Today would have been any other day.

You know, as normal as my first day in junior high could go.

I've been in this school all my life so the faces I'll see would be pretty much the same, and the routine? Shouldn't be nearly as different.

I would've hailed a bye at dad whilst running out of the car and into school's grand white building. Later, linger around a while after the bell goes off to see if the heavens can get Pamela to walk in through the screen door before first period, despite knowing punctuality has never been one of her strong qualities. Yet if she does, we'd walk into English class with one of her arms draped around my shoulders - like always. Like every school day whether she arrives late or early.

But today wasn't any normal school day. Though, I did say a 'bye' to dad before the car sped off, there was a new transfer student. While that should be normal, knowing there's always atleast one at the beginning of every semester - the new student isn't who we would ever expect here. As a matter of fact, his presence here is enough to start a whole damn chaos.

Except it doesn't.

Rather, the entire hallway he just walked into stays dead quiet as a graveyard and the ticking of the grand wall clock at the back is the only thing alive.

We'd heard the news all through summer, saw the man with a typical moustache that matched his high enthusiasm on our screen whenever the sports news begun, "- player said to be leaving the team this July!" I guess, we just never knew he was leaving there for here.

Who would've thought?

Maybe if we did, maybe if I did, I'd trade my oversized maroon blazer for a fitted one, trade my knee-length skirt for the type cheerleaders wear, and probably would've spent last night straightening my tight curls since Pamela said it looks better when it's straight.

Or maybe I wouldn't.

Especially the last one because God knows I'm too lazy to and sincerely cherish my sleep. Plus, it would all go unnoticed anyways, there's nothing much you can do to stand out when the only thing that differs you from the crowd is your wild vase of curly hair. Walk in and we all look like a variety of monotony, a sea of maroon blazers on pleated skirts or straight trousers, depending on gender. Even, Tyler's part of the sea too since he also came fully prepared with his uniform on and everything. Only that he's more like the part we all stand to watch at a good distance away because he's different. Like the new fish in the sea.

And we probably would continue staring if the screeching sound of the bell didn't interrupt.

I watch as everyone, with much reluctancy, begins making their separate ways to whatever class they're having. I watch because out of the hundreds of students on this floor, i'm about the only one who hasn't gotten myself together and still can't stop staring. My customized backpack made to match my blazer in colour is held lazily on the tip of my fingers by my side, i'm not short but being the average height of a woman still keeps you a little too close to the ground, as well as the said bag on my left hand.

It's practically cleaning the tiled floor at this point but that's not enough to get me moving.

I've got English class. I should be there, or at least on my way there and not here, in the fluorescent lit hallway, leaning on my half closed locker with my eyes on him not so far away.

But he also shouldn't be here. Here in Colorado. Here in Eastwood High Academy. Here, breathing the same air that I am. I mean, everybody knows Tyler Jones. Successful NFL player who's got his life pretty much planned out than the rest of us. A name enough to be topic on girls' tables at the cafeteria when I'm cornering them with my lunch tray, on guys' tables whenever he scored an outstanding goal that got the media talking, and with my best friend on weekend nights when we're chilling on her bedroom floor in overpriced, oversize pyjamas.

He's an icon. He's a freaking celebrity. While Eastwood High's about the most prestigious around, we don't accommodate celebrities - especially not super hot ones like him - is our principal trying to kill us? I think yes. I'm not sure if any of us can ever be ourselves if the Tyler i'm seeing right now isn't just a hologram or clone, or if i'm not dreaming, somehow just hallucinating.

I truly half expect my sister's face to hover over mine, waking me up for school. Or my dad. Or my brother. Or a bucket of water splashed on my face. Or a loud trumpet. Or a cat I don't even own. Just anything to show all that has happened and is happening this morning is a dream.

But he is here. There.

There, by one of the many blue lockers our school is filled with. Standing casually like he hasn't scared the hell out of everybody by literally just showing up. And it's only under intense scrutiny like mine that you can see how uncomfortable this whole situation's making him. His jaw clenches and unclenches as he gets gaped at like the star monkey of a circus show.

The hallways aren't as empty as I'd thought, it's not just him and I. Since not everybody seems to be ready for class, around him is a small, increasing crowd of pretty girls and tall guys, all asking him questions you'd ask someone famous if you met them for the first time. Stupid questions. Nevertheless, I wish I could be one of them asking the stupid questions. Bold enough to walk up to him to just... do that. Talk.

'Hi, Tyler. I'm Melissa, I see you're new around here. Want me to you know, show you around, give you a little tour around school?'

That's not exactly a stupid question yet, I can't. I'm much too timid. Never can I ever. Really can't begin naming how many opportunities I've lost thanks to being shy, and this moment is clearly joining the already long list.

My dad had taken my siblings and I to a soccer game in New York back when I was twelve, of course, it's not because he knew about my heavy crush on Tyler — till date, he does not— but my sister did know, and so insisted we went over when the opportunity arrived. Back then he wasn't all that. Tyler Jones, I mean. Surprised dad even allowed us go over to New York for that sole purpose, even though we stayed over after and lowkey turned it to our summer vacation. Perhaps because dad is an all round sports guy and will scram over to any before the word 'sport' is spelt out.

While Tyler wasn't all that famous, it was clear he was getting there. We all are aware he was born with a silver spoon which must have given him leverage over the broke boy next door who has to play on the streets before getting noticed by a potential agency. Regardless, the way he'd played on the field that sunny day showed he had more skills than any thirteen year old player should. And i'm not just saying this from the point of an overly obsessed, then, pre-teen. I mean it, he was good. That can't be a biased opinion since he's now wanted by many clubs.

After the game, as the chantings and euphoria slowly calmed down, Danielle-Soledad - my sister with yes, two first names, hyped me up on how I should 'go out and talk to him'.

Looking down at him on the edge of the field, simply sitting on one of the benches with his back to us - I knew I definitely wasn't doing that. But knowing my sister, it's no surprise despite my solid disagreement with the idea, I still got shoved out and down the bleachers, right to where the hot thirteen year old was no longer sitting anymore but standing.

However as the old saying goes, you could force a horse to the river but can't force it to drink. Though, in my case it's, you could force a girl right infront of her crush but can't force her to speak.

Can't help her to speak because the truth is, I really did want to talk to him. I just didn't know how to. And hey, I see you trying to get all logical and stuff, I do know how to mix vowels with consonants to make words enough to eventually add up to a sentence, but I could've rehearsed a whole damn speech and still remain mute when I stared into his crystal blue eyes.

That's what I did.

Stared into his eyes, stayed mute, wasted his time, stood in his way... I probably looked like any other fangirl who forgets the fancy technique of inhaling oxygen and exhaling carbon dioxide when met face to face with him. Not any different. And that's probably why he didn't grace me any more than a glance before walking past.

Actually pissed at the end of my thought travel, I jam my locker a bit louder than I need to. Shocked on how loud it echoed, I look around to see who's attention it may have captured only to find the hallway's now empty. Empty with just Tyler still by his locker and he doesn't look at all startled by the sound I made. He still acts normally with his eyes on the insides of his open locker, a hardback notebook and text book in his hand while the other strokes a pen behind his ear and tell me how the hell someone could look so hot from doing just that.

But as I'm about walking away - just kidding, I really planned on staying here till he left - but as I keep standing and gawking at him, I'm certain my heart skips at least two beats when the eyes that once studied the insides of his lockers, are now studying me. Unsure on how to act, I do whatever any normal person in my situation would. Open and close my mouth repeatedly till I successfully achieve the look of a lost fish out of water. It doesn't take long before he gives me a weird stare, shuts his locker and goes up the stairway that's blocked from my view.

It's just like that day on the field. Only, ofcourse, a different environment and an older us.

Today's my birthday. Like I told my best friend, don't bother wishing me a happy birthday. Plus it sucks resuming school on your birthday, please it should be a crime. It sucks even more acting stupid infront of the one person you wish could take you seriously. And while I've never believed in wishes coming true, even the ones you make on the day you were blessed with the gift of life. Somehow, and anyhow, if wishes do come true, I can only wish Tyler Lucas Jones could know me for more than the girl who forgets how to breathe when around him because yes, I've stalked him so much that I'm now familiar with his middle name.

Thoughts?
Tell me why i'm so anxious xoxo.