Later that same day, I couldn't pay attention in class. Which wasn't new, actually, but I was distracted by Quinn. She wasn't in class, but I still couldn't stop thinking of her. Why was she in my sketchbook? And more importantly, how did she know what I was thinking?

I wondered if I had drawn her previously, other than the one drawing I saw in my current sketchbook.

That thought floated through my mind the entire day, clouding my mind with possible outcomes and what I'd do if those outcomes were to be true.

If me drawing her was just a one time thing, then it would be a total coincidence and I wouldn't need to ever bring it up to her,though it would probably haunt me for a couple years, the memory coming up ever so often and distracting me.

If I actually had drawn her many or multiple times... what would I do then? Would I tell her? No, that'd definitely come across as creepy. Would I never bring it up, ever, and have it stuck in the back of my mind, lose sleep over conspiracy theories about myself and Quinn? Would I tell someone else? They'd think I'm crazy, surely. 'Miri, you feeling okay? Why have you been obsessing with this random girl? Do I need to call you a therapist?'.

The day dragged on way too long. In fact, I don't remember anything about what I 'learned'. Probably something useless, like geometry. (Hey, reader, no offense if you like geometry or something, but come on.)

I took the bus, hopping up the little steps and sitting at the middle of the bus.

If you sat at the front of the bus, say goodbye to any chance of having friends. The front was where the 'nerds' and 'losers' sat. And though I still consider myself a nerd and a loser, I wanted to keep what few friends I had.

On the other hand, if you sat at the back of the bus, you were one of the more extroverted and popular kids, which obviously wasn't me. The 'cool' time to get to school was late, but not late-late, just fashionably late, which was maybe 15 minutes before class started. Definitely not me. The 'cool' thing was to post constant selfies with dog filters on Instagram, while I barely posted my own drawings. Now, I could go on about how not cool I am, but I'm trying to keep this book at a thousand page maximum.

At my stop, I ran to my house, which was only a block away. Strands of my blonde hair escaped their loose bun, trailing behind me.

I opened the small gate to my house and walked into my backyard. I came into the house from the back door, and quickly took of my backpack and shoes, trading them in for slippers.

I grabbed my sketchbook and art supplies from my backpack and stepped up the stairs to my room.

My room was roughly the size of a prison cell, which made it a real struggle to fit all my art supplies in there. In fact, I'd say half of my room was taken up by shelves filled with sketchbooks, paints, markers, pens, pencils, and most of all, books.

Yes, books. Strangely, it seems a lot of people my age hate books with a burning passion. I, for one, love them and will never understand the people who hate them. Actually my love for books is probably why I'm writing one instead of doing something easier, like recording a 10 minute video to post to YouTube, but I'd have to cut out details like this, and wouldn't that just be tragic?

Anyways, I dug through piles of my sketchbooks, trying to find any traces of Quinn. I found some really old and cringeworthy drawings in some of my older sketchbooks that I'd have to remember to throw out later, and a couple sketches that I might've wanted to redraw, but I didn't find anything resembling Quinn.

Until I found it. It was a pretty old sketchbook, I estimated it was around 2 years old just based the on the anatomy errors and weird style.

Other than that, it was definitely Quinn. Beside her was my awful handwriting. It said, 'OC, Quinn Graceland ; more info on other page'. I checked, but I couldn't find any 'other page' with supposed info on Quinn 'Graceland'.

I was pretty disappointed that all I found was her last name, and even then, Graceland probably wasn't even her last name. I reread the writing next to her.

OC. I'd definitely heard that before. I was pretty sure it was an acronym for something, something that people in the art community typically use. Maybe it could help me figure out more about Quinn and her weird behaviour.

I went onto Urban Dictionary (ah yes, the pinnacle of knowledge) on my Ipod (apparently phones are too expensive for my mom) and looked it up. After sifting through a couple weird definitions, I chose to believe the most probable one, Original Character.

So, if I wrote 'OC, Quinn Graceland', Quinn was an Original Character. Which meant.. Quinn wasn't a real person.