"Why do you like reading?" Daniel asks me.

I frown at him. "I thought it's my turn to ask questions."

He smiles sheepishly, and says, "Question."

"Okay," I say, rolling my eyes at him, "Question."

Daniel was waiting outside the door of my last class a while ago and he asked me if I wanted to hang out with him. Of course I agreed. So here we are in the farthest corner of the library, away from the view of the glaring eyes of my school mates. In this place, no one can bother us. Yesterday was his turn to ask a question. Now it's mine.

"Reading is my escape from reality," I say, not wanting to be rude by ignoring his question.

"Why do you want to escape?" He asks, leaning on the table towards me.

"Um, I. . ." I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Sometimes, living inside a book is very comforting every now and then," I say honestly.

He nods thoughtfully and his eyes glitters in delight. Maybe he finds my words amusing.

"I do that too," he says quietly.

"What do you mean?" I ask, confused.

"I like reading too," he says, grinning like Ronald McDonald.

"You do?" I ask eagerly.

"Why are you so surprised?" He asks curiously.

"Um, I don't find you as the reading type of person," I say truthfully.

He laughs softly. It sounds like—

"Reading is my passion," he says, interrupting my thoughts.

"Really," I murmur, staring at his soft blue eyes.

"Really," he insists, returning my gaze.

"I believe you," I say. "I'm just . . ."

"What?" He asks, urging me to continue.

"Nothing," I murmur. "I remember it's my turn to ask a question."

"What do you want to know about me?" He asks, cocking his head to the side, making his brown hair falls on his eyes.

Everything, I want to say, but instead, I ask, "What's your favorite book?"

He has a faraway look on his face. "I think its Tuesday's with Morrie," he says finally.

"By Mitch Albom?" I ask.

"Yes. Have you read it?"

"Uh, no," I say. "What is it about?"

"It's about an old man and his student, back in the old days, who meet every Tuesday," he says, with a smile on his voice. "It's a very inspirational book; about life, hope, and faith," he adds.

"Ooh," I murmur. "It sounds interesting."

"I have a book," he says, "I can lend it to you if you want?"

Wait. Where did it come from? Where did I get that? I have a lot of books, so why did I say that Daniel's favorite is Tuesday's with Morrie, even if I haven't read it myself?

There's nothing I can do about it now. What's done is done. I can never change it. But it's my imagination so I can make things happen. I'll just do something about it later when I have to read it. I'll just continue my imagination first.

"Yes, I think I'll like it." I can feel my mouth starting to form into a smile.

He smiles at me warmly which makes my heart beat a little faster than the normal rate. "So, what's your favorite?"

"My favorite?"

"Book," he says. "You forgot the rule, didn't you? Whatever question you ask, you need to answer it too."

"I forgot," I admit, even though I don't remember that he said it's a rule. Perhaps it's a silent agreement between us.

"Your favorite?" He repeats, leaning towards me.

"I don't have a favorite," I say truthfully.

"Why?" He asks, raising his left eyebrow.

"I don't know," I murmur, tucking a loose hair behind my ear. "I love all my books the same."

"For real?" He asks curiously.

"Yes," I answer, looking down at my hands on my lap.

"That's understandable," he says thoughtfully.

Have you ever feel that with certain people, even if you just meet them, you feel really close to them? You can tell them everything. As if you know them your whole life. That's what I feel about Daniel.

"What happens next to your story?" He asks, changing the subject.

"My story?" I repeat, and then I remember that he read it. "It's not yet done," I say quietly.

"But I want to read the next part," he complains.

"I haven't added anything yet," I say.

~~~

Tap. Tap. Tap.

What's that sound? I realize after a few seconds that someone's knocking on my door. And then it becomes banging, like someone is trying to wake me up.

"Come in," I groan sleepily, putting a pillow over my head.

Margarett walks inside my room with a scowl on her face. "Someone's outside," she says. "He said that his name is Caleb."

I throw the pillow away when I hear his name. "Caleb's here?" I ask dubiously.

"Who's Caleb?" She asks, putting her hands on her hips. She raises her eyebrows and smiles at me amusedly.

"Caleb's my— Oh no! Caleb's here?" I ask, swinging my legs off the bed. I try to keep my balance because I feel dizzy. Who wouldn't, when they suddenly get up quickly after waking up?

In my peripheral vision, I see that it's just fifteen minutes before eight. Oh shoot! I forgot to set my alarm clock last night because I fell asleep in the middle of daydreaming. I don't even remember where I stopped.

What am I going to do now? Why is Caleb even here? I slap myself mentally when I remember that he offered me a ride today, and for the rest of the school year, for that matter. But I didn't really believe that.

Really? Of course I believe him! He has a certain charisma no one else possesses.

"Can you tell him that he should go?"I ask Margarett while grabbing the first clothes I find in my dresser. I don't want him to be late because of me.

I run to the bathroom while she follows behind. When I enter, I close the door and start to take off my clothes.

"Okay, okay," Margarett says curtly.

I hear her footsteps fading into the background when I start to shower. After that, I brush my teeth quickly. And then, I put a towel over my head to dry my hair as I dress.

What does Margarett think of Caleb? Why do I even care?

When I open the door, I'm surprised to see her on the other side.

"Caleb said that he'll wait for you," she says, wiggling her eyebrows.

"What?" I exclaim.

He really is stubborn! Running to my room, I grab my school bag and books from the desk, and then shove my feet on my sneakers.

"Wait!" Margarett calls when I walk pass her.

"I have to go now," I say loudly, not bothering to look back.

What's on Caleb's mind? Why does he want to wait for me? He's going to be late too!

Opening the front door, I see him leaning casually on the hood of his car. I walk to him with a scowl on my face.

When he sees me, he bursts out laughing.

Instinctively, I stop walking to see what's wrong. Did I forget to put some clothes? No. Fortunately, I'm wearing my favorite t-shirt. It's blue gray, with a gold star on the side pocket. The color of the shirt matches my eyes.

And then I glance down to check if I'm wearing pants. Yes, I have jeans on me. I'm wearing shoes too, so what's funny?

Caleb laughs more when he sees me checking myself. Suddenly, I feel humiliated. I'm just going to go now and leave him here. He can laugh all he wants.

Turning my back on him, I start to walk towards the school. I'm just on my seventh step when he follows me.

"Wait," he says, grabbing my arm. "You forgot something."

"What?" I ask, glowering at him.

He pretends to cough to hide his laugh. I notice that he's still holding my arm and when he sees me looking, he drops it.

"There's. . ." He trails off, pointing to the spot above my head.

"What?" I snap.

He just points again.

"You can laugh, but you can't talk?" I ask furiously.

"There's a towel. . ."

My hand automatically goes to my hair. Sure enough, a towel twists in my hair. I can feel the blood rising to my cheeks.

"Oh, goodness," I mutter, taking it away from my hair.

Caleb helps me by holding my books.

"Hold on a sec," I say, as I make my way back to the house with the towel on one hand.

Margarett is outside the house. She has a rueful smile on her lips as she watches me walk to where she is standing. "I called, but you didn't turn back," she says warily.

"I know," I say flatly. I give her the towel and mutter, "Goodbye."

"Tell me about Caleb later," she says amusedly, waving her hand as a sign of goodbye.

Nothing to tell, I want to say, but instead, I don't respond. The best action you can give to an issue is silence.

Turning around, I walk to where Caleb's car is parked. "Sorry," I murmur, "For making you late."

"It's no big deal," he says, opening the back door for me. "Besides, we won't be late."

Am I not supposed to sit on the passenger's seat? I wonder.

Caleb seems to know what I'm thinking because he mouths, "Alex."

"Oh," I mutter. I don't know why I forget him. They're family, so that means they're going to school together. "Okay," I say, getting in.

Caleb hands me back my books then, and runs to the driver's side.

"Good morning," Alex says, twisting in his seat to face me. "You're late."

"Sorry," I say, and then look away in embarrassment. I know I'm late, thanks for rubbing it on my face.

"Ignore Alex," Caleb says, starting the car. "He just likes annoying people."

"Ignore Caleb," Alex says mockingly. "He likes to talk a lot."

My eyes wander between the two of them, into the dashboard where I see that it's just seven fifty five in the morning. I breathe a sigh of relief. Caleb is right, we won't be late.

"I'm a good listener too," Caleb retorts.

"So am I," Alex says.

"I don't think so," Caleb says in a teasing voice.

This is going to be a long ride.

*****

Sorry for waiting! I'll update again next week :)

The song is The Unavoidable Battle of Feeling on the Outside by FM Static.

If you are confused, don't hesitate to ask. The first part of the chapter is her imagination.

Thank you so much! <3