Getting up in the morning is hell. Especially, when a headache immediately appears when the alarm clock goes off. Maybe school isn't as good as I thought it was in the hospital, but it's still better than the hospital.

I press the snooze button, but instead of sleeping more, I get up and sit on the edge of my bed. If I don't get up now, I never will. With my eyes closed, I feel for the off button on the alarm clock and turn my alarm off. I open my eyes to morning darkness.

I slowly stand, and once I'm balanced, the headache slowly disappears. I walk out of my room and to the bathroom. Once there, I splash warm water in my face to wake myself up. It works, but also manages to get water all over the bathroom floor. I sigh, grab a towel, and kneel down to wipe up the water.

Once the water hazard is gone, I relieve myself, wash my hands, and brush my teeth. I look at my appearance in the mirror. I look like shit.

I sigh at my appearance, hoping I can make it look like I wasn't just at a hospital. I turn around and head back into my room.

Going to my closet, I pull out a pair of dark wash jeans and a red sweater. I get dressed, brush my hair, and attempt to make my face more lively. Deciding to not go overboard, I only but on a little foundation under my eyes to make the circles there disappear.

Turning around, I grabbed my phone of my nightstand and headed out of my room to the kitchen. Instead of hoping down the stairs like I normally do, I slowly walked down the stairs to the kitchen in search for food.

Once in the kitchen, I walked to the cabinet which held the coffee mugs. Grabbing my purple mug, I walked to the coffee pot. I poured the coffee until it was two inches from the top. I went to the fridge and grabbed the Coffee Mate French Vanilla. I poured the French vanilla in my mug until it was almost overflowing. Stirring it with a spoon, the black coffee turned into a creamy colored heaven.

Hearing commotion coming from the stairs, I knew my parents were coming to the kitchen. A couple of second later they entered.

"Who made the coffee?" I asked them.

"I did," my dad responded, "about half an hour ago."

"Well, thanks. It's exactly what I need." I responded gratefully.

"No problem sweetie," My dad says as he comes over to me and kisses my forehead, "how do you feel?"

I groan, knowing that this question was coming, "I'm fine dad." I turn away from him, with coffee mug in hand, and walk to my backpack which is on the floor near the door to the garage.

"Are you ready to leave, mom?" I ask her as I lift my backpack on my shoulders.

"Oh wait. I made you lunch, it's in the fridge." My mom exclaims while walking to the fridge. She pulls out a lunchbox and tosses it to me.

I groan again at there parenting, "I don't need you to make my lunches." Still, I slide my backpack off and put the lunchbox in it before lifting it up on my shoulders again.

My mom rushes past me with the car keys. I follow after her and we both get into the car. She starts the car and we head to my school.

"If you don't feel well, even if it's a tiny headache, you call me or your father and one of us will immediately come and pick you up. Okay?" She said, concern lacing her voice.

"I'll be okay mom, promise." I respond with a sigh.

"Evangeline, promise me." She demanded.

I sigh again, "Fine, I promise."

She smiles while I huff in annoyance. Silence settles over us as we drive the rest of the way to school.

Less than a few minutes later, we pull up. She stops the car in the front and I open the door to leave. I get out quickly to avoid any more talking. I shut the door and turn around to give a quick wave. She waves back and I head into school.

Relief floods me as I walk in. This feels so normal and I feel so much better being here. My energetic steps echo through the hallway, along with all the other students, as I head for history class. As I walk, I glance around to see if I can find Josh. I see my classroom coming up and I slow down a bit for a last chance to find Josh.

No such luck. Hopefully he's here today. I give up my search and, hoping to see him in class, I finish my walk to class.

I walk into history class and stop in my tracks. Ashton is already sitting at our table, scribbling madly on a piece of notebook paper. He is never there before me.

I look around the room trying to find a teacher, assuming Ashton is forced to be here for detention or something, but there's no one else in the room. It was normal for me to be the first one in this room with a little time to spare before everyone came to class.

Ashton's head snaps up in my direction. I quickly duck my head so I don't have to look at him. My steps aren't as energetic as they were when I entered the building. I slowly make my way over to our table. I can still feel his eyes on me.

His eyes are still on me as I reach my side of the table and put down my backpack on the floor. I sit back up and place my mug in front of me, too nervous to take a sip of my coffee.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him focusing again on whatever he was writing. I relax a little in my chair and take a sip of my coffee. Silence settles over us, with the only noise coming from the noisy students in the hallway. I reach down to open my backpack and take the stuff I need for this class. I feel my sweater inch up on my side and I quickly try to pull it down. The bruises still haven't completely disappeared. But before I do, I hear a low, threatening growl coming from my left.

I immediately freeze, that didn't even sound human. Still in the same position, leaning down to open my backpack, I glance over to Ashton.

His body is tense, shaking almost, like he's about to snap. His knuckles are white from holding his pencil so hard. I look back to his face. His eyes are shut tight and I can hear breathing is ragged. His jaw is clenched tight.

The pencil snaps and I jump at the sharp noise. Ashton's hand slowly opens and drops the now broken pencil on the table. I gape at the broken mechanical pencil, who's that strong to break a mechanical pencil?

I glance warily back at Ashton who seems to have calmed down a tiny bit. He takes a deep breathe and mumbles something under his breath. Ashton's eyes open and they meet my wide ones.

Concern is etched across his face and his eyes are full of worry. My brain is scrambling as to why he would be concerned and worried, I'm the only one here. I realize, suddenly, that I am still reaching for my stuff in my backpack and my side is still on display. I quickly yank my sweater down so the bruises disappear underneath my sweater.

Ashton's eyes harden at my movement, but he doesn't do anything other than look at me again after glancing down to my side.

The door to the classroom opens and a few students walk in. I glance at the clock and am shocked to see that class starts in only a few minutes. The door opens again and more people come in. These students come directly over to Ashton and I's table. I quickly straighten back up into a normal sitting position.

"Hey man, where were you this morning?" A guy asks Ashton.

I block out their conversation because, frankly, I don't give a crap about him or his friends. Instead, I accidentally make eye contact with one of the girls. I look at her brown eyes, small nose, pink lips and long brown hair, and surprisingly, I recognize her. She was one of the girls who, on my first day, shoved me in the hall. I frown at her.

"What are you looking at?" She snaps at me, interrupting the guys' conversation. Her eyes turn hostile as she stares me down. I quickly stop making eye contact and look down at the table.

I jump at the sudden growl coming from Ashton's mouth. I turn my head and see him glaring and the brunette. The brunette lowers her gaze when Ashton looks at her.

"Sorry." She forces the apology out of her mouth. She looks at me again quickly, with the same hostile gaze she already gave me, and turns around to walk to her table with a flip of her hair.

The first bell rings and Mr. Holland come into the classroom. He looks flushed like he just ran a marathon, and the papers in his hand are folded and crumpled up in a not very neat pile.

"Sorry for being late, class. Please talk to your partners about how your projects are going while I get the lesson in order." He says as he reaches his desk.

The project! Shit, they must be due this week. I glance over at Ashton and I see him wince. I open my mouth to tell him how the projects going, because of course he can't help at all, but I am cut off by Mr. Holland.

"Evie, could I please talk to you?" Mr. Holland calls to me. I quickly nod, grateful that I don't have to talk to Ashton. I quickly stand up and head to his desk.

"Yes?" I say.

"Evie, I know you were sick for a few days. During the days you were gone, we took notes and I need you to get those notes. Ashton should have them, so today please get them from him." Mr. Holland says.

I groan internally, "Okay, is there anything else?"

"Just make sure you and Ashton are finishing your project." He responds quickly.

"Okay." I say as I turn around and head back to our table. Just my luck, I have to ask him about notes. He probably doesn't even have them. He doesn't seem like someone who would pay attention in class.

I reach our table and sigh, "Mr. Holland says that we took notes while I was sick. He told me to copy them down from your notes."

"Of course." Ashton responds. He reaches down into his backpack and pulls out a notebook and hands it to me.

"Thanks." I mumble. I get out my own notebook, making sure my sweater doesn't reveal my side again, and turn to a blank page. I find that Ashton has not terrible hand writing as I start copying his notes.

"So, how are you?" I hear Ashton ask me in a quiet voice. I immediately stop writing. Why would he care if I was okay?

"Nothing's wrong with me." I reply sharply, hoping he will drop it. I don't want to tell him anything because he won't care, so why waste my breath. I start copying his notes again.

"I know you were sick, Evie. I just want to know if you are okay." He responds, his voice a little harder. I can tell he's irritated, but so am I.

"There's nothing wrong with me." I repeat through clenched teeth. I start writing harder.

"Like hell. I know you were at the hospital." He tells me, his voice still hard. My lead snaps under the pressure I am putting on it. How does he know?

"Leave me alone." I command, still with clenched teeth. Just for good measure, I slide his notebook back to him even though I'm not done copying the notes.

Ashton grabs my side, the exact side with the bruises. Pain shoots through me at his contact. I hiss in pain through clenched teeth.

"Don't touch me." I hiss as I try to wrench my side out of his grip. Ashton seems to realize that he hurt me and he lets go.

"Oh God, Evie I'm sorry. I'm-" he sighs, not finishing his apology. I don't care, I don't want his apology. He can shove it up his ass for all I care.

After a couple of minutes of silence, where it seems both Ashton and I are calming down, Ashton silently moves his notebook towards me so I can finish copying his notes. He doesn't say anything when I grab it and start writing in my notebook again. The rest of the block goes by in silence.

The bell dings and I put away my notebook. I stand up and grab my backpack and sling it over one shoulder. I take a step, but am stopped when I feel small tingles coming from my wrist. They were kind of like mini electrical sparks that, instead of electrocuting me, they felt rather nice. I turn back and see Ashton's hand holding my wrist. I scowl.

"Evie, hear me out for a second," Ashton pauses and waits for me to respond, and I nod a second later, "I'm sorry for hurting you. I didn't mean to. I want to meet up and talk about our project."

The anger that disappeared during class, starts rising up again, "Well, it's kind of too late for that. Now, I need to go." I say roughly. I tug my wrist so he gets the message to let me go, the tingles are still present.

Which he doesn't. Instead, Ashton sighs and runs his other hand through his hair.

"Just," he sighs, "I know you were in the hospital and I wanted to say sorry." Ashton says while grimacing. I look around and see his friends gaping at us. And then it hit me, this was all a trick. Ashton's friends must have put him up to this.

I scowl at him, "Who put you up to this? Was it one of your friends? I don't want to play your stupid games. Just let go of my wrist, I have a class to get to."

I try to get my wrist out of his grip, but instead I feel his grip tightening a bit. I look up to see him staring at me with a confused expression. Something crosses his eyes, and his expression hardens.

"No one put me up to this Evie. I just wanted to apologize." He says with a clipped voice. I'm pretty sure he is holding himself back from getting too angry with me. Well, I wish he would get angry and do something. I am so sick of him and his stupid friends.

"I don't want your stupid apology." I spit out, getting beyond sick of this game. I tug on my wrist and, with what seems like a lot of force on Ashton's part, he let's go of my wrist.

I huff and turn around. I walk to the door and leave the classroom, feeling a certain someone's eyes following my every move until I am out of eyesight.