All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
Loving You part 2
Grunting, I heaved my backpack over my shoulder and tucked a few stray hairs behind my ears. On my way out the door I checked my outfit in the hall mirror. It was the first day of 12th grade and I was very nervous. I tugged on the hem of my red, skull and crossbones shirt making sure it fit perfectly over my black skinny jeans. I had to squat down to make sure all the strands of my dark brown hair were neat and my red streaks were even.
“Perfect,” I sighed, satisfied. I walked out the door and headed to school.
Luckily, Hayview High School was only a few blocks away. In five minutes I was trudging into homeroom. I smiled briefly at my friend Isabella as I slid into the seat beside her.
“Hey Ash.” She grinned at me; I grimaced back in her direction. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I replied grimly. Iz was about to ask again but the door opened, causing me to look up. A boy strode in, put a paper on the teacher’s desk and then turned around. Iz let out a low whistle and I rolled my eyes. Only then did I catch the color of his eyes. He looked vaguely familiar. His eyes were an electric blue; his hair, though, was a light brown with blonde streaks in it. He was tall and had a lanky build. The corners of his mouth hitched up in a crooked smile and my heart fluttered. My mind scrambled, trying to remember how to smile. It was too late. He had turned away and was heading to a desk in the back.
“Ash, are you okay?” Iz leaned towards me with a knowing smile plastered to her face. I turned slowly, or you could say robotically.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I answered; even my voice sounded like a robot. The bell rang and I sighed; it was time for Spanish. I grabbed my stuff and started to shuffle down the hall. I kept my head down, avoiding the glares of my classmates; I wasn’t well liked around here. All of a sudden there was a pair of shoes walking in sync with mine.
“Hey,” the voice said. I kept my head down as I answered,
“Hi.” My voice was high and squeaky, which is really unlike me.
“I’m Ashton.” This time I looked up, surprise and recognition in my blazing brown eyes. “What?”
“Are you kidding me?” I asked. Ashton shook his head; he was confused by my question. “My name is Ashton too.”
“Awesome.” His southern accent drawled out the words. I refrained from laughing at his “cool” guy act. I straightened up; I was now four inches taller than him. His eyes widened in surprise as he looked up at me. “Whoa…How tall are you?”
“6 feet and an inch,” I said proudly. We had reached the Spanish class. “Are you going here too?” I tried to hide the joy in my voice. I guess it didn’t work because Ashton laughed. I committed it to my mind. It was a low and happy sound.
“Yeah, do you wanna sit by each other?” He fiddled with the zipper on his jacket. I smiled and nodded eagerly. He laughed again and gestured for me to go ahead of him. I led the way, sitting in the back. He followed silently; I almost forgot he was there. A few students rushed into class as the tardy bell rang. I leaned towards Ashton.
“Oh, and call me Ash,” I said. He smiled and nodded slightly.
“Buenos Dias senores y senoritas.” Our Spanish teacher, Senora Ortega, clapped her hands together. “¿Cómo fue su vacaciones de verano?” She looked at us expectantly. Ashton turned to me just as I was turning to him. Confusion masked our faces. This was going to take a while.
“That was torture,” Ashton moaned as we stepped out of the school doors. We had just come from Calculus. He had every class with me except art. For some reason I didn’t think that was weird. I giggled in response to his comment.
“No duh. It was the first day of school,” I pointed out.
“I will see you later.” I waved as I turned to go back into school.
“Where the heck are you going? That is school,” he announced holding onto my wrist. I laughed again.
“I’m trying out for the school play,” I teased pulling free.
“Oh, what play is it?”
“Beauty and the Beast; the tryouts are today. Oh crap, I’m late. I have to go! Bye,” I called out as I ran off. I could’ve sworn I heard him say something else but I was already out of hearing distance.
I slid into a seat in the theater, watching the other “Beauties” try out. Some of them were good but a lot were absolutely horrible. Finally it was my turn. Breathe, I told myself as my wobbly legs carried me up the steps to the stage. I had to perform one of the singing parts.
“Go on Ash,” my English teacher, Mrs. Black, said smiling. I was one of her favorite students.
“Okay,” I whispered. I took in a deep breath and began to sing. My voice was loud but I knew I had good vocals. When I ended Mrs. Black rose and applauded. A few others did too and I caught a glimpse of someone in the distance. Iz stood up in the back whistling and clapping. I curtsied once again and hurried off the stage. Iz was right by my side when I got off. She gave me a hug and whispered good job in my ear.
“I will post the cast tomorrow morning,” Mrs. Black said and winked at me. I grinned (probably more than I ever had) and skipped out of the enormous room.
Once home I climbed the stairs to my room. When I turned 17, my parents thought I should have my own room away from my younger brother. They rebuilt the garage, which they never used, into my own little house. I had a kitchen, living room and everything an apartment would have. It also had an upstairs, which held my room and studio.
I opened the door to my room and smiled again. I had designed it to my liking just a few days ago. Posters of my favorite bands (Green Day, Coldplay, and Guns and Roses) hung on the walls and ceiling, my canopy bed was pushed into the corner, my walk-in closet was overflowing into my dresser, my TV sat in another corner right by my bookcase full of DVD’s, books, and video games, and I had a couple of neon beanbags sitting around. The walls were a dark gray and my name was in blood red along one of the walls.
I jumped onto my bed and turned on my stereo. Rock music flooded my room and I closed my eyes, content with the serenity around me. A knock on the door pushed me from my sudden trance. I hopped downstairs and opened the door. One lone rose sat on the door step with a note attached. I bent down and picked it up studying the handwriting on the card. It was in small messy lettering; I didn’t know who it was. Shutting the door behind me I sat the beautiful flower down on my kitchen counter (I didn’t have a table; I liked to eat on the couch.) and read the note.
You got the part. Congrats. See you at rehearsal.
My eyes skimmed over the note again. How did he know I got the part? Wait…, I got the part! I screamed, overjoyed and ran to my parent’s house.
“I got the part!” I exclaimed as I entered the living room. My mom, a small woman with light brown hair and blue eyes, stood up and embraced me in what could only be a mother’s love.
“That’s fantastic honey,” she answered. My dad rose to stand beside her. My father was a tall man of 6’3”, and had black hair with brown eyes.
“Good job Ash,” he said; his voice was very deep compared to my mother’s.
“Yeah, this is the first good thing that she has done at all,” an annoying, squeaky voice popped up beside me.
“At least my voice is normal,” I shot back turning to my brother. Aaron is 13 ¾ and his voice was beginning to change. Sometimes it would be very deep and other times it would be high and squeaky, like now for instance. Aaron glared at me before turning back to his homework. His middle school had started a week earlier than me.
After a quick goodbye I went back to my “house” to cook some dinner. Usually dinner consisted of me eating a Kid’s Cuisine, a glass of milk, and watching reruns of “That 70’s Show”. But tonight was special so I made some fettuccine with vegetables on the side. I decided to watch one of the many movies crammed onto the shelf beside the TV.
Sighing (dinner was great); I sank into my bed drowning in my fluffy comforter. Just as my mind was entering the fuzzy stage of dreamland a soft knock on my window caused me to wake up. I stumbled to the window and threw it open. It was cold. I shivered, looking into the darkness.
“Move,” a harsh voice whispered. I moved to the side and listened as someone grunted. There was a low thud in my room by my bed. She stood up grinning at her feat.
“Iz, what are you doing here?” I scowled in her direction. She laughed silently, shaking the house around us.
“We have to go see Rob,” she said our leader’s name proudly. I frowned once more.
“He can’t be your boyfriend while you are on duty, Iz,” I said undressing in haste.
“I know, but he is my boyfriend when I’m not on duty.” She leered at me after throwing her shirt in a corner. I laughed, not amused. “Come on.”
“Fine.” Sighing I leaped out of the window behind her. I shivered again, only this time I wasn’t cold.
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 2 comments.
8 articles 1 photo 161 comments
im the author of my life, unfortunately im writing in pen therefore i can't erase nothing about it.-by some crazy friend of mine
0 articles 0 photos 56 comments
"Like a bird with broken wings its not how high he flies but the song he sings"
"Everybody live like its the last day you will ever see tell me tell me do you feel the pressure now?"