October 13, 2011
By AmyLeeRay BRONZE, Centennial, Colorado
AmyLeeRay BRONZE, Centennial, Colorado
4 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"For me, dancing is like walking. People have to walk. I have to dance."

I’m in a white room. There’s a white plastic desk, white crystal dresser, white metal bed, white mattress, white feather blankets, white window frame, and a white plastic chair. A clear glass full creamy milk is on the desk. I go out the door. There’s a long white hallway with a window seat and a clock. I walk past. The clock is quickly turning backwards, spiraling into oblivion of time. There’s no sun in the windows seat. No sky, really. It’s just…white. Where am I?
“Tonya, please read your piece for us,” Mrs. Bowley asks.
“Uh, do I have to?” I look at her. She glares at me.
“Uh, okay. Uh…Guiding you through the undefined maze of youth and wisdom, the waterfall of knowledge grows deeper into the forest than anyone imagined. Of air conditioned mansions and summers in bikinis, nothing has prepared you for this, for the Vines of Thinking and Stupid Acts are far too tangled to be distinguished. The Torches of Maturity have just gone out, or perhaps they are being relit. And in the cave behind the river produces the brightest gems and the happiest moments of love and experience, but to get there, you must first cross the Twisted Desert of Quicksand. For growing up is Quicksand, leaving the weakest behind, or teaching us to grow. We must use our knowledge and facts to get out and after you face something like Quicksand, you’ll know who to trust.” The class looks stunned, and then applauds. Mrs. Bowley grins. “Why, Tonya, that was magnificent!”
I scowl.
I’m in the hallway with the backwards clock, and realize that I’ve fallen asleep on the window seat. Maybe my entire life is just a dream. Maybe this white world is reality. I continue down the hall.
After class, a guy runs up to me and taps me on the shoulder.
“Hey, Tonya, that was really good.”
“Hey Kyle. Uh, thanks.”
“Hey, what’s your next class?”
“Hey-” But I cut him off.
“Do you start all your sentences with ‘hey’?”
“No” He grins at me. He’s cute. He has long brown hair and a nice jaw. When he smiles, the left side up his mouth goes up higher than the right. He has green eyes. They’re big. He’s got even, square shoulders and what appears to be a solid core. His legs are muscled and he’s tall. He’s dateable. Maybe that’s why I used to date him.
I walk out of the hall. This room is all blue, with a glass floor. I look down. Someone is tapping on the glass. It’s Kyle. He grins at me, with that crooked smile of his. I continue on.
In ninth grade, Kyle was the hottest guy in the grade. He asked me out. I was flattered. I said yes. We dated for a year. In tenth grade I found out he slept with Elsa Tranes. I dumped his sorry butt.
I’m in another room, just like the one I woke up in. I feel so free, even though this room is so small. Suddenly I feel bad for Kyle, all trapped up in that glass box. No. I shake myself out of it. But how would you like being trapped in a glass box? I ask myself. I backtrack into the other room and open the a door in the floor. Kyle climbs out and pulls me into a kiss. As he approaches me, I notice the tiny red zits on his forehead- that’s unattractive. And his teeth are yellow. EW. And finally, when I didn’t except his kiss, Kyle pouted and said:
“Stupid girl, kiss me. I’m the whole world.” And I realize how unattractive he really is. He’s self absorbed and rude. I imagine him fading away.
“Tonya, do you want to go out with me?” Kyle begs. His eyes are like a puppy’s. They’re full that that thing that makes you want to do anything for them. He grabs my hand
“No,” I say, and yank my hand away.
I’m out of the white room, back in the hallway of Three Oaks High. Kyle is nowhere to be found. I look around. Girls are crying, members of the sports teams are looking worried.
“What happened?” I ask someone.
“Kyle Bose got hit by a car.”
I smile.

The author's comments:
In my mind...this turned out a lot better. But I hope you like it, I don't consider myself a great writer.

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