"What are you doing?" I ask Caleb, sitting on my chair beside him.

"Killing zombies," he replies, never taking his eyes off his PSP.

"That's just a game," I comment, "why so serious?"

Caleb is playing like a pro. He's not even distracted by me talking to him. "It's not just a game. You never know what will happen in the future."

"What, there will be zombies?" I ask, feigning I'm scared. "And they will eat us alive?"

Caleb clicks the pause in the game, and rolls his eyes at me. "I think I've watched all the zombie movies out there, even Zombieland – which was amazing by the way. If there will be zombies, I know a lot of ways to kill them." When he sees my dubious expression he adds, "No one knows what the future will bring. Besides, people are different from before. And how did the writers think of creatures like that when there's no possibility that it will happen?"

I shake my head slowly and say, "Really, Caleb." I don't bother to roll my eyes.

He just shrugs. "Don't worry, I'll save you when that happens," he says, "I don't want you to be eaten by zombies."

"Is that a promise?" I ask amusedly.

"There's nothing funny about it," he mutters, "but count on it."

It's just a couple of weeks since I know Caleb and now I'm wondering why he chooses to be my friend. It's amazing how we know a lot of things about each other, and at the same time, we're still learning more. Like, just now, when I find him playing a zombie killing game. I didn't expect that he believes, er, I mean, he's preparing for the future on ways to kill zombies.

A smile makes its way onto my face as an image appears in my mind of Caleb running away from zombies. When one almost bites him, he shoves a knife to the zombie's chest. Then when the zombie still clings to him, he puts a bullet through his head. Fortunately, the zombie falls to the ground and then all of a sudden, his other dead friends start to run to Caleb.

Creepy.

What am I thinking?

I force the thought away. I don't like to daydream about zombies.

Blinking my eyes, I turn to my left and find Caleb staring at me. "What?" I ask.

"Nothing," he says, shaking his head.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"How do I look at you?" he asks, raising his eyebrow.

"It's like. . it's like you're studying m-me," I stutter.

He grins, his eyes lighting in amusement. "I'm just. . . well, I think you're daydreaming."

"How do you know?"

"You have that look."

"What look?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I can't explain it," he says with a sigh. "And haven't I told you that before?"

"You did?" I ask incredulously.

"Yeah."

"I probably forgot it," I say dryly.

"For instance," he says, "you have a faraway look, and then it's like you're staring at something only you can see. It's like, you're somewhere else. I swear I can see your thoughts above your head."

"Ha ha," I say sarcastically, "funny."

"Your mouth is even moving," he continues, ignoring my side comment, "but you're not talking. You just smiled a couple of minutes ago. I saw your mouth pulls upward for a fraction of a second."

I stare at him, awestruck, wondering why he knows what I look like when I'm daydreaming. I can't believe he can see right through me. It's.  . .

I'm running out of words here. The English dictionary is limited I want to invent a few words to add in the vocabulary.

"Don't think I'm weird," Caleb says, snapping me out of my reverie.

"I don't think you're weird," I reassure him. "I know you're weird."

His mouth twitches upward. "Says who? If there's someone who's weird, it's you."

Pursing my lips, I ask, "Why me?"

"Because you can daydream even in a class full of students."

"So?"

"Nothing," he mutters, "daydreamer."

I stick my tongue at him like a child.

Our little chat is interrupted when Mr. Benitez walks inside the room, announcing that we will have a pop quiz in the last topic he discussed. He passes the test papers and tells us to work quietly.

Way to go! Hooray! I didn't study, unfortunately.

Is it a big task to him to tell us when we'll have our quiz?!

He can just say: Study. Tomorrow you'll have a quiz.

Is that hard?

NO.

It's not like I'm lazy when it comes to studying, but I'd rather read my books than study the lesson. Still, I have good grades because when I study, I really study. It's not the same with other students because they just memorize while I try to understand. Besides, I read my notes when there's a quiz.

I know- schoolbooks are boring, they make me sleep faster than sleeping pills. As in, when I open one, just staring at the first page makes my eyelids droop. I can force myself though, when it's really necessary to study.

Unlike my books (fictional), I never get tired of reading them repeatedly. Even though I've already read some of them five to ten times, I don't get bored. It's as if I'm reading it for the first time.

What makes it easy to read novels is that my mind can see the scene that the words of the novel want to convey. I don't have a hard time reading. I can even finish a good book in one sitting.

Besides, reading is one of my escapes from reality. When I read, I'm inside the book I'm holding. Like Caleb said, I'm somewhere else. Somewhere away from the things that can hurt me. My only problem is the complications of the protagonist.

Then when I'm done, it's back to normal.

I'm Annalise again.

Another form of escape is writing. I love the swirl of words when they flow out of my characters' mouths. What they do, what they say, I'm in charge. I'm in control of everything. It's a huge responsibility though, because one word, one scene, can change the flow of my story. I have to be careful on what I want to happen because when it's done, it's hard to change it, especially when there are already people who read it.

Who am I kidding?

Only Daniel read my story. Actually, stories. But some of them are just ideas and others are poems. No need to make him read them.

Why am I even blabbering? I know, I'm just procrastinating in answering the quiz.

Heaving a sigh, I start to read the questions and answer them as careful as I can. Fortunately, I know the correct terms on some of them. I count the numbers of the answers I'm sure of and relax when I know that I will pass.

I have to get ready for next time though. As Caleb said a while ago, you never know what the future will bring.

When the bell rings, I pass my paper to Mr. Benitez and walk out of the room.

"Annalise!"

Whipping around, I'm face to face with Caleb.

"We'll eat lunch together, right?" he asks.

"Yes," I reply.

I wonder why he asked. We're always sitting together at lunch since a few weeks ago with Kamille, Alex, and their other occasional friends.

"Okay," he says, smiling. "Do you mind if I walk you to your next class?"

"Yes."

"What?" he asks, his eyes slowly widening until they're round as saucer's.

"I'm just kidding," I say smugly, leading the way to the Music Room.

To my surprise, he laughs. Students stare at us while walking to their respective classrooms. I dodge most of them to avoid running into the lockers and open classroom doors.

"Why are you laughing?" I ask finally.

"Because I was just kidding." He chuckles. "I know you wouldn't mind."

"I don't believe you," I mutter.

He grins and walks faster to catch up with me. "I just want to see your reaction. You really thought you got me, huh?" he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

"I didn't think about that," I deny.

"If you said so," he says, fighting off a smile forming on his mouth.

We stop outside my room and then I say, "See you later."

"See you, Annalise."

He waits for me to enter before walking away. I hope he won't be late. I don't want him to get into trouble because of me.

I sit on my chair and wait for Mrs. Dorothea to arrive. Alex is not yet here, and some of my other classmates are missing in action.

Alex comes in after a few minutes, taking his seat beside me. "Hi," he says.

"Hello," I reply.

That's our only conversation because in that instant, our teacher walks in and decides to start the lesson.

I find myself floating away but I try to listen to the discussion. I don't want to go to the detention room again.

"Annalise," Alex says suddenly.

"What?" I ask, glancing at him.

"Do you believe in God?"

"Why?" I ask, taken aback.

"What why?" he asks, tilting his head to the side.

"Why did you ask that question?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. It just popped into my head, and then I wondered. And now I'm curious," he says. "I hope you don't mind me asking a personal question."

"It's fine," I say.

"Do you believe in God?" he repeats.

"No."

"No?" he asks. "Why not?"

First, if there's a God, he won't let me suffer alone. He won't want me to get hurt. He wouldn't want me to be alone. A lot has happened to me in the past and no one, even him, helped me. I was, and still am, on my own.

Second, if there's a God, he wouldn't want me to experience all the things I've been through. I asked for his guidance many times in the past but he didn't answer. So I stopped talking to him. Now I'm just relying on myself. I don't need anyone, especially someone who isn't even real.

How can you still seek for someone who let you down? There's just no point in thinking that someone is there for you when in reality you're alone. You're just going to end up damaging yourself.

So how can I believe in him?

And how can I tell any of this to Alex?

*****

Hello! :) I hope you liked this chapter.

The song is Your Grace Is Enough by Chris Tomlin. God is great! He is good and faithful.

Thank you for reading my story <3