Average Day

As the school bell rings, signaling that it’s time to go home, I pack up my things into my backpack hurriedly. As I throw my binder into my bag, my pencil falls off of the wooden desk. “Fu-,” I censor, reminding myself I’m still in the classroom. “All I wanna to do is get the hell outta here,” I mumble under my breath, then bend over to pick up my pencil that lay on the ground. When I lean back up, I notice everyone has left with the exception of my English teacher. Rushing to get out of the building, I leave the classroom with a quick wave goodbye to the teacher, assuring him I’ll see him tomorrow.

The halls are nearly empty, only a few people remain. An Asian exchange student is down the hall, trying to open up his locker, with hands full of various books. He stacks his books, one on top of the other, all in one hand, and swiftly dialed in his combination for his lock. He looks like he doesn’t need any help, so I turn the other direction in the hallway towards the exit door, and then hear his entire stack of books crash to the floor. I hesitate to stop and turn around to help, but decide he can handle the situation himself. As I continue on down the hallway, I see a couple pushed up against the lockers making out, and have to hold back from criticizing on their crude public display of affection. Bedrooms were made for a reason.

Finally outside, I breathe in a deep inhale of fresh air, and pull out my dark grey and black flip phone. “3 New Messages” the screen reads, so I check them. All three are messages sent from Facebook, updating me on peoples’ statuses. How disappointing. I bring up my contact list, and scroll down until I reach the number labeled as ‘Sweet Magestical Stallion’, then send him a text message. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. “Sweet Magestical Stallion?? What the hell kind of nickname is that?!”

It’s like one of those fuzzy-wuzzy couple nicknames.

“Hey Baby,” I send.

“Hey”

“What’s up?”

“Laughing at Jeff.”

How I wish I could hear him laugh right now. His laugh is so adorable, and it warms my heart. Hearing it makes me want to laugh, myself, but I’m all out of minutes for the month.

After replying to his last text message, I started my walk home. As I’m rounding the corner of the school to the pathway leading to the neighborhood behind it, I see Dan. Dan, with his bright orange-gingerly hair. Gingers have no souls, by the way.

Dan saunters up to me, pushes me against the side of the school, and sticks his gross, wet tongue sloppily in my mouth, similarly to the hallway couple inside the school. I guess he still hasn’t got the hint yet. I push him off angrily, and give him a slight glare.

“I already went over this with you, Dan. We’re over. I’m done. Go get yourself another whore.”

“You were never my whore,” Dan remarked, almost offended.

Rolling my eyes, I turn around and continue my walk home. Dan and I had a thing awhile back. Something similar to friends with benefits, but I don’t want that anymore. I’m interested in my Baby Boo. My Sweet Sugar Pie Honey Bun. The love of my life.

I wrote this as more of a practice story. It's based on a real day I've had. All names have been changed to protect their identities. I would prefer my critiques be based upon my writing style, grammer, and my detail, because I know the story plot isn't exciting. Thanks!