Be My Forever

viii | the cat is out of the bag, so-to-speak.

Warren and I glance at each other, both of us knowing that the secret is out now.

"Good luck." I mumble to him.

He grimaces, the first time I've seen him do that, "You too."

We spilt, me going to my friends, him to his girlfriend. Celina and Indie are both staring at me, mouth wide open, eyes the size of saucers.

They bombard me with questions, looking from me to him wildly.

"Stop!" I hiss, grabbing both of their arms and yanking them down the hallway. I pull them all the way to the girl's bathroom around the corner before letting go completely.

"Okay, listen." I say, hands on my hips, "No questions until the end." I continue, noticing Indie drawing in a breath to speak, "Just... let me talk."

I take a deep breath myself, "So this is what it is. Remember how I said we were staying with my grandparents outside of town? Well I lied. Dad and I are actually staying at the Preston's house right now. Dad knew Mr. Preston in college, apparently he saved his life or something, I don't know. But he insisted on us staying at their house. I wish I didn't have to, but that's what it's like. I'm sorry I lied, but Warren didn't want anyone here to know we were living together because of his stupid reputation or whatever. And my track record isn't the greatest either come to think of it."

I take another breath, bracing myself and waiting for my two only friends to get mad at me for lying.

"Do you share a room?"

"Have you seen him naked?"

"I can't believe how lucky you are!"

Well. That certainly isn't what I had been expecting.

I blink, "I- you- what?"

"Imagine sharing a house with Warren Preston." Celina says in a dreamy voice.

I snort, "It's really not all that great."

"Yeah right. But seriously, have you see him naked?" Indie asks, poking my side.

I think back to this morning. Does it count if I've seen him in a towel? I'm not sure it does. My treacherous face gives away what I'm thinking because Indie squeals.

"You have!" She all but shrieks, "Oh my god, you lucky duck!"

"Shush!" I hiss, "And no, I have not. At least, not fully." I mumble that last part. "He was wearing a towel at least."

Celina asks, "Is your room next to his?"

I shake my head, "No, it's across from his."

"Dang, but still, you share a bathroom with him." She giggles, "You have to have us over soon! I am dying to see his house."

"No! No way, it's not my house to invite people over. Besides, I'm not exactly Warren's favorite person."

"You don't still like him, do you? You said you were over him."

Am I? I think about it for a moment. Ugh, I don't know. My emotions have been way too mixed up here of late to sort through any type of feeling.

"Yeah," I say, l maybe lying just a little, "That was just a silly crush anyways. Everyone has one on him at one point."

"At one point? I still have a crush on him!" Exclaims Celina, "And you are so lucky."

I don't know about lucky, but I borrow my eyes at my two friends, "Listen, as excited as you both are, I have to swear you to secrecy. No one can find out about this, I'd be dead meat and Warren would be so angry. No telling, got it?"

They both swear up and down that they won't tell, even crossing their hearts and pinky swearing. I'm not sure if it'll be enough, but I did all I could and Warren couldn't get mad at me for it.

Unfortunately, it's not my friends I have to worry about.

I'm peacefully sitting at lunch, talking to Indie about the calculus homework and helping her out a bit, when a shadow falls over my lunch tray.

And wonders of wonders, it's none other than Phoebe herself. I can tell it's her by the strong smell of perfume and a general feeling of dread.

Phoebe is the one who gave Warren my letter, if you haven't realized by now. It's why I dislike her so much.

"So, Casey." She says, sitting down across from Indie and I.

"It's Cassie." I retort, staring at her in general distain. The lunch room has gone quiet in anticipation for what's about to happen.

"Whatever. Look, Warren told me about his unfortunate situation of being forced to live with you."

"That's not exactly how-" I start, but she doesn't really listen and just keeps going.

She points a finger at me, "Warren is my boyfriend. Keep your grimy hands off him and we won't have a problem." She gets up pretty close to my face, "You try to take him or touch him in any way, just remember I can make your life a living hell at this school."

I'm starting to get actually angry, "Listen, I didn't ask for my apartment to burn down or to move into his house. I don't care about Warren, he's all yours. So don't come up into my personal space and threaten me." I hiss.

Phoebe is the kind of girl who will peek in high school and never recover afterwards. I take pride in the fact that I know I'll be going somewhere after school, that I want more for my life rather than just high school and boys and parties and being the most popular.

She looks rightfully steamed and leaves my table without another word.

Ha, that will show her!

"Whoa, where did this confident new Cas come from?" Asks Celina in appreciation, "And how long is she staying?"

I roll my eyes, "It's not new, it's just been a long time coming for me to say all that. Phoebe deserves it."

Both of my friends agree. Phoebe isn't exactly a favorite of either of them.

I'm thinking that the action of the day is finally over, but as I'm quickly realizing, the universe loves to prove me wrong. Throughout the day, I feel stares and hear whispers and laughter and jealous eyes on me. It makes me feel jumpy and weird, having so much attention focused on me.

Well, there goes my idea of complacent normalcy. I know it's Phoebe's doing that everyone in school now knows about my living conditions.

I used to be practically invisible at this school. People didn't know and didn't care about some poor girl who managed to get a scholarship to the rich elite school. I liked it that way. I kept my head down, besides what happened in sophomore year, and just did my work to keep my scholarship.

What exactly is the scholarship, you ask? Well, I'm what they consider a protégé. I've always had an aptitude for music, and since Mom was also a violinist, she started me out young. I love playing the violin, it makes me feel close to Mom when I play, and I love drawing emotions from the delicate strings. By nine, it had been clear to everyone that I would be an amazing violinist.

It had been my music teacher at my elementary school who had told me about the full ride scholarship to Clearwater that had become available after the previous receiver graduated. She knew I needed better training than she could provide, and that my parents pay from, and Clearwater was the way to go.

My last period of the day is technically free study, but really it's just one-on-one with Mr. Sachet to work my showcase.

Mr. Sachet can tell I'm distracted when I get to fifth. My playing is mediocre at best today and he pretty much gives up after twenty minutes of trying to get me to play better.

"You've obviously got something on your mind, so how about we call it a day? Do what you want." He says with a sigh.

I deflate in my chair, laying my shiny violin on my lap, and massage my temple.

Today hasn't been the greatest. I can feel the headache coming on.

Why can't my life be normal?