The Notebook - Rebecca

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So, I don't really know where I'm going with this yet. I had a dream one night and decided to write it down. Here is the beginning! Rip it to shreds!
~Pshhxhoney

Rebecca


He rarely touched me. He wasn’t one for touching. He was quiet, his eyes told everything. His eyes were the Bible for his life. He knew when to get tough, and when to be sensitive. He saw the world in such complexity.
He never took notes during class, nor did he even pay attention. He wrote in his notebook all the time. He wrote whatever was on his mind. That’s how I met him, his notebook. His notebook is what brought us together.
It was my first day as a freshman. I had gotten into Advanced Placement classes. I was the only freshmen there; everyone else was in tenth grade. I walked to the back of the room, heading for a desk in the back row. With a slight hit of my backpack, his notebook fell onto the floor. He looked at me with a nonchalant expression. I simply bent down, picked up his notebook, gave it to him and smiled. He kept looking at me with the same face. I just told him, “Why don’t you take a picture? It lasts longer.”
That’s when he smiled. It wasn’t a regular smile. It was a slight rise of the left side of his lip. Then he said, “Nope, I’d rather not. I don’t like to take pictures of things I could care less about.” I turned around and took my seat in the desk next to him.
“I’m taking attendance. Just say ‘Here’.” The teacher said, sounding bored. He called out a couple of names, until he got to his.
“Gideon Mays?”
“Here.” The boy, whose notebook I’d knocked down, said.
“Rebecca Mace?”
“Here.” I said. He laughed when I answered, but when I looked at him he had his head in his notebook.
“We aren’t taking notes yet.” I said to Gideon.
“Yeah, I know. I writing something else, idiot.” He replied, not stopping his writing in his notebook.
At the end of the second day of class, he handed me his notebook and walked away. I read it that night. I wrote in my notebook that night after I read it, and gave it to him the next day. That’s when it all started. That’s when my life changed.
"I'm yet happy and sad at the same time and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be." -Stephen Chbosky



When we are children we seldom think of the future. This innocence leaves us free to enjoy ourselves as few adults can. The day we fret about the future is the day we leave our childhood behind.
— Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind