Perfect Poetry

Chapter 1: The Following

I walk down the busy hallways in Bridgemont High and watch as the effervescent teenagers swoon from one side of the school to the other, chatting, catching up of making out with one another, while I extract my books from my locker, and walk alone to class.
Class passes by boring, and although it never happens, because no one one ever does; I can swear Anderson Woolbrook is staring at me. His piercing blue eyes place themselves upon me, and a sudden nervousness comes creeping on me, and I evade his look quickly, brushing off the incident as something trivial.
And so, like that, on several other occasions throughout the week, I catch him looking at me.
Anderson seems like as much of an outcast as I, and he never eats lunch or hangs around anyone. That's saying something though, because I feel that he is very handsome. Beautiful blue eyes, light brown hair, skin as white as the snow and average height. I'm surprised no girls at all like him, but then again, no one notices people like Anderson and I.
That day, for some strange reason, I feel incredibly intrigued by him, and my gut tells me to follow him home. And so I do. I follow him, walking slowly and carefully behind his every step. Once at his house, it all goes wrong.
Anderson realizes I am behind him, and when make it to his house he turns around, infuriated. "Were you following me?" His voice is harsh, and I can almost feel my heart popping out of my chest. "I-I was just intrigued," my voice shakes as I take a step back. "You've taken a nice, good look at the hell hole where I live. Happy now?" He nearly yells at me. A tear falls from my cheek, as I realize it was all a horrid idea. "Your face," I don't understand why, but the words escape my mouth as I stare into his eyes. Anderson is beautiful, and I could sense that despite what he'd said to me, he was nothing but a good person, frustrated as he lived a life of misery, being raised by the town drunk and lacking a mother in his home. Anderson was incredibly unhappy and he didn't deserve it.
A wince brings me back from my thoughts. He covers his face, embarrassed, hovering his hand over the nasty bruise adorning his right cheek. I turn my head to the ground, trying to say something but finding I am unable to, and start running. I run as fast as I can, not turning back once. I stop when my breath troubles to emanate from my body and I'm sure I've left Anderson behind.
I rush home, and lock myself in my bedroom, spending what's left of the afternoon thinking of the mistake I made following Anderson home. After much useless thinking, I go through my backpack, seeking the book I always carry around to read. It's gone, and so it isn't long til' I come into the realization that it must've fallen out of my backpack when I ran from Anderson's house.
I lay, vaguely staring at the ceiling whilst I listen to music. Anderson invades my thoughts again, and I can't quite get him out of my head. I feel overwhelmed by the negativity that gushes into my mind because of what I did. I assume Anderson has a rather complicated life, and he must've assumed equally I just wanted to bug him or make fun of him, or anything in the likes of that and its making me feel terrible with myself.
My night is driven over the edge with relentless dreams of Anderson and thoughts of the mysterious boy, and I have such a hard time understanding why he's interrupting my thoughts with his presence.