Young Writers Society

It’s the last day of school.



Sunlight melts from the sky to form puddles on the pavement, shadows softened to becoming almost luminescent themselves. My bulky, weighted backpack reminds me of the forces of gravity, but my heart refuses to cease flight. It’s been flapping its wings all day now. In my opinion this paragraph has too much descriptive language, a little too much. Maybe try to tone it down.

My hopes, honestly, rest on chance. What are the odds? I think back through the year, a year that had sent the clock at a lagging half-pace and left me miserable. There isn’t reason to complain, maybe. It could’ve been worse.

But I realize something. The first day of school had been a lot like today, the last. My stomach did back-flips, my heart pounded and beat with a strange rhythm, and yet for whatever reason I couldn’t veil my smile.

Of course, first day that had ended pretty fast. Someone had bumped into me, and that smile faltered. Beneath a pair of long dark eyelashes, a girl stared me down. The golden letters on her necklace revealed her as Chrissy. “Watch it, bitch,” she glowered, her pair of shocking blue eyes piercing like icy daggers in contrast to her dark-tanned skin. This was my first year of public school, and yet I already knew the infamous type.

“Sorry,” I’d said lamely. For a second, Chrissy opened her mouth to say something else, but all that came out was a disapproving groan. She and her small flock of friends turned away; clearly I wasn’t worth the trouble.

I wish I’d known then what I know now. First, I know that none of them are really actually her friends. They’re just a group. They talk behind each other’s backs, never stand up for each other unless it’s a fight they all want a part of. Second, I know that her enviously beautiful eyes, and perfect tan, are fake. I don’t know why this should make a difference; boys will still look at her the same way, and girls will still envy her the same way. But I won’t.

I shake my head, and I’m back to present-day. June 8th, the last day of school. I smile again. The reference to the past was neatly done.

Thanks to him, though, it not only falters, but disappears. Besides being too shy, having made few friends, and feeling completely stripped of my former self, I am also ugly and unnoticeable. He reminds me of this, without even meaning to.I was a bit confused at this point, whos 'he' ? But also I think you intended to not introduce him first.

Secretly, I think I like him more than I should. I’ve told myself ever since I was little that I would never fall in love. Never marry. Never have kids. Yet until recently I’d never known why. My parents had by now proven to me how chaotic and hopeless love is. How can love be the most powerful thing, if it can tear apart so easily? It seems like yesterday that Mom and Dad were just sitting across from one another at the table, arguing over stupid things like newspaper clippings and grocery lists; it seems like eternity since they laughed it off, though. Of course, I hadn’t known it had all been code for money troubles. I hadn’t known that being sent to bed early was caused by Dad’s drinking on depression days, or that “Have a good day” really meant “Live well, in case this day is your last.” My whole body shivers involuntarily; I’ve learned a lot in a little time. Of course I’d figured out my dad was an alcoholic years ago, and that we weren’t the richest in our neighborhood around the same time. Then I learned that the fact that Mom had me when she was only sixteen was a shame to the family. I learned that I was a little shameful, too. Maybe the reality is that these things were the acquired knowledge of many years, but this year brought out the importance of them. This is a year of learning. Of looking back and realizing all of this. And regretting that I couldn’t allow myself the mistake of falling for somebody.

Things I have learned: Never envy a Chrissy. Never get in parent problems. To love and lose is not better than to never love at all.

I walk to the portable extended from the school take my seat in the science class. In my old seat, I’d been able to see him. It was then when I looked up, feeling his eyes on me, and met his gaze. For whatever reason, we seemed to communicate something mutual; for whatever reason, I shook my head. But I didn’t stop looking. Neither did he.

We hardly talk. It's practically all movement. I stood up, he did. I turned, he did too. But the barrier couldn’t be broken, just couldn’t.

I hate that barrier more than anything, though. When we talk, it's almost too much. Words just don't...happen. As soon as him I can't breathe; talking is virtually impossible.

Now we’ve both given up, I think. We don’t tend to share a long glance anymore. I’m in the front row. Unlike him, I’m not brave enough to look back. I liked it a lot more when he was in his old place, across the room and turning to see me. I don’t have the courage to do the same.

I want to be brave, but I’m not. I’m shy. I’m breakable. I’m aggressive, untrusting, and yet I let everything touch can change me. I can’t help it. I’m as permeable as sand through fingers.

And…the final bell rings. I rush out of class, full-speed, into the raining light that’s pouring down. I think I’m leaving with a lot of regrets, but he’s the biggest. I don't know about you but I was taught never to put 'and' in front a sentence.

I turn, just in time to see him race out the door. He stops when he sees me, just stops. It takes a moment for somebody else to push him through and into the grass. The sunlight glows on his dark brown hair, glints off of his auburn eyes that crackle like a summer fire. This time he’s the first person to pull away from my gaze.

Man, I run.

I’m booking it when I reach the bus, waving to passing friends and avoiding thinking about anything but upcoming freedom and hopefully a little bit of a redeeming chance next year.

Someone jerks my arm just before I get on the bus. Chrissy. “Leave me alone, I don’t want to talk to you!” I turn, and to my surprise it’s him. Why did she think it was Chrissy?

“I thought you were somebody else,” I murmur. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he whispers back. I don’t know why we’re so quiet, it’s a zoo out here.

I think back to Valentine’s day. It’s always been my least-favorite holiday. Paper cards and shallow gifts, romantic movies and love you know you’ll regret later on. The only thing I’d done was cut out a little heart from red construction paper. It was lame. And on it I wrote, “There is only one happiness in life: to love and be loved.” I’m such a hypocrite, always saying that love’s what breaks you. It didn’t matter, since no one ever really saw it anyway.

Well, so I thought. I don’t know how he got it, but he pulls it from his pocket. It’s crumpled up, and I remember that I’d thrown it in the trash can during that class. He doesn’t say anything, just hands it to me. He nods towards the bus, and I realize that the flood of people is rapidly disappearing. I nod back, attempting a smile and then failing miserably, and step inside. Even my emotions are hypocritical, because in reality being with him instantaneously makes me happy.

Yet I still haven’t said more than five words to him.So their relationship was just a glancing sort of one? They wouldn't talk but always look at each other?

My stony heart returns to bird-form. I realize there are new words scrawled beneath my own. I close my eyes and let their meaning sink in.

Life throws a thousand curb-balls, so many that you’re almost caught off-guard when it’s an easy swing. I look back at life and think about all the terrible things that have surrounded me, all thanks to love; I cry for the ones I’ve lost, for the ones that have drifted apart, for the ones that have left me, and for the ones who may never even speak to me. Yet I know it’s true.

There is only one happiness in life: to love and be loved.

He writes, I am happy.A very nice wrap up, although I didn't get it straight away but that's because I'm slow at understanding xD

Sunlight melts from the sky to form puddles on the pavement, shadows softened to becoming almost luminescent themselves. My bulky, weighted backpack reminds me of the forces of gravity, but my heart refuses to cease flight. It’s been flapping its wings all day now.

First, I know that none of them are really actually her friends.

Never get in parent problems.

I walk to the portable extended from the school take my seat in the science class.

As soon as him I can't breathe; talking is virtually impossible.

and yet I let everything touch can change me.

He stops when he sees me, just stops.

It takes a moment for somebody else to push him through and into the grass.

Someone jerks my arm just before I get on the bus. Chrissy.

He writes, I am happy.