His Crazy Luna

Cassie

"I'm leaving," I said on the phone as I scanned the books in the bookstore.

"Please, pretty please," Mel pleaded on the other side of the line. I’ve been friends with Mel Davis ever since I got into university. I have a soft spot for her and she definitely knows it.

"I've been waiting here for an hour!" I said trying to sound as angry as I could. I hate people who are late but what I hate the most is when they don't show up after they kept me waiting.

"I'm so sorry. I’m really sorry. Please forgive me," she said apologetically, she sounded like a scared little bunny. I let out a small laugh. Huge mistake. I just gave her an opening to continue to persuade me to stay.

"Come on, you shouldn't let our efforts go to waste. Just get the fan sign and get out of there, okay?" she said, finally sensing victory.

Aish, that brat! Our? I'm the only one doing the dirty work in here! And why would I even care to get a fan sign from a band I don't even know of? A rock band at that! All they ever do is make some noise and scream their lungs out.

On the contrary, she's actually right. I've already wasted enough of my time waiting. Plus, I'm the kind of person who always gets what I came for. Even when I don't really want it. I could hold the autographs as hostages so that I could make her do my bidding.

"Alright, I'm doing these because I'm such a great friend," I said and I could imagine her jumping up and down on her short legs.

Well, Mel's got weird taste in music. I thought as I walked out and proceeded towards the event center. It was packed, as expected, mostly by girls. Typical. I would have made a rude remark. But remembering where I am, I would have died on the spot.

NICHE SYNDROME

Meet & Greet

Fan signing Event

I looked around me and instantly felt out of place. Everyone was wearing Niche Syndrome shirts, Niche Syndrome ballers, and Niche Syndrome string bags, anything that has Niche Syndrome printed on it. Thank goodness I don't really care. I don't even know if my clothes are coordinated, I simply put on the first thing I get my hands on.

I waited for my turn, which was hardly necessary since I was last in line. They were only giving two minutes per band member per fan. I wonder what's taking them so long. It took me two hours before I even got close, and that whole time I began regretting my decision. But since I'm a stubborn girl, I didn't dare leave even though my patience is running out.

When it was my turn, I realized I didn't have an album or any merchandise for them to sign. And I don't really like the idea of them signing my shirt or any belonging of mine. I took out my journal instead. At least I could just rip the pages out later. I don’t know if Mel will be thrilled about it though. I’ll bet she’ll want to frame them or something. But this will do.

I finally took the treasured autographs with a picture of their owners. To be honest, I don't even know their names. I just barely smiled and shook hands with them. All except one, they said the guitarist felt sick all of the sudden and had to leave. They gave me one of his picks instead. I wonder how much I could sell this online.

This day is just so tiring, I thought as I walked out of the mall. I'm hungry, too. I turned to see if any of the stalls are still open. They're not. I sighed. I want to go home.

And just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, I bumped into someone, causing me to topple off. I mean literally fall on my ass on the cold hard ground. That's it! Nobody messes with me when I'm tired and hungry!

"What the hell is wrong with you!?" I yelled from the top of my lungs. I never had an outburst like this before. I don't know what suddenly ticked me off.

"I'm sorry," the guy said, reaching out his hand to me. I was tempted to accept it, but my pride wouldn't let me.

"No, thanks," I said slapping his hand away which was totally immature of me.

"Look, Miss. You were the one who bumped into me," he said, offended.

"Oh yeah, then you should have avoided me if you saw me coming," I pointed out.

The guy was tall, which was probably why it felt like I hit a wall. He had red-dyed noodle hair and an angry look in his otherwise straight face.

"I said sorry, okay? Why don't you just apologize?" he said, not backing down.

"Whatever," I said. I don't really have the energy to do this, so I walked away.

"Hey," he called out but I didn't look back.

And just when I thought the day couldn't get any worse.

I just remembered.

I forgot my journal.

*

Matthew

"Hey, are you okay?" Landon asked when I got back to the event.

A while ago, I felt sick. Our manager told me to go back first and I almost did. But I felt sorry for our fans still waiting so I went to the pharmacy instead. Sadly, the last one has just left when I returned. They told me they gave her one of my favorite picks instead.

"Yeah, I'm good," I said. "Just kind of got into a fight." I said, matter of fact.

"Was it a girl?" he asked, grinning sheepishly.

"Uh, yes," I said. I think I know where this conversation is heading.

"I'll bet she's pretty, too. Or else you wouldn't pick a fight with her," Landon said. This guy knows me very well.

Come to think of it, she's actually pretty cute. Well, considering she was angry at that time. All I could remember is frizzy hair and big brown eyes. How could I forget when she was dead set on glaring at me. Her voice was loud and somewhat high. I wonder how such thing could fit into a small body. She looked young, so she was probably still in high school.

"Hey, lover boy! Let's go!" Landon shouted as the team finished packing and was ready to go.

I got into the van where everyone was waiting. Not everyone, though. Kasey has already fallen asleep at the back. Landon was sitting cross-legged and playing with his I pad. I didn't want to bother Clark since he was probably tired too so I decided to listen to music instead. I rummaged into my bag, looking for my earphones, when an unfamiliar notebook fell.

I picked the notebook up, it was the one that that ill-tempered child left behind. I guess she dropped it when I bumped into her. She was too mad that she actually forgot about the whole thing. Now, what am I supposed to do with this?

I debated with myself the whole ride. I wouldn't want to open it, supposed the content is something private. From the looks of it, it's probably a journal of some sort. Girls like keeping that kind of stuff. That would be the right thing to do. But what if it's something important? Then I should probably give it back right away. Besides, I wouldn't know how to return it without opening it. There might be some information written inside.

In the end, I decided to open it. I flipped into the pages first, just in case it really is a diary. When I reached the last few pages, something caught my eye. I recognized Landon, Clark and Kasey's signature.

So, she was a fan? But how come she didn't recognize me if she was? Or did she purposely bump into me and pretend to get mad? But why would she leave the notebook behind? This is driving me crazy. Fans could be really creative at times but she didn't look like one. That or she was really good at acting.

"Matthew, what's the problem? You look constipated," Clark asked. I totally forgot he was sitting right beside me.

"One of the girls from the fan signing event dropped this," I said showing him the autographs.

"Oh? I think I remember. She's the only one who didn't bring a single merchandise to sign, most people bring albums and tons of stuff. She's really polite, too. Just asked for a picture and left ,most girls makes small talk and refuses to leave."

"I see," I said. Maybe I was overthinking.

"It's such a shame. She waited a really long time for it," Clark added.

"We should probably give it back, right?" I asked for affirmation.

"We could ask someone if there's an address or contact number," Clark said.

I nodded and flipped through the pages again. It wasn't a journal, after all, it was a sketchbook. As someone who draws, I could say she's pretty good. There wasn't much in it. Most of her drawings were just pencil sketches. They say a picture is worth a thousand words. I don't know but her drawings made me feel sad.

Without thinking, I took out my pen and started drawing on the next page. I hope she wouldn't mind. This is just a gift from one artist to another. The ride to the hotel was long. I also signed next to the other's signatures along with a simple note.

I really hope this notebook gets back to her.

Cassiopeia.