A dark figured loomed over her as she knelt on the ground. She knew it wasn't Caleb, even though she still wished it was. Oh how she wished it was him there to save her from this current predicament. But alas, it wasn’t, nor would it ever be. He couldn’t see her anymore. He wouldn’t ever save her again. Instead however it was her enemy. How she knew it was, when she never even looked up, one could only wonder.

She wrote.

That’s what she did, you know. She wrote and wrote; fantastical stories filled with intrigue and romance; Stories with witches and humans and elves and vampires. She was a great writer, the best in the school. I should know, I've read almost every story she ever wrote. Being her best and only true friend, I had gotten that privilege.

She was pretty too. Not what one would consider beautiful, but she was to me. Her brown hair, always fluffy, was usually up in a ponytail, keeping it out of her face. Her eyes were honey; too golden to be considered brown. She was petite, small waist, 5'3”, and she was a bit clumsy, always having her head into the stories. That’s how I had met her. We ran into each other, literally. I was busy thinking about my music, and she about her newest idea. That’s when we started talking. I found out her name was Jocelyn, and she found out mine was Sam. I fell in love with her that day
If only she knew....




If only he knew, I thought as I glanced up at him from across the lunch room. He was perfect, tall and blonde; his hair falling unkempt around his green eyes. He was deeply immersed in a drawing, his hand making quick sketches across his paper. His eyes would flick up every once in a awhile, and I swore he was looking at me. Every time he looked up, I'd looked away and blush. Then look back and there he was scribbling away again.

My friend Sam was saying something about the new story, but I was distracted. Even with the noise of the cafeteria surrounding us, I heard nothing. I wanted nothing more than to just get up and walk on over to him; to talk to him, and to get to know him more. But I knew I couldn’t, I wasn’t strong enough to convince myself to do it.

He was new here, only been too this school for like three months, but I had been infatuated from the beginning. I first saw him in the office as I walked past. He was holding his sketch book, drawing away like he always does. I caught a glimpse of a girl, her face gentle and her eyes shining. Even with pencil, he made her look alive. I was in love with him since that day.
If only he noticed….




If only she noticed that I couldn’t help but stare at her. She was beautiful, her fair blonde hair, pulled into two braids. She was pale, and her face was smooth. Her blue eyes looked almost grey, always stared past me. She was beauty in motion, a dancer and an actress, and she was the greatest thing to walk across that stage this high school.

I came to this school not too long ago, and quickly became known as the schools artist. I was the best, they claimed, although I didn’t want to be. I just wanted to blend in, go about my business in private instead of having to be greeted ever five seconds, and begged by girls to draw them. They were conceited. One had said to me once, draw me like you see me. And I did. I drew her as plain as she was. She got angry, told me I was a prude and a fake. But really, next to Erica, she was plain.

Erica was sitting across the lunch room, her eyes down cast as she read the script for some play. The light was perfect, sunlight coming down across her face, hitting her hair. It was just like the day I first saw her. She was stretching in the gym, her face set in concentration. Her movements were slow, and fluid, and she went from one stretch to the other, all the while, looking as if she was dancing. I was being led around, given a tour, since it was my first day, and as I set in the office, I drew her, I drew her standing there, moving like a trained dancer in the light. That was the day I fell in love with her.
If only she felt the same…..




If only he felt the same. This thought was a recurring one. One that played over and over in my head, everyday, of every week. Sam however was oblivious. Sam only knew his music and Jocelyn. I envied that girl and the way she herself was oblivious. She was hurting him, with her disregard of his feelings. I sighed.

I would give anything if he could look at me the way he did that girl. We knew each other, me and him, but not as well as him and her. He would sometimes play the piano for me, so I could practice my dancing when there wasn’t a radio around. Sometimes we would spend the after noon together, hardly ever talking. I found it hard to concentrate most of the time, always getting self conscience, wondering if he was looking at me. Whenever I would glance over though, he was always just reading the music.

The lunch room was full yet I always got the seat right in front of them. I liked this seat. I would hear him talk about his day, about his music, or just about random stuff. It would make me happy o hear that he got a A on his biology test. Then it would make me sad to know he was telling her and not me. My friends would always tell me to go for it; to stop acting so unlike my natural Erica self confidence and ask him out already, but they couldn’t see what I saw. They couldn’t see how he was already taken, without being taken. There was no way I could compete with the love he already felt for her, the love that she didn’t see.

If only….