I was Only Dreaming

January 10, 2011
By Bayla SILVER, Hyde Park, New York
Bayla SILVER, Hyde Park, New York
6 articles 0 photos 1 comment

Favorite Quote:
Reach for the stars, kid....Heaven's not too far kid....~Shaun Diviney of Short Stack

Staring out the dirty school bus window, I was hyper-aware of his presence. When I had first gotten on the bus, I had studied the situation. I took a snapshot in my mind, and decided to throw it into my archives to be remembered for….well, ever. He sat turned sideways in his seat talking to the person across the isle. He was sitting alone, his backpack unattended on the seat next him, just asking to fall to the floor once the bus moved. He laughed—oh, my god, that laugh— probably the most adorable thing ever. His eyes wrinkled at the corners and he shook his perfect, brunette hair out of his face. I smiled involuntarily, as I always do when I see him laugh like that. He looked my way, and my eyes darted elsewhere. I couldn't let him know I was staring at him. What was he doing on my bus? What are the odds? As if he didn't think I was stalking him already…
I refused to turn around and look, which would show him I knew, and cared, that he was there. I simply stared out the window, counting the stops until mine; counting the minutes until I'd be free from his eyes boring into the back of my head. He clearly saw me watching him, and was now completely freaked out, watching me, thinking, "WHAT THE HELL." Oh, my god, why was I so lame? Whatever…my stop was next, and I was ready to go. I grabbed my violin and my backpack before the bus even turned on to Morris Drive. I shifted sideways when it turned, barely staying on my feet by clinging to the seats. The driver slammed on the breaks, and I flew forward. My obnoxiously heavy backpack slipped off my shoulder to the ground behind me with such force that I swear it shook the bus. I turned to hoist it back on my shoulder, but found it missing. I swear, I heard it hit the floor, but where did it—
I looked up at him, directly behind me. His ability to make me feel short even though I was six feet tall was amazing. He was smiling, in that adorable way that made my heart beat in my ears.
"You dropped this…" he said jokingly, lifting my backpack up to my shoulder. I took it from him, and our fingers touched for a moment that I will never forget.
"Oh, uh, thanks, Arthur." was all I could spit out before turning and exiting the bus as fast as possible. The bus had just pulled away as I heard his laughter behind me. Of course! Why hadn't it clicked in my mind earlier? He was directly behind me when my bag fell, so he must have been getting off the bus. Now, this was too weird. He wasn't friends with anyone in our development… why was he getting off the bus at my stop?
A nagging voice interrupted my puzzling thoughts. It was yelling my name somewhere in the distance. It was telling me to wake up, even though I was clearly awake and walking home from the bus stop. How odd…I must've been imagining it. I turned around one last time and looked at him casually, as if I were looking for cars before crossing the street. He was laughing at something I hadn't heard. He noticed me, and opened his mouth to say something.
"Wake up, it's six thirty already. You're gonna make me late to work. GET UP!" I stared in confusion as everything around us - the street, the trees, the houses, and the other students walking home - faded to black. He was the only thing left in my vision, smiling at me for no particular reason. He started to fade, and I grasped for him, wanting everything to stay this way forever. But he was gone, so I forced myself to open my eyes.

I squinted through the bright blue light that shone from my alarm clock telling me it was six thirty two.
"Kayla! WAKE. UP. Or you can walk to the bus!" I heard my mother at my door, shouting over my sister with the hairdryer in the bathroom across the hall.
"Alright, alright already! God, give me a second!"

The author's comments:
This WAS going to be a novel...maybe it might end up as one...i just haven't got the patience

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