Clari Morgan sits in the second row, third seat from the window where the morning sun hits her hair just right. She knows it. She knows how the boys glance at her, how the girls envy her but still want to be her friend. She knows her lip gloss is perfect, her nails are black, her skirt makes her look cute.
She laughs at the right jokes, passes notes she'll never get caught with, and when the teacher calls on her, her answer is always right . She does not look like a bookworm but somehow she is. Everyone wonder she is always right, she never loses battle, war or a discussion. No one can beat her....literally no one dares to mess up with her.
Outside, Clari is flawless. Inside? She's staring at the back row at Jamie Reyes (Her secret crush) .
He's sitting half-turned to the window, sunlight caught in his messy dark hair. He's sketching something in his notebook instead of taking notes. He does that every day, but only Clari knows. She's memorized the way he holds his pencil, how he taps the eraser against his desk when he's thinking. She wonders what he's drawing today. She wonders if he's ever looked at her the way she looks at him when nobody's watching.
When the bell rings, her friends flock to her desk giggling, gossiping about the weekend, about who's dating who, about whose birthday party is next. Clari smiles and nods in all the right places, her eyes flicking to Jamie, who's already slipping out the door, headphones on, lost in a world she wishes she could step into.
---
That night, Clari locks her bedroom door. She pulls out her dairy a soft pink leather notebook she hides under her sweaters in her top drawer. She flips past pages and pages of secrets nobody would ever believe the "perfect" Clari writes.
She picks up her pen and writes:
Today he was drawing again. I wish I was brave enough to ask him what it is. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow I'll say hi. Maybe tomorrow he'll look at me and see the real me. Maybe tomorrow he'll know I'm crushing so hard it hurts.
She dots her 'i's with little hearts. Closes the book. Hugs it to her chest. Dreams about him — again.
Tomorrow. She'll talk to him tomorrow.