stashhjonas's video: Fireflies 1

[Six years ago.] Annie Rameau clutched the transcripts with her trembling hands. She wondered if she looked overdressed for her new day at Wilmer High School, what with her ringlet curls and her light summer dress. Yet, with a heavy bag full of new notebooks, she felt intimidated in the presence of all the familiar, yet unknown, students at Wilmer High. Most girls were giggling and gawking at one another, hugging and gossiping while sharing lip-gloss and eyeliner. Most boys—those she presumed to be the "jocks" of Wilmer High—were detailing each summer tale of the girls they scored. Nevertheless, Annie Rameau felt like an outcast. She had a map of Wilmer High School, one that was mailed to her brand new home just two weeks before, but it was useless. She tucked it into her rucksack, tying her hair into a ponytail. The curls were loose and cascaded past her tanned shoulders. The school was not air conditioned, like her last school had been, and her neck was beginning to perspire from the nerves circulating her blood. Finally, she found an office labeled "ADMINISTRATION". She curled her hands around the weak knob, the door squeaky as she entered. There, her eyes fell to a gray-haired, wrinkly lady that looked less than pleased to be back at school. They exchanged a few words and then the woman handed Annie her newly printed schedule. "If you feel overwhelmed or lost," the lady said with a nasally voice, "just show them your late pass. They know they're expecting a new student, but you never now. Have a wonderful senior year at Wilmer High School, Miss Rameau." She gave her a careless grimace and moved onto the next student; Annie observed the girl to tell she was one of the superficial, vain cheerleaders who loathed the fact that she didn't have the exact schedule as her best friend. Annie had a first period free, and she took this as her opportunity to walk the school grounds and see what Wilmer High had to offer. It was a small school in Ansonia, Connecticut, with one elementary school and a junior high that were much smaller than the high school. It was a small town where everyone talked and everyone knew each others' business. Annie figured that her new neighbors, the McKinnons, had already informed the others of Annie and her family. The moment she pushed the gymnasium doors opened, a gushing cool breeze breathed into her face, relaxing the tight nerves in her muscles. She passed by the senior parking lot, where several students playing hooky were kissing their respective partners; where others were running into school late after grabbing Starbucks with their friends. Each person she passed looked at her with a strange curiosity; with raised brows and an unidentified smirk curling on the person's lips. Annie had no idea where she was going, but her feet led her to the direction of the football field and the shining bleachers. The football team, she assumed, had morning practices, and the coach was hollering commands for his athletes to oblige. She took a seat, the September breeze blowing softly like a baby's lullaby against her bare shoulders. Then, she reached for a fresh notebook and began to draw the first football player her eyes fell on. He was very tall, with slightly tan skin and slightly muscled biceps. He was very lean, not bulky or robust like the others, but she couldn't catch a glimpse of his face for the helmet was blocking her view. She spotted a number 10 on the back, along with block letters that spelt J. DUDEUX across his shoulders. The coach then blew his whistle as Number 10 took off his helmet. He had a buzzed haircut, brown hair; his eyes were a caramelized brown and, when the sun casted a glow against them, created golden specks of honey in his ecru marbles. He had soft features, nothing to drastic, but everything to gawk over. Annie realized her mouth was hanging open and, when Number 10 and his teammates came over to the bleachers to grab their backpacks, she cleared her throat and scooted her belongings closer to her feet. Number 10 didn't look at her, but she caught Number 45, A. BAXTER, call out from the other side: "Hey, Jimmy! I see you've already got admirers!" The teammates whistled and hooted at Annie and, slightly offended, she grabbed her things and began to go; she had twenty minutes left of first period and she was going to use that time wisely to find her A.P. Biology class. But before she left, she looked over her shoulder to see Number 10, Jimmy Dudeux, grinning at her.