Chapter 3: Tragedy (Alex's POV) I woke up the next morning, repeated the same routine I do every day to get ready, and then headed out to the cafe. I walked while bobbing my head to the song that was playing in my ears, lip-syncing with the words, and feeling better than most days. There was no chaos this morning and I was able to sleep last night. Unlike most nights. I had a bounce to my step as I walked in rhythm with the song, stopping at the cafe. I continued listening to music, just stopped dancing, as I opened the door and walked to the counter, ordering my usual. I took a seat at my table, my head bobbing a little helplessly. Everyone grooves a little to good music, you just can't help it. I sat down and got started on my laptop, only to be snapped out of moments later. "Your tea!" I looked up, startled while ripping my earphone out of one ear to see Katy standing there. "Sorry," I said sheepishly. She shook her head and laughed before heading back while I put my earphones back and continued. Just like most days, I spent about an hour here before packing up and leaving. I was curious to see if he would leave another drawing, so I wanted to go back and see. I left and sat on the bench outside, a few feet away, where I finished my tea. Maybe I'll just get a coffee for Hannah as an excuse. I walked back in moments later while he began packing his stuff. "Can I get a caramel latte, please?" "Who's the coffee for?" Katy asked. "It's for Hannah," I replied while handing her the money. "Just wait a minute, it's coming right up," she smiled. I went back and sat at the table. He wouldn't leave it if I was still sitting here, right? He pulled his backpack over his shoulder before walking by my table, leaving a tissue on his way out. He's so subtle with that, no wonder nobody notices. I looked out the window as he walked by. He looked at me and threw me a wink before continuing his walk. I picked up the tissue and assessed the drawing. It was a sketch of tangled earphones. Like really tangled. "Alex!" I got up, grabbed my coffee, tipped the jar, and then left. I tucked the tissue into my back pocket and headed into the school building. I walked to my locker where a few feet away, Carter stood at his. "Hey!" I snapped out of my thoughts when Hannah came and stood beside me. "Hey, I got you coffee," I said while handing her the cup, "Didn't want you falling asleep in class. Again." She grinned at me before squeezing me into a hug. "God, I love you," she squealed. "It's just coffee, Han," I chuckled while grabbing my books and then closing my locker. "You know, Mr. Gotham said we might be going to Toulouse this year," she said in between sips. "That's great," I replied. "Why not Paris though? Imagine how fun it would be," she pouted, clicking her tongue in frustration. "Where is the Spanish class going?" she questioned. "We're supposed to go to Barcelona and Madrid. I doubt it though, who'd wanna go with Mrs. Rodriguez?" I scrunched up my nose while we entered the classroom and sat down. "She can't be that bad," she said. "Believe me, she is." We looked up at the unknown voice and saw Carter. "Hey," he nodded at me before sitting in his seat. I turned to Hannah who's eyes were going to fall out of her head. "What?" she mouthed, her jaw dropped. I rolled my eyes and dismissed it while Mr. Blaze walked in and resumed where we left off yesterday. "What the hell are we doing?" Han whispered. "I'll lend you my notes from yesterday," I said before class went on, just like the rest of the day. ◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆ It was lunch now and I was headed to the library. I end up going there just to avoid third-wheeling between Jake and Hannah pretty often, especially lately. I walked in and over to the back where there was a huge window that let the sun rays seep into the room and warm it up. It's a pity there's no bean bags or something here. It could be so cozy. I sat on the floor with a sigh and grabbed a random book from above my head. Tall Blondes: A Book About Giraffes. "God, are you kidding?" I sighed while standing up, putting back. "What a tragedy." I gasped and stepped back when his face peeked through the spaces on the shelf before he rounded it and walked over to me. "Tragedy?" I asked in confusion. "You spend your lunches in the library. It's tragic. A pretty face like yours could be out there chatting up to people," he smirked. "I'm not interested, thanks," I said, resisting an eye roll before beginning to take a walk. "Not interested? Why? No friends for little Alexandria?" he taunted. I huffed, "It's Alex. And I come here because I want to, not because I have to." That was debatable. "Either way, one friend isn't enough," he shrugged. "You have one friend," I pointed out. Hypocrite. "Yeah, but everybody loves me," he smirked. "Not everybody," I smiled at him sarcastically before continuing to walk around. "How come you're always so pessimistic?" he asked, popping up in front of me. I huffed in annoyance, waiting for him to get out my way. "Can you move?" "Can you answer my question?" "No." I was honest. "Then I want my drawing back." He arched a daring eyebrow at me. Why would he think that's difficult for me to do? It's not like I'm attached to his drawings or something. "Sure," I shrugged, taking it out of my pocket and holding it out for him to take. "Both of them," he said. "I don't just carry your drawings wherever I go. It's at my house," I replied. "Then you have to answer," he smirked. "Jesus, what is your question?" I sighed. "How come you're always so pessimistic? You weren't this morning when you walked in skipping like you've just become Sofia The First," he teased. "Good to know you watch Sofia The First, suits you very well," I nodded, "And I'm not pessimistic, you just dampen the mood," I shrugged before walking around him and taking a seat at one of the tables. "Well, ouch. And thank you, Sofia The First fits me very well indeed," he said while sitting down on the chair opposite mine. "Can I help you?" I rolled my eyes. "Just making conversation," he shrugged. "Why? We have never spoken in the four years I've lived in this freaking city," I mumbled. "Where are you from?" he asked. I stared at him, contemplating whether I should answer or make a run for the door. I'm too lazy. "Orange County, California," I said. "Me too. I came here when I was ten," he replied. "Why move?" I asked. "My dad's job," he answered. "You?" he asked. "My dad's job," I shrugged. "Real estate agent?" he questioned and I nodded. "Mine too." That's weird. "So, where do you live?" he asked. "Creepy much? Where all the real estate agents do nearby," I shrugged. "Oh, you're the house with the red front door, am I right?" he asked. "Why do you know that?" I narrowed my eyes at him. "Everyone talks about that door. The one red door in the entire neighborhood." "I painted that door, thank you very much. Sorry, but I can't live in a completely tip-top, polished house like everyone else in that neighborhood does. It's suffocating," I explained. "I agree. Everyone just wants everything to be perfectly clean and polished. It is annoying," he nodded, "But you're also the only student that goes here from that neighborhood who nobody knows. That door is the talk of real estate kids," he smirked. "Glad to hear," I said sarcastically. "Well, now I finally know. You're the girl behind the red door," he taunted. "Do all you real estate kids hang out in a pack or something? Every person with real estate parents seems to know each other," I pointed out, "It's like a cult." "If our parents are a group, so are we. It's because we constantly end up seeing each other at events and parties. What about you? You haven't attended any," he stated. "My dad doesn't force me to. Why do you go? To help lock in deals, isn't it?" I asked. Every real estate parent here tries using their children to seal a deal. Impress the client, get the deal. Pathetic. "You don't?" he asked, surprised. "I don't have to," I shrugged. "Consider yourself lucky. It's torture at those parties," he scoffed. "I can imagine," I laughed. I guess we've got more in common than I thought. . . . .