I need a place to think. To distract myself long enough before I physically break. Before my internal wounds become something that everyone can see. So, I end up storming out of the house on an awfully sunny Saturday. I walk down the road like I'm about to murder someone while in reality I'm just walking to one of my favorite places to think.

Why didn't I bring my phone? I scold myself. I only grabbed my backpack. This is so typical of me to forget something. I really do have an awful memory. 

Idiot.

Fortunately for me, I have my notebook in my backpack, so I can still write once I'm at the bookstore. I breathe in. Bookstore, the smell of books will make everything better. I breathe out again and find a small smile slipping onto my lips.

When I arrive at the bookstore and swing the door open, a bell rings and the lovely lady behind the counter looks up at me with a warm smile. 

"Morning, Daniella," I hear Miss Hummings say when I pass the till.

"Morning Misses-H" I greet back, but don't stop for any chit-chat.

I make my way to the back of the tiny bookstore and pick my favorite couch. When I sink into the soft pillows, I grab my notebook and pen and breathe in the smell of books before I let my horrible hand-writing adorn the page.

To me, the sound of my pen on page isn't as soothing as the clicketyclickclickclack. No, this sounds like a sword fight. Scratch, drag, stop. Scratch, drag, stop. That sound is for when I'm having conflict.

I told myself that if I can't fly, I'll just dig. But I'm still so afraid... Afraid that I'll end up digging an early grave instead of becoming something of value. A diamond. That thought scares the shit out of me.

I do not fear death. I have learned throughout my almost eighteen years of living, that there are things much worse than death.

"You trying to kill that page?" I hear someone say and I can't help the tiny yelp and my pen flying out of my hand for a second. Usually nobody disturbs me here. Usually I'm invisible.

Startled, I look up and don't know whether to punch or kiss (okay that's a bit weird) the guy standing in front of me with a shy smile.

Jackson.

Jackson Palmer.

He's looking as impressive as ever with his dark blonde hair ruffled up in a style, his million dollar smile and of course those river blue/green eyes staring down at me. Even the jeans and plain shirt he's wearing to seem like he's not trying, adds to the look. 

"No seriously, it looks like you're trying to stab that poor book to death," Jackson chuckles - I hate that the sound isn't horrible but almost an exact replication of any of those hunks in the movies.

"What are you doing here?" I ask in a grumble - deciding to go with an angry approach.

"Oh crap," he says and looks around in panic before returning to looking at me. "Is this... Is this private property?" There's a playful tone to his attitude. "My God, I thought this was a bookstore to which anybody with an interest to books can go to," he says and then shrugs, "Or an interest in Misses H - which is very likely as well."

Wait... Jackson calls her Misses H as well? That little traitor...

"I mean, why are you in front of me? Talking to me?" I ask and add an eye-roll for good measure.

Eye-rolls are normal, right? Eye-rolls are typical teenage behavior.

Jackson seems to have an internal wince before clearing his throat, "I came to apologize for yesterday."

"Apology not accepted," I say and return to the sword fight with my notepad.

Some people can see if you're already a corpse.

That's when they step over you and do what they want, because I'm already dead, right? Don't have any feelings or whatever that matters.

Then there are other people that are still alive, but smell like a bloody corpse. Rotting and oozing with rudeness and screaming at you to leave them alone. They then think they can just apologize, but who's going to_

"That's it," I hear Jackson say before he grabs my notebook and bolts for the door.

What the hell?

I'm too stunned for a moment to know what's happening, but then quickly jump up. He has my notebook! It's not the same as my notes on my phone. My notebook is for conflict - which equals a lot of embarrassing suicidal phrases.

I run out of the bookstore - the little bell ringing, and spot Jackson grabbing a bicycle from a stand and riding away. He looks over his shoulder and smirks smugly at me before riding away even faster. Is that guy serious? This is a busy street! Not as busy as on weekdays, but still busy!

I look to my right and spot the bicycle stand.

Dear God, why are you making me do this?

I throw a twenty at the guy renting bikes, before grabbing my own and racing to my right. The old man looks alarmed and starts protesting, but I manage to paddle away in time. I'm going to kill Jackson when I see him again! And then I'm going revive him and kill him again for good measure.

In panic and honestly, out of breath, I try dodging cars and people. I ride up the road and then turn to hop onto the sidewalk - trying my best to avoid posts and people. I panic when a guy comes walking down with a bunch of dogs. Without thinking, I make a left onto the road again and a car breaks and honks like crazy. I try being invisible as I ride past him and make a turn to where Jackson is heading. If I die because of riding a fucking bike, I'm going to be so mad. What's the meaning in that?  

Jackson takes a turn and drives through the gates that lead to the park/forest. It's a steep heel and I already regret following him into the park. I try my best keeping up on the dirt path, but off-roading is just not for me. I can't even find myself appreciating the greenery around my and all the kinds of trees we pass.

I used to love sports when I was younger, but when high school came and its politics with it, I decided to leave sports. You make the team if your mom can sponsor something. I'm sorry, but I'm not willing to kiss someone's ass just to be in a team.

So now I end up panting like an over-sized dog on a hot day. I'm as unfit as it gets.

No. More. Cardio.

Must. Stop.

I give up when I see a very welcoming bolder to my left. Enough! My legs protest. Too, many hills!

I slow down until I stop and climb/fall off - leaving my bicycle sprawled across the ground like a dead body. I trudge towards the bolder and then slump down to try and regain my breathing again.

Let Jackson read my stupid notebook! Let the whole damn world read if they want to!

After a few minutes of breathing heavily, I hear Jackson coming back. He stops next to my bicycle and leaves his there as well before strolling over and sitting next to me. From the corner of my eye, I watch him extend my notebook towards me to take.

"Why on earth did you do that?" I demand from Jackson.

He shrugs, " I actually wanted to bring you to this park. Whenever I'm here, I always feel at peace with the trees surrounding me".

"Well I feel tired," I grumble, "and quite frankly, the presence of bugs as well."

Jackson laughs and I find myself smiling. "Come on and live a little, Danielle," Jackson says. I eye him from and angle.

"You call this living? Bicycle chases and bugs?" I ask unimpressed. 

Jackson shrugs and sits back - his eyes on the canopy of leaves above us and the birds flying around and singing to each other. "Anything can be living. It's not about what you're doing. It's about your attitude towards what you're doing."

I snort at that and look back in front of me. Noticing one of my boots' laces are undone, I go down to tie it. For a few minutes neither of us say anything. It's just the sound of the birds chirping, leaves rustling and our own silent breathing. Jackson is right about this place being calm though. Might be a new spot for me. 

"I really am sorry about what I said to you at school," Jackson suddenly says. "I was just... I was caught off guard," he apologizes and leans back forward to look down at his hands.

I sigh, "Caught off guard that I read your notes? You read mine as well!"

"I'm not going to bother asking how you know I read your notes, but yeah, I did. I was caught off guard both because now someone knows I'm not perfect..." Jackson explains. His eyes are searching mine for something I don't know. Those endless rivers making me feel aware of all my flaws. 

I push back a limp lock of dark hair and break eye contact. "Even perfection is an imperfection," I mumble.

"Right... but I was also surprised because I thought I was the only one with these 'problems'. I didn't think someone out there has it just as bad as me," Jackson confesses.

I smile at his sincerity and playfully punch his shoulder, "There's no way I have it as bad as you. You're a wreck."

"Hmm, yes" he says - seeing the joke behind my words.

"There's no hope for you, my friend."

"I'm doomed," he declares and we both start laughing.

"Melted jelly, when was the last time I laughed?" I ask more to myself and Jackson chuckles again.

"I'm going to ignore the fact that you said, 'melted jelly'," He laughs. "I have to admit though, I'm surprised at how unfit you are. You were dying from just a few minutes of exercise."

"Hey, hey, hey! I get enough exercise from pushing my luck," I joke.

This time we both laugh and I'm both shocked and impressed with myself for making an actual joke. I haven't really done that in front of people - let alone the famous Jackson Palmer. 

A few more insults gets passed around and it feels incredibly surreal to be laughing and not actually think about dying for a few minutes. This is how normal people feel? This is how life should be? How have I missed this? How is this the first time I get to experience emotions that don't make me want to end everything? 

After a bit more laughing, Jackson's phone rings and he quickly excuses himself to answer it. I stare at him like a smiling idiot before grabbing my pen and notebook again.

Scratch, drag, stop. Scratch, drag, stop.

I'm afraid that I'll be dead before I die.

Afraid, that nothing I do will help me become a writer and I'll be dead because of it.

But today...

Even if the bicycle race was torture and Jackson insulted my fitness, I feel like I can breathe for the first time in forever. Really breathe. 

I don't think Jackson knows what he's doing. Hell, I don't even know what he's doing! But whether it is that he's preventing me from drowning. Or making my death-like-state a little more bearable, it doesn't matter.

What matters is that you don't have to be a diamond or a flying human or someone with a top fitness level to be worth something to this world.

Sometimes you just got to be a boy making a dead girl laugh.

Sup my cabbages!

See, now something is actually happening though. I hope this was a bit better than the other chapters. I guess I can say the story officially starts here. 

Any thoughts on Jackson?

Also, have y'all noticed the chapters are a bit shorter than in TGAAGG and TGAASS? I guess they'll get longer, but the book in general is a lot shorter since we're only following 2 peoaple and not 103837482207468 people like in TGAAGG and TGAASS.

Y'all know I love you so please remember to vote!!!! 

~ Holly Shmit