• When I walked into school that Monday, Amber was waiting for me at my locker. Jumping up and down. Grinning too widely. I knew it. I knew what was coming.

    “HE ASKED ME OUT!” She hollered. I swore people could hear her a mile away. I felt a little piece of my heart break.

    “Who?” I asked, pretending to be stupid. I was not stupid.

    “Nick, silly!” She replied with a giggle.

    “Oh. Oh! That's so great!” I lied. I added a fake smile to make it believable.

    “I know!” She said. And then the bell rang. “Okay, see you at lunch!” I nodded, and took off toward homeroom.

    Mr. Kine was sitting on top of his desk, with his legs crossed, eating cereal and reading the newspaper. I shivered. It was beyond creepy, and I would definitely never eat Frosted Flakes again. I was scarred for life.

    After realizing how strange I looked staring, I took my seat. And Nick sat down right next to me, with a big old smirk on his face. “I saw you at Amber's the other day,” he bragged. Being famous, he was very good at bragging. I rolled my eyes.

    “And why do I care?” I replied with attitude and annoyance.

    “Come on, you were staring at me! Just admit it- you like me!” That was it. He'd gone way too far.

    “Excuse me?” I whooped. “Who the hell do you think you are? Oh, right, being a Jonas Brother lets you do anything you want! Well, you are not about to walk all over me! You are a stuck-up jerk and you can't handle it when there's somebody who doesn't love you. Well, here's a new concept: I hate you!”

    And then I stormed out of the room and down to the office. I couldn't stand that a*****e. He just had to ask out my best friend when it was pretty damn obvious that I liked him.

    I ended up sitting in the principal's office while she called Mr. Kine. It was cold and pale white and very uncomfortable.

    “Chris? Yes, it's Jeanne.” Two first names learned in two seconds. Wow.

    “Yes, I have a Cheyenne Hale here.”

    “She stormed out of your classroom after exploding at another student? A Jonas? Oh my. Oh my.”

    “Yes, a week in detention should work. Thank you,” she finished.

    “Well, Miss Hale, it seems you'll be enduring a week in detention,” she instructed. I nodded ashamedly. “You can stay here until the bell.”

    Just then, a certain enemy's brother walked in. I furrowed my eyebrows and blinked to make sure it was him. “Mr. Jonas!” the principal started, “What can I do for you today?” She was obviously excited to see him. I expected her to ask for his autograph.

    He looked depressed. Seriously down. He must've done something really bad. He hung his head low and handed her his detention slip. “Oh my goodness! Skipping classes? This is quite a change in behavior! What has gotten into you?” He shook his head full of straight, black gorgeous hair.

    “You can stay today, and by tomorrow, if you've learned your lesson, then you won't be getting any more,” she said. Clearly she paid more attention to Jonas's than regular students. He nodded and sat down next to me.

    “Joe? What happened?” I whispered. I was worried about him, even though I didn't know him very well. I'd never really talked to him alone before. But he was still a cool person. Cooler than Nick, even, because he hadn't asked out my best friend.

    He shook his head. He was too ashamed of himself to say anything. “What? Are you not allowed to tell anyone?” He shook his head again. “Can you tell me?” It was a little softer that time, but still a no. “Why not?”

    Nothing. But I was even more curious. It couldn't have been his fault. He wasn't the person to skip classes. He was a good kid. A nice kid. Wait, Joe Jonas? Nice? How could he be nice? He was famous. I associated all celebrities with meanness. Right?

    The bell rang, and I went back to class. Joe followed me. “What did you do to my brother?” He scowled.

    What? What did I do to his brother? What about what his brother did to me? How could he ask me in a tone knowing how much pain I was going through?

    “What are you talking about?” I didn't do anything to his freaking brother!

    He handed me a slip of paper. Sheet music?


    "Don't Speak"

    I thought I was cool
    But I just looked a fool
    For so long
    Now you're gone
    Now you're gone
    Yeah...

    Don't speak to me
    Don't speak to me

    I recall all our fights
    Most of all, all the times
    You would lie in my arms
    Now you're gone
    You're gone
    Yeah

    Don't speak to me
    Don't be my aim

    There's a lot that you don't notice
    When you read between the lines
    The future's out of focus
    When you're blinded by the light
    It's the hope for all the hopeless
    In the worst of trying times
    I resort to being speechless
    Cause our love won't survive
    Yeah
    Our love won't survive
    Don't speak a word

    Don't speak to me
    Don't speak to me

    There's a lot that you don't notice
    When you read between the lines
    The future's out of focus
    When you're blinded by the light
    It's the hope for all the hopeless
    In the worst of trying times
    I resort to being speechless
    Cause our love won't survive


    Who did he think he was? Writing a song for me? About me? Telling me to leave him alone? Telling me that we wouldn't work out together? What the hell?

    Confusedness filled my expression. Joe just shook his head. And ran the opposite direction as I returned to class. Physics. Nick was sitting behind me. Joy.

    Ms. Tener started to tell us all about Newton's Laws. I learned them in eighth grade. I was pretty sure I knew them. I didn't listen very intently. I was thinking more about why Nick Jonas would find need to write a freaking song about me. And why he couldn't just tell me to leave him alone, why he had to write it in a song.

    “Miss Hale! Will daydreaming get you the answer to the questions on the board?” Ms. Tener asked suddenly. She must've noticed. Damn it.

    I didn't say anything, just ripped open my book and got to work. I didn't want any more trouble with the principal. I couldn't focus on it for very long. I found myself sneaking a look back at Nick.

    He looked extra cute that day- his curly hair messier than usual, eyebrows furrowed, and eyes cocked slightly to the side. His mouth formed a curve. He was clearly confused. But very attractive. In his eyes I saw pain, betrayal, sadness, and loneliness. Was he this worked up over me? Amber? Whatever it was, it wasn't Physics.

    In World History, however, he sat next to me. So I had to keep my mind off him and on Mr. Stone, the shortest teacher in the building, with a raspy voice and a long, curly mustache. It sickened me, but I tried to pay attention to what he was saying about the French Revolution. It nearly bored me to death. Literally.

    “Hey,” I said, elbowing Nick's arm he'd put between us, “What'd you get for number four?” We'd been given a worksheet to try to finish by the end of class. There were three minutes left when Stone gave it.

    Nick didn't reply, just slid the opposite direction in his seat. He was obviously not in the mood to talk to me. And it still didn't make any sense, because he'd been the one to ask out my best friend! I was supposed to be angry at him! He was just too damn cute. And very stubborn.

    The bell rang and I regretted being so smart. If I were just a little stupider, I wouldn't have to deal with the adorable Nick Jonas in every one of my classes. “How would you feel if I asked out Joe,” I spat, leaving him to eat my dust. I swaggered out of the room and onto French class.

    French was probably my best subject. I spoke it really well, and I could understand almost any word in French as long as it was spelled and said aloud. I'd even developed a little bit of a French accent. It was the only class where I could goof off and talk funny and get graded on it.

    Nick sat in the opposite end of the room. I was grateful for Mademoiselle Nye's seating arrangements. She wasn't so bad of a teacher as long as I could pay attention. But I was in the back left, so he was in the front right, and Nye was always standing right in the middle. So just as I peeked up to pay attention, Nick's hair came into view through my peripheral vision.

    He didn't talk much. He actually seemed kind of depressed. Maybe that last comment hurt him. Or scared him. Or broke his heart, even. Maybe it gave him the wrong impression. I sighed. Why did I worry so much about what this one boy thought of me? He was just a boy. A stupid, jerky, beautiful, sweet, lovely boy. Oh, god.