Izzy, Not Isabelle

Class

I reach Jake and walk ahead of him, calling behind me, "Come on!"

Jake walks faster to catch up with me and asks, "Is that my T-shirt?"

"It was."

"Was?"

"You left it at my house."

"You leave lots of stuff at my house! You don't see me wearing your skirts, do you?"

"What skirts? I wear jeans. Besides, you don't fit in my clothes, you giant!"

"So? Just because you can wear it doesn't mean you should wear it!"

"Well, I felt like it!"

"That-" Jake throws his hands up in frustration. The only person more stubborn than Jake is me, and he knows it. Instead of prolonging the argument, he reaches up and flicks my hair. "What's with this mess?"

Automatically, my hand goes up to my hair. It's still in the chaotic ponytail from earlier. I tug the ponytail holder out and slip it onto my wrist.

"Jake..." I start.

"Yeah, I will." Jake rolls his eyes, falling into step behind me. I feel him starting to braid my hair.

"I barely have to lift my arms to do this, shorty!" Jake laughs.

"I am petite, not short," I correct, trying not to grin. "And just because you're ten feet tall doesn't mean everyone else is!"

Jake just chuckles. I give him the silent treatment until we reach our middle school. It's not too long to stay quiet; we only live a few blocks away. Jake and I walk through the front doors and head towards Ms. Brown's history classroom. We've had the same homeroom teacher for as long as I can remember, and we always sit next to each other, you know, Roberts and Rogers.

As we walk through the hallway, I can't help but notice the couples kissing. Isn't there some sort of rule against public displays of affection?

I turn my head away from them and continue walking with Jake. We sit down and look at the board in the front of the room. It says to take out our textbooks and flip to page 384. World War II.

Ms. Brown ducks into the classroom just as the tardy bell rings. Young and pretty, our teacher has long, silky brown hair and a fair complexion. Scratch that---it's absolutely not fair. There's her, looking all beautiful, then there's me, who generally looks like a mess. I frown but regain my focus moments later when a scrap of paper lands on my desk with a soft clump. I turn to Jake and mouth emphatically, "That is mahogany!" Jake stifles a laugh, and I have to press my lips together to keep from giggling.

"Nice job, sweetheart," Jake mouths back. Then he gestures to the paper that he threw on my desk. I unfold and read it.

Don't worry. I heard the Germans like blond airheads with blue eyes.

I roll my eyes and write back.

Didn't that end up being fake? And if it was true, thank goodness! BLACK HAIR!! GREEN EYES!! RIGHT HERE!! TAKE HIM AWAY!! Good RIDDANCE!!

Jake shakes his head before responding.

If they take me away, who's gonna braid your hair?

I pause, considering.

NO!! They can't have you! We'll hide you in the treehouse!

Won't that be one of the first places they look?

I sigh and deliberate.

Crud. Well, then you're on your own. My mom can learn to braid my hair.

This is your mom we're talking about, right?

I wince. My mom can't even pull my hair into a bun.

Double crud. I can learn?

Remember the high ponytail?

Oh yeah. I tried to pull my hair into a high ponytail a few weeks ago. It didn't go well. My hair ended up being a gnarled, tangled mess. It took me almost an hour to untangle it. Worst of all, it was at Jake's house, so he was a witness to the whole spectacle, which means I'll never live it down.

Triple crud. We'll just have to dye your hair and get blue contact lenses.

You gonna pay for that? Cause I'm as broke as they come.

Jake turns towards me and turns his pockets inside out. I fight a laugh.

I told you you shouldn't've spent so much on video games!

Jake shrugs.

You're probably right. The game sucked anyway. The graphics were awful.

I smile and reach for my pen, but Jake snatches the paper back.

Don't you dare write it.

I told you so!

I told you not to write that!

Technically, you told me not to write 'it.' I didn't use the word 'it' whatsoever!

I smile as widely as I can. Jake glares at me and somehow manages to include sarcasm in his next note.

You'd make a great lawyer.

I smile at Jake again.

I really would, wouldn't I?

Jake laughs quietly as he reads it. I snatch the paper back before he has the chance to write something scathing.

If you're broke AND you hate the game so much, why don't you just return it?

Jake, who's reading over my shoulder, looks like he's seen the light. I turn to him and mouth, "Idiot!"

Jake just grabs the paper from me and writes.

You wanna come with me after school?

Sure. I just have to change clothes first.

K.

A/N
I'm so mad I can't have fonts on Wattpad. I spent forever trying to find the perfect fonts for these guys! (Bad Scrupt for Izzy and Covered by Your Grace for Jake)

Would you want me to go ahead and upload what I have written now? I'm still not sure if I'm going to continue this story. Depends on whether or not people actually like it.

Soooo I may have been preoccupied this evening by an idea I had. Let's see... how can I describe it without giving it away... basically, a man falls in love with a beautiful woman who always seems to be nearby when someone is severely injured or in danger. He tries to find out who she is but the process is hella dangerous.

Would you want to read that?

Comment please! Love ya!!