Once upon a time there was me.

Ella.

My life isn't a fairytale. In fact, to some people it would seem more like a nightmare.

I try. I stumble. I fall.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

I don't live in a house that would be considered nice. My clothes aren't bought from stores that most girls my age shop at, meaning that my skin is actually covered. I know, surprising.

My mom disappeared when I was ten-years-old and I haven't seen her since. I suppose she's too busy with Alejandro, the spanish business mogul she ran away with. Right now, I imagine her lounged out on a beach with a pina colada in her hand, not even thinking of insignificant me. The SPF amount in her sunscreen is much more important.

My dad tries. He really does. But sometimes I wish he would try harder—be home more, instead of leaving me with Ice Queen Victoria, and her daughters, Vivian and Veronica. After the V trio moved into our house, I studied the correlation between the letter V and evil. I never found anything concrete, but I still believe that anyone whose name starts with that letter is a demon in disguise. Maybe I am biased. Maybe I saw too many episodes of Fairly Odd-Parents growing up, and Vicky the babysitter traumatized me.

In all honesty though, they make me feel like a prisoner in my own home.

No, I'm not shackled to my bedroom. I don't pull on the bars of my window screaming, "Someone let me out of here!" I choose to lock myself away in my bedroom. I would rather face the loneliness of my bedroom than listen to the V trio prattle on about how useless I am and how I should pull my hair out of my face.

I find freedom through the internet. Sounds real healthy, I know. But it's true. I'm not like that dude from the World of Warcraft episode of Southpark. I don't stare at the screen for hours, letting my drool drip onto my shirt as I use Dorito cheese encrusted fingers to type my way through hordes of demon armies.

I blog.

Writing about my life and the crap that I have to put up with, is something that I find I don't stumble and fall with. Instead, I soar. I fly. And it turns out there are a lot of people around the world who anxiously wait to hear about my next confrontation with the V trio and the clichéd social dynamics of my high school.

My blog has been missing my Once Upon a High School postings for the past two months because of summer break, but after today, I'm sure enough will happen on the first day back to permit a new post. My followers are practically salivating as they look at their calendars, I'm sure.

As I am buttoning my skinny jeans and pulling on my trusty red converse, my mind is far away from my blog and on one specific thing. A boy. The boy. The boy that typed nine words to me one day and shattered my world.

Now let's stop because I know what you are thinking. This boy is not just any boy. This boy gets me. He understands me like Han Solo understands Chewie. He found my blog when searching for advice on how to deal with his home life and reached out to me, thanking me for sharing bits of my life.

Because of you, I know that I'm not alone.

Those nine words were gold to me. I snuggled them close and breathed, knowing that by some chance my rants had struck a chord with someone. An invisible string tied me to him before I even clicked reply.

My reply back wasn't nearly as coherent as his, but from then on, we barely stopped talking. He is Chase. I am Ella. We leave it at that. There is so much more to know about someone than a name anyways. Like I know that Chase grew up with a perfect life, but the pressure of football scholarships and a stellar grade point average, sends him cowering to his bedroom sanctuary. Just like me, but on the opposite end of the spectrum.

Last night we chatted about our first day of school jitters. Me? I don't want to see Vanessa's makeup plastered face, or the way she curls her lip at me when I walk by. See, I'm telling you. If your name starts with the letter V, then I'm sorry but there might be something evil hiding inside of you.

Chase thinks the V names are just a coincidence because he knows someone named Vanessa that is "really nice" to him. But I know better. Everyone is nice to football players.

I imagine Chase getting ready for his first day back at school too. Maybe he is pulling on his letterman jacket, if he has one. Does he flip his sandy blonde hair out of his eyes like Justin Bieber did during his 'Baby' era? I don't actually know if his hair is that color, I'm just guessing because we've never swapped pictures or anything.

But most importantly, is he thinking of me?

I'm sure I leave the house with a furious blush on my cheeks, but at least I get out of there before the V trio had a chance to spy me.

The one positive thing about Mom leaving is that she didn't take the Honda. Dad kept it in shape for me, and when I turned sixteen, I inherited it. The stickers I used to collect as a kid are still plastered on the back passenger window. Their bright colors are faded now, their corners curling in as they lose their stick.

I don't have the heart to tear them down. Every time I see them, I can also see my child self, sitting in that seat, smiling at my mother as our eyes connect in the rearview mirror.

I get to school early enough to snag one of the front parking spots. I pull out Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire from my book bag since I am doing a reread before I start the new one about the cursed child.

My eyes keep wandering to my cell which I placed on the dash after I parked. I want to message Chase. To see if his stomach is twisted into knots too, or if it is just me. But before I can even think of what I would say to him, my phone vibrates and does that annoying notification ding that I have to change. I almost have a heart attack as I snag my cell at lightning speed.

Chase: I would sell my soul for one more day of summer.

A smile breaks out on my face and my thumbs are at the touch-screen keyboard, typing out a Guinness Record fast response.

Me: I would sell my soul to be home schooled.

I put my phone back on the dash, and pick at my fingernails. I messaged him too fast, like I had been waiting for it—which I was, obviously. But did I look desperate?

Another ding. Another heart attack. This time I almost drop my phone.

Chase: I would sell my soul to not have football practice today.

Me: I would sell my soul for more coffee before entering the fiery pits of Mordor.

Chase: I would sell my soul to finally meet you.

And I'm dead. Someone, please, check my pulse because my heart is beating so fast it is just one constant hum.

I don't know how long I sit there and stare at my screen. It could have been seconds, minutes, or years. But when I look up and witness the sea of students flowing up the cement stairs to the main doors, I realize that it is still the first day of school.

Stuffing my phone in my back pocket, I slide out of the car, and throw my book bag strap over my shoulder. I fall into the current of students and spy Scarlet and her red hoodie from the top of the stairs.

"Scarlet!" I yell, waving my hand as she turns around.

My friend scans the crowd with her cat-like eyes, searching for me as people weave around her. I take the stairs two at a time and meet her at the top. Instantly, I am enveloped in a squealing hug, that leaves my ears ringing. She pulls back, looks at me, and her smile falters.

"You sick or somethin'?" she asks, pressing the backs of her hands against my cheeks. A stray piece of black hair falls in front of her eyes as she assesses me. "Your cheeks are so red!"

I immediately pull away from her and start walking forward, knowing that she will follow me. I am relieved to be out from under her curious gaze. Scarlet knows not to press it. She has her own lines of conversation that I can't cross, so she knows to pull back from my own.

"I won't ask," she says. "If you don't want to tell me."

"I'd rather not," I admit, fiddling with the zipper of my bag as we walk. "Too embarrassing." I shake my head as the wind sweeps blonde strands of my hair across my face.

"I'm not going to force you—"

"It might be a boy." I cut her off.

We enter the first hallway, and the reality of school slaps me in the face. Of course it looks the exact same, it even smells the exact same, but I guess I had hoped for a little change. The two main hallways fork off around the main office with red and gold banners that read, "Kingston High School 2016" and "Go Knights".

"You don't have to tell me—" Scarlet starts as we turn down the east hall.

"I don't know why I am getting so flustered about him," I vomit, my ears heating under my hair. "It's not like he feels the same as I do."

"Oh, shut up," Scarlet says, shoving me a little. "Please do not tell me you are going to go all Bella Swan on me and pretend that you are incredibly plain." Her voice twists with annoyance.

"I'm not," I argue and then turn on her. "Hey! How do you do that?" I ask, pointing my finger at her as we round the corner to the Commons.

"Do what?" she asks innocently.

"Reverse psychology," I answer.

"Reverse what?"

"Say that you don't want to know what I am hiding, repeatedly, and then get me to spill about it."

I don't get an answer because as I am watching her, not watching where I am going, I slam into a hard body. When I say slam, I don't mean just that I bump into them. I can't even take a step to right myself. I literally fly onto my back, landing awkwardly on top of my book bag, its strap angling so that it is choking me. The body I ran into continues their momentum and stumbles over me. I would have gotten squished if they didn't angle themselves to land next to me.

"Oh my God!" A shrill scream that I recognize as the worst sound I could hear right now tests my eardrums. Does it have to be Vanessa?  "Chase, are you okay?"

My heart skips at the name. I turn my head to the side, wishing I could hide behind something as I peek at the boy next to me. His honey hair doesn't quite match the shade of the Chase in my mind, and his nose is straighter. He pushes himself up and kneels beside me, his steel blue eyes finding mine as he reaches a hand out to me.

"I am so sorry," he says, his voice smooth, yet slightly shaky. "Are you okay?"

I can't speak. My tongue is dry and my heart is in my throat. Scarlet is looking at me from over imposter Chase's shoulder like I am crazy. My cheeks are reddening, I can feel them heating as eyes watch me, waiting for an answer.

"You should watch where you're walking, Ella," Vanessa chides from somewhere. I don't dare look over at her or I will solidify myself as the nervous wreck of the school.

"Ella?" the Chase asks, his head cocking to the side.

I know I said I was dead before, but this time, I mean it. Maybe it is fate. Maybe it is sorcery. But when he says my name, I know it is him. It is Chase. The butterflies that were in my stomach burst free, my arms tingling, my legs weak, my mind a swirl of hopes and wishes on stars.

His eyes widen as they watch me, realizing exactly who I am.

"Ella," he says, not asking this time. "What—How—Hi?" He smiles a dimpled smile.

It takes me two seconds to get on my feet and run in the opposite direction.

This is not a joke. This is not a drill. I am running, and I have just made a complete fool of myself.

"Ella!" I hear him yell from behind me, and I run faster.

I can't bear their watchful eyes, especially the beady, judgmental ones from the one who carries on the V tradition. I can't handle him seeing me and being disappointed when the real me doesn't match up with the one he had imagined. I can't handle the possibility of him turning me away, just like my mom did.

So the only logical option is to book it out of here like Cinderella leaving the ball.

"Ella!" he yells again, drawing more attention towards me. "Wait!"

Running into the crowd of students who are  also making their way to the Commons for first day orientation seemed like an easy way to get lost, but I quickly find out that all the good it really does it slow me down. I am muttering apologies as I shuffle between people, but I can hear Chase doing the same behind me. Considering that I am basically making a path for him, he catches up quickly.

I am doomed, and that makes me desperate.

I push further and entangle myself in a group of lanky basketball players, getting my foot caught between the legs of two of them. Giving my leg a yank, I break free, but my untied converse slides off in the process. I hesitate for just a second, debating whether to go back for my shoe, and look over my shoulder.

Chase is still coming, determination set in his face. His eyes follow mine to the red shoe on the floor.

Screw it.

I leave it behind and round the corner of the hallway, sliding into the girl's bathroom just a few feet down. The bell rings as I close myself in a stall, hyperventilating.

I wonder if Chase is still searching for me. Does he have the guts to check the bathroom? Does he have my shoe?

I stay hidden in the safety of the bathroom, the entire escapade on painful replay in my head. My phone vibrates in my back pocket, the notification ding echoing in the bathroom. I slide my phone out of my pocket as I lean my back against the stall door.

Chase: Why did you run?

I don't reply.

Chase: Where are you?

Again.

Chase: Talk to me.

What do I say? What is there to say? Oh, hey Chase. It's me, Ella. The girl you talked to all summer, but didn't ever think you would actually meet. Yeah, I just made myself look like an idiot, but that's okay, let's just forget that happened?

Chase: I have the shoe. Come talk to me and no one gets hurt.

Somehow, a small smile attempts to tug at my lips. I move my thumbs across the screen.

Me: You dare threaten the shoe?

Chase: The shoe's life lies in your hands. What say you?

Me: I say, what if?

Chase: What if...

My phone shakes in my hand. I grip it tighter so I don't drop it. Scooping my phone out of the toilet would be one more thing I do not want to add to today's list. I take a deep breath and summon courage.

Me: What if I'm not what you thought? What if you expected more and here I am... just Ella.

I can't breathe while I wait for my phone to vibrate in my hands.

Chase: You're not what I thought.

My heart drops out of my stomach, splattering on the brown tile below me. But then my phone dings again.

Chase: You're more.

Once upon a time there was me.

Ella.

And I got my shoe back.