Stand Alone ( beginning)

A girl, a woman, a boy, a man. These are usually the categories people fall under, like myself. I am a boy, well a man, I guess, almost. I will be soon, when I turn 17 in a couple of months, so a boy, for now. But there is one person who doesn't fit any of these descriptions. She is all of them, in a way, but none of them, in a way.I know what your thinking, but no, she's not an alien from one of those movies like Signs or E.T. She is all of them because her gender is female, and she is young, about 17 as well, so that makes her a girl. But she is also very mature and strong hearted like a woman. She is like a boy because she dresses like one and she is free-spirited, like all boys are. But also a man because she is strong, brave, and smart.

This girl, she's amazing, and towers over all these qualities and categories. I'm probably confusing you even more, aren't I? I'll tell you a story about her, and why she is so special...to me, anyway. The first time I saw her was when my mom and I were driving down Winthrop Dr. to get to soccer practice, and I noticed a girl walking on the sidewalk. I didn't realize I was staring until she gave me a funny look, no, it wasn't funny at all, it was sorta' scary really. She looked at me with piercing, dark brown eyes. I immediately averted my own. I instantly regretted it as I saw we were driving away. I still regret it to this day. I still wonder what would've happened if I didn't look away, if I had followed her gaze... maybe she would've fallen in love with me, I don't know. Anyways, all I could think about during practice was her eyes, them cutting through me like a sharp, steel knife on fire.







This particular person intrigued me, so I was eager to see if she was still wandering around our neighborhood when we got home, As we drove past, I searched with my eye up all the streets we past. 'There goes Peas Rd. and Arthur Kill... Oh ,there Symes Ave. Tree, tree, tree, bush, tree, CVS... Is that a hobo? ' I thought as I continued to look down the many street corners and lots. I guess my mom saw my steady eye fixed on the window and decided she was a little concerned, so she asked this question, "So how's school going' so far?" When I only shrugged she asked another. "Is there anything bothering you, Hun'." Not wanting to ` her anymore, and not wanting anymore questions being fired, I reluctantly turned away from the window and answered, "No, Mom, I've just been a little distracted lately." "With girls?" She asked. "No! Ma, it doesn't have anything to do with girls, just school and stuff." I answered, I smirked and reddened a little at the idea of talking about girls with my mother. "Yeah, how's school been going' lately?" She asked again. My mother sure was a persistent woman.

"It's going' good, I'm getting a lot of A's, except Math, I have a C+ in that stupid class." I answered, turning to the window once more. I wanted to start looking for the girl again, but I also didn't want to see my mother's reaction when I said I have a C in Math. We drove in silence for a minute. There was no use continuing the conversation, we would just start yelling at each other like we always do when we talk about my grades. We were almost home anyway. As we went up our driveway I stared at our house. Our three bedroom, two floored, and one bathroom tiny house. As Mom took the keys out of the ignition she bravely stated,and I mean bravely, because I had a pretty fiery temper sometimes, " Nick, honey, you have to try a little harder in that class. I mean, we want you to go to college..." I cut her off right there. "Try harder?! I'm trying as hard as I can. And college? I'm goingg to get into college! It's not like they don't let you apply if you have one bad grade in calculus! God, Ma!"

I slammed the car door. Hard. 'Try Harder? Easy for her to say, it's like she doesn't even appreciate all the good grades I get. Does she think I'm stupid? Who is she to tell me to try harder when she barely passed High School. Ah, she just doesn't get me.' I knew she was goingg to scold me for slamming the car door. I just blocked it out and walked inside. But she followed me in, shouting all the way. "Nicholas! Your father and I pay good money for that car. So don't just ignore me when I tell you something. Got it?" She was mad now. But not about the door, about me not listening to her. I usually would've just leaned my head against the wall and apologized. But that day was different, that day I just wanted a fight for some reason. Being her son for 16 1/2 years I knew what irritated her the most. "Father, you call the guy laying around all the time my Father? Mom, How could you?" If I wasn't being sort of sarcastic she wouldn't have been as angry. If I hadn't been so sarcastic she wouldn't have slapped me.