{Wednesday the 26th}: Classes are in session! Don't fall asleep. You want to make a good impression on your teachers. Afterwards, everyone is heading down to the beach to have a great time.



My roommate was kind, she was blonde with blue eyes and around my height. I learnt that she'd done a major in Literature (but then she asked me why I was so interested and I told her that I liked her, as a friend of course. She only smiled).

Then she told me that I was nice, but she didn't trust anyone so don't expect anything. As far as my respect went, I didn't say anything else. But today was my first class and I was excited, even though it was History. "Hey, Libs," A teasing voice said behind me and I saw Michael, running a hand through his hair, no friends to 'flank' him, not that he'd want to beat his little sister up. I don't think.

"What's up, Mike?"

He grimaced, hating to be called 'Mike'. It was only because he called me 'Libs'. "I got a free period, want to come get some coffee?" He asked, a small smile on his lips. That's how siblings went - feeling lonely? Find your brother / sister.

"I can't, I've got history, Michael." He sighed and I felt a little guilty. I wasn't the type to just not go to class, and I wasn't going to. But I couldn't help but feel a little sympathetic towards him. "Oh god, I've got to go!" Class was already beginning and I found myself running through the hallways like an idiot, occasionally glancing at the stupid map they'd given me yesterday.

I could hear the teacher's voice through the door, calling names. I must be last on the list. I pushed the door open, mumbled, "Sorry I'm late," and sat down next to... Tyler.

"Bad Libby. Turning 'rogue' are we?"

"What?" I asked, startled. I was a bit surprised that Tyler has used to word 'rogue', it reminded me of a boy who played non-stop dungeons and dragons, but even more that he'd suggested I was turning rogue. "No," I snapped, looking at the board at the front of the classroom. The teacher started to drone on about a war that happened a long time ago. This is why I'm not majoring in History.

But I wanted to do this well. I didn't want to be held back on special circumstances like Michael. That'd be stupid. I found myself a little dizzy. I felt like that when I thought to much, and when I did sometimes I even panicked.

And as quickly as I'd started, class was over.


Luckily me and Michael finally had a free period at the same time, and we went to get some coffee together in town. He recommended some out-of-date diner with plush, red booths and steaming hot coffee that you were sure to never forget the taste of. I saw a few others I recognised from around university, but then I recognised the one person I'd befriended closely last year - Brooke Scott.

"Brooke!" I called, putting down my indeed hot coffee. She turned her head, perfect curls resting on her shoulder. Then her eyes landed on me.


I nodded solemnly and she muttered something to whoever she was sitting with and made her way over to me. She slid in next to Michael, who couldn't have been happier and then said, directed to me, "How was your summer?"

"It was great, stuck with Michael and relatives I don't even like - I was having a blast." The sarcasm rolled off my tongue easily. Michael was the reason I'd become sarcastic - he used sarcasm against unwanted relatives telling them they were smart and their butt didn't look huge in the outfit, but it was all in a sarcastic monotone that made me giggle.

"How was yours?"

"Same old, same old."

I smiled, Brooke liked her privacy and yes, my respect even stretched that far. The girl she'd been sitting with looked impatient and tapped her wrist, although there wasn't a watch in sight.

"I have to go, Libby. Catch up later, yeah?" I nodded and she waved goodbye. Michael was unfazed by her leaving and instead delved into a funny story of some kid walking down the hall wearing braces and pants up to his waist. And not the braces for your teeth, although he had them too, but the ones that hold up your pants.

And I found myself laughing with Michael.


"Coming to the beach, Libby?" Tyler asked when he caught up with me and I nodded. Sure, social gatherings weren't my type of thing, but I wasn't going to turn this one down at all. The beach was a calm place, although I saw Tyler slip a water gun into his backpack when he thought nobody was looking.

I felt pumped for the beach, bouncing on the balls of my feet as I stood outside Tyler's car, an old pickup truck with mud splattered on the side. It didn't have to look nice to have personality. On the inside, it smelt like strawberries from the air freshener hanging on the mirror and the leather seats smelt weird, but I wasn't going to tell him that. "How long have you had this for?" I asked as everyone else got in. I was crushed between two guys, both pretty muscular. I didn't recall hearing any names passed between them. Except that Tyler told them my name.

"So Libby, what are you majoring in?"

"Art," I muttered quickly and then they delved onto into their majors in sports or something. The ride to the beach was, indeed, not exactly pleasant, but at least I could loose myself in my thoughts for the time being before someone started talking to me again.

"We're here," Tyler said and all I could do was stare at the perfect scenery. The golden sand, the gorgeous blue waves and even the people that shouted and ran across the beach. "Come on, Libby!" He said and grabbed my wrist, which admittedly hurt, but as soon as my feet touched the soft sand, I figured it was worth it.
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