"Are you sure you don't want to go sit with your friends?" Lavender asked as we ate our lunch. Lavender's lunch was a mod podge of items from the cafeteria. Fries, salad, pizza, and a few pieces of sushi, lined her tray. I wasn't even sure if she was that hungry, but if she just got it because she could.

I went for something simpler, there was only a Caesar salad and a cup of pineapple and strawberries. It was by far the best lunch I've ever had. The food at Jefferson was basically slop in a bag.

"I'm sure," I said, stabbing a piece of pineapple with my fork. "Unless you don't want me to sit you, if you're too cool for me."

"That's not what I said." She blew her blonde bangs out of her eyes. She had pulled it up during gym, she complained during the whole yoga session. She said it was sham, but I found it to be very relaxing. "It's just your boyfriend keeps looking over here, and it's starting to freak me out."

I turned to see what she was talking about. From his table across the cafeteria, Marcus looked over at us. I gave him a small wave, that he returned with a small smile. I turned back to Lavender, a soft smile on my lips.

"He's not my boyfriend," I said to her.

"Then why do you have a date on Saturday?"

"It's not a date," I told her. "We're studying." We're just studying for our chemistry test, but have I been thinking about what I'm going to wear like it's a date. Hell, yes.

"Yeah, save that for somebody who believes it," she said, in disbelief. "When you get done studying you can come over to my house. I live next door."

"Really, that's awesome," I said around a piece of pineapple. "I will."

"It's the house that looks like a giant greenhouse," she explained.

"Greenhouse?"

"My parents grow things and study them. They make all natural skincare and medicines, stuff like that."

"That's cool, what's the name of their brand?"

"Ever heard of Herbalina?"

"Your parents own Herbalina!" Tasha swears by their moisturizer, but the only way she can afford it is through her discount at work. I see their ads in magazines all the time. I got my grandmother their cold cream for Christmas last year, and it set me back like fifty bucks.

"Yep, they do," she sighed. "But they're like super hardcore about it. They're vegan, all natural everything, no deodorant."

I looked down at her meat and dairy filled tray. "But you eat meat and dairy..."

"Oh, I'm not vegan. I love ice cream, and chicken, and steak, and leather goods," she explained. "I was for a long time, but when I turned ten they said I was old enough to make my own decisions, and I decided I didn't want to do it anymore."

"And they were fine with that?" If they're as hardcore as she says they are I can't imagine they were okay with her deciding to eat meat.

"No, they went on this whole 'animals are our friends not food,' speech. But they still couldn't change my mind," she shrugged. "My mom still cringes when she sees me eat chicken nuggets."

I laughed. "So they really don't wear deodorant?"

She shook her head. "Nope, it can get pretty rank in the summer time. They're working on formulating an all-natural deodorant right now—it's not working."

Lavender told me about all her parents experiments, and all the weird things she made her do to test their products. Now that I know more about her parent's crazy dietary restrictions, it makes sense why she piles her tray high with so many kinds of food. She's spent over half her life eating vegetables or some form of it. Tofu chicken nuggets, I don't think so.

I kept zoning out in history class. It's all white washed anyway, anyone with a computer or a smart phone can find out that the only thing Christopher Columbus contributed to the founding of America is disease and the slave trade. And Andrew Jackson, a tyrant with a bad wig.

Crystal leaned over in her seat. "Hey, Nia. Hey," she whispered to get to my attention.

I turned away from the board, and faced Crystal, who was leaned over in her desk.

"Do you think this would mess up my Instagram aesthetic?" she asked holding out her phone. She laid by a pool on a lawn chair, she wore a pair of light wash jeans and a tight light blue vintage t-shirt that showed of her large chest. Her fell into big waves around her, she looked like an eighties supermodel, but it worked for her.

"I don't think so." I wasn't completely sure what her Instagram aesthetic was, but I'm sure the photo would fit in just fine. "That's a great picture, Crystal. Did you take it yourself?" It looked like it belonged in a magazine, it was extremely high quality.

"Thanks," she smiled. "I got my house keeper to take it of me."

Her house keeper. When I want someone to take a picture of me I just use the self-timer or I get Tasha to take one of me. She's good at that type of thing, anything fashion or make-up related she's on it. She's always dragging Mya and I to different thrift stores. Most of our clothes are from thrift stores now, she's taken us to so many. But she finds the best stuff, and she can take something old and make it look brand new. It's a gift, really.

"Well, it looks nice," I complimented. "Do you take a lot of photos like that?"

She nodded. "I have a very strict Instagram upload schedule, I post five days a week. I don't want to be an Instagram model or anything. I eventually want to work for a major magazine, so I thought why not start doing my own photo shoots."

Just looking at Crystal, you can tell that she has a love for fashion. Even in her school uniform like she stepped out of the pages of Vogue.

"We should do a shoot together," said Crystal, her face lighting up.

"Oh, I don't know about that," I said unsure. "I'm not really the model type."

"No, you are! You're totally gorgeous and I have a ton of cute clothes that would fit you," she insisted. "It'll be so fun."

"Uh," I hesitated. Before I could answer the bell rang.

"I'll DM you the details," she smiled brightly before leaving our history class.

"Oh, okay..." I said to her retreating form. I stuffed my notebook and history book in my backpack. Thanks to Marcus I didn't need my map to find my journalism class anymore. It did take me a little while to remember where my computer was, but I just looked for Thomas' desk with all the doodles on it.

I found Thomas' desk, and my empty desk next to it. On my computer monitor, there was a small pink post-it note. There was a small doodle on it, a girl, me, I'm guessing, at a desk. It had, Nia's Desk, written on the top.

I smiled down at the note, before sticking it back on my computer monitor. How sweet, the doodle looks like a little cartoon version of me.

"Do you like it?" A voice asked. I turned around in my desk chair. Thomas stood behind me, the first button of his shirt undone, and his blazer draped over one arm.

"I love it," I said, referring to the doodle. "It looks just like me. Thanks for drawing it for me."

"Oh, anytime," he said, holding up his notepad. "I have plenty of paper." He came and sat in his desk chair. He asked, "Did you ever figure out a topic for your beat this week?"

"I did," I replied. "I think I'm going to cover football practice. I'm not sure how I'm going to do that, but that's what I'm going with for now."

"Sounds good to me," he shrugged. "The sports beat is probably the most uninteresting one we have."

"Well, I'm going to do my best to change that."

"I believe in you," he said instilling the utmost confidence in me.

Mr. Hobbs came over to Thomas and I, a camera in his hand. "Owens, Max," he said in greeting.

"Hi, Mr. Hobbs," I smiled at him.

Mr. Hobbs set the small camera on my desk. "I hope you're good with a camera, Owens, because you've got to shoot your own photos this week."

"Really? Where's Randall?" asked Thomas.

Mr. Hobbs cleared his throat. "He's got some sort of virus. I told him not to drink the water when he went to Mexico for Spring Break."

"Who's Randall?" I asked, confused.

"He's the guy who takes the pictures for the newspaper," Thomas told me.

I picked up the camera from my desk, it was surprisingly heavy. I turned it over in my hands. How hard could taking a few pictures be? "I can do it, no problem," I told Mr. Hobbs.

"Good," he nodded.

"Where's the football field?" I still hadn't explored the outside of campus yet.

"It's right outside the building, you can go out through the gym," Mr. Hobbs explained. "Actually, Thomas could you show her? I would hate for her to get lost."

"Of course," Thomas replied. He turned to me. "Just grab your notebook and we can go."

I hung the camera around my neck and pulled my notebook and pen from my backpack. I smoothed my skirt down as I stood.

Thomas and I walked around the track that surrounded the football field. The football field was massive, much like the rest of the school, the players ran around the field doing various exercises. I took notes on what they were doing. It wasn't too exciting, but watching Coach yell at them was interesting. His face got all red and splotchy when he yelled, I almost felt bad for the players on the field.

"Is East Chapel different from your old school?" Thomas asked suddenly as we walked.

"Very," I said. "They're like day and night."

"Where did you go again?" he asked.

I answered, "Jefferson Heights." I waited for the sudden look of horror or the scrambling to find something nice to say about it. But it didn't come.

He said, "Do you miss it?"

"Honestly, no," I confessed. "Don't get me wrong, I miss my friends, but I don't miss going to school there."

What's too miss? There's barely any opportunities, the building is run down, and the food taste like warmed up garbage. But at East Chapel it's completely different. The buildings are older, but they're well-maintained, they have the best teachers and access to any and every extra-curricular I could imagine, and the food is delicious. "I mean it's not like I had many friends to begin with," I laughed.

Thomas looked at me, the sun casting a glare on his glasses. "I have hard time believing that."

"It's true," I told him. "I've never had that many friends, but I have two best friends and that's enough for me."

"I'm a bit of a loner myself, I don't have many friends. Or any, really," He chuckled. "But who cares anyway, right. I'm about to graduate."

"What are you going to do after graduation," I asked, curious.

"I'm going to Columbia in the fall," he said.

I stopped in my tracks. He turned back to me. "Columbia, like New York, Columbia?" I asked in shock.

"That's the one," he said.

"That's my dream school," I exhaled. Living in New York City is more my dream, but the school is just the icing on the cake.

"My dad went there," said Thomas. "It's a legacy thing. But it's a nice school, and it's in the city, so there's lots of opportunities and lots of things to draw."

"I'm jealous," I admitted.

"They have a summer program for high school students," he said. "You should apply, I think they're still accepting applications. I'm going again over the summer, it's a lot of fun. I mean, you have to go to class, but it gives you a taste of the college experience."

"I'll have to check it out," I smiled. "Thanks." Spending a summer in New York City, and I get to attend classes at Columbia. Count me in.

We rounded the corner closest to Coach, I had more than enough notes to complete my story, so I figured it was time to start taking some pictures. Coach noticed us hanging around by the fence.

"Hey, what are you two doing here?" he shouted from the bench.

"I'm doing a story for the school newspaper, Coach. I was hoping I could take a few pictures of the team."

He thought about it for a moment. Taking a swig from his Gatorade. "Fine," he said, I couldn't tell if his voice was gruff from years of smoking or just from yelling. "But only a few, we have a lot more practicing to do." He motioned for us to come on the field.

Thomas and I walked out on the field. My shoes sunk in the ground, and the grass brushed against my ankles.

"Sam, Nick, and Marcus! Get over here!" he yelled making me jump. God, he's so loud.

Sam, Nick, and Marcus stood from where they sat on the ground. They didn't where any protective gear or anything, just standard t-shirts, and shorts. Their shirts clung to their bodies with sweat. I could see the outline of Marcus's abs through his sweat soaked shirt.

I exhaled as they got closer. I'm going to have to thank Mya and Tasha for coming up with this great idea.

"Yes, Coach," Marcus said coming up to us. He shielded his eyes from the sun.

"Nia, wants to take a few pictures for the school paper, and since you three chatty Cathy's would rather talk than do sit ups. I thought you would be the best to help her," he said. "Is that okay with you?" He asked, but not leaving any room for argument.

"Yes, sir," they all responded.

"Get straight back to practice when you're done. Whoa, whoa, Jacobs! What was that—you can't expect to win any games like that?" he yelled going to scream at some poor boy on the field.

"So where do you want me, Nia. Unlike the rest of these clowns my face was made for the camera," Nick said, once Coach was gone. I had to agree with him there, his face was made to be on magazines. He was gorgeous.

Marcus and Sam rolled their eyes at him. "What do you want us to do, Nia?" Marcus asked. Nick winked at me from behind Marcus's back.

I wasn't really sure. "Oh, if I could just get some pictures of you all together, that would be great," I said. "Can you hold this for me?" I asked Thomas, holding out my pen and notebook.

He took my notebook from my hands. "Sure."

I held the camera up and adjusted the lens, looking at them through the view finder, I said, "Can you guys get a little closer?"

They moved a little closer together. "Okay, that's good." I snapped the first photo, and then another, getting them to move around. Sam started making silly faces as I continued to snap photos.

I laughed, "That's good Sam, keep doing that. All of you should make silly faces."

Nick threw his arms around the two of them, and began making a silly face, but Marcus face remained stoic expression. I lowered the camera. "Come on, Marcus, make a silly face," I encouraged.

Nick patted his shoulder. "Yeah, Garret come on make a silly face."

"Please, Marcus," I pleaded. "Just for one photo."

"Fine," he exhaled. He jokingly stuck out his tongue.

"That's great, hold that!" I quickly took the photo of them. I looked at the screen on the camera, Sam, Nick, and Marcus making silly faces at me. I smiled, looking up at them, "They look great!"

"I want to see," Sam said.

"Me too," Nick said, jogging over to stand beside me. Sam, Nick, and Marcus all looked over my shoulder to see the photos. I felt small standing between the three of them and Thomas.

"Damn, I look good," Nick said, from over my shoulder. "You guys don't look that bad either."

"I think what he's trying to say is good job, Nia," Sam said for Nick.

"You did great for your first time, Nia," Thomas added.

"Thank you," I said, flattered by all their compliments. I turned to Thomas, "How do I get them printed?"

"I can show you when we get back to class, we'll have to upload them to the computer first."

"Okay, we should probably get going then," I said. I turned back around. "Thanks for the pictures guys."

"You're welcome," they said.

"Boys!" Coach yelled.

"Uh, we should get going before we have to run extra laps," said Sam.

Marcus brushed against my arm. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye," I smiled. Goosebumps raised on the back of my arm where he touched me.

I found Mya's rumbling car in the parking lot. They opted to stay in the car today. I knocked on the window, Mya unlocked the door without looking up from her phone.

"Hey, babe, how was school?" Tasha said, swiping on more lip gloss as she looked in her compact mirror. "Don't I sound like such a mom when I say that, 'How was school?'"

"It was good, Mom," I joked.

"Well, that's great, Pumpkin," she laughed squeezing my cheek jokingly.

Mya put down her phone, and switched the car into gear. The engine mad an angry rumbling noise.

"Yikes, are you ever going to get that fixed?" Tasha asked from the back seat.

"Yeah, right after the eight hundred dollars falls from the sky," Mya responded sarcastically.

Tasha threw her hands up defensively. "Sorry, no need to get an attitude."

Mya huffed. Her car was barely holding on, but by some miracle it started every morning. Thank God for it because Mya's car is the only thing keeping all of us from riding the bus everywhere.

To change the subject, I said, "I'm studying with this guy from my chemistry class on Saturday."

I was hesitant about telling them about Marcus at first, because I wasn't sure how I felt about him. Once you tell your friends about a crush it's solidified, you can't take it back.

"Oh, is he cute?" Tasha asked with interest.

"Very," I replied. "He looks like a male model or something."

"Really? I need pictures. Show me his Instagram," she ordered. I quickly looked for his Instagram and showed it to her. She took my phone from my hands. "Nia! He's hot!"

"What? I want to see," Mya said looking at Tasha from the rearview mirror.

Tasha gave my phone back, so I could show Mya. She peeked at the picture while still trying to pay attention to the road. When she stopped at a red light, she took my phone and looked at it more closely.

"He's cute in a wonder bread sort of way," she said. Wonder Bread is what she calls white boys. She zoomed in on the picture of him and Nick. "His friend is pretty cute too."

"Cute? He's a snack and his friend is too," Tasha stated.

"Okay, I'll give you that," Mya admitted. "The Superman looking one isn't my type. But if I was into white boys, the other one...he could get it." She shrugged.

"That's Nick, he has a girlfriend, her name's Crystal," I told them.

"Damn, that's too bad Mya. You almost had you a white boy," Tasha laughed.

"Dammit! Right when I was going to go to the other side," she cried out in fake distress.

We laughed hysterically. Mya has a strict no white boy policy, just to hear her admit that Marcus and Nick were cute is a shock, she says they all look the same. But we all know she has of exceptions— that Damon guy from Vampire Diaries, and Adam Levine. And now, Nick, I guess.

Now that I think about it they all have that same rugged bad boy look about them. But I mean she has that tough vibe going for her too, with the shaved head and septum piercing, and all. She owns like ten leather jackets that she changes out daily.