A Possible New Friend

I am not finished with this story yet, although I would love to hear comments or suggestions on which direction I should go from now.

Their words kept fading out, but I knew exactly what they were talking about. Me. They were talking about my black frizzy hair and my size ten feet. I could hear them saying things like “Doesn’t she live alone or something?”, and “What a dweeb!”.  I don’t live alone, I live with my Uncle. There were four girls at the table across from me; one of them looked about 18, maybe the “leader”. Looked like the stuck up and snotty kind of blonde headed girl. The one to the left of her had long silky hair with soft unnatural curls (the pretty kind, not like what my hair does in the morning). She looked like her “right hand woman” someone that wouldn’t dare stab her best friend in the back, (unless of course it was for a guy, or money, or something else she thinks is worthy of her attention). The girl to the right of the blonde looks fifteen, my age. She looks more like a follower, like a girl that would give anything to be noticed by someone popular. Or anyone at all. She wasn’t talking as much as the girl to the right of her. A freckled red head, with her hair down to her waist, who was obnoxiously talking with im sure were bits of taco flying out of her mouth.

                I try to ignore them. Mom always said, “Ignore them till they give you what you want”. Then again she also told me to drop out of school, “party more” and make a fake ID. I miss her. She might have been the worst mother ever, but she was my best friend. It’s been over four years since the car/semi accident, but sometimes I feel like she will still be at home waiting for me when I get there. She used to sit on the front porch and wait for me, if she didn’t have a party or date that night, but besides that, some guy who looked twice her age would come in his Mustang Convertible or some other “fancy on the outside” car and drive her to some club or bar. She didn’t always go out every night. Not until my dad died, when I was six. Grannaw told me she went into “depression” a couple years after his death. She said that she started taking all kinds of pills and even tried killing herself once.  After she came out of “depression” she wanted to “get over” what she was going through and started going out late and leaving me with my Uncle, Kim. When she came back (usually four or five in the morning) she would tell me she loved me and that she wouldn’t give me up for anyone. I think it was the ninth or tenth time she went to the bar alone, she came back with a guy. Usually it was a good looking guy. A drunk looking guy. They would sit in the car for a while and do whatever the heck they wanted. I would try not to watch. For a lady who was in depression for so long after her husband died, she sure does get along with men well.  I try not to dog on her. She deserves the best.

The bell rang for lunch to be over. I didn’t eat; I never do on my first day of school. I wouldn’t dare get up until I see somewhere to go. I hate when I stand up and have nowhere to go. I look like an idiot. So I looked around for a place to go. I don’t think I will go with the groupie that was sitting at the table in front of me. And definitely not with the group of guys. But standing just outside the lunch room was a group that looked reasonably tolerable. There was one shorter blonde headed girl with two braids in the back of her head. A tall skinny guy that didn’t exactly fit in. I looked around the cafeteria again and headed their way...

To Be Continued.

Reviews

[Kristopher d. Taylor]

I dont normally read pieces like this, to be honest I just thought you looked pretty. But besides that, you have some serious writing chops, you should keep writing. My only suggestion worth mentioning is to drop the plot. This may seem like a lot, but unless you are only writing for money(and I would lose my respect for you if you were) this high school drama stuff isnt the right way to go. Sure you can get it published in the snap of your fingers, and it might sell well, but you wont be remembered. If you were it'd be part of some fad, this whole kids writing about how hard high school is. And you'd be instantly dismissed as a legitimate writer. And Im sure you dont want that. Try reading some Vonnegut or some kafka or maybe some Dostoevsky, the classics, you know? get a feel for them.You have some skill, dont waste it on a fad, okay?