Wheadee wrote:This story's written in two points of view, this is the first person.
VIVIAN
We stood up on the balcony watching the mess that we had created. There was a brawl happening before us, a brawl of our doing. We were pleased with our work as we watched students attacking each other savagely. The idiots, we laughed together.
“Still bored?” Evan Cartier, also known as my better half, turned to me. His eyes showed nothing but his intense boredom. It wasn’t a surprise; everyone was bored in our small town of Charleston, Georgia. You use bored a lot in this part. Try something else, like tedious.
I looked at Evan’s face and studied him. He looked as if he were going to die of boredom. I wasn’t surprised of his opinion of Stacy Williams, one of his many conquests. After Evan was done with a girl his opinion of her was shot to hell. Girls were missions to him: Get. Screw. Ditch. Complete. It wasn’t a wonder why so many girls fell for his lies and charm. Evan Cartier was a very attractive Black seventeen-year-old boy. You don't need a capital here for black. His smooth and sexy chocolate skin was so appealing. His nice luscious lips were often saying sweet and seductive things to his marks. And to make things even more sexy about him, Evan liked to dress nice. No saggy, baggy, oversized jeans and t-shirts for him, he often wore crisp suits, sweaters, sweater vests, anything to make him look professional he wore. Evan was also well put together as he worked out everyday at five. It didn’t hurt that he had a face to fight over. Many girls did actually fight over him. To me, he was just Evan, my stepbrother.
We were both seven when my father, Bruce Cohen, married his mother, don't you mean our mother, not his motherNora Cartier (that’s Car-tee-a). We all moved into this huge house and lived like some version of the Brady Bunch minus four kids and the peculiar White maid. I like this about the Brady Bunch!
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We stood up on the balcony watching the mess that we created. There was a brawl happening before us, a brawl of our doing. We were pleased with our work as we watched students attacking each other savagely. The idiots, we laughed together.
“Still bored?” Evan Cartier, also known as my better half, turned to me. His eyes showed nothing but his intense boredom.
How long do you think before Kurt, our resident dumb basketball star, figures out his beloved Stacy didn’t cheat on him with his best friend?”
I looked at Evan’s face and studied him. He looked as if he were going to die of boredom.
His smooth and sexy chocolate skin was so appealing. His nice luscious lips were often saying sweet and seductive things to his marks. And to make things even more sexy
To me, he was just Evan, my stepbrother.
I shot him a mean glare; he knew how much I hated to be called sister by him. We flirted all the time, so trying to pretend that we were brother and sister was total bullshit.