The Crumpled Paper

May 31, 2010
By DeSimone BRONZE, Central Point, Oregon
DeSimone BRONZE, Central Point, Oregon
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Every time I look in his green eyes I feel loved. His strong arms welcome me with a hug every time I see him. I wish he only knew how I felt. For two whole years I have longed to be his girl, and still he has not popped the question.

It was the 1st of May. The weather was warm. The seniors were counting down the days until graduation, and me, well I am just a single sophomore who can’t wait for summer. That week was super busy. Every kid was hustling to get their projects done and praying that there would not be a fat ef-eh on their last report card of the year.

I got home from school that afternoon and instantly started working on all the school work I had to get done that night. The front door slammed and I could hear my mom’s high heels clinking on the tile floor in the kitchen. Before I could even say hello she called, “Hey honey, came take out the trash.”

That was about the last thing I wanted to do with all of this school work to be done, but in the nicest tone I could possibly utter from my mouth, I responded, “Be right there.”

Ugh, that garbage reeked. I used my shirt to plug my nose, but as I pulled the drawstrings of the bag together I noticed a piece of nice, cardstock paper crumpled up on top of everything. The paper seemed a little fish, not literally, but I decided to take a look at it. As I read the letter my jaw dropped. I could not believe what I was reading, or figure out why it was in the trash. This letter had the question from the boy of my dreams inserted in it and if my mother had not called me to empty the trash, who knows what he would have thought, or when he would try and ask me again.

To my dismay, my brother, who unlike me has his license, had beaten me home from school that day and decided to check the mail. I suppose it was just his “big brother instincts” kicking in when he decided to open a letter with my name on it. I remember the rage I felt at that very moment, and how I was just waiting for steam to shoot out of my ears. He was in his room when I finally caught up with him. “What is this Sam?” I asked, as I threw the letter down in front of him on his desk.

“You weren’t supposed to see that sis,” he responded.

“I am going to have to grow up eventually, you know?” I said.

“I know, I know, do not remind me Gab. I am sorry for intervening with this letter,” he said as he handed me back the letter in a n extremely apologetic way.

“Hey Sam, I really like this guy, so please try your best to get along with him,” I responded. I left his room that night and read that letter over and over again. At the bottom he wrote “Will you be my girl? Check yes or no.” That was a time in my life where I had bruises all over my arms the next day from trying to pinch myself out of the dream I thought I was in. I slipped the crinkled paper into his locker and I am sure you can guess what box I checked. Well, I have to skedaddle, me and “you know who” are going to catch a flick tonight and I just got hollered at to empty trash again.

The author's comments:
I wrote this for a practice State Writting Test.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.

Parkland Book