else in the room. And she has this faint, glowing silhouette around her. There's no doubt she's the new girl. And she may possibly be dead...

Am I like Norm? Can I see dead people?

She stops playing, and she just stares at me. Her dark blue eyes are piercing like knives. I gulp. She looks behind her, and at her sides. Then she rolls her eyes. Looking straight at me, she says, "Wow, this one is really crazy. He's talking to a person that isn't there."

Wait, wait, what? Is the ghost girl saying that I'm crazy? Is this some suppressed part of my brain telling me this in the form of a teenage girl?

What. Is. Happening.

"I'm talking to you, Girly," I respond coldly. "The one with the ugly looking flute doing meditation on her desk." If this doesn't work, I'm going to look like a crazy scrub.

The girl gasps, and her eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. "N-No way!"

Uncle Axel runs into the room so fast, the door slams against the wall. The girl squeaks, and suddenly, she comes into definition. Everyone in the room gasps. Someone even screams, "Cooties!" and faints. The glowing silhouette around her disappears.

Oh, thank god. I'm not seeing a dead person.

"There you are Muse!" Axel shouts, pointing at her. He leans on his knees and pants, but his glare isn't any less fierce. "You've caused a lot of trouble young lady."

"Fudge," Muse whimpers.

Axel stomps down the aisle, clamps his hand on her wrist, and drags her out of the classroom, leaving thirty-two boys slack-jawed.

And one boy at the back, wondering what the heck just happened.

<> Chapter 4: New Jail Job <>

The velvety, carpet administration office is a stark contrast to the oppressive stone, wood of the rest of the—former—Boys Republic. I can hear a lot of shouting going on in the office. Surprisingly, it sounds like Muse might actually be winning. I chuckle to myself, biding myself with a small bit of copper wire in my pocket. The wire makes little sparks as it touches my fingertips, like most mechanical metal. I don't mind. I find the electricity current very soothing. The tingling, humming feeling of unbridled energy flowing through my veins and in my bones, making my hair stand on end is one of the few pleasures I have in life.

The door to Uncle Axel's office opens, and Muse stomps out, chin raised proudly. She crashes into her seat gruffly, and says nothing. Her ripped jeans and black hoodie are gone, replaced with a weird—excuse me, female—version of the Boys Republic uniform. A smaller, feminine version of the black blazer, a plain black skirt, blue stockings, and black heels.

It's strange, seeing the uniform I've been wearing for so long converted into...that.

Her hair, which I remember was previously in pigtails, is now straight and sleek, like black glass. Judging by the way she's picking at her hair, and the obvious look of disdain upon her face, the shouting in the office was most likely Uncle Axel prying off her pigtails against her will. The usual pendant we wear on our ties, a small turquoise-sapphire glass oval surrounded by silver, is strung around her neck as a necklace. Oddly enough, it seems to match her eyes. And the entire outfit somehow magnifies her cold, above-it-all nature.

I gulp quietly and quickly head inside the office. I carefully close the door behind me. Uncle Axel sighs and buries his head in his hands. "Were girls always this difficult?" he moans. "I was this close to knocking her out just so I could take those hair ties off her."

I shrug, and I twist the copper wire around my finger. "Girls are weird," I mumble, the only response I can think of.

Axel looks at me with pitying eyes. Not a good sign. "You may have noticed, but Muse has invisibility powers." He chuckles to himself over his own joke. "Anyhow, Ms. Infinity was very adamant that she get a restraining order because obviously, and I quote, 'That strange albino boy is cursed and I refuse to be around him.'"

I almost let my inward laughter slip out. That girl is a freak. But I guess if I had a secret power, I'd be pretty pissed if someone could totally trump me at any time.

"But unfortunately, I'm planning to do the exact opposite."

I tense, and my copper wire sparks violently. "What's that supposed to mean?" I ask tentatively.

Oh no. That pitying look again. "Well," Axel sighs. "I could get from context that somehow, someway, you can see through Ms. Infinity's invisibility powers. I will not question how, for fear it'll stop, but this does mean that the game is changed." He stares me squarely in the eyes, grave and serious. "I've put a blocking charm on her pendant, but Muse is a fierce one. She'll find a way past, and it'll only weaken her concentration. That's why you need to stay with her at all times to make sure she doesn't...pull any of her usual tricks."

"Uncle Axel!" I whine loudly. He holds up a hand to stop me, and I reluctantly zipper my lips.

"I'm sorry, but it was inevitable," Axel says, shaking his head. "She's going to be next to you in every class, every assembly, every sporting event. You two are the latest enrolled."

I make the poutiest face possible, looking at my uncle with wide puppy-dog eyes. He just rolls his eyes at me. "Griffith, as a principal, I'm telling you to do this."

Fire blazes in his irises, reflecting back my deathly pale face. "But as your uncle, I'm commanding you to do this."

<> Chapter 5: An Insight Into My Muse <>

Past all the classrooms, and past the assembly hall, deep within the school lies the dorms. Each hallway houses about ten dorms, and there's hundreds of hallways. And, once again, since I was last enrolled, my dorm is very, very, very, very deep in. It takes roughly twenty minutes to walk from my dorms to class.

My worst fears are confirmed as I spy the new golden plaque on the dorm partnered next to mine.

To keep everything running smoothly, you may have noticed that mostly everyone is organized by a specific letter and number, basically the one on our ID. Unfortunately, there aren't enough letters in the alphabet for each individual dorm room, and certainly not enough blocking spells. So they section us off into groups for each letter and number, and each identical dorm is attached by a doorway in between. I'm the odd one out in my already small hallway, so I haven't had a dorm partner.

Until little Miss Priss came along.

Speak of the devil, Muse strides past me, walks into her dorm, then slams the door behind her. I suppose she doesn't know about the connected living room arrangements yet, otherwise she would've—

"Oh, COME ON!"

Ah, there it is.

I walk into my own dorm, and I stick my head through the open doorway. Just to tick her off, I make a teethy grin and I wave cheerily.

"Hello there, roomy," I greet with obnoxious enthusiasm.

Muse grits her teeth, and she fades and flickers for only a brief moment before she focuses back into existence. I swear I see a vein pop out on her forehead. She turns away from me in a dramatic whip of the head, and occupies herself with unpacking a small pile of suitcases by her bed.

I stride in, and I crash on the bottom bunk as hard as I can. Muse slams a drawer, hard, but says nothing.

"Do-ya have any siblings? Your last name sounds familiar," I ask with exaggerated curiosity, kicking my legs. Muse messily stuffs a pile of scarves into a drawer and gruffly mutters, "Just a few cousins with the same last name."

I nod, bobbing my head deeply. "Cool, cool. So, why'd you get sent here?"

"I set my teacher on fire."

I roll my eyes. "Ha-Ha, very funny."

Muse just smirks at me, her icy blue eyes glinting with danger and the confidence of a wild lion. I gulp.

"Oh." I laugh shakily. "Why didn't you get homeschooled if you hated the teacher so much?"

"She was my homeschool teacher."

"Oh. W-Why'd you hate her so much?" I squeak.

Muse stares coldly at me. Her expression is calm, but her eyes are fierce and stone-cold. "Because I don't like when people come around to keep tabs on me all the time."

Okay, that's my cue to leave! Sorry, Uncle Axel, but either you call a Swat Team, or Muse is gonna roam free. Because I am not about to be supervising an invisible chick who sets people on fire for fun.

"Why didn't you go to another boarding school?" I ask politely, mostly because I'm scared out of my wits. 'Or perhaps another country,' I add hopefully in my head.

Muse grins at me with a devilish look in her blue eyes. "Because somehow," she says in a dark, spooky voice, "the principal received death threats the day of the opening ceremony, and my name was mysteriously erased off the admissions form." She shrugs, giggling. "Crazy, right?"

Crazy. Very crazy, indeed.

"How'd you get in here?" I squeak again, throat right and dry. I wipe my moist palms on my jeans. Muse brushes a stubbornly falling piece of hair behind her ear and clicks her teeth in annoyance. "He said, 'a troubled girl like you definitely needs my help.'"

I clap my hand over my mouth to hide my laughter. Good 'ol Uncle Axel.

<<>>

My eyes hurt just looking at the wall. Plain, eggshell white. It's not even beige. It's just...white. My hands itch to reach for a paint pallet that isn't there, to splatter color all over and fill this room with light. But first, I have to make a call.

I haven't even scrolled once through my contacts when my phone rings. I sigh, then I pick up.

I can hear that stupid grin of his.

"I knew you were gonna pick up, honey."

"I know, Dad," I groan. Could he stop saying that every time he calls?

I lean my head to the side, peering in the barren room next to mine. The Albino witch monkey is gone. Probably gone to report to his uncle. I mentally scoff.

"So, how's Snow's?" Dad asks.

"Just as prison-y as you said it was," I mutter back. He chuckles softly. "Sorry, not my decision, it's your aunt's. And—"

"Auntie's decision is final, I know, I know," I quickly interrupt. I'm impatient. Always have been. I can't stand repeats. Dad knows. He chuckles again. "Right. You're becoming more and more like your cousin every day."

Most dads would say 'your mother' or 'me' or 'insert sibling here.' But, according to my aunt, I was so horrendously annoying as a baby that the thought of having another child was impossible. Laughable, even. So I'm an only child. Considering how I turned out, they made the right choice. I live with my dad, but the big decisions come from my Aunt Flower. She claims that my father is too weak-willed to govern my life—and she's probably right, so we let her. And, yeah, I am like my cousin. Apparently we're both 'moody, unsocial teens' (according to my uncle.)

"Oh, by the way," Dad says. "Your uncle Oz visited. I guess he's stopping by for Abby's birthday?"

"You mean Arcadia, Dad?" I correct him slowly. "Right," he says sheepishly. "Your old psychic dad's not as sharp as his cooler, younger twin brother, huh?"

Well, yes. But... "Whatevs. I'm glad I'm your kid."

"Why's that?"

"Because Uncle Oz named his kids like circus freaks."

Dad laughs, loud and full. Him and Uncle's laughs are identical, contrary to their appearance. Uncle Oz is a dark skinned and mischievous galavant, while my dad slowly grew out of the adventurous period and became more of a skinny, mature, nerdy type of guy. Yet, somehow, Cousin Arcadia is the smart and grown-up one, and I'm the freak show. It's a confusing tangle of ties, our family.

"You know," Dad says, after his laughter's died down, "he's the one who told me to name you that. Muses, the goddesses of creativity." He does his 'I'm going to reminisce' sigh. "After I saw little baby Muse finger painting her own cradle, I knew old Oz was looking out for me."

"I thought it was Delphi who gave him the idea?"

"Was it? Oh, well, why listen to me? I'm a crazy old man already," Dad says. "I do know that Oz said he'd stop by to drop a gift off for you, so keep an eye out for that, ok Hon? I'll see you next visiting day."

"Get me those spray cans for Christmas?" I ask hopefully.

"I may be old, but I do know that you're going to use that to graffiti the principal's office. So, uh, no."

"Why'd you have to send me to an all boy's school?" I whine one last time, just to see if he'll give me an answer this time. Dad sighs. I can hear him rolling his eyes.

"Because for Christmas, the only gift I want is for you to get a boyfriend. Bye, darling."

"Bye," I mumble, mentally sticking my tongue out at him. I hang up, and throw the phone across my bed.

<> Chapter 6: A Wolf In Sheep's Clothing...? <>

I knock on the doorway with a shaking hand, but I force my fearful expression to disappear. "Axel said you have to come to last period before lunch," I say calmly. I set my jaw, preparing for a fight, but—

Muse stands up from her bed, smooths down her skirt, slips on her leather backpack, and heads out the door without so much as a nod of acknowledgement. She might as well gone herself. Something about the way she did that was...unsettling. I shift in place uncomfortably, but I quickly brush off the feelings and follow in quick pursuit.

Naturally, we're desk partners at Science. I'm the odd one out in almost everything.

Hey, don't look at me like that! My admission papers got lost in the mail.

When I walk into the classroom, the class is already abustle as partners work together to mix the compounds. Muse, with a face and fashion that screams boredom, yawns as she droppers calcium chloride into nitrogen far in the back.

I realize quite quickly that as soon as I enter, people glance at Muse, then they look at me. Or, rather, people stare longingly at Muse, then glare at me. It takes a baffled, stupid me a while before I realize why.

They're jealous.

Most of the guys living in the dorms for the past two years haven't even seen a girl they aren't related to in ages. In the ripe age of thirteen – fifteen, most are bitter they haven't found a girlfriend because of this school. And now a girl has dropped from the sky, lo and behold; and the rule that once gave all the early birds the advantage, now has dropped a girl into cursed, always-late-Albino-Monkey, Griffith Snow's lap.

I use to get teased for not having a partner in almost every class. But now, my partner for the rest of the year is the only girl in the entire school.

And, being completely honest, in terms of girls (because I've seen many my age in my lifetime, obviously), Muse is....

Well, I mean she—

Muse is, um, very, er...

Like, one a scale of one to ten, I'd say she's probably like...a...nine point nine?

Muse is hot, okay? She's prettier than literally every girl in existence. I'm not just hormone-starved, seriously. I've happen to see many girls through Auntie's friends' daughters, and I've seen many girls on my own (the Xbox graphics are getting better!), and...Muse is hot. All there is to it, simple as that.

Muse is practically falling asleep by the time I reach our desk. I hop on top of the stool and I grin at her cheerily. She yawns and droppers more calcium chloride. "So, what's the assignment?" I sing-song. She shrugs. "Experimenting with non-lethal compounds."

It happens for only a brief second. Muse glances up at the teacher, her expression not even shifting the slightest. But the moment she realizes the teacher is occupied, something glints in her eyes. Something dangerous and scary.

I realize now that it was probably a mistake to trust Muse with 'non-lethal' compounds, when she could easily make something very, very lethal.

Muse starts to rummage in her backpack. To my surprise, she smiles at me. "Do you like apple juice or orange juice?" she asks politely, batting her eyelashes at me. I gulp, for several reasons. Which fruit would be less dangerous?

Wow. Never thought I would say that in my lifetime.

"O-Oranges," I stammer, deciding that Vitamin C can't be hurtful. Muse nods with an eerily sweet smile and pulls out a bottle of orange juice. I breath a mental sigh of relief and reach out to take it. She was literally just offering me juice—phew.

But my relief is short lived.

Muse turns to the sink—ignoring my outstretched hand—and rinses out the dropper. Then she twists the cap off the bottle, puts the dropper in, and sucks the juice into the dropper.

"H-Huh?" I blurt. My voice cracks quite audibly, and I hold back a blush. Muse just holds a finger up to her lips and winks, silently shushing me. I'm frozen in fear. When the science lab explodes, I'm going to be labeled as an accomplice.

Muse holds the dropper over the test tube, and drips in the orange juice until it's all gone. I open my mouth to protest, but nothing comes out until she starts to turn on the flame on the Bunsen burner. I clamp my hand over her wrist, stopping her before she can turn into any higher. Muse stares at me incredulously. "Stop it," I hiss at her quietly, eyes darting around to see if anyone saw. Her brow furrows in bafflement. "Stop what?" she whispers back.

Stop what? Stop exploding the lab!

Muse turns back to the test tube, which is now empty—except for small orange spheres the size of my nail. With her free hand—and still staring warily at me as if I'm the madman—she pours out the orange spheres onto a tray, picks one up, and pops it into her mouth. My jaw drops. Is she purposely trying to get sick so she can skip class? That little—

Muse swallows. "Orange flavor," she says calmly, looking at me expectantly.

"What?"

Muse slowly puts one into my hand. Her hand is soft.

"Griffon! Infinity!"

I yelp, almost falling out of my seat. Ms. Sparrow glares at us, hands on her hips. Everyone else turns around in their seats, all eyes staring at us. I gulp, hard.

"So," Ms. Sparrow says hautily, "what exactly did you two do for your non-lethal compounds?"

Muse turns to the front of the class calmly. "We turned edible organic liquid into spherical gels using a calcium chloride-nitrogen bath."

Edible? Organic?

She was making orange flavored gel...spheres....

Ohhh, she wasn't trying to poison me...!

Ms. Sparrow nods, seeming to be satisfied. "Points for creativity, Mr. Griffon and Ms. Infinity. Continue with your experiment." She lowers her glasses down and stares at us pointedly. "But, um, Mr. Snow, please refrain from holding Ms. Infinity's hand during class-time. Save that for free-time."

In the blink of an eye, curious and whimsical stares shift into deathly glares, all pointed at our hands. I shakily retracted my hand, stuffing it in my pocket. Muse uses her newly free hand to lean on while she droppers apple juice into the calcium chloride.

It's as if nothing ever happened.

<> Chapter 7: She's My— <>

Muse munches on her candy without a care in the world as I show her the way to the lunch room. But I have a feeling that we've made a lot of enemies in Science Class...

Or rather, I've made a lot of enemies in Science Class. Muse has made herself a lot of hormone-crazy admirers.

The lunch hall is a bit newer than everything else, so it's all shinier, more sturdier wood. It's like an old fashioned ballroom filled from edge to edge with wood lunch tables. On the far right is the lunch line, and everything else is tables, with just enough space for one person to squeeze in between the spaces to find a place to sit down. When you're accommodating hundreds of live-in students in a tiny school, I imagine it's probably hard. The lunch guys (yeah, we don't even have lunch ladies) have to deal with us three times a day on the average school day. It probably sucks.

When we reach the open, tall doors of the lunch line, I feel a strange sense of awe. Fluorescent lights don't work well with the stone foundation of our school, so it's all mostly chandelier lights that 'ol Snow installed himself. And, well, not much central heating. Not enough, at least. So every fifteen feet of wall or so, there's a small fireplace blocked by a metal grate. The glittering, soft yellow lights and the cracklings of fire never cease to amaze me. With the bustle of voices and laughter, it feels...warm—no, no: Cozy.

Naturally, I start towards the quickly building lunch line. I guess I sort of expected Muse to follow after me, like a fruit candy-chewing sheeple. My image of her quickly shifted from a dangerous wolf to a lamb during that last class. I guess, when you take away the rough outside, Muse is just harmless.

But when I fall in line, and I look behind me, the fruit-chewing sheeple is not quite where I expected her to be: nowhere. She's gone.

At that moment, perfect timing, Uncle Axel runs in, grinning and giving high fives. He's the cool uncle all my classmates wish they had. But that's my entire life. Literally. He strides up to me, not even breaking a sweat. "Anything crazy to report, my favorite nephew?" he says with a wink. Well, I'm his only nephew, but I guess we can overlook that. My momentary panic slowly fades and I shrug. What could possibly happen? I'm getting too attached to a perfectly capable girl. "Nah. Muse is a less...dangerous that I initially thought." I pause to clear my throat. Looking back, it was sort of silly to be scared of a girl.

"Good, good," he says with a nod. "I figured. According to her dad, she's really sweet. She's just stubborn and pouts." He grins and ruffles my snow-white hair. "Sorta like you." I stick my tongue out at him while I fix my hair. And I gradually realize that, yeah, that may be true. "But I forgot to tell you some stupidly important stuff," Axel says. "I face-palmed so hard after you left. Okay, so, if anything crazy happens, just press on your pendant—sorta like a panic alarm—And...." Axel licks his lips, suddenly looking a bit nervous. Uncomfortable, even. "I guess we expected an influx of new students, but it probably isn't going to come until next year, when students don't really have any other open schools to go to. So when only one girl decided she would come, I admit it wasn't very smart, in hindsight—o-on our part at least," he stammers, going on and on, very much unlike him. "S-So, you can understand that I'm a little...scared for Muse, you see?"

I'm taken aback. "Scared?" I squeak.

Axel nods sheepishly. "One girl, and hundreds of hormonal teenage boys...not my best plan for success. I don't think anything drastic will happen, but there's no doubt that there's going to be some...harassment. So, I mean, to some extent, I'm trusting you to protect Muse for the time being..."

I'm hardy listening. My eyes catch sight of a head of jet black hair attempting to weave through the crowds of boys. And failing. Boys purposely block her way, trying to pull her in every direction. Muse elbows a few off, pushing a few away, but her polite smile slowly turns into frustrated glares and fierce pushing.

"Get off me!"

Her scream echoes weakly in the lunch hall. But it's loud and clear in my ears.

"Do you understand what I—hey, Griff, where ya going?"

I grip my lunch box under my arm, and I sprint hard through the crowds. Maybe it's some weird syndrome. Maybe I'm just a bit crazy. Eh, maybe I'm naturally a hero. But for some reason, I seriously wanted to protect someone I had just met.

I literally have to push and force my way through the crowd growing around Muse. It seems to move with her, everywhere she tries to go, there's another guy in her way. Her pale skin is slowly turning bright pink, and her blue eyes blaze fiercer than I've even seen Axel. "God, you all are idiots!" I can hear a lot of punching and swearing coming from the female end of this war, and if I wasn't doing a fair-share of it myself, I'd probably be laughing.

When I finally reach the eye of the storm, it's sort of sudden. Someone behind me that I punched must've got particularly angry, because they push me—hard. Fortunately, it's in the right direction. "W-Woah!" The force pushes me right through the final layer of boys, and into the center. Which basically means I have half a second before I get a black eye.

Yeah, lunch guys got it hard. But not nearly as hard as me.

It wasn't really planned. I was quickly falling down, and the momentum was increasing. So I panicked, and my arms sort of just...instinctively wrapped around Muse.

Okay, and it was partly intentional. Shut up, I'm a guy.

I can't really repeat every word, considering a big chunk was a very huge swear word, but the context was mostly, "Muse is mine!"

I...I don't even know. I can't even defend myself on that one.

The crowd slowly dies down, and they branch off, rolling their eyes and glaring at me. I don't release my hold on Muse until every single male is sitting down. I sigh in relief. But Muse is far from calm. She's frozen in place, eyes wide. "T-Thanks." But it's clear that she's far from thankful. Calm, cool, and occasionally scary Muse Infinity is frozen in dumbstruck.

I gently guide her to an empty lunch table, with my hand on her shoulder. Muse isn't particularly expressive. She just stares at the ground with wide, blank eyes. I wonder if she's even had a boyfriend before. Probably not. I guiltily face palm as we sit down. I purposely scoot a comfortable pace away from hers, hoping to give her some space to, like...live, or something. But the gap doesn't last for long. Muse scoots so our sides are touching, and she exhales deeply. She just sort of silently rolls her fruit candy around in her hand, staring thoughtfully at the orange spheres. I slowly scoot a bit away once more. She scoots closer to me.

Then, my heart literally stops as Muse leans her head on my shoulder.

She hums softly, exhaling through her nose. "Sorry," she mumbles tiredly. I guess that's to be expected, since she was mobbed. "I froze after that. I don't really know why. You were just protecting me." She stares up at me and smiles. "After all, we're friends, right?"

Friends?

Friends?

Does she do this with all her friends? Does she even realize I'm a guy and not a girl in pants?

Am I too feminine? Did I just ruin my chances with her by being too nice?

Wow. I have truly been cursed.

<> Chapter 8: The Beginning of Something Curious <>

"Why the hell did you not fall in line with me anyway?"

I decide to take the mean approach, just to be spiteful to all the voodoo whatever spirits that control the universe that have cursed me with the friend-zone.

"I bring my own," Muse mutters sleepily. She places a neat paper bag onto the lunch table, yawning. She's been leaning on the shoulder the entire time. It doesn't hurt as much as I expected it to. Her hair is soft. Like Raven feathers.

Wait, did I just turn into some weird love poet? Ew. I need to stop.

Muse pulls out a thermos, filled with rice and a thick, red broth. She slurps up at it happily, fluttering her heavy eye-lids. She looks less dangerous and more cute when she's sleepy, at least. And she looks strangely happy when she's eating. "Pig," I chuckle. Muse pokes my arm and playfully glares at me, but continues eating her soup. "Whatevs," she giggles.

"What are you eating anyway?" I ask curiously.

"Pig's blood," Muse replies calmly.

I choke on my microwaved potato salad. "What?" I gasp. Muse shrugs, as if expecting my response. "It's pig blood soup. My uncle and cousin sent it to me. It's good!" she says defensively. I nod slowly, turning back to own safe lunch. Muse finishes her soup and, after licking the last of the sticky red essence off her lips—and ignoring my creepy shudder—pulls out a seemingly normal looking sandwich.

"Is it made from cow intestines?" I tease. Muse rolls her eyes at me, yet she doesn't even lift her head off my shoulder. "The 'meat' is made from black beans. My older cousin is a vegan. They sent me a lunch in their care package."

"Wow," I sniff. "They must really love you." I haven't even seen my cousins except in pictures. I think my aunts and uncles (other than Axel) are convinced I'm cursed as well....

Muse shrugs again. "Eh, yeah. But my cousin Arcadia probably forced them to. She's the one that actually likes me. My older cousins think I'm crazy." Muse calmly bites into her sandwich.

Huh. That name sounds strangely familiar...

"By the way—" Muse swallows, "—I don't think you're cursed, in case that's what your uncle was telling you. I heard that a bunch of kids think you are, but I don't think that's true." She reaches up and ruffles my hair, laughing softly. "Albinos are cute. And plus, you can see me, so that's obviously more of a blessing than a curse."

"Actually, it feels a lot like a curse I can't escape."

"Hey! You're mean!"

"But you're still sleeping on my shoulder anyway."

“It’s just to keep the other boys away, dimwit.”

This is the start of a beautiful and tragic friend(zone)ship.

<> Chapter 9: Raindrops or...? <>

Last period of the day: P.E.

It's winter, so it isn't sweltering hot like usual. But the air is chilly like ice, and the water is frozen over.

"Come on, Muse." I give a soft kick to her mattress. Muse shifts, but doesn't move. She just sort of stares out the window with a blank, dark expression. I end up following her gaze. It's gloomy outside today. The run will probably be cut short by rain.

I find myself leaning down, trying to inspect her face. Her eyes are distant, far far away, somewhere I could probably never reach her. Their deep blue looks deeper and darker than usual, like the endless expanse of a galaxy rather than an ocean. My hand reach forward of its own accord, brushing her bangs away. Wether because I want to see her eyes, or because I want to get her attention, or maybe even both...I don't really know.

Axel strides in at that exact moment, grinning as usual. He sort of falters when he sees us, and he laughs shakily. "Whoopsies, probably should've announced my entrance. Heh," he says. He jabs his thumb out the door. "Better hurry Griff."

I point accusingly at Muse, rolling my eyes. "She refuses to get up. Do something Axe."

Once again, the smile in his eyes falters. "You...You better get out there Griff," Axe says again, softer, yet more firm. I stare at him questioningly, still pointing at Muse. "But, Muse..." I trail off. The look in Axel's eyes are grave and weathered. I've never seen something so...serious in him. He quickly goes to the window and shuts the curtain, cutting off Muse's line of vision. She stares down into her lap, playing with her fingers.

"Today..." Axel smiles weakly in an attempt to reassure me. It doesn't work. "Today's run course is over the bridge. Muse...doesn't..." he pauses, looking at her pleadingly.

Muse mumbles softly, "I...don't do well with rivers. Water and stuff...."

Axel shrugs at me apologetically. "Sorry, Al. She'll go out tomorrow, promise."

I don't really care that she can't run with me. I'd probably just humiliate myself anyway since I'm crazy slow. I'm more concerned about why Muse looks so far away when she looks at that bridge.

<>

I wipe cold rain from my hot forehead, panting. By the time the rain started, we were too far to just stop. Everyone had to run back. Icy cold rain piercing and pelting at burning hot skin, thunder ringing in our ears. It's the worst. I take a final aching step over the stone bridge, and I collapse on the slick green lawn. Mud stains the knees of my black and white P.E. uniform. Everyone else is already dead and groaning on the lawn. Naturally, I'm the last one.

Zander and Nixon both collapse next to me, their blonde hair dark and clinging to their foreheads. I can't even imagine how I look right now.

"Hey," Zander mutters, jabbing me with his elbow weakly. "How'd you get the girl to be yours so quick?"

"Yeah," Nixon says, jabbing me on my other side. I don't appreciate the jabs. My sides already ache. The rain is still coming down hard. But all of us are too hot and tired to get up quite yet. Plus, well, the bell hasn't rang.

"She's not mine," I mutter back. My voice is barely audible over the crashing of thunder and the whistling wind. "I was just trying to get all the creeps to lay off."

"So she's available?"

I don't really want to say 'yes.' It's obvious why. But I don't want everyone else knowing that.

Then, red catches blue. I look up suddenly, squinting through the veil of rain. She's wearing her uniform, and just her uniform. How stupid can she get? She's shivering all over, her hair slick at her sides and hands clenched tightly into fists. And her eyes are staring directly at me.

She says something, obviously unintelligible at his distance. But her lips are easy to read: "Griff."

I stand up, against all odds, running and straining my aching muscles. I take a shaky inhale, and it's all but air. I cough out rain water. But I keep running, burning and painfully.

It's weird. I don't know why I suddenly realized how much shorter than me she is. How small and crazy fragile Muse really is. She leans her forehead on my chest. Hot water runs down my soaked, cold uniform.

"Make it stop. Please."

<> Chapter 10: I Wish You Loved Me Like Your Paint <>

I don't quite understand what she meant. I was mostly concerned that she was going to catch a cold and collapse. But I knew enough that Muse was scared of something. Really, really scared.

I don't like seeing her scared.

Muse is laying in my bed, curled up in a dry pair of pajamas and three blankets. She still shudders with every breath. Her back is facing me, so I focus on blow drying her hair. It's soft. It really is like Raven feathers. We both have permission to have dinner in our dorm tonight. They didn't have to let me. So it's obvious now that I've signed up for something more serious than just scrawny bodyguard.

I switch off the blow dryer, setting it off to the side. Who would've thought the day would come when I could touch a girl's hair without blushing like a maniac? Weirdly, Muse is different. It doesn't feel all scary and daunting to be around her.

"Griff," Muse mumbles, sniffling. "Don't let me go near the bridge. Promise?"

I sigh through my nose, but I nod nonetheless. "Promise."

Muse nods, satisfied. "Could you hand me my ink pens? The gel ones, not the regular. They're in the drawer."

I run over to Muse's side of the room. But something is very...different. The plain white walls are smattered and splattered and paint of every color. It doesn't seem quite random. It's all patterned, wildly but orderly. Swirls of paisley and growing vines guide with ease along the paint splatters, making an orderly pattern of beauty along the walls. The wall seems to pulse and glow with life and color.

I slowly make my way to the drawer, my eyes still on the walls. There's one color more than any other: red. It makes roses and vines and paisley's. It's oddly pretty. I grab the unopened pack of gel pens before I get any more distracted and I give them to Muse.

"It's pretty," I say softly while she carefully opens the pack. "Your room, I mean." Muse shifts a bit. "Thanks," she murmurs back.

The room is silent, except for the pattering of rain on the window. I find myself doing nothing but watching Muse draw paisley's on her hand. Her hand draws and flows the ink with ease, not even pausing for a breath. She seamlessly mixes the colors, until her skin is like a work-of-art. It's not odd to admire her.

So it shouldn't be surprising that I like her so much. Right?

"You want anything? Like, a cup-o-noodle with a syringe full of blood on the side? I don't have any pigs on hand, but I can improvise somehow."

Muse laughs softly in reply. She holds up her finished hand up, with the background of my plain white walls. It makes me a little envious. "Do you have spicy oriental?"

This may the the start to something just a little bigger than a friendship.

<> Chapter 11: The Monkey Finds His Jet-Black Princess <>

I take an ice cart, and the cafeteria staff lets me help myself to as much as I want. Dinner is a bit more hectic here. At dinner time, you're allowed to have as many portions of whatever you want (as long as it's on the menu.) The cooks flick their wrists, and trays of mashed potatoes and gravy, and plates of roast turkey float gently above the tables. All you have to do is flick your wrist down, and it's yours. It keeps people from fighting over the food (I've seen some crazy stuff over the last tater tots at lunch, man) so it's a decent system.

On my way in, one of the staff, with a Mohawk in his hair net and a piercing in his lip, hands me a bottle of cold chewies (medicine gummies that taste like crap, basically) and winks. "Everyone in sixth period P.E. got one. Don't get sick, little man."

I flick my wrists a few times, helping myself to trays of mash and gravy, slices of turkey, and lots of roast and beef stew. All the food on the cart is so mouth-watering, I can barely keep myself from devouring it on the way back. I push the cart into the room, and I'm suddenly aware of how loud all the clinking plates and rumbling metal is. I cringe, pushing it as slowly as humanly possible so that it doesn't wake up Muse. Fortunately, my assumption that she was sleeping is wrong. She's propped up—in her own bed this time—reading a novel to the light of the lamp at her bedside. It's a peaceful scene, one I feel just as bad about interrupting.

I thrust the bottle of cold chewies in Muse's hand, helping myself to the biggest plate of turkey and pot roast. Muse glares at me. "Delivery man gets first pick," I reply teasingly. I swipe one last piece of bread, then I seat myself at her bedside, leaning my head back against her mattress. Muse reluctantly takes a chewy, gagging several times before swallowing.

We eat in silence, quietly chewing at our portions. Unsurprisingly, Muse finishes first (the glutton...) and goes back to her novel. I notice that her designs now go all the way up to her shoulders. Her right arm contains a very detailed depiction of vines growing up a tall castle, with the highest tower at her clavicle. Her left arm is a mixture of paisley's, diamonds, crowns, and hearts. It's like...fairy tale tattoos.

"I've been reading Rapunzel," Muse says, noticing my stare. She points at the tallest tower's window, and traces a trail of gold, that I realize now is hair, down to her fingertips. She holds up her palms side-by-side, which contain the familiar, curly black writing of, "Once Upon a Time." Small, curly black writings are written along the vines and designs on her left arm, telling the story. Muse stares dreamily at her right arm, tracing over her fingertips. "Haven't quite gotten to the prince..."

It makes me feel all gooey and weird for some reason, when she talks about her prince. I don't suppose I've ever heard of an Albino Prince....

And yet, that makes me want to be one even more.

"I didn't peg you as the type of girl who likes romance," I mention casually. Muse looks at me gravely. "Don't tell anyone. Not even my dad or Arcadia knows." I can't help laughing. "Okay, okay, I won't spill your deadly secret. I just don't know how you're going to hide that tomorrow during class."

Muse shrugs, still playing with her fingertips. "The uniform is long sleeve. It'll probably be cold enough to wear gloves, too." She starts tracing over the gold trail of curls down her arm, sighing. She mumbles something that I'm not sure I was meant to hear:

"Why do all princesses have to have blonde hair?" Her eyes are narrowed, with a slight bit of frustration, and even a little sadness. My stare lingers on her raven feather black hair flowing down her hips, and her dark blue eyes.

"Yeah. That's pretty stupid."

So, yeah, I get when girls say that guys are hard to understand. Because, in my own stupid guy-way, that was my way of saying that Muse was the most beautiful princess I'd ever seen.

<> Chapter 12: A Beautiful Morning <>

I wake up, feeling like I slept on the floor.

Oh, wait. I did.

It was probably around ten or something. Maybe eleven. I knew that I had to get up and go to sleep, otherwise the night monitors were going to bust me for breaking curfew. I softened the lamp and started to get up.

Emphasis on started.

Muse started singing to herself while she read. It was quieter than a whisper, and so soft I had to strain to hear it. But it was the prettiest thing I'd ever heard. It was a song about a princess and a prince. I ended up falling asleep in minutes.

And now, back to the present, I awake with a crick in my neck from sleeping sitting up, my head lolled back on Muse's mattress. My throat is sore. Crap, I hope I didn't snore. I mentally groan. I definitely did. Now I'm the pig. Or rather, I probably sounded like a wild boar. I wipe drool off my cheek and I smack my lips.

When I turn my head, I grin. At least I'm not the only not-morning person. Muse somehow ended up with her feet on her pillows and her head on her backboard, one leg over the side of her bed, one arm over her backboard. Her sheets have completely fallen to the floor. It's hilarious, to say the least. The fairytale book is resting on her chest, her thumb still holding the page she was on. Her raven black hair looks like she went through a tornado. It's comforting, at least, that I didn't embarrass myself by myself.

I somehow manage to drag my lead-heavy body to my dresser for a fresh uniform (or, rather, I crawl half the way, still groaning sleepily.) I'm in the process of attempting to undo the inverse sleeves of my blazer—when Muse screams at the top of her lungs.

Well, that certainly woke me up.

I race into the next room, a comb hanging out of my tangled hair, one sleeve in my blazer. It's not my best form, I'll admit. Contrary to my belief, there is no axe murderer in the room. There's just Muse, head hanging off her bed, eyes wide.

"What happened?"

Muse blinks rapidly, as if suddenly coming to from a trance. "Oh, g-geez, sorry. I had the weirdest dream that I was...falling..." She squints at me, on the verge of laughter. "What happened to you?" she guffaws. I glare at her bitterly, yanking the comb out of my hair and putting my arm through the sleeve. "Sorry for being concerned," I mutter, sniffing. Muse sits up and hugs a stuffed teddy bear that she got from who knows where. "Sowwy," she says in a baby-voice, giving me a little pout and batting her eyes.

I set my jaw, exhaling sharply through my nose. I know she's mocking me, but...goddamn it, why does she have to be so cute?

<> Chapter 13: Can a Crush Turn Into Infatuation? <>

It's embarrassing to admit that I've gotten a lot closer and a lot more attached to Muse every day.

Oh, wait, that isn't embarrassing. Ha!

Call me what you will—after all, I've been crushing on her since the day she transferred in—but we're best friends. Friendship that usually consists of us stealing off each other's plates, then getting into a fight about it, but friendship nonetheless.

And to be honest, I'm pretty sure Muse has gone cuter since she first got here. Her hair has grown, her eyes sparkle more, and her smile's gotten wider. When you pass by her, most likely you'll see her doubling over in laughter, struggling to catch up to me in the hallway. In dire situations, she may be rolling on the floor, crying in laughter and begging me to help her get up, and doing her adorable trademark squeal, "I can't breathe, Ally!"

Whenever she laughs, she gets brighter. Something about her...glows. Something warm and magical.

A lot of my classmates and family call me 'Al' as a joke, short for Albino. I've never really minded. I'd rather they casually call me what I am rather than insulting me for it. Muse caught on quickly and took it one step further, teasingly calling me, "Ally." It's a girl name (duh) so it started out embarrassing to hear, but I've sorta grown on it. After all, Muse adores the nickname. Plus she throws a fit if I complain when she calls me it. "Griiiiiiiiff, you're my friend, aren't ya?"

Of course, I draw the line when she tries to braid my hair and put lipgloss on me. The hardest part of this friendship is probably the horrible reality that Muse probably thinks of me as a girl with short hair and a deep voice.

Eh, whatever. One day, I'll be the Albino Prince. But I guess, for now, I'll just be the Princess in this story....

Breakfast time. Which is also known as 'nap-time' to Muse. She usually stays up late reading novels or painting her walls, no matter how much I protest (or attempt to hide her stuff.) As a result, at breakfast, Muse is usually found power napping on my shoulder, or if she stayed up really late, laying across a bench with her head in my lap. I don't really mind. She's about as heavy as a cat. The most painful part is when people come up to ask if we're dating, and I have to say, "No" while Muse giggles uncontrollably.

"Can you believe they thought we were dating?" Muse squeals. I pick at my fried chicken with a fork. "Mmh." Muse pouts at me. "Aw, Ally is sad because he doesn't have a real girlfriend, isn't he?"

Ouch. Just...ouch. There's nothing that stings more than the girl you like teasing you about not having a girlfriend.

Muse focuses on shaping her mashed potatoes into a smiley face. "Well, maybe I could introduce you to my cousin, Arcadia. She's cute. She's a lot like me, if you don't mind that," she says, giggling again. Suddenly her face falls, and she taps her chin in thought. "Oh, wait, she might have boyfriend...."

"If she's like you, that's not a surprise..."

Muse turns from her perfectly shaped mashed potatoes, cocking her head to the side. "Huh?" I just smile, and I sigh. "Nothing." I notice a little fleck of white on her cheek. I laugh. "How'd you get mash on your cheek?"

Muse's eyes widen to the size of saucers. "Is that a type of bug?" she whispers-shouts, tensing her face. She looks even sillier than before. I chuckle again, softly, under my breath. A bit short-circuited, and naive in the head.

But I still love her.

I pull a napkin out of the dispenser and I wipe the white specks off her face, still smiling. "Ah, yes, the elusive mash bug from the wild fields of California. I heard that it comes from potatoes."

Muse pouts, realizing the joke is at her expense quicker than I expected. Abruptly, a pout turns into a gentle smile. I stop short.

"Smile more, Ally. It makes you look nicer."

She's gotta stop doing that. Otherwise, the spell will be broken, and this monkey will never be a prince.

<> Chapter 14: My Beautiful Bane <>

Thump, thump, thump, thump.

"Muse! Shut up already!"

Muse high-knee jogs into my side of the room, grinning. Her pigtails flip up and down, and her pale skin hasn't even broke a sweat. "Ready to get Mused?" She gives me a firm punch on the arm. I turn my head to hide my hiss of pain, and she cackles. Unfortunately, ever since our first P.E. run together, one truth was made clear to me: Muse is the best runner in this school. She's a track star in our school now, and not just because of her P.E. shorts. She's at the front of every run, and she's always doing random backflips and cartwheels just to show off. Her new fascination is shouting, "You just got MUSED!" and punching my arm as hard as she can after every run.

She jumps onto the bed next to me, bouncing and creaking the mattress. Muse just laughs and starts tying her sparkly silver high tops. "Aww, is little Ally sad because she can't beat me in the mile run?" she baby-talks, pouting at me and making silly faces. My pale face flames bright red, as red as my eyes. Another horrible truth confirmed: she thinks of me as a girl.

"Hey, how about if you beat me at today's run, I give you a kiss on the cheek?"

I hate myself for actually getting excited. "As if," I scoff. Man, I want that.

"I'm not a liar," Muse says, pouting. If I had a nickel for every time she broke me down with that pout...

She grabs my shoulders to keep me in place and plants a kiss on my burning red cheek. I focus on tightening the laces on my worn out, red and white Nikes, hoping I don't squeal out loud. She kissed me! Her lips. Touched. My face.

Wow. I am a girl.

"Aw, you didn't freak out. No fun!"

Actually, I am freaking out. You just can't see it because I'm so excited that it's paralyzed me and all reactions on my face. I'm five seconds away from cardiac arrest.

Muse peppers kisses all around my cheeks, laughing with glee. "Are you freaking out now? Now? Now?"

Welp, there goes my heart.

"M-Muse, stop!" I shout, attempting to pry her off. I should be able to do it. Unfortunately, my limbs are jelly. I'm so embarrassed I can't even process normal brain signals to my muscles.

"Nope! Tickle time!" Muse squees.

Her hands fly to my sides, tickling me pink. Literally. I blush pink all across my face as she pushes me down onto the bed and tickles me mercilessly. She sits on my stomach and tickles across my neck and torso.

"Muse, stop, I'm gonna die!" I gasp. I can't breathe. My stomach hurts. Literally, she's sitting on my air sac. "Never!" she shouts triumphantly. "You will blush when I kiss you!" She finally stops tickling me, but doesn't leave me any time to breathe. She grabs my cheeks so I can't squirm away and leans down to kiss my forehead.

Well, this is not exactly how I imagined Muse kissing me would go. My hair looking like a rat's nest, my stomach aching—and my bright red cheeks aren't exactly how I hoped I would look, but it's probably accurate.

The door slams open so hard it hits the wall, narrowly knocking a vase off the dresser.

"You're gonna get us in trouble!" the grating voice of Nixon shouts, rattling my eardrums.

"Yeah!" Zander says. "We're in group A, so we're gonna be first in roll call. So you either better get up or—"

Zander stops short, seeing us. He pats Nixon on the chest, pausing him, too. Then they both turn red.

"Oh—Oh my god, Al!" Nixon squeaks, covering his tomato-red face in shame. Zander puts his head against the wall.

"S-Shut up, don't you dare start telling anyone!" I quickly stammer. Muse jumps off me and disappears, somehow, giggling. Zander stumbles out the doorway, screaming, "I've seen too much!" Nixon quickly follows. "My innocence!"

I scramble off the bed, wiping lipgloss off my hot face and fixing my P.E. uniform. "Muse? Get out here so I can strangle you."

A giggle echoes out from...the floor?

I kneel down, face to the wood, and lo and behold, there's a pair of bright blue eyes peering out from the darkness under my bed. Her eyes are grinning. Her pale skin emanates the faintest, white glow. "Scared I disappeared, Ally?"

"If only I was that lucky." I'm determined to sulk for as long as I possibly can. Unfortunately, around Muse, that's not very long. Her smile pulls at my heartstrings, egging my lips to play a smile, too. Her brightness is infectious. "Why are you determined to cause me as much trouble as possible?"

Muse sticks her tongue out playfully. "I don't get out very much. You're easy to mess with. You do the math."

<> Chapter 15: Rain Fall, Fall Star <>

The rain pitter-patters on the roof, and onto my fingertips. The air is wet and cold. I've always loved rain.

Muse stares out at the wet green lawn, and the lake far in the distance. I nudge her with my elbow. "Mmh," is all she gives me in response. Muse travels her gaze up to the sky, where the hazy gray sky drops the icy cold water. She reaches out her hand alongside mine. She flinches when the water hits her skin. Where the raindrops touch her, her pale white skin glows for a faint moment, like a ripple effect, then fades away. Her skin is covered with little glowing spots in minutes. Muse exhales in quiet awe. She reaches her fingertips up to the sky, staring at the sky through the gaps between her fingers. It's a gaze of wonder and awe.

"What's it like up there?" she murmurs.

I wonder if she wishes she could fly.

I hesitantly reach out to her hand, and I clasp it gently. Muse's gaze instantly averts to me, forgetting the rain, the sky, and the lake. My heart skips a beat whenever her focus is on me and nothing else. My heart is racing.

"You're warm," I murmur softly. "How do you do that?" Whenever it rains, Muse usually stays inside. But she always reaches her hands out the window and lets the raindrops cover her pale skin. She glows faintly as she smiles, and she radiates a soothing warmth.

Muse just smiles. "I guess shining is what I do best."

<>

When we were told the run course was switched to the back forest because of the rain, Muse paled to sheet white. She didn't say anything, even as we all sludged and trudged through the mud, narrowly protected from the rain by the thin hang-off of roof.

We all arrange ourselves in a sloppy, uneven line. The rain's washed away the paint from the starting line. All that's left are a few white flecks on the grass, already being quickly washed away. All of us shakily put ourselves in running position, shivering from the rain. Muse reluctantly trudges over to my side, her thin form squeezing in between me and Nixon. We both stare at her incredulously. The slow guys always stay on the far left and right of the line so the fast runners (hint, hint—Muse) can take off without trampling us. Why the hell is she sticking with the losers?

"Let me stay close to you," she softly whispers so that only I can hear. "Make sure I don't do anything...weird."

My gaze instinctively travels to the dark gray stone bridge—small, maybe a hundred feet over the rushing white rapids of the quickly flooding river. None of us have ever been scared of the bridge, or the river before. There's a fence everywhere that you could get hurt. But knowing that Muse is terrified of it, the fear suddenly chills me to my very core.

The whistle is faint compared to the pounding rain now. Stumbling and clumsily, we all take off. Even the best of our runners our struggling to keep their stride in the slick mud and pelting bullets of rain. Muse's strides are long and smooth, but she purposely slows her pace to stay right beside me. I'm wheezing and panting, exerting myself to the limit in hopes that I can let Muse run a little faster. She loves running to death. It sucks knowing that she's stuck with a scrub like me.

Muse's breaths are even, and she seems calm and energetic as we run. Her wet pigtails whip water everywhere, and her P.E. uniform squelches with every step. But she just smiles encouragingly at me as we run.

Muse licks her probably ice cold lips, jogging leisurely beside me as I struggle to run at my fastest to keep up.

I wonder if she'd let me...

The stupid, impossible thought rushes through me the holy substance I thought could only be a myth: Adrenaline. I can hear Muse whoop as my speed picks up to an almost impossible rate, strides long and almost burning-fast. It's exhilarating. I don't feel the aches of exertion or the shortness of breath eating away at my body. I feel like the faster I run, the lighter I feel. I let out a joyous laugh as Muse starts to pick up her speed, and we both race down the muddy forest path. She's still holding herself back. But we're both ecstatic to be running alongside each other.

The final red flag, drooping down the side of a lonesome tree. We're in the final stretch. Muse just turns to me—and gives a thumbs down. Our eyes meet in an electric gaze.

Game On

Another wave of adrenaline revitalizing me, I burst at top speed. Muse told me something about how she starts fast, so her body maintains the pace the entire way. She slowed and relaxed herself to stay with me, and now she can't keep up. I feel sort of guilty—but mostly like a winner. Her footsteps fade behind me, and I cackle into the rainy wind as I stomp over the bridge, into the lawn, and at the faded finish line.

Then, my adrenaline cuts off. My lungs screaming and my body screaming even louder, I collapse feverishly into the cold, muddy grass. Few have finished. A few cheer me on, laughing and clasping their hands. "Griff!" A few classmates I know cheer. "Go Griff! Wooh!" They only cheer my name for the longest time, and it confuses me. What about...

W-Where's...

My hazy and tired mind suddenly sharpens, filled once more with that rushing chemical. But not from excitement or adrenaline. From fear. Pure, unbridled, terrible fear. I didn't look back once. I thought she followed me. I stand up quickly. Colors swim in my vision, and dizziness overtakes my sharp thoughts. But only one thing repels me forward to run back—

Fear.

My screams and shouts are faint in the wind. A few more boys pass me on the way back, joking, "Aren't you going the wrong way, genius?" I brush them off and run past. Everyone must be at the finish line by now. I've passed well over twenty people. But Muse was nowhere among them.

Something mixed between tears and rain fills my eyes. My vision becomes hazy and filled with fractured color. I wipe them away with the back of my hand, and I see her—a black and white ghost among the hurricane scenery.

Sitting on top of the bridge fence.

I keep running, my eyes trained on her completely. From first glance, she seems fine. She's swinging her legs without a care in the world. But her dark blue eyes stare down at the deadly white water rapids as if in a trance, dangerously infatuated with the waters.

"Muse!" I scream with one final breath.

I'm not good with rivers...

"Don't do it!"

I stumble up the stone steps. The momentum sends me flying off my feet, and skidding across the rough stone. Blood runs down the slope, washed away quickly by the rain, but the air is still filled with the metallic stench.

"Muse," I gasp desperately. "No..." I desperately clutch at the pendant on my shirt, pressing down on the jewel with the last wisp of strength in my bones. 'Someone, anyone, please...' I cry out in my head. The hot tears run down my face, mixing with the icy cold rain already dripping down. 'Save us.'

"Stars were meant to fall," Muse says, hardly audible against the pounding of the rain on granite.

With that final cryptic sentence, Muse leans forward and tumbles into the river with an ice cold, sickening splash.

<> Chapter 16: Roses In The Sky <>

I lay there, stunned in shock, huddled in a ball on the cold stones for years until they came. Blurry faces shouted and splashes rang out. They screamed in my ear, "Where is she?" I could only whisper, "Stars, river."

Is she dead?

Am I dead?

They picked me up on a gurney and carried me out. My heart, though numb, was still pounding so heart it ached. All I could see was blue. Dark, dark blue. I'm stupid. I'm so stupid.

I can't believe I fell in love with you. I just had to fall in a hopeless love. Hopeless in every way.

Promise me you won't forget me.

<>

I faintly remember being in the health office. Being prodded with needles and having lights shone at me from every angle.

Now, I awake to her voice.

"Did you know that pieces of stars are attracted to each other?"

My hazy vision slowly focuses, and I see her face smiling down at her. Her jet black hair flows down around me, framing her face. She's holding something—a book.

"How'd I get here?" I rasp.

"Don't ask me," Muse says, with a strangely knowing smile. "You appeared here on your own."

I slept walk into her lap? Wow, that's—

Wait.

No.

No.

I cover my face with my hands, groaning in self-pity. "I became Breeze," I bemoan my pitiful fate. He's never going to stop bugging me. I was only ever able to teleport objects, but ever since he found out, Breeze made it his mission to become my best friend, even after he transferred. He's always used the power of wind while I had the power of lightning. I purposely stopped using my powers so I wouldn't manifest. I snuck into Uncle Axel's office and changed my schedule so I wouldn't have any power-controlling classes.

"All of that—for nothing...."

Muse just strokes my head, seeming not to mind the position we're in. "I expected you to be more excited, but whatever. I was more surprised when your head appeared in my lap." She giggles quietly, covering her mouth to shield her snorts. I stare at her solemnly, sighing out heavily through my nose.

I am Breeze. I'm a teleporting idiot who fell in hopelessly in love with a girl I'll probably never get to have.

Muse idly strokes and runs her fingers through my slightly moist roots. My hair probably looks terrible. I pat my own body self-consciously. They probably changed me into a new uniform as well. I glance at Muse's. She's wearing her own clothes this time, thank goodness. Her eyes travel endearingly over her book, her blue eyes sad and wistful.

I (reluctantly) sit up, settling for leaning into her side. I realize we're sitting in the bay window in her room, which was where the sounds of rain patters were coming from. The gray light casts a sad, gloomy light on her colorful walls. The cool colors fade into the shadows, and the red paint stands out even more starkly on the white walls.

I lean on her shoulder to get a glance at her 'book.' It's a photo album. There's faded, almost unreadable pictures and clipping and pages inside. Though Muse seems to understand every curl of faded ink and gray Polaroid blur.

Muse sighs and leans forward on her hand, her elbow propped on her knee. "Would you hate me if I explained why I'm not a suicidal freak?"

I lean a little more on her shoulder. She's so warm. "Please."

Muse sighs and makes a slight nod. She turns a few crinkly, laminated pages, then points at a gray blur. It's a man and a woman. "My grandfather was a star-maker. It's as amazing as it sounds," she says softly. Her voice is like a wistful story-teller, calm and soothing. I flutter my eyes closed and focus on her voice. "He could capture fallen stars and form them into living things, just for a little while before they turned back into stardust. He mostly made animals. Things like sparkly bunnies and gleaming white horses." She sounds like she's repeating her favorite story, a tale told to her too many times to count. I crack open one eye just in time to see her close her own eyes.

"But he was really lonely," she whispers. "So lonely he was too sad to make animals to see them turn back into stardust all the time. He wanted to find someone of his own to love. Someone who would appreciate all his star-creations." Muse pauses for a moment, then takes another deep breath. Her breaths sounds shakier than before. "A new star had exploded in a supernova, scattering stardust. It was only for a brief second, but as it exploded, the star had turned red, making it look as though a giant, glimmering rose had bloomed in the sky," Muse breaths. "So my grandfather quickly gathered all the stardust and used every ounce of his strength to form a permanent, living being—my grandmother, Rosetta." Muse smiles slowly. But she bites her lip to keep it from trembling. "They made my mother, Rose. When she was born, she was sparkling, because she was made of stardust as well. A piece of my grandmother."

Muse gulps, but it catches in her throat. Her lip trembles violently. "The day after my mother was born, my grandmother jumped into the river and was never to be seen again."

Jumped into the river repeats in my head, over and over again. Never to be seen again.

"My mother grew up and eventually found my father in the city, a failed astronomer who had become a journalist obsessed with falling stars. I was born, and..." Muse trails off. She gulps down something suspiciously like a sob. "My mother," she quickly says, her voice hoarse. "Used to say that fallen stars fell into rivers. Then, at night, they could travel through the reflection of the sky on the water back into the stars, where they belonged. The day after she told me that story, she jumped into a river and disappeared."

I stare at Muse incredulously, unable to say anything. She stares down into her lap, her tears balancing on the edge of her eyelashes. "My father sent me here because at my old school, a group of girls that didn't like me pushed me into a lake and I almost drowned," she whispers, lips trembling.

I choke on my own gasp as Muse buries her face in my shoulder, and lets out a strangled sob. "I can hear their voices at night, coming from the sky. It's really scary," she whimpers, clutching at my shirt with tiny, shaking fists. "You're the first friend I've ever had. So when I fell, I tried so hard not to die," Muse sobs in a muffled wail. "You make the voices go away..."

Muse quickly pulls away after a little while, wiping away her tears as if they were never there. "I'm not who you think I am," she cries hysterically, covering her face with her hands. "So we can't be friends, because you don't know what I really am—"

Something suddenly grabs at my chest and possesses me. My hands grab her cheeks, stopping Muse's cries. She stares up at me, the most vulnerable and weakest I've ever seen her. I think of the way she glows in the rain, the longing way she looks at the sky with a sparkle in her twilight blue eyes, the way she can disappear at any moment like a star blending into the blackness of the sky and blinking out of existence...and I make a decision.

"I don't care if you're made of stardust or if you have a ton of secrets I don't know about," I mutter quickly. My fingertips thread through the roots of her hairs. They're soft, just like Raven feathers. Her bangs are still ever so slightly damp, and the semi-dry tufts hang down into her dark blue irises. "All that matters is that you're not dead, you idiot."

Then that same force pushes me forward, and my lips meet hers, forceful and super clumsy. I almost want to pull away and punch myself. But I can't, because she's kissing me back. I don't really care about anything else except her warmth, seeping through me. I'm too lost. I don't stop—

—even when the door opens.

"I just wanted to make sure you guys were..." Uncle Axel trails off abruptly, staring at us. I pull away, red-faced. But not nearly as red as him. He covers his face, blushing as bright as a fire truck.

"I...I'm just going to head back to my office and teach myself to knock," he mutters. He practically runs out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

I turn back at Muse, cold hands still holding her warm cheeks. "Hi," I squeak. "Hi," she breaths, dazed.

"That was my reward for beating you in P.E.."

This is the story of an idiot in love.

<> Chapter 17: Black and White <>

"So that means all that stuff you said about setting teachers on fire and death threats was fake?"

I admit, I forgot teleporting was so much fun. The air crackles with electricity as I appear back and forth on either side of Muse as we walk down the hallway. It's soooo much more fun than I remember. Maybe because I can finally teleport myself.

Pssh, who am I kidding?—it's definitely because of that.

Muse shrugs and stares ahead, completely unfazed. "Yeah, basically. I just like pranking people."

The hallways are empty, and our footsteps echo and echo with every fall and rise. It's oddly calming, walking through the usually busy area and feeling so at peace. They gave us some time off ever since our 'River Incident' (as its now being called by the entirety of the student body) so we're mostly wandering when there's no one around. The rumors are getting more and more outrageous with every passing hour. The latest one I've heard is that I went Boss-Zeus and dried up the riverbed with my lightning in order to save Muse. The heroism is flattering, but I can't feel all that great considering I'm pretty sure Nixon and his accomplice Zander are starting these rumors to either: A) Prank me because they know I feel stupid B) so they can brag about knowing me since elementary or C) All of the Above

It's soothing, also, to be alone with Muse, knowing there's no interruptions.

Her eyes dart at me for the briefest second before looking away. Her next step sways to the side, bringing her arm to press against mine. We both hide our hands, arms trembling as we avoid each other's gaze. It's so stupidly cliché. But we're eerily nervous with each other at the randomest moments. Our insecurity is insync—all of a sudden, we both grow starkly aware of the small distance in between us, and we both (terrifyingly) attempt to close it.

We're not quite holding hands. But we're both just happy to be oddly, weirdly close to each other.

"I was really shy at my old school," Muse suddenly murmurs. "So I thought I'd get people to think I was cool here so people would fear me instead of the other way around." She's silent after that, not daring to speak another word. She does that now. She'll say something passive and random, just like the normal Muse. Then moments later, she'll retract her statement and quietly tell me the truth. It's her way of opening up to me—blooming and closing up back and forth, over and over again.

I hope I'm not shaking too much. There's so many goosebumps on my arms I'm afraid they'll never go away.

I slowly start to pull my hand out of my pocket. Muse's eyes dart at it in surprise, wide. Then she slowly starts to pull her own hand out from behind her back. Our fingers tremble as they reach out, and the echoes of our footsteps become fleeting. Gradually, very slowly, we stop. Facing each other, mere inches away, and yet we struggle to let our very fingertips meet.

My hand falters in its shaking, and I let it drop back to my side. I gulp down the lump in my throat, head pounding. Or maybe it's just the sound of my own heartbeat rushing in my ears.

Muse doesn't let her hand drop, though. Her hand stays midair, still trembling and halfway away from me. She won't look up at me. But, shyly, she holds out a trembling pinky. With another hard swallow, I look away—as I put up my own pinky, refusing to lift my hand from my side and break pride. Muse wraps her pinky around mine and stares at the interlock with fascinated terror.

Neither of us dare to look at the other.

Finally, Muse mouths the words I've been waiting for, releasing all the anticipation building in my chest.

I. Love. You.

I nod, hoping she doesn't look up to see the red glowing across my pale cheeks. I love you, too, I mouth back, letting my words be carried out in a breath.

We're too scared to say it out loud. The Insecure Albino Prince and the Insecure Raven Princess. But we're secure with just knowing it in actions and unspoken words, saying it when no one is around.

<> Chapter 18: Midnight <>

I glance at the clock again. It's one AM this time. I groan and bang my head on the wood border around my mattress. I'm answered by a soft yawn from the bunk below me. I peer over the edge of my top-bunk confines, ruby red eyes meeting groggy sapphire blue ones. Muse yawns softly, rubbing her eyes. She looks pretty even from this angle, with her hair splayed out like a jet black fan, pale white skin glowing faintly. Like my own personal star to keep.

I'm glad it's too dark to see me blush.

"You have to stop waking me up so early," she yawns, rubbing her eyes. She just smiles sleepily at me. "You're a dummy, you know that?" I nod silently in consent, still too flustered to speak. My pale white hair sticks out every which-way. It's sort of sad. I hoped it would've stayed straight because Muse had brushed it, and I wanted to remember it until next morning.

I've turned into such a sap.

"You wanna talk?" she yawns again, stretching her arms up above her. Her shirt rides up with her, gradually revealing her pale white stomach. I remember the unfortunate tickling-incident right before...everything. Right before everything happened. A soft giggle slips out of my lips in a squeak.

"What's funny?" she mumbles sleepily, smiling at me questioningly. "Are you ticklish?" I ask, stifling the peals of laughter that couple with loopy exhaustion. Muse only nods, looking as though she wants nothing else except to ignore me and go back to sleep.

She reaches over to the lamp behind her bed and hardly lifts the dimmer, with just enough light for us to see each other without alerting the hall monitors.

"What's your favorite color?" she asks softly, hardly audible from the top bunk. Ah, the classic Getting-To-Know-You Conversation. I don't suppose we've ever had this. I smile. "Blue," I answer simply.

Muse crosses her arms over her eyes as if to try to sleep, but I know all too well she's hiding a blush. "Favorite place?"

"Wherever you are."

"Favorite object to have?"

"Your hand in mine. Your eyes on me. As long as you're focused on me."

Muse gulps. Her red cheeks glow along with her pale white skin, like roses. "Your t-type?" she breaths shakily.

I put my arms on the wood and I rest my chin on them to see her better. I like her even more when she's all flustered. "Girls with black hair and blue eyes that are tough on the outside but cute little softies on the inside."

"There's tons of girls like that," she whines. Her lips, the only feature visible on her face, curl in a whine stifling a scowl. I chuckle. "They also need to be exactly one year younger than me," I add.

"So?"

"They also need to be glow-in-the-dark for my convenience."

Muse flips over and puts her pillow over her head. I release my snickers into my hands before I prod any further. "I'm sorry Muse-y," I say remorsefully, pouting. "Do you want me to crawl in with you until you feel better?"

"Don't touch me," Muse says, muffled in her sheets. I chuckle again. "Oh, come on."

Muse flips over, hugging her pillow and eyes closed. "I refuse to date anyone older than me."

"I'm only fifteen, Muse-y," I whine jokingly.

Muse just pouts stubbornly. It's silent for a while. Just a while. Before I blurt out my thoughts accidentally.

"Are we dating?"

Muse's eyes fly open for only a nanosecond before she covers her face with a pillow. "I-I don't know! It's too early for this—o-or late, I don't know!"

"We don't have to be," I quickly say, forcing myself to sound nonchalant so my voice doesn't crack. It's silent again. "Why exactly do we love each other anyway?" I suddenly ask. Muse slowly lowers her pillow until her eyes are visible. They're wide in surprise and curiosity.

"I don't want it to be just that thing where we were both close to dying, so it's like that...y-ya know?" I stammer. Muse narrows her eyes in suspicion. "Tell me why you like me first then we'll see," she says, so soft it's practically a mutter. I cock my head to the side questioningly, smiling.

"I can't explain it. It sounds stupid. You're fourteen and I'm fifteen, you know."

More silence.

I sigh, as heavy as lead. "I miss you when you're not around," I mumble. "And I feel like I don't have to think or worry about anything else when I'm with you. I know I'm too young to, so, whatever," I finish offhandedly, flipping onto my side and resolving to end the conversation right then and there.

Silence.

"I only have two people that seem to really care about me," Muse says softly, and abruptly. Abruptly enough to get me to turn closer to my bed's edge to listen to her. "My dad and you. So it's hard not to love you."

Silence.

"Would you have loved me if I wasn't roommates with you?"

Muse sighs out her nose. When her eyes flutter open, my chest tingles a bit at the sight of her dark blue eyes. I start make a mental list in the back of my head of every single thing that could make me love her. I want to make her happy next time she asks and I have a thousand reasons and not just a few half-hearted ones I knew on the spot.

"Hard to say," Muse sighs tiredly. "I feel, and hope, that I would've, but it would've just taken longer to. So I'd just like to think that I don't have to think about that scenario because in this timeline, we ended up like this and I'm happy."

More silence as I ponder her question, struggling to find another so the conversation doesn't end. Reason number nine, I love her because her voice is soothing. Reason number ten, talking to her makes me smile.

"Are we dating?" I ask again, softly. Our questions and answers slowly get less hesitant as the barriers are broken down between us. I want to break every barrier between us. Does that count as a reason?

"If you want to," Muse answers. Her voice is basically a reluctant mumble at best.

"We don't have to." Strangely enough, it's true this time. As long as I know she loves me when she looks at me, I don't really care if we want to date—for now, at least. We're too young to think about stupid stuff like that anyway.

"Okay."

More silence. I begin pondering the difference between us now and us if we were dating. I quickly find another question, one I'm surprisingly anxious to find the answer to all of a sudden.

"Do you want to kiss me? Like, at all?" I feel like the first one didn't count for many reasons, one of them being Uncle Axel. My teeth grit teeth in anticipation for her response. There's an un-reassuring pause before her answer.

"Yeah. A little, sometimes."

I release a breath I didn't realize I was holding. My chest gradually stops pounding. "I want to...too," I mutter.

More silence. The crickets outside the window start to chirp, only making me feel worse about the entire situation. So irrationally blurt out the first thing that comes to my head to break the silence.

"Do you want to sneak out tomorrow and go out on a date?"

A pause. The crickets seem to stop as well, sensing the graveness of the situation and retreating.

"Just make sure no one catches us," she answers simply.

I restrain my fist from pumping into the air on victory, seeing as how the ceiling is dangerously close to me. I suddenly start wondering if she's blushing, or if she'd let me crawl into her bedside if she was really, really cold. I want nothing else except to be as close to her as possible right now.

I settle on hugging my pillow.

"Griff?"

"Yeah?" I answer just a bit too eagerly, surprised she engaged me this time.

"If I have a really, really good time tomorrow...I might let you kiss me."

I stare at the ceiling in stunned silence for much longer than the conversation probably permitted. I start firing out questions, afraid she fell asleep and those were her final words.

"W-What does that mean? Like, are you going to t-tell me, or do I have to just, l-like, know?" I stammer nervously. I restrain a nervous crack right at the very end, and my voice flies up two octaves into a raspy squeak. The crickets resume as the silence continues.

"A little bit of both," Muse answers simply. "I'll tell you if it's ok, and you have to figure out the best time to do it. I'm assuming that's fair, so, good night Ally."

....

"Good night, Muse," I quickly say, realizing she was actually serious after a few moments. I'm answered with even breathing. My heart falls a bit, hoping she would've continued with me a little longer. I glance at the clock. Two-thirteen AM.

I hug my pillow a little tighter, dreaming about warm kisses that taste like orange and apple juice.

<> Chapter 19: Over The Wall and...<>

Blue blazer—nope.

Black blazer—nope.

Yellow blazer—ew...and no.

"Clean up your floor," a snarky voice remarks. "And stop throwing all your uniforms on there."

I roll my eyes and turn my head to answer her. "Well excuse me—holy guacamole, put on some clothes!" I quickly bury my face in my drawer, burning as hot as Axel on a summer's day.

Muse looks up from her phone, looking as passive as ever—as if she isn't standing in the doorway with only a towel on. Two, if you count the one on her head. "Dude, it's ok. We're roommates. By the way, there's a Mexican place nearby with some good guacamole. You should take me there."

"Shut up and put on some clothes!" I shout. Muse clicks her tongue at me. "That's no way to speak to your date. You're such a little kid." With a loud 'hmmph!' she slams the door, and I release the breath I've been holding in.

One day, she's going to give me a heart attack.

I dig through my drawer, dispelling all my neat stacks of seasonal uniforms until I find it—a plain cardboard box concealing a single pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt. I smuggled them in last year in case there was ever any occasion to use them. I'm not planning to go out in my uniform and immediately get caught by a police officer for playing hooky.

And, well, I mean...I'm going on a date. I don't want to look like a dweeb. What can I say?—I'm nervous! Muse is as cool as a cucumber, not even caring if I see her right after she's gone in the shower. But speaking for me, I'm a nervous wreck. I've barely kept myself from falling apart since the moment I woke up.

I take a few more deep breaths and I pull the plain casual outfit out of the box. I almost put the lid back on before seeing the surprise inside; my jaw drops.

I completely forgot about this!

I hug the soft leather to my chest, too excited to even...like...—GAH!

Uncle Axel gave me one of his old leather jackets for my birthday last year, and I vowed to save it for a special occasion. I forgot I even packed it with the rest of my clothes...!

I stumble around on a frenzied daze after realizing just how much time I wasted hugging my jacket like I loved it. I mean, I do. Just not like that.

Wow. I sound like such a dummy when I'm nervous.

My belt refuses to go through the last loop of my jeans, and I curse. "You stupid buckle!" I mutter. "Get! In! W-Woah—"

I manage to force the belt through the last loop—sacrificing my balance, and dignity, in the process as well. I fall onto my butt, banging the back of my head on the door as I do. I lean back, planning to wallow in a few moments of self-pity before I pick myself back up and get ready again (slower and safer, of course.)

But the universe wouldn't allow me a moment of peace.

The door swings open, and instead of my head thudding back against wood, it hits something more...leggy. I look up, and Muse smirks at me. "This is a creative way of trying to look up my skirt."

I make an embarrassing shriek as I half-stumble half-crawl away, my face burning red. Muse laughs at me, so at least I know she probably isn't planning my murder.

Wait, is she?

"I can't believe I'm dating such a klutz," Muse gasps in mock surprise. She kneels down beside me and wrinkles her nose in a grin. "Ooh, cool jacket. We're matching. Oh, wait—" Muse fixes the collar of her jacket upwards. "Now we are." She points at me accusingly, stopping me in my tracks. "But don't try and look up my skirt, otherwise this is the first and final time I wear anything nice for you."

"Did you come in here just to mock me?" I mutter, pulling on a glossy red pair of high tops. Also, this is why I'm glad to have one of those cool uncles that gives you outrageously expensive gifts on your birthday.

Muse just pouts. "Noooo," she says unconvincingly. She beams like a child and holds up two pairs of shoes in front of my face—a pair of leather boots in black and another in brown. "Which would go better with my dress?" She stands up and starts to twirl in front of me to demonstrate. "This pair...? Or this pair...?" Her dark blue dress matches her eyes down to the very shade. I have to keep myself from staring so I don't blush. "Black," I mumble reluctantly.

"Kay-Kay," Muse chirps happily, she skips back into her side of the room, throws the leather boots on her bed, then skips back and jumps on my bed to put the remaining pair on. I still don't understand why she insists on doing random things in my room rather than hers. But I'd rather not question it just in case—

"Why can't you do things in your own room?"

Goddamn it! Why doesn't my mouth listen to my brain?

Muse smiles, surprisingly pleasantly. "Because you're here."

I wish she would stop using my own tactics against me. But it's so cute—dang it!

<>

Muse wipes away the tears running down her face, refusing to look up at me. I'm laughing so hard I can barely breathe.

It's not as bad as it looks, I swear!

"Shut up," Muse sniffles, wiping at her eyes. She exerted herself so hard she actually started crying a bit. Her face is still red from all the huffing and puffing she was doing. I grip the ivy on the stone wall for support as I gasp for breath, struggling to contain my laughter. "You're—! Gasp So—! Gasp Weak!" I start laughing all over again, crying from my own laughter.

Okay, it's a little bad. She just looked so cute when she couldn't get up! Like a little kitty who couldn't climb up the wall—I'm serious, it was adorable! I'm not that bad.

I climbed up the low, ivy ridden wall

with ease. The green vines are so thick they're practically ladders. Muse couldn't even get herself off the ground in ten minutes.

Muse wipes away a few more tears, her face now burning with embarrassment in the cold morning. "I'm going back to the dorm," she mutters, still sniffling. My laughter quickly dies down, yet I still struggle not to laugh as I call after her. "Wait, Muse! Hee-hee—ahem, I'm sorry!"

Muse doesn't leave, but she slides down the wall and stays on the ground, burying her face in her knees. My laughter dies off completely, guilt growing in my chest. "Muse, really, I'm sorry," I say teasingly, hoping I can get her to laugh. Muse hiccups softly into her knees. My smile disappears, and my own pale skin starts to blush in shame. This is the worst start to a date in the history of all mankind. I immediately started by making her cry.

Greaaaaaaaat job, Griff. Real smooth.

I carefully push myself off the wall, and I jump down onto the grass with a soft thump on the dirt. Muse doesn't even flinch. "I'm sorry, okay," I mumble, not sure what else to say. "We can take the long way. I laugh when I'm tired that's all."

Muse still doesn't move. My chest tightens in guilt and the beginning of a full on panic. Is she crying? Holy crap, did I actually make her cry?

"Muse-y," I coax. "I'm really, really sorry. I was being horrible towards you, I know. Forgive me...?"

Still, nothing. I kneel down beside her on the grass, and I gently pat her head. She hiccups again. "Don't cry, Muse," I murmur gently. "I'm sorry, I'm the worst."

Muse is deadly still. I sigh heavily, admitting defeat. Worst. Day. Ever.

"I love you," I mumble, in hopes to make amends.

Muse makes a soft snorting sound. My jaw drops, aghast. "Are you laughing at me?"

I push her head up with my hand, and Muse answers with another soft snore. Her soft, high-pitched snores sound faintly like hiccups. Her eyes are closed completely, dead asleep. I scrunch my face up in a scowl, outraged that I went through all that trouble. I flick her head, and then I let it fall roughly.

"Wake up, stupid," I mutter harshly. Muse smacks her lips as she lifts her head, rubbing her eyes. "Sorry," she yawns. "My eyes get so dry when I'm tired that I cry. And crying makes me even more tired. And then..." She trails off, shrugging. I know what comes next. I scowl.

"I'm sorry," she says again, obviously not very remorseful. "But you were pretty mean to me. It's a good thing I was tired, otherwise I would've punched you off that wall."

"You can't punch me if I'm on top and you can't climb!"

I jump up and I start climbing the ivy, cackling evilly. "Can't catch me!"

"Wow, you're slow. And dumb. Can't you just teleport?"

I look to my side, only to find Muse already a foot above me, looking bored. "How!" I shout. "Just...how!?"

"I told you, I was tired. I took a power nap, so now I'm not. I can't believe I'm dating such an idiot."

I fumble for the ivy, but I realize I chose the wrong section. The vines are slippery and tattered from rain. By the time I muster enough focus to teleport, though, Muse is already at the top. I poke her arm, shocking her. "Yow!"

"That's what you get," I whine stubbornly, fully knowing I sound like a child. Muse's hair floats toward me from the electric charge. Mine is doing the same. I reluctantly smile, even though I'm trying to be mad at her.

"Penalty points," Muse sings. "That's not what you should be doing to your date," she says, checking her nails idly. "You lose a kiss."

I pale. "You were going to kiss me more than once?"

Muse just smiles at me the way one would smile at a dumb child. "I was, honey dearest. Too bad." She turns around and jumps down on the other side of the wall.

<> Chapter 19: A Single Chance <>