NANCY

As I open my eyes, I'm laying on my bed, Beethoven's fifth symphony filling my bedroom with well-known notes. Their usual melody is knotting with the feeble rays of sun my curtains let filter in.

I take a moment to inhale the morning air. Light fills my lungs, replacing the bad thoughts with humble hopes.

Ms Dalon is going to give us our tests back today. I'm good at math. Maybe I'll get a perfect score. The thought makes me smile. Even though I'm the top of my class, a perfect score is not something I get that often.

Anyway, I'm awake. I should get out of bed if I don't want to be late. Once I’m up, I put my glasses on, along with some clothes. I then leave my room to make my way to the kitchen, but I'm soon running back in. I had forgotten to switch the music off. Typical.

Make me read a formula and I'll never forget it. But give me a removable head, and you can be sure I will leave it somewhere and never find it again.

When I walk into the kitchen, the clouds of sleep around my head have dissipated enough to kiss my mom good-bye, but not to miss tripping on the carpet. I catch the table to keep my balance. "Frizzy lizards of Oz!" I swear, my words echoing way too loudly in the early peace of the apartment.

I freeze. For a moment I'm just standing there, waiting for something to happen. The yell of a neighbor, a bark of the dog living upstairs, a lightning breaking the roof to grill me on the spot, anything. You never know what could happen, especially in the morning when you have dreams as absurd as mine.

After forty seconds of silent waiting, though, the only answer I get is silence. I guess it's safe to keep my morning routine going. I finish my trip to the coffee machine and make myself a big Latte. The first gulp burns my tongue and makes steam form on my glasses. I smile.

Routine is good.

At least that's what I like to tell myself.

______________

Pretty much every day of my life is the same.

I wake up, forget to switch my music off, kiss my mom, drink a coffee, ride my bike to school. Then I attend my morning classes, eat lunch with Sasha and Ibrahim, my best and only friends, and we play cards while talking about books, memes and mangas. I tell them to stop calling me "Nancy Drew", and they sing the stupid nickname to me with toothy grins, and I forget to be angry. I attend my afternoon classes then chess or library club depending on the day, and around 6, I ride back home. There I do my homework, give a hand to my dad in the kitchen, and welcome my mother home. We all eat dinner together, and after that I settle in my bed to read for a while before switching the lights off around 11.

(At my locker I pretend not to see James and Jessica sloppily making out not 15 centimeters away from me.)

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

(In class like in the hallways, I ignore the whispers, looks and mocking remarks I get. Sometimes I don't even notice anymore.)

(Between classes I walk with my nose in a book, making detours and stealing glances.)

(In chess club I destroy my opponent without mercy; in library club I get over-enthusiastic and make everyone laugh.)

(On my way home I make a detour by the stadium and watch from afar, hidden behind my glasses.)

Yes, every day is pretty much the same : with hints of smiles and sparks of interest, but generally monotonous.

Except the days she looks at me.

----------------------------------------

 ALEX

The strident cry of my alarm clock makes me jump in my bed. I sit up, groggy with sleep, and search blindly for the off-button. It doesn't work that well because at the same time, I'm trying to put my hair out of my face. Why do I have long hair again? Ah, yes : it's what every girl does. And it's pretty.

When the annoying ringtone keeps yelling despite my efforts to shut it off, I groan. I get out of my bed, slightly off-balance, and smash a firm hand on the top of the electronic culprit. A bit too strongly, maybe, but I'm easily pissed off in the morning, okay?

A soft *click* later, I'm rewarded with a blanket of silence and I huff in relief.

Now completely awake, I walk around the mess of clothes and papers littering my bedroom floor to reach the window, and in a wide, dynamic movement- put the curtain off the rod.

Typical.

"Shit", I say, before tossing the red fabric aside, then sighing. On the other side of the glass, everything's lovely and full of life, as joyful as any stereotypical spring day could get. And the sun is too bright. I squint.

"Mornings fucking suck", I tell the birds.

They don't answer.

______________

My hair’s so tangled today, I almost miss the bus. Pretty sure my make up's crap, too.

I greet the bus driver absently as I check my card then walk to my usual spot at the back, careful not to trip. I sit. An earbud falls off my ear. I huff and put it back in, wishing my headphone wasn't broken.

I should probably have thought about that before throwing it on my bedroom wall, but I didn't think it would break. Unless I’d wanted it to break. I don't know. It was stupid either way.

A pop song with meaningless lyrics fills the bus, blurring the other passengers as I let the side of my head rest on the bus window. I stop thinking.

______________

Soon enough, I’m joined by some of my friends. I'm the one who lives the further away from our high school, but not the only one to take the bus. I take one of my earbuds out and we start chatting about boys, fashion, new songs and the upcoming football game. It's nice, but also kinda boring. Don't get me wrong, I love my friends (and they love me ), I just wish we'd talk about other things sometimes. Like, I don't know, there's plenty of other topics, right? But we always end up talking about those four things. Games, fashion, songs, and boys. Songs, games, boys, and fashion. I guess that's what you do when you're a popular girl. That's me, by the way. The popular girl, even. Everybody knows me. My name, the size of my boobs, the jobs of my parents, my grades, which guy I've been with - everything.

I'm only glancing out the window when I catch a glimpse of her. She's riding her bike, like every day. And wearing a skirt. A dark blue, knee-length skirt, with a purple cardigan. Her dark hair is flying behind because of the speed. She's not going as fast as the bus, though, and soon I can't see her anymore.

When I join back in my friends' conversation, they're planning to go shopping after cheer practice today. I hear myself agreeing to go with them, my mind elsewhere. I think that maybe they don't know everything about me, and I feel better.

And then I think Not yet , and an icy weight settles in my stomach.