Sorry about the long update! Really, I am. I’m working on WAY too many stories right now, it isn’t even funny. Besides the ones y’all can read on here, I’ve got others. They total up to about... seventeen, I think? I don’t even know any more. I stopped counting after thirteen. No joke. In a way, I can’t wait to be done with one story so I can start posting more and be able to keep up. That doesn’t mean I plan to end any soon, though. Well, enough of that, here’s the chapter (even though most people don’t read the author’s notes anyways).

Disclaimer: I don’t own the Jonas Brothers. Happy? Because now, I’m sad... Just kidding. R&R!

I walked into the locker room to change. I opened my PE locker and pulled out my gym clothes. I changed into them: black, cotton bermuda shorts and a gray PE shirt with a black-outlined box with my first name written in my messy handwriting in it, with ‘North Cumberland’, the name of the town I live near, over it. I brushed my hair with the hairbrush I left in the locker, then tossed it back in and slammed the door shut. I already had plans that the next time I saw Clair, I was going to break her “pretty” face.

I turned to leave the locker room, but as soon as I turned the corner, I was stopped by Clair smirking at me. “Thanks for not ratting me out,” she said in an “innocent” but sarcastic voice. “Yeah, whatever,” I said. She smirked at me again. “Oh, and by the way, in case you didn’t know, I wasn’t really calling a truce,” she said. I rolled my eyes: yeah, because I was stupid enough to believe that in the first place. “Oh, and by the way, some day, people are going to realize that’s not your real face,” I said, referring to the ton of make-up she had caked on. “Ha ha, you’re so funny... not,” she rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “You’re an idiot. You know that, right?” I asked her. “At least people like me. You’re just a stupid loner. People adore me, and you’re just jealous,” she said. I laughed harshly. “Of what?! Honey, there’s nothing to be jealous of!” I practically yelled. “Because I’m not a cold, heartless bitch!” she yelled right back. That tore it. “ME?! What about you?!” I yelled at her. “Oh please. Nobody even likes you! Everybody just feels sorry for you!” she said in a harsh tone. My face fell. I couldn’t think of a comeback. I didn’t even have time to. I ran out of the locker room, crying.

I took about three steps out of the doors, face down, tears already rolling from my eyes, and I ran into somebody. “Oh, sorry,” I said quickly, sniffing, and trying to walk away. “Are you okay?” the person asked me. I glanced up at him. He had dark, curly hair, and was about three inches taller than me. Admittedly, he was actually pretty cute. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, faking a smile and wiping away my tears. “You don’t look fine,” he said. The bell rang. “No, I’m okay. Thanks, though,” I said, walking away. He nodded a bit, then I walked to my locker.

I went to my next class, thinking about two different things: what Clair had said and the boy I saw after. I knew whatever she had to say shouldn’t matter, but it hurt me for some reason. I went to my seat in Writing at the back of the class. Hilary, one of Clair’s stupid, mindless clones, walked into the class, and as soon as she saw me, she smirked, then went to her seat. My eyes were probably red, but I didn’t quite care at the moment. The bell rang and the teacher walked in the room.

The teacher talked on and on, and I looked at the clock, hoping it was almost over: of course, my luck, he’d only just talked for the first ten minutes of class. Then he said something about a project we would be starting that day. A project with partners. Of course, my luck, Ashleigh wasn’t in this class with me, so, when he said, “Everybody pick your partners,” I just sat there as everybody else rushed around, grabbing onto the person they wanted to be partners with. So, everybody was settled, sitting at desks right next to their partners, and the teacher was about to acknowledge my lack of a partner when somebody came in the room.

It was weird, though, because unlike the last time we got a new kid, hardly anybody seemed to notice. This time, the room was dead silent. The boy, who had dark, curly hair, and brown eyes, the same boy I ran into in the gym, walked over to the teacher, a little awkwardly, so he clearly also noticed the freakish silence. I looked at the other students, who looked like they were in pure astonishment: obviously they knew something I didn’t. I turned my attention back to the teacher and the new kid. “Kids, meet Nick Jonas,” he said.

Okay, so why did they name sort of ring a bell? Jonas. Jonas. Oh well, didn’t matter. Until... “Nick, we’re doing a project starting today, and Mikayla doesn’t have a partner, so you can pair with her,” the teacher said. Why me? Why? Oh right, I’m the one who hardly has any friends. I groaned. I heard a few other girls do the same. Nick sat next to me and smiled at me. “Hey, I’m Nick,” he said. Yeah, I kind of noticed. “Mikayla,” I said. He reached to shake my hand, but when I blew him off, he drew back awkwardly. The teacher described what the project was going to be about and all that junk, then handed out papers for it. Of course, as soon as the teacher said we could “discuss the project” everybody turned to Nick, which sort of freaked me out. The teacher told them to get to work and he turned to me. “You were the one in the gym, right?” he asked me. I nodded. “What was wrong?” he asked. “Nothing,” I said quietly. “Yeah. I cry over nothing all the time,” he said. I rolled my eyes. Why did it even matter?

“Okaaay... so, what’s the project about?” he asked. “We have to co-write a story,” I said. “Oh, okay,” he said. He looked at me. “What?” I asked him. “I can’t write stories,” he said. “Then you’re lucky you have me as a partner,” I said. He smiled. Mr. Dove, the teacher-probably my favorite teacher, if I even had one-handed out papers. While he passed out the papers, one to each group, he told the partners their genre. I heard him tell the group before us “historical-fiction”. They’d have fun with that. He got to Nick and I. “Fantasy,” he told us, smiling and handing us our paper. I nodded and Nick got a look of worry. “What?” I asked him. “I’m going to suck at this,” he whispered to me, since it was quiet in the room. “And I’m not, so calm down,” I told him. He nodded. I looked down the sheet of guidelines. No inappropriate themes. That one would be easy. No cussing. Again, pretty easy. I read all the guidelines out to Nick and he nodded every time. I noticed a bunch of people stared at us a lot. The bell rang. “Is there any time we could work on this?” he asked me. “After school, I guess,” I said. “Um, could we do it at your house? We’re still organizing the house and stuff, so it’s a mess,” Nick said. I nodded. “I ride the bus, though,” I said. “Okay. I’ll have to tell my mom,” he said. We both went to our lockers and went our separate ways.

After school was over, I still hadn’t told anybody what had happened in the locker room. The only person who even knew some of it besides me and Clair was Nick, because I’m sure Clair was “Too busy” to tell all her “friends” (cough, cough, CLONES! Cough, cough). I waited outside the doors for Nick, and when he came outside, we started walking out to my bus. I think that we both looked over at the same time, seeing Clair pull her boyfriend against her, so she was leaning against a wall, and started making out with him. I felt Nick looking at me, so I just scoffed and walked to my bus. I got on with him behind me. I went to the next to last seat on the bus, and sat down in the seat. Nick sat in the one across the aisle. I pulled out my book that I’d gotten from the library just last hour, and opened it. It was called The Foreshadowing, and about a girl who could see death before it happened. I saw Nick look at me. I sat in the seat, my back against the bus’s side, and my knees bent so my feet were in the seat, so I was facing him. I read my book for a while, then I saw him watching me.

I looked up at him. “What?” I asked him. “Nothing,” he said, shaking his head and looking out the window. I went back to my book. After a while, I closed my book, put it in my bag, closed my bag, then slung it over my shoulder. The bus came to a stop and I got up, Nick quickly getting the picture and getting up and following me, and we got off behind my sister. “Massy, Nick. Nick, Massy,” I introduced them as we started walking to the house. The bus drove off. “Hey,” Nick smiled at her. “Hi,” she said. He noticed her accent and looked at me, probably wondering why she had one and I didn’t. I gave him a look to tell him I’d explain later. “How old are you?” he asked my sister. “I’m seven,” she said. “So you’re in the same class as my little brother, Frankie?” he asked. She nodded. “I didn’t know you had a little brother,” I said. “I didn’t know you had a little sister. We’re even,” he smiled. I shook my head at him; I could tell he was a dork already.

“Okay, where’s your house?” he asked me, looking forward. “All the way down the road,” I told him simply. “Great,” he said sarcastically. We walked down the road and up to our house. We went in the front door and Nick looked around. “Nice,” he said. I nodded and went to the kitchen. Nick followed me, probably unsure of what to do. “Mom?” I asked. She turned around from cleaning the dishes. “Who’s this?” she asked, confused. “Mom, this is Nick, a new kid in my class and partner for an English assignment. Nick, this is my mom,” I said. She wiped her hands on a towel, then came and shook Nick’s hand. “Good to meet you,” she said. He smiled. “You too,” Nick said. After that, I brought him to my room, which I could tell surprised him from the transition of the rest of the white house to my room.

My room was dark blue with decorative, turquoise swirling horizontal lines a little more than halfway up the wall, and the ceiling was turquoise with straight, dark blue lines all across it. My bed, which was in between two windows, was a white futon with dark blue blankets underneath and a turquoise one on top. My carpet was pure white and the curtains over my windows were long and white with turquoise and dark blue lines on them. I had a desk with a computer on it in one corner and a TV in front of my bed. I saw the shocked expression on his face as soon as he stepped in the door. “Whoa,” he said. “Yeah, would you mind taking off your shoes? I don’t want my carpet getting dirty,” I said, taking my own off and placing them next to the door. He nodded, still in shock, and took his off, too, placing them next to mine. I walked over to my bed and sat down and he did the same. We both got our notebooks out.

“Okay, now we need something for the story to be abou-” he cut me off. “Can I ask you something?” he asked me. I nodded. “Why aren’t you freaking out?” he asked me. That one confused me. “Should I be?” I asked him. He shrugged. “I don’t know. Usually girls scream or something,” he said. “Would you like me to scream?” I asked him with an amused face. “No,” he laughed. “I’m just confused,” he said, going back to serious. “That makes two of us,” I said.

He looked at me. “Do you not know who I am?’ he asked. “Should I?” I asked. “Well... probably,” he said. “Okay, well, then I guess you’re about to tell me anyways,” I said. He smiled. “I’m Nick Jonas,” he started. “I already established that earlier today, thanks,” I said. “I’m part of the band called the Jonas Brothers,” he said. I looked of realization must’ve hit my face, because he smiled. “I knew your name sounded familiar! Girls at our school talk about how hot.. James.. Jim...” I trailed off. “Joe?” he offered. “Yeah! They’re always talking about how hot he is. Quite disturbing, actually,” I said, looked down. He laughed. “But you’re not a fan?” he asked. I shrugged. “I never really cared,” I said. “Let me guess... you’re more into Panic! At The Disco and Fall Out Boy, aren’t you?” he asked. “Fall Out Boy, yes. Panic, they’re sorta lame. I think of them as an amateur Fall Out Boy,” I said. He laughed. “And Nickleback,” I said. He nodded. “Now, for the second time, what is the story going to be about?” I asked him.

He thought for a second. He looked around my room, and noticed the guitar sitting in the corner. “You play?” he asked me. I sighed. Again with the off-subject topics. “Yes, now can we focus?” I asked him. “Can you sing?” he asked me, completely blowing off my question. “Yeah, but ca-” he cut me off. “Will you let me hear?” he asked. I blushed and shook my head. “Why not?” he asked. I bit my lip. “I’m not big on singing on front of people,” I said. “I’m not people, though, am I?” he asked. I shook my head again. “Come on,” he said. “No,” I said. “Fine,” he said. I sighed in relief of him not begging. “Now back to the story...”

Okay, I know, the ending was lame. Oh well. That’s the chapter and I hope to update sooner next time. There will be more drama, then more, them BAM! So much drama that you’ll be wondering yourself if you can handle it. But that’ll be near the end, so yeah. I don’t know quite how I’m going to work that part out yet, but oh well. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. REVIEW! Please? WHO WATCHED THE CHASING ZOEY MOVIE? And also, who hopes that isn’t the end? I mean seriously, who WOULDN’T want to see more? I mean, the Quinn and Logan thing, Chase and Zoey... the weird Chinese dude on the bull. Haha, off topic. Well, PeaceLoveJonas

3Mitchie