Life has always been a box of chocolates like they say in Forrest Gump. I think my life has matched its meaning to the situation now. I actually read the book once. Sad story, full of adventures, that kind of thing. Now, having a 'rock-in-roll lifestyle doesn't mean I'm just a petty woman screeching her imperious thoughts on stage.

Nothing like that- at least, I hope not.

I guess that's why I ended up here.

Here, in NYC's finest, wait no, scratch that, worst public school in mid town Queens. But there are advantages to old schools as always.

That's where my life took the turn.

My name's Crissy, Crissy Vernando, a senior in Midtown high. Only thing I have to say is four more days, and I'm outta here.

Yippee!

Scanning over my thoughts as always sitting sideways l turned over to the person beside me, Peter Parker. As he was pushing in the B.u.m. glasses that were attempting to unmercifully slide off he turned grinning at my chuckling form.

Peter and I met most-unusually.

In the first grade, I was rather; well, delirious with the types of foods I recently ate. The very first day in the cafeteria and I didn't know anyone or anything about the rules of the elementary kids.

Walking up to Peter's table oblivious that he sat there, I set down my container of macaroni & cheese, beginning to mash them up. Guess that's when Peter came up with his chicken salad looking upon me nervously. I don't blame him, since he started to talk to me a while later I was informed he was one of the school's geeks, freaks.

Poor guy, there the future photographer was, watching me squish the
beautiful creation into pure cheese in my dirty khakis and black sweat
jacket. Glancing up at the nervous classmate, I flashed him a cheerful
smile staring into his genuine blue irises. Telling him to sit next to
me, I returned my attention back to the cheese starting to mash it up
some more.

No wonder he just calls Crissy Vernando a friend.

Strangely becoming close friends, me and Harry Osborn, son of Norman Osborn were the only ones who thought he was 'delightful.' The wealthy guy didn't speak to me much, only got to observe him as he pulled Peter along the wide halls full of blubbering kids. Don't really know much about the wealthy friend if you ask me.

Snapping into the present I tingled as I took a look at Peter's in tense blue eyes. Unknowest to my senses I began a conversation about the beautiful object I was admiring, asking him for the tenth time if he was hiding the fact that they were everyday contacts.

"Not like I can buy them, anyways, this frame is better than the one with yellow Pokka dots. I swear, I looked like those old disco fashion models with the underwear & everything," Peter shuddered taking a small gulp of his Veggie Tomato juice.

"I saw worse in Costco the other day, unspeakably horrifying is my only description."

"Show me later, I'll give a decision," he joked tipping his chestnut brown hair. Feeling the throat deliver a small laugh made me feel a bit closer to him, yet I remembered I would always play second fiddle.

Always.

Shaking off these thoughts my ears picked up the ringing song of a school bell.

Maybe not, maybe I can reach him someday.

But that's just a guess.