He thrust his dark blue sweatshirt into my hands. "Wear it." he said. I felt the need to laugh. I smiled, because it was sweet. "I like you, Ayzia." Aw! He liked me! A Junior actually liked me. A pang of hope shot through my chest. It was his friend I liked. Kolby. I'm over Dade and Luke.
I felt really girly jumping from guy to guy within a group of friends. I couldn't help it. I take Chris' sweatshirt and pull it over my head. The fabric brushes against the goosebumps on my arms. I grab my bag and throw it over my shoulder waiting for the bell to ring.
Yesterday, I complained how cold I was, wishing for a sweatshirt that went past my butt. I wanted one that was warm and I wanted Kolby's cardigan. Chris offered me his dark blue sweatshirt. I was cold, goosebumps coated my arms. My hands ultimately frozen, no circulation, ultimately numb. I pulled it over my head, not caring to adjust it. The slight rip at the neck made a small v, the cloth jagged but yet sophisticated.
"Let's spray the jacket with perfume!" Grace yelled out as if a light bulb blinked on above her head. I would love too, if only I had the jacket from my locker. Wait, no. That'd give Chris a chance to like me even more. I didn't like Chris, not like that. I didn't want to let him down. I hated letting people down. I couldn't just flat out say 'No, sorry I don't like you.' There was no easy way to tell someone something harsh or bad. My phone vibrated against the fake wood desk, pulling me out of my thoughts. A single line scrolled at the top of my screen. "Chris: Are you wearing the jacket?"
He referred to his jacket as the jacket. The jacket. Did he want to give it to me? Did he want me to keep it? "No." I replied. I plug the white Apple earphones back into my ear, pressing play on my worn touch screen. Eminem fills my head. As soon as words flow through my ears, my phone vibrates. "Chris: WEAR IT!" Control Freak much? I truly know he's joking around, but I can tell he sincerely wants me to wear it. I sigh through my nose. "I'm not cold." I press send and immediately get two more text messages, both the exact same. "Chris: WEAR IT!" I am a bit cold and I admit that to my friends. Paige tells me to go get Chris' jacket. I frown, knowing someone would've brought it up. I shake my head. I don't want to wear it. I don't want to wear Chris'jacket. No, I want to put it back in his track cubby.
I ignore his two text messages and listen to Eminem. I have the sudden urge to sprint down the hall to my locker without telling Mr Miller I'm leaving, bundle his jacket into a ball and harshly thrust it into his cubby with disgrace. My heart pounds against my rib cage. I fight my heart to stop and the urge to bolt out of class. I need to get out of hear. I need to put his jacket back. I tap the desk impatiently with my pencil, staring at the clock. I leap out of my chair and bolt down the stairs, to the right, and down the hall. I jerk my locker open after dialing my combination in record time. I grab Chris' jacket a press it into a deformed ball and shove it under my arm. I feel as if I'm racing to run the track room.
Once I get there, I skid to a stop and neatly, but quickly, fold up the dark blue jacket. My thumb runs across the lime green and dandelion yellow label sewn on the front right shoulder. I breathe in deep, and shove the jacket into his cubby. I turn on my heel, watching the jacket land on top of his two water bottles out of the corner of my eye. I calmly walk back to class realizing I'd forgotten to grab my textbook. I sigh as I take the detention slip. The green and yellow label run through my mind. the picture of my thumb slowly being dragged from the fabric backwards. Hollister.
I felt really girly jumping from guy to guy within a group of friends. I couldn't help it. I take Chris' sweatshirt and pull it over my head. The fabric brushes against the goosebumps on my arms. I grab my bag and throw it over my shoulder waiting for the bell to ring.
Yesterday, I complained how cold I was, wishing for a sweatshirt that went past my butt. I wanted one that was warm and I wanted Kolby's cardigan. Chris offered me his dark blue sweatshirt. I was cold, goosebumps coated my arms. My hands ultimately frozen, no circulation, ultimately numb. I pulled it over my head, not caring to adjust it. The slight rip at the neck made a small v, the cloth jagged but yet sophisticated.
"Let's spray the jacket with perfume!" Grace yelled out as if a light bulb blinked on above her head. I would love too, if only I had the jacket from my locker. Wait, no. That'd give Chris a chance to like me even more. I didn't like Chris, not like that. I didn't want to let him down. I hated letting people down. I couldn't just flat out say 'No, sorry I don't like you.' There was no easy way to tell someone something harsh or bad. My phone vibrated against the fake wood desk, pulling me out of my thoughts. A single line scrolled at the top of my screen. "Chris: Are you wearing the jacket?"
He referred to his jacket as the jacket. The jacket. Did he want to give it to me? Did he want me to keep it? "No." I replied. I plug the white Apple earphones back into my ear, pressing play on my worn touch screen. Eminem fills my head. As soon as words flow through my ears, my phone vibrates. "Chris: WEAR IT!" Control Freak much? I truly know he's joking around, but I can tell he sincerely wants me to wear it. I sigh through my nose. "I'm not cold." I press send and immediately get two more text messages, both the exact same. "Chris: WEAR IT!" I am a bit cold and I admit that to my friends. Paige tells me to go get Chris' jacket. I frown, knowing someone would've brought it up. I shake my head. I don't want to wear it. I don't want to wear Chris'jacket. No, I want to put it back in his track cubby.
I ignore his two text messages and listen to Eminem. I have the sudden urge to sprint down the hall to my locker without telling Mr Miller I'm leaving, bundle his jacket into a ball and harshly thrust it into his cubby with disgrace. My heart pounds against my rib cage. I fight my heart to stop and the urge to bolt out of class. I need to get out of hear. I need to put his jacket back. I tap the desk impatiently with my pencil, staring at the clock. I leap out of my chair and bolt down the stairs, to the right, and down the hall. I jerk my locker open after dialing my combination in record time. I grab Chris' jacket a press it into a deformed ball and shove it under my arm. I feel as if I'm racing to run the track room.
Once I get there, I skid to a stop and neatly, but quickly, fold up the dark blue jacket. My thumb runs across the lime green and dandelion yellow label sewn on the front right shoulder. I breathe in deep, and shove the jacket into his cubby. I turn on my heel, watching the jacket land on top of his two water bottles out of the corner of my eye. I calmly walk back to class realizing I'd forgotten to grab my textbook. I sigh as I take the detention slip. The green and yellow label run through my mind. the picture of my thumb slowly being dragged from the fabric backwards. Hollister.
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