DISCLAIMER: I do not own Star vs the Forces of Evil

First of all, I want to thank everyone who reviewed and read my oneshot! I loved reading all your comments and questions…thank you for existing all you wonderful people. To answer the question most repeated, no, unfortunately I don't plan on continuing it. I was just an onesot. Although, I left it open ended in case I get bored and decide to make it into a story. I plan on uploading some more oneshots soon, although I don't know when. Once again, THANK YOU, and HERE is my most recent product of my imagination. Enjoy.

It was Friday, finally.

The atmosphere around school was charged, excited for the weekend festivities. It left most students in a good mood, small smiles plastered to their faces. I was no exception to the contagious buzz, a rare, shadowy smile on my face as I sat hunched over my work. It was second lunch, signifying that I was halfway through my daily hell, and I let out a content sigh against the sound of Green Day blaring from my phone ear buds.

Almost there.

The sketch I was working on was nearly complete, a profile of a strange, grey bird with loose fitting clothes on his body. His beak was curled up in a cruel smile, looking down in evil triumph.

I finish the rest of his feathers in a few long strokes of my pencil.

The sound of a chair scraping the cement floor makes me look up, the small smile disappearing.

No one sits at my table.

I glance up, ready to piece together a string of insults.

But once I caught sight of his messy hair and hoodie, it broke my train of thought. I grit my teeth.

Of course, my subconscious growls, it's him.

Before my eyes sits Marco Diaz, the most popular kid in school, lounging in my chair across my table like some hot-shot. I glare at him and his cocky demeanor, jamming my ear-buds further up my ear canals and going back to my bird. My long hair swings in front of my face, creating a barrier between me and my unwelcome visitor. Maybe if I ignore him long enough, he'll go away.

My pencil scratches furiously across the paper, letting off a not-so-subtle 'go away' vibe. It's bad enough I have to share a roof with him 8 hours of my everyday life, if he could just leave me alone life would be so much better. After a few minutes of this, I hear the chair slowly scoot back. I wait a few seconds before I declare it safe, and peek up from my bird.

Empty; he gave up today.

A grin tugs on my mouth, but I pushed it away before it could escape and let out a relieved sigh instead. I was about to go back to my work, but a small noise to the left of my made me turn. It was Marco, a full grin on his face as he slumps in the chair next to me.

I wanted to scream.

See, Marco is the school's bad boy. He can go anywhere, do anything, and date any girl of his choosing. In a way, he is the supreme king of the school, and the rest of us are his stepping stones. All he cares about is himself, and it's infuriating.

But the most annoying thing about him is he won't leave me alone.

"Why hello princess," he purrs, eyes narrowed suggestively. I turn up the volume on my phone.

He scoots the chair closer to me, putting his elbow on the table and resting his head on his hand.

"Nice weather we have today." He continues to annoy me, tapping my ear-buds when I wouldn't respond.

"What're you listening to?"

I could hear his suave voice through the music.

I take deep, calming breaths. No need to have a murder on my record.

Abruptly, he stole one of my ear-buds, jamming it in his ear and grinning.

"Green Day! Man I love this one."

Growling, I yank on the cord and snatch back my ear-bud. I jam the bud back in my ear, crossing my arms.

After a few songs, I hesitantly take out one ear-bud.

"You like Green Day?" I stiffly ask.

He grins, shooting me a sly wink. "Kind of the best band ever."

I mull that over, taking a few seconds to respond.

"What's your favorite song?" I challenge.

"American Idiot," he shoots back, smug.

He runs a hand through his hair, messing up his already messy do and smirking when it fell just right.

I scowl.

See, this is what I mean. With his mused chocolate hair, matching eyes, and strong jaw, Marco Diaz is easily the best looking guy here. Add his semi-athletic build and messy attire, he has every girl in a 10 mile radius melting into a pile of goo with so much of a glance from him. I wouldn't care if he didn't use it (no one can help the way they look, pretty or not), but not only does he use it, he enjoys using it.

I cross my arms and jerk my head away, glaring without really seeing anything.

It wouldn't be so bad if his looks didn't affect me, then it would be easier to ignore him. Then he would eventually go away and I'd be able to slip back into my comfortable routine of ignoring everyone and getting through high school with the least amount of damage possible. But every time he does something unexpected, gets too close or says something that hits a little too close to home, I can't help the fluttery explosion that takes root in the pit of my stomach. The only thing that keeps me sane is the thought that every girl he tries his moves on probably feels exactly like this, and I'd be damned if I end up as the newest link on the end of a long chain of broken hearts.

I turn up the volume on my phone, inexplicably angry at the direction my thoughts had gone. I sit there, stewing for a few seconds before Marco made himself known again.

A hand waves in front of my face and on impulse I smack it away, turning back to Marco.

"Will you quit it," I hiss, re-crossing my arms over my chest.

Marco seemed unconcerned at the look I was giving him, his stance still relaxed in the plastic chair he was sitting in.

He shrugs, increasing my annoyance with him to dangerous levels.

Because a hospital visit would be bad, I avoid my eyes, looking instead at a whispering table of girls. A tall blonde in pink meets my eyes on accident, and she frowns, eyes flickering from me to Marco.

I look away, a little sick.

"Look," I snap, pinching my fingers together and shoving them close to his face.

"I'm this close to screaming and flipping your ass all over the place."

I shoot him my deadliest glare and wait for the message to sink in.

But instead of reflecting fear, his eyes glint mischievously, catching the light as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Ha, that's funny, because that's what she said."

I don't speak for a few heartbeats, feeling the anger build until I'm shaking.

I need to leave.

I stand, the chair scraping angrily against the cement.

"Fine!" I spit out, snatching my pencil and sketchbook from the table. My long hair swings in front of my face as I push past Marco, leaving my untouched tray on the table. I had almost reached the steps leading out of the lunchroom when a hand caught my arm, sharply tugging me to face the perpetrator.

"I'm sorry."

His eyes are wide, rapidly darting across my face.

My heart skips a beat when I realize he was being sincere.

But before my mind could catch up with my body, my hands were ripping themselves from his grip and shoving against his chest. I probably couldn't have moved him just by pushing him, but he took a step back anyway, expression unreadable. My earlier anger bubbled to the surface. I shove him again.

"Wha-" He starts.

"You know what your problem is?!" I growl, voice low and dangerous.

The part of me that was in control vaguely wondered what I was doing.

I could see the confusion flash across his face as I shoved him again, advancing.

"You're just a conceited little pretty boy who has everything handed to him on a platter. All you care about is yourself! I'm tired of you following me around like a lost puppy; GET A LIFE AND LEAVE MINE ALONE!"

Throughout my rant my voice had risen to a shout, echoing throughout the lunch room. I sharply turn back to the stairs, breathing heavily. I hear someone whisper my name, and automatically I look in the direction it came from.

The table from earlier are staring at me, whispering in hushed voices. The blonde from earlier lets out a hushed giggle before she sees me. Her face morphs into malicious grin.

Ice fills my veins as I silently let my eyes dart from table to table.

Out of the 150 eyes in this lunchroom, every pair of them are trained on me.

Tears sting my eyes as my heart seizes, stuttering and choking inside my chest.

A hand lands on my shoulder and I flinch, recoiling.

"LEAVE ME ALONE," I shriek, my brain registering a flash of Marco's hurt expression before I'm sprinting up the lunchroom steps, disappearing around the corner.

I think I hear a mumbled "whatever" before I'm officially out of the lunch room, sprinting down hallway after hallway.