"At some point in your life, you are set to come across a person whom you can just not get enough of. Someone who just changes your life without even meaning to. It doesn't have to necessarily be love, no. Sometimes, someone just inspires you and makes you look at the world in a new way. That's what Maya Parker did to me. She changed me."

*****

Being a new student in the beginning of the college year sucks. Being a new student after half of the year is over sucks even more, especially if you're the nerdy type.

Sitting in the corner of the cafeteria on my first day of school, I silently cursed under my breath as I stared at my food tray. The fact that half the term was over and I had only begun my journey absolutely ruined any hint of happiness that I should have felt upon joining this college. This college provided me with an excellent platform to work on my writing. Or at least, I hoped it would. The reviews were good, and I was really hoping they were true.

In case you're wondering why my mind was so concerned about the writing and literature thing, then boy do you not know me at all. I'm Zach Grey and I aspire to be a writer. And I just don't dream of it for the sake of it; I am actually good at it. I may be poor at most of the things I have ever tried my hand on, but there's one thing that always makes up for it- writing.

I have all that you need; vocabulary, writing skills, editing skills. Everything that one needs, except for one thing- a story. I have absolutely nothing worth writing about. My parents are always insisting that I write about the world around me. My Mom insists that I emphasise on nature. But that's not what I want. I just don't want ordinary. I need something different, something unique. Something that is set apart from the rest of the world.

In contrast to my desires for writing, I am ordinary. I do ordinary, and I like ordinary. I don't think that's what I want to give to the world, though.

And so, my parents decided to send me off to this amazing college 300 miles aways from home, hoping that I'll finally find whatever I need to gear up for something big. But for now, all I hoped for was a decent teacher I was desperately in need of. Maybe he'd be able to give me something to write about.

I heard the bell ring and I quickly put my tray aside and gathered my stuff, finally excited for a class- literature. After all those tormenting hours of calculus and science, there was finally something to look forward to. Something that did not make me want to kill myself.

As I found my way to the class, the first thing I noticed was an ocean of black mass; black hair, black eyes, black clothes and black nailpolish, even. A soft laugh came out from her mouth as she spoke to the other kids around. Now, I'm not going to lie and say that she was the prettiest girl I'd ever seen, because I'd seen better, but she was pretty. Beautiful in her own way.

Removing my gaze from her, I quickly settled myself in the corner of the first row, all set for the lecture to begin.

Five minutes after the period had begun, a man aged in his late-forties stepped in the class. He neither had a smile nor a frown on his face; he was plain blank. He looked at me and nodded his head in acknowledgement. Moving on, then.

The teacher turned out to be pretty decent, gladly. He had a sense of understanding for literature and looked willing to explore the depths of writing. Perhaps I'd show him my works someday.

*****

I spent the rest of the day getting bored in my lessons. Finally, I made my way to my dorm. Thankfully, my roommate had bailed at the last moment, so I had the room to myself all year.

Once I was done with all my assignments, I put on my glasses and sat at my desk, a pen and diary laying in front of me. I closed my eyes hard and tried my best to think of something to write about but to no avail. It was useless. Everything seemed useless. I crushed the paper in frustration and tossed it into the bin.

In my attempt to calm down a bit, I decided it was best that I stepped out for a bit and didn't focus on writing for a while. Two steps out and I already regretted my decision. But somehow, I managed to convince myself that it was the best thing to do, unless I wanted to sit in front of the principal's office by the end of the day, waiting for my parents to come pick me up.

I continued walking for a while, hoping that my awkward 5'9" structure wasn't really visible to the world. Soon after, I reached a small pond towards the East end of the campus. Not many people were there, and so I decided to stay there for a couple of minutes. I was plainly staring at the water when I heard a girly scream from the back. I turned around to see the same girl I'd seen in literature earlier that day. She was running, very fast, actually, from a guy running with a bottle of water held firmly in his hands. I guessed that he was running to empty the bottle on her head, probably. The girl went running ahead as fast as she could, giggling like a young, little girl.

She ran past the pond and so did the guy. A fellow guy seated a few feet away from me laughed at the sight of the two. Catching my eye, he walked towards me.

"New face, new meat. How did I miss such a sight?"

I raised my eyebrow at him. "First day here, actually."

"Huh, explains the look of surprise at Maya."

"Is she the one who had just-"

"Run past the pond as though her life depended on it? Yeah, she's the one. Maya Parker. Watch out for that one, she's a catch."

I remained silent. My mind had already drifted back to the diary and pen that were waiting for me in my dorm. Despite having no ideas, I wanted to write something, anything. I wanted to feel the hard and sturdy grip of the pen and the smooth and plain ink it scattered across the paper.

The guy beside me walked towards a friend of his, leaving me alone. After a minute or two, I started walking back to my dorm.

Once I was settled there, my mind slightly refreshed, I stared at the paper in front of me, trying my best to come up with some ideas. Failing to get any, I started doodling on the corner of the page. By now, the black-haired girl, Maya Parker, was the last thing in my mind. All I could think about was writing a book by the end of this year, a book that would help me get over calcus and only focus on writing.

I don't know what time it was, or if it was even the same day, but the last thing I remember before falling asleep on the desk was a doodle of the back of the head of a girl with dark black hair, on the corner of the page.

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Dear readers, this is merely a small attempt of mine in writing. I sincerely hope that you appreciate my efforts and are willing to explore my work. All suggestions are welcomed, though I'd say it is best to avoid criticism. I am open to all your comments, views and opinions and am willing to take your points into consideration. Please do vote for this chapter and extend your support for the same. Once again, I'd like to extend my gratitude to all the readers who have taken out some of their precious time and have given this novel a try.

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