First HSM fanfic! Hope it's good!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

I bumped into him hard and all my books fell to the ground. I fell, too. Everybody paused and looked at me, and I hated every minute of it.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't see you there, it was an accident." Said the dreamiest boy ever. He had dark hair, tan skin, and deep brown eyes.

That moment, when I hit the ground and he extended his hand to me, that moment could have been the perfect romantic moment. If I had blushed prettily and stammered a shy sorry, I could've been living a romantic dream.

I could have, but not quite.

Instead I snapped sarcastically back, "No kidding captain obvious. I just assumed you did it on purpose. Yeah, I never would've guessed it was an accident." I shook my head up at him and rejected the hand he had extended to me with a swat of my hand.

And that was the abrupt and rude end of the moment.

The boy looked at me angrily, then walked off. I internally sighed as I realized how I had just missed my chance with him, in fact I practically spit in his face. Too late now, though, he was gone and I was left here in the middle of a busy hallway with my books spread far and wide.

So much for a great first day. I felt frustrated tears begin spilling over my eyelids. Great, just great, as if my situation could get any worse and now I was about to cry in front of everyone. I angrily swiped the tears away and ignored the stares that followed me as I scrambled on the floor trying to pick up all my stuff before somebody stepped on something.

In my frenzy to pick up everything it's surprising that I looked up just in time to see a hand reach down to grab one of my binders.

"Hey! That's mine, give it back! It's mine!" I yelled at whoever was grabbing it.

It was a boy with sandy-blonde hair, pretty blue eyes, and lightly tanned skin, he didn't seem the least upset by my yelling, instead he walked over and gave me my binder, saying softly, "Let me help you with that."

And he did help me, collecting all my stuff in a neat pile. Before I had a chance to register what just happened, he helped me get up, handed me my pile of books, and flashed a handsome smile my way.

"There you go." he said adding the last pen on top of my pile.

Now, the correct response from me would've been thank you, but instead I said, "What ever. You could've told me you were helping me, otherwise I wouldn't have yelled at you like that. Everybody looked at me like I was weird because of that." I complained to him when I should've been thanking him.

He shrugged and replied, "Sorry, you're right, I should've warned you."

I nodded my bitter approval at his apology and stalked away, mustering up as much pride as I could, which, at that moment, wasn't much.

When school was finally over, I was stressed and exhausted. As soon as I got in my mom's car she asked how my day was. I simply groaned a response. She didn't question me further, and I didn't tell her more.

When we got home I went straight to my bedroom and laid down on my bed face-down. I wanted to cry, to sob, to scream, to do something that would let out all this pent up anger and frustration inside me. This was the first big move in my life and I didn't like it. I was shy by nature and didn't do so well in the whole friend making process, so you can imagine the horror I felt when I found out we (that is, just me and my mom, I have no siblings) would be moving. Moving away from my friends, my family, my school, my old home.

My old home. The memories it held, that house was the hardest to let go. I felt like I was leaving a piece of me behind. In that house were the memories of my father, before he passed away, at least.

Tears blurred my vision yet again, as I remembered the strong, passionate man who was my father. He died when I was only 10, 5 years ago, and I had never been able to accept the fact that he was gone. I didn't want to accept he was gone, I wanted to try and hold on to him for as long as I could. that house was like a way to hold on to him, and that's why it felt impossible to let it go, to let my father go.

My mother, on the other hand, spent all her time trying to forget my father. She actually wanted to let him go. She told me that the reason we moved was because she could get a great job opportunity here, but I knew that it was really so that she could get away from it all, all the memories, all the reminders, everything and anything having to do with my father.

Of course I told her we couldn't move, I begged her not to, I even demanded that we don't, but she over ruled me and now we were here. I haven't really said anything to her since, all I would tell her anyways is that I hate this place and that I hate her for making us move here.

"Gabriella! Dinner time!" My mother's voice carried up the stairs.

I slid off my bed and shoved my brown wavy hair out of my face and stumbled down the stairs. I entered the small dining room and saw that, once again, pizza would be served for dinner. I sat down in a seat as far away from my mother as possible and ate.

"Ella," She said using the nickname my father used to use, "I'm sorry about the move. I'm sure things will be better once we get settled in. I know you miss your friends back home, but we, well really I, needed to get away. We can't dwell in the past forever. You'll make new friends here. It won't be so bad."

"I guess you're right on that part," I replied, "It won't be so bad." Her face brightened, "It will be worse."

My mom's face turned red and she burst out, " I have had enough of you blaming me for everything, I'm only trying to help! I can't help that your father's dead, it's not my fault! He is dead, though, so get used to it. He's never coming back! NEVER! We live here now, this is our new start! I'm trying to do what's best for both of us! Your father is gone, staying in our old house won't make it easier to let go, but you can't hold on either! YOUR FATHER IS GONE!"

I stared at her, horrified. When she said it out loud, she forced me to accept the fact that I had lost my father forever. It suddenly became a reality, and I didn't know how to reverse it. I ran out of the dining room and sprinted up the stairs into my bedroom. I slammed the door and locked it, then collapsed onto my bed. My mom beat on the door for a while, then gave up after I continued to ignore her. Then, I cried myself to sleep and woke up with tear stains on my face early the next morning. i sat in my bed just staring, lost in dark thoughts.

My dad was gone, and he would never come back. My mother told me so. Her words made what I had been trying to deny true. He was never coming back, I would never be held by my father again. I felt alone, abandoned, and the world felt so dark around me. It was overwhelming, I was being crushed under life's heavy burdens. Who cared about friends or grades, or even about moving. My mother just confirmed my worst nightmare. I knew it was true all along, but now I could no longer pretend.

My dad was dead, gone from me forever.