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“You really do have a talent. You know that, right?” I’ll always hear her voice in my head. Ashley was my best friend, in a way. Actually she only knew me for about a day or two. She was nice, freaky, but decent. Her pale skin was elegant with the blonde hair she wore behind her back. The almond shape eyes; the full lips, her nose was the cutest nose I’ve ever seen.
She was like an angel. But sometimes it’s hard to believe in what you see will always be there.
I showed her my stories on day two and she liked them. She said I should put some work with this skill. But of course we never go and try it out. We say we are, but by the time comes around – nothing – our minds turn into mush.
“Yeah, Ashley. I’ll try my best.” I said sarcastically. She already knew I was joking. That is how much we knew each other in like what two days. And it took my brother 17 years to understand me. Some brother.
“No, I’m serious, Denise. You should get published. You’ll be big.” She actually meant it also, I could tell. Her brilliant smile comes and it brings a smile to my face, my feelings go down low and turns to light joking mode.
“Yeah and have all the girls run up to me saying, ‘Here sign then, Oh my god!!’ Probably wouldn’t even have any privacy.” I smiled.
“No, I don’t think so…Candy Brown.” Ashley smiled back. It was a good thing I let that smile last.
“Are you sure you don’t know where my rough draft is at?” I asked Aaron, my brother.
“No…Why do you even take it to school any ways? If you don’t want anyone to figure out that it you, why take it to every place you go?” He was obviously annoyed by this subject. He gets all the attention at school and nearly everywhere we go, but when my books finally gets published and becomes a big hit, he loathes my pin name, Candy Brown.
“Why do you write about all the mushy stuff, too? I mean you don’t even have a boyfriend. How do you know how it would be like and how it feels?” He grabbed his bag and walked outside.
Aaron was hardly any help. But when I finished a rough draft on a story, I have him edited it for me. Before I give it to the real editor.
It was true I didn’t have any boyfriend, not even before. I guess Aaron was the ideal boyfriend for me because he would bring his date back to the house and be romantic with them. But at other times it bothers me. What if he asked me again and wanted an answer. ‘Oh yeah you’re the ideal boyfriend for me.’ ha No thank you.
All I remember is that my rough draft was in one of my folders along with other writing classes.
So I’m sure that no body would look at the papers in the back. But still my rough drafts were about to be discovered and who knows after that.
I’ll just have to retrace my steps from yesterday maybe in the library or the gym, trig., maybe my locker. I walked by the fridge was and got a chewy bar and turned just then I saw my calendar…today’s…agr damn it. I have to meet my editor today. Shoot it’s due tomorrow. I have to meet with him before school today…Like now. I grabbed my bag and another chewy then ran out. Aaron was waiting in the car for me.
“I total forgot that I have to meet my edit today, Damn it. I’ll drop you off and then I’ll go to me meeting.” I sighed. “Please Aaron I that I won’t hurt the car. It wouldn’t take long maybe 10 minutes tops.”
“You know what, I’ll go with you. Plus it’s only 7. We’ll be at school at 7:45. With the way I drive, of course.” He flashed my a smile. That smile would’ve won over millions of girls, but I was used to these types of smiles. Sometimes girls are jealous of me because I got to have Aaron 24/7 with me. Everywhere he goes, I go. Sometimes girls would what to became friends with me just so that they could be with Aaron.
“Well…can we go now then?” I hinted him that I needed to go now.
Of course with Aaron driving, we would get a ticket, but for some reason we never do. When he’s speeding there’s absolutely no one around. But when he’s slowing down, ten seconds later a police shows up, and drives right past us.
We were flying threw town, to take Denise to her editor’s office. That guy was an a** sometimes but at times he gets cool. I’m the only one who knows about her writings. Well there’s Ashley, too, but…
I have to admit. Denise does have a talent. When I proof read for her, I hardly find any mistakes, it gets good. It sounds gay and everything but I can’t wait to read her next one.
When I asked her the question, “Why do you write about all the mushy stuff, too? I mean you don’t even have a boyfriend.” She got nervous, all of a sudden. What if she did have a boyfriend? and all the stuff she writes were from the experience.
I just couldn’t hear her answer, even when I was waiting for her answer. I got my bag and walked out to wait in the car for her.
Suddenly when the thought started to bounce around in my head, I got nervous. That little subject got my mind asking more questions. Who is he? Where does he live? Do I know him? How old is he? Does he pressure you? Have he gone too far? Did you even care to tell me? Why didn’t you tell me? Is he that bad? Please tell me!
“Please tell me!!” I yelled out loud.
“Tell you what?!” She jumped and shied away from me. She eyed me for a few seconds. I finally realized that I pasted the editor’s office. I stomped on the brakes and parked to the side. It wasn’t far from the front but it was close.
“Never mind, just hurry.” It was already 7:25 and I might take 20 minutes to get back. She still sat in the car looking at me. I clinched the steering wheel, looking like I was a little pissed.
It worked she got out of the car and ran toward the entrance.
With all the questions still slamming into the walls of my head, more questions came to my mind.
What if it was her editor? He was pretty young to be an editor. He only looked 24. But Duckie was only 17. That’s a four year difference. I know Duckie was smarter than that. But she didn’t tell me about her having a boyfriend. I’m not sure if I still trust Duckie.
Sure she told me little white lies, but nothing this big. It might not be big to her, but it was big to me. I know how a guy thinks, that doesn’t mean I’m like that. I just have friends that are like that.
Only five minutes and I was sweating bullets. My hands were still gripping the wheel. I wanted to honk the horn, but my hands didn’t let go of the wheel. It felt like I was holding on to Duckie’s life. I couldn’t let go. I couldn’t let my baby sister have her own life just yet. She was still too young.
I had to honk the horn; they could be doing something in there. Then without hesitation, I let go of the wheel and honked he horn. “Let’s go Duckie, come on.”
I held it for at least two seconds and waited for thirty seconds. I was about to honk it again, but she appeared at the door. I was relieved to see her, the same as she went in. Her hair was still straight. Not messed up like how Naomi looked when we were caught. But…
Her facial expression was out of place. She looked like she could throw up right on the spot. Maybe I was wrong; she probably was doing something with her editor.
I knew the guilt would kill her. It’s just time that matters now.
“Come on, Duckie. We got to go.” I put it into drive and started to move before she even got into the car. When she closed the door, I was going about 45 already.
She put on her seat belt as if she was attached to a bomb. Her hands were shaking and, finally, she was set. She didn’t say anything, but I knew it was going to come out soon.
My first day.
I listened to the chatter that was going on around me. They seem to notice I’m here, and that I’m new.
I caught quite a lot of stares from girls, they seemed interested, but I wasn’t. I wasn’t like that to girls, or guys. I’m just not interested. Just a normal guy going to high school for a scholarship. I waited in the Cafeteria for a while and walked out. I already took care of the school business yesterday, so just going to school. My first hour was Literature, with Mr. Jones. My second was Gym, my favorite. Third hour was health, boring. Then my fourth hour was Trig.
I didn’t care what I had on, just to know that I do have something on. I looked down and saw faded blue jeans, a black sweater, a Polo shirt and my Nike high tops. I already knew my hair was a mess, but I don’t care. My bag was hanging down my back, and my hands were casually in my pockets. I walked slowly to the entrance. The ear phones were in one ear and blasting my favorite music.
I could’ve waited in my truck until school started but now if I went over there I knew I would be time to go in. So I just walked slower to the entrance. I looked up when I saw a BMW making it’s way into the parking lot. Other then basketball, my next highest interests was car.
So I was a little surprise to actually see one. I wanted to walk up to the car and run my fingers on the paint. But I knew I would look weird, especially if you were new. So I left my hands in my pocket.
I watched the car pull in and cut of the engine. The windows were so tinted that I couldn’t see who it was. Then just about when the person comes out both doors open.
On the driver side was a guy about 19, most likely a senior. Then the other person came out. She looked like she was 17, Junior. Definitely. They both got their bags and meet in front of the car. I couldn’t help but to keep looking at it.
But I saw something and looked toward the couple. They hugged and went there separate ways. The guy went straight into the building, meeting a couple of other guys. Several girls came up to him also. I was about to go inside when I saw the girl going toward the gym.
She was running, even when there was still ten minutes left until the bell rang. Which made me a little curious. I kept staring. She was about 5’ 5” and had pants that didn’t hug her legs like the other girls around her. Her sweater was pull-over, and the front read STATE. Her hair was up in a pony tail, and she made it look attractive. She ran with great speed, I might need to get to know these girl.
I didn’t get a good look at her face , but I turned around and walked into building. I walked to my first hour which wasn’t far from the entrance.
I walked into the class room with everyone looking at me, I broke the chatter. Not a normal thing I did at my last school. All the desks were taken but one in the very front. I gave my paper to Mr. Jones, which I had to get signed and return to the front office after my fourth period teacher signed it.
After he signed it, he walked to the front of the class and I followed.
“Alright class. Looks like we have a new student. Mr. Davis,” He waved his hand to me and gestured me to be front and center.
This was one of the things I hated doing, was talking in front of public. Unwillingly I walked to the front and look at Mr. Jones. “Yes, sir.” I wasn’t a kiss a**. I was just raised right.
He raised his eye brows, a sign of surprise. “Will you present yourself to the class for us. I’m pretty sure we are all excited to know who you are.” He smiled and walked away.
Before turning to the class I took a deep breath. I smiled and waved, it was obvious that I was nervous. “Hi, I’m Blake Davis. I’m eighteen, and I’m a Junior.” I shrugged. The students laughed softly.
I started to walk to the desk that was open. But Mr. Jones was asking a question. “Who are your parents?” He was trying to get all my secrets out.
“Neil and Joan Davis. My dad is a welder, and my mom is a clerk.” I took a deep breath and continued. I knew he wanted me to by all out on my introduction. “I’m from a tribe in the Southwest. I’m part Navajo. I get that from my dad. My mom is American.”
The students looked interested and leaned forward. Other hands came up. I nodded toward the student. She had a blond hair and fair skin. “So you’re part Indian?”
“Not to be rude, but I didn’t like being called Indian. I prefer Native American or Navajo. But just to get the answer you wanted yes.” More hands came up.
“Do you know any words in your language?” a tall girl with brown hair asked she held my eyes for a while and I looked away.
The door came swinging open