(Story Continues):

        Two days after the ice cream shop incident, I had just finished getting dressed and was preparing to leave for school when I received a call from Nino.

"I got a new email from that stranger," he said as I nibbled on a piece of toast. "It says, 'Sometimes you will need to use venom in order to make an anecdote.'"

"What do you think it means?" I asked. 

"I don't know," Nino admitted, his voice revealing he was very confused. "How is someone supposed to make a cure with venom anyway? Do you need a cure from venom?"

"No idea," I replied. I gulped down the last of my toast before adding, "I once saw a movie where a woman used rattlesnake venom in her nail polish though."

"I highly doubt this has anything to do with nail polish."

"Yeah, you're right. See you at school?"

"Yep, I'll be waiting for you in front of the building."

"Okay. C'ya."

"C'ya later bro."

   I pressed the end call button and slipped my phone into the pocket of my jeans before putting my empty dish in the sink. I then sat back down at the kitchen table and proceeded to make sure all my homework was in my school bag. A moment later, my father came into the kitchen to make his morning coffee, mumbling a "good morning" to me as he passed by. He was dressed in his normal business suit-- a stainless white dress shirt and grey pants with brown suede shoes and a red tie-- and his eyes were glued to the screen of his phone as he hurriedly typed on his phone while waiting for his coffee, not even bothering to glace over to where I was sitting. 

I said a quick "good morning" to him as well and slung the strap of my bag over my shoulder before exiting the kitchen and going outside. I wheeled my bike from out of the shed and climbed up on the leather seat before placing my feet onto the pedals and riding slowly down the driveway and down the road biting my lip in deep thought. 

Our mornings were usually like this, and I knew my mom would've been disappointed if she saw us communicating like this every day. 

But it was as if her absence had made us grow more distant from each other. We never had normal father-son conversations anymore like we used to, never watched football together anymore, never pulled pranks on each other anymore...never did anything together anymore. 

The only thing we really did do was eat dinner together, and that was rare since Dad always wanted to go to Natalie's house. 

I pedaled faster as I thought about how Mom would try to listen in to our "men-only talks"and how Dad and I shooed her away and told her that our conversations were for guys only, which made her pout playfully and walk off muttering, "Hmph, fine. But when we have a daughter in the house, don't get jealous of us and OUR girl talks."

I thought about how she saw us watching football and voiced how she could never understand why we found the sport entertaining, but still made us root beer floats and nachos whenever we were watching a game. 

I thought about how I dumped a whole bucket of cola on Dad's head for a prank, but accidentally ended up ruining her white blouse and was grounded. But that night, she came into my room and laughed, "Did you see your father's face? I took a picture and everything!"

She was the glue that held us together. It was as if nothing we did mattered if she wasn't there. And now that she was gone, we barely knew how to get used to this new life without her. 

Or maybe we just weren't ready to get used to it. 

And we didn't want to. 

                                                    ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

  "Alright, class!!" boomed Mr. Damocles, who was our English teacher. "Time to turn in your summer journals!"

The entire classroom immediately filled with groans, moans, and even a few sniffs. One by one, people placed a journal on their desk, ready to hand it to the teacher. 

My hands remained folded on my desk. I wasn't here last year, and didn't have a journal to turn in. 

"Oh, I just remembered!" exclaimed Mr. Damocles as he came up to my desk. "You weren't able to write a journal since this s your first year here in Daniel Teal."

"Uh, yes, sir," I said. 

"Don't worry," he told me with a friendly smile. "I'll take care of it."

I nodded in response, though I wasn't sure what he meant. 

Was he going to make me write a journal like the rest of the class? 

Mr. Damocles was one of those cheerful and energetic teachers who loved his subject a little too much. He often quotes from his favorite books, loves to read essays and poetry we write in class, and his favorite word is spectacular-- a word he uses at every chance he gets. He's the exact person my mother would describe as, "someone overflowing with personality."

   Mr. Damocles walked back and forth through the rows of desks, swiping them up as if they were jewels that he needed to hurry up and collect before someone stole them. 

As he took them, he praised each student. "Wonderful, Max! Amazing work, Alex! Kim, keep up the good work! Chloe, I'm impressed!"

"Of course you are," smirked Chloe with a flip of her light blonde ponytail. "Everything I do is impressive."

"It's also impressive how no one really cares," said Alya with a roll of her eyes. 

"Well, I don't care if you all don't care," retorted Chloe.

"Good, because we don't care that you don't care."

"Well, I don't care that you don't care that I don't care!" 

"Girls! Let's not cause a ruckus," said Mr. Damocles. "Everyone did an outstanding job. I'm extremely proud of each and every one of you." 

One girl with long black hair with purple streaks, who looked completely mortified, tried to hide her journal underneath her desk.

"Now, Juleka," said the teacher with a knowing smile, "You know the requirements of the assignment, don't you? There is no need to be embarrassed."

"Well, you see...I'm not...I really can't...It's just--" she stuttered. 

Mr. Damocles scooped her journal up with the others. "Spectacular! Thank you very much, Juleka!"

Alya had three completely filled journals on her desk, and she smiled proudly as Mr. Damocles gasped when he saw them. "Well!" he exclaimed in surprise. "It looks like you were born to be a magnificent author, Miss Cesaire!"

"Actually, I'm more into journalism." said Alya. "I just like to write about whatever is going on. And there were definitely a lot of stuff going on during summer."

Besides Alya, it was clear that no one was happy about giving up his/her journal. As Mr. Damocles continued to collect them, everyone was asking each other what they wrote and who had written about who. 

After that, Mr. Damocles never mentioned anything about journals, and everyone began to forget about them. 

Unfortunately, we never realized then how much chaos they were going to cause. 

(A/N):

Heyyloo my fabulous readers! As always, thank you all so much for stopping by and reading. Hope you enjoyed this chap (ngl, this was one of my favorites to write...) and be sure to comment about what was your favorite part was, become friends with that little lonely star up in the corner, and feel free to share with a friend. 

Another very short author's note :-(

At least more chapters are on the way!

See you guys soon, hope you have an awesome day/night, and STAY MIRACULOUS!!<3<3<3

P.S.    Random Question XD: Do you guys ship Gabriel and Natalie? (like in the show lol)