Chapter One - Not So Typical-1

"All I'm saying is she should have said something to him! She left him hanging with nothing to give him hope, no rejection just ... blank! Flat line! The physical manifestation of NA-DA. ZIPPO!" I was fuming, even going so far as slamming my red locker shut with a little bit more vigor than usual. The last chapter of my book I kept glued to my hands for the past several days really got my verbal motor running. The ending, in my personal opinion, proved to be highly unsatisfying. Perhaps my belief in love was virtually non-existent, no fault of my own. But this fact didn't excuse how the ending left me wanting more. Too many strings dangled, too many ends needed to be tied up. Endings such as that drove me crazy. I needed closure. Maybe it was my own fault I needed the closure. Maybe it wasn't. All I knew was I couldn't stand for answers to not be given. It without a doubt was my biggest pet peeve. Before you can ask, because I know you're dying to, no, my failure to put stock in love didn't stem from some crisis I had as a child. I haven't had my heart broken. Heck, I haven't even had a boyfriend and I've never been kissed. Seventeen and still waiting for the sparks to fly. Most people labeled me as a loser and a prude. I labeled myself as wise and still in tact. Touching my forehead to my locker with a dramatic sigh, I waited for the reply to come from my friend. I knew she still stood next to me. I could see her stupid boots from the corner of my eyes. So why the silent treatment? The silence I received annoyed me. What happened to my best friend to render her absolutely speechless? My speech couldn't have been that exaggerated ... could it? With a slight growl, I diverted my eyes to the left and instantly noticed Shelby staring, no, gawking over my left shoulder. Something had clearly seized her attention and she was bent on keeping the contact, however small it seemed. The thing with Shelby; she had the attention span of a Chihuahua on crack. No less than fifteen seconds ago, my mouth let out a continuous stream of analytical and deep thoughts on the last book I read and she didn't catch a single word of it. "And may I ask what fly has caught the frogs eye this time?" The question came out a little more dry than I intended, but I didn't really care. Leaning on the lockers and closing my eyes halfway, settling into a comfortable position, I stared at my best friend. Shelby knew I couldn't keep my sarcastic remarks to myself. It was darn near impossible, especially when she let her attention wander off in the middle of one of my rants. Clearing her throat as discreetly as she possibly could, her eyes snapped back to my dark brown ones. A fake and overly cheerful smile crossed my face. "Done ogling the poor sap?" Shelby oh-so-gracefully stuck her tongue out at me and shook her head. "For your information, I was actually eyeballing Mr. Bad Boy over there." Curiosity, once again, got the better of me and I casually adjusted the position I currently held to get a better look. My eyes stared straight ahead before lazily dragging their gaze down the halls. And, true to Shelby's word, there he stood; the figure which seemed to have every girl in this school swooning and stumbling around in his presence. Keegan Monroe. I won't lie - the guy oozed attractiveness. Dark messy hair sat on top of his head, most of it flopping down on his forehead and covering his right eye. I heard his eyes were a surprising shade of blue given the dark hair that he possessed. I wouldn't know, of course, considering I've never been close enough to even hear him speak. Broad shoulders sat right below his nicely chiseled jawline and led into an impressive pair of strong arms. I couldn't help but wonder how many times he went to the gym to get them to look that way. Never having seen the guy shirtless, his torso was a mystery, but one could only imagine it was just as toned as the rest of his body. Keegan was dark, mysterious, brooding - the typical bad boy. The rumors that surrounded him were enough to keep everyone in this school away. The accuracy of those rumors had yet to be tested though. People could say what they wanted all day long. But it was still a mystery as to who he really was. Maybe a bit of context and a little back story would be useful at this point in time. Well, for starts, I'm Gabrielle Holmes, the red spitfire who stood to my left is Shelby Adams and the hallway in which we reside is Washington High. Go Bullfrogs! Yes, our team somehow managed to seal the name 'Bullfrogs'. Surprisingly enough, the team kicked butt. Maybe the name manifested as a strategical move on their part; get a wimpy name, make all those opposing teams laugh until they pee themselves over said name, then demolish the competition who by now is too weak to fight back. Sounds plausible to me. Anyways, back to the current subject. At our school, things were a little bit different. And by different, I mean the extreme cliques that existed elsewhere didn't have as strong of an influence. Sure there were the different kids that got lumped together because they had the same interests, but that didn't mean we couldn't hop from one person to the other. It was easy to go from talking to your fellow nerds to the head cheerleader. The term 'conversational gap' could be applied when trying to find something to talk about but if two people found common ground, all the more power to you. Not to say there were no stereotypes, either. For instance, I am classified as a nerd. All my homework? Done. Severe shyness around those I'm unfamiliar with? Check. But am I the goody two shoes? Nope. I have definitely had my fair share of detention. I just don't make it a habit. Therefore, I couldn't be classified as the schools rebel. Now, back to what started this entire rant telling you about the various social standings of my school. Keegan Monroe. That boy had a reputation which followed him everywhere. I could relate it to watching someone exit the bathroom with a long piece of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of their shoes, trailing them all around the mall. You just couldn't help but stare and wonder how they could walk around in such a non-nonchalant manner with it there. The rumors that were whispered in the deepest corners of the school about the resident bad boy were just that: rumors. Had anyone actually witnessed him street fighting? Nope. Did someone possess video proof he set off those fireworks in the gym last year? Of course not. But as the list of scenarios grew longer and longer, the gullible minds of the teen population found themselves with an unnatural fixation on the mysterious and dangerous aura he produced. I had managed to steer clear of him thus far. He really didn't have much of a history as a conversationalist. The task was as simple as it got. Stay out of his way and you won't find out if the rumors are true. Too bad Shelby and her ogling ways were drawing unnecessary attention to our little safe haven.