You guys are coming up with great ideas about the numbers Marcy leaves in her notes! Keep guessing, guys. :) If you pay really really really hard attention, you can figure it out!

Thanks for all the reviews, you've got no idea how much it means to me and how it motivates me. Thanks again and please enjoy!

PB acts like such a girl, I just love it~


I always have the highest grade in my classes. I refuse to be behind others. So, in a sense, yes, I'm smart. I'm sure you are too!

What kind of music do you like? I'm not super big on any particular genre, music has always been lower on my priority list.

I seem to be embarrassed a lot, especially around.. certain people. I also seem to fall a lot or run into people. Maybe I should walk a little slower?

When I was little, my parents weren't really around. They worked a lot so I rarely saw them. We made good money so I could have anything I wanted but it really wasn't about that. When I got bored or lonely, I made up this character called Princess Bubblegum. She was older and beautiful and smart and was a scientist living in a world of candy. I wrote stories and stories about her and her little peppermint butler that followed her around. She's my alter ego, per say.

A seven now?


I checked my outfit out once more. Pink was indeed my favorite color and it really showed (my hair was even pink!). I wore a simple pink dress with matching flats (with adorable little bows on them). I hoped it look casual enough to wear to class and go on my coffee run and not look too planned out.

I decided to get to class before I had to change my outfit once again.


Through the whole day, with each passing hour, I felt my stomach flip flop all around. I was beginning to get really nervous by the time the last class of the day rolled by. I had already picked up the notebook so all I had to do now was meet up in the library with the girl whose-name-I still-don't-know.

I nervously made my way down the halls, gulping and feeling my stomach fill to the top with butterflies. I even stopped to get a drink of water to try and calm myself down.

It didn't help.

I made my way into the library, looking for my "friend" (I'm not sure what to call her, exactly. I need to find out her name..). I saw her head poke up from behind a book when I walked in. Has she been checking to see if each person who has walked in been me?

She stood up, walking over to me quickly, her hair trailing behind her like a shadow.

"Hey!" She quietly said, grinning. She held her arm out, which I hesitantly took with my hand, and we walked out of the library to talk.

"Hello," I politely said, taking my hand away from her arm, which, if she cared, she didn't show it. She patted the top of my head like a dog and began walking slowly down the hall.

"Don't be so formal, we're friends, aren't we?" She said, sticking her tongue out and grinning. I nodded but then slowly shook my head no.

"Wait a minute, no!" She turned and looked at me, eyebrows up. "I don't even know who you are!" I could just see the little light bulb above her head finally light up.

"Oh, duh. Right, I'm Marceline Abadeer, sorry about that," she said sheepishly.

"Bonnibel Bubblegum," I said, nodding at her. Her eyebrow rose slightly at that and she quickly turned her head around.

"Sorry I haven't mentioned my name before, guess it sorta slipped my mind or something," she said shrugging. "I sorta act on impulse and how I'm feeling. Names and formal greetings," she made a face. "aren't always on my to-do list." I nodded in understanding and we made our way to the closest coffee shop in small conversation.

We sat in the back, ordering, and sat in silence.

Which was slightly awkward.

"So," Marceline stated. "What do you like to do after school? Any hobbies?" She sipped from her mocha, nibbling on the strawberries she had ordered as a small snack.

"Not really, I usually stay home and study," I said lamely. "I'm not much of a fun person." Marceline shook her head.

"You're plenty interesting! I bet you're loads of fun if you could come hang out with me. We can chill at my place or I'll take you out somewhere." She took another bite. I flushed, taking long drink of my pink smoothie.

I-I'd love to visit your home," I said. "But I don't want to impose on-"

"Oh, don't worry about it. I want you to come. In fact, I'm inviting you. Next weekend, please come with me and I promise you that you won't regret it!" Her eyes said mischief, but I agreed nonetheless.

"A-Alright. I'll come, then." She fist pumped and gave a small shout of "alright!" before taking one of the many napkins on the table and almost wrote on one before stopping.

"Actually, you give me your number and I'll call you sometime, too." I felt my cheeks rise in heat. I've never given anyone my number (unless you count this boy Finn I gave my number to when I was 13. It was a small, middle school, two week "dating" thing) before. "Sweet," she said. She smiled at me, again, and gave me devil horns and stuck her tongue out.

"I'm not really busy ever, so, you can call whenever you'd like," I said meekly when she asked when I was free.

We sat in silence, a comfortable silence, while she played air guitar and softly sang with the radio.


I'm sure I'd be smart enough to compete with you if I put the effort into it. I'm pretty relaxed, you know? Whatever gets me by. I'm more into fun things like pranks and parties. I like having a good time, making people laugh, even.

Music will be and always will be my passion. I hum and sing wherever I go. I like all kinds of music. From rock 'n roll to catchy pop songs, it's something I'll always be into. I can't think of a genre that I don't like, actually.

Does someone have a crush? ;) Who is he, or she?

Actually, I seem to have met someone very recently. She makes me happy and I barely know this person. I can't help but think about them a lot more than I should. I wonder how they feel about me.

You know, I'll be here if you ever need someone. I can almost relate to that, but lets not make a sad story out of this. You can always write to me, I'll be here to write back to you.

A small eleven was neatly printed at the end of her sentence.