What happens when a jock finally notices the loner? What happens when he falls in love with her? What happens when she falls in love with him? What happens when love and social status collide?

When Lizzie Mathews' Grandmother dies, she thinks that her world is falling apart. She doesn't just become an outcast; she becomes a loner and isolates herself more than ever. Enter Scott Taylor, the popular basketball star, with a shield of his own. When these two meet there is a connection. What happe

I never noticed Lizzie Mathews until I had detention. In fact, I never knew her name until Ms. Goodwin yells at her for texting. She was just the girl in the back of the class. This is the first time I actually got a glimpse of her; she has black hair, barely visible under her hoodie.

            “Hood off Lizzie, you know the rules,” Ms. Goodwin commands not bothering to lift her head.

            I spin around to look at her; it’s a natural instinct that I have and hate, whenever someone is in trouble I turn around to see who it is.

            “Fine,” she says, irritated, she flips her hood of her head.

            Her features are much easier to see now; she has beautiful blue eyes. Her chin was perfect balance between boney and round. She has perfectly shaped lips, not too round and not too pointy. Her black hair was complemented by rose red streaks. Over all she is gorgeous.

            She looks up and our eyes meet. I quickly turn back around, hoping she doesn’t make any thought of it.

Her eyes seems like she was hiding something, her face too. Maybe that’s why nobody really sees her. This school is, and always has been, a take care of yourself and only be friends with those in your social chain.

But Lizzie, she doesn’t fit in and is always forgotten; maybe that’s why she sits in the back of the class. She and I have a few together. I feel like it’s time I stop pretending to be something I’m not, to do what I want and be who I want. Truth is I’m glad I got detention for getting into a fight; I am glad I got suspended from the basketball game.

The truth is that, I hate playing basketball; I would rather be a writer. I really like writing, it is a talent. Mr. Landler, my third grade teacher told me that I could go very far with my writing and encouraged me to do so, even after I was out of third grade.

My dad has other plans for me though. He forced me to play basketball since he has a bad knee. He always forces me to do things that only he wants, and my mom can’t say anything because she lost her battle against cancer when I was 6.

I wonder if Lizzie is hiding something like that. I recognize that look; I had the same one when my mom passed away in the hospital bed. Nobody knows, nobody cares, not even my best friend, Theo, or my girlfriend Madison. They know everything about me. Well except that I still write in secrecy.

It is ten minutes until the bell rings; I am going to talk to her to see if she is okay. I really don’t care if Madison gets pissed. I care about those who are outcasts; I know how it feels since my twin, Amanda, told us that she was bisexual and killed herself after dad said that she was no longer part of the family.

The bell rings, I pack up my stuff and race through the door to catch up with her.

“Lizzie, wait up,” I call.

She turns, “Scott Taylor? What do you want?”

“Do you want a ride home?” I offer.

“No thanks, I’ll take the bus,” she turns back toward the door and starts walking out the school.

“Who died?” I ask.

She stops in her tracks, turns, and stares at me.

“How do you know somebody died?”

“Because I have had the same look when I was little.”

She walks toward me and looks me in the eye.

“Why do you care? Do you want to make me more of a freak than I am?”

“No, believe it or not I am not who I pretend to be. So would you like a ride?”

She gazes at me a minute.

“Sure,” She smiles a crooked smile.

We both walk out into the south parking lot of the school.

She throws her backpack in the back seat of my ‘67 red mustang.

I throw my car in reverse and leave the school.

The End

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