Creative writing
She suffered a great deal of pain throughout the short, 15 years of her life. She was so full of youth and so full of independence. She’d often contradict herself absentmindedly and that’s why people found her amusing. She was a one woman show. She kept you on your toes and sometimes she’d even knock you off your feet. I was in love with her. I knew it was wrong. Not because she was four years younger, a sophomore in highschool while I was starting college. That wasn’t it. It wasn’t because she was an endless amount of emotions, keeping you so captivated that sometimes you’d have yourself considering if she was an ecstasy substitute. That wasn’t it. It wasn’t because she was a damsel in distress, a victim to a broken family and a broken past. It wasn’t that. She wasn’t some kid, or an emotional wreck, and she certainly didn’t need saving. She was everything but. I remember when I met her. She was in the library of my school, the city college. She had a large stack of books in her arms and her purse was sliding off her shoulder. She had one earphone in, and the other was dragging on the floor beside her. She was walking around, taking small, quick steps in these little cowboy boots of hers. She had on a dress. It was short, short enough to get my mind wandering but suddenly she made a sound. She giggled. That was when I looked at her face. Her hair was dark, long, and wavy. Her eyes were big and excited and her smile was breathtaking. She glowed. A book toppled down and I thought I should run over and pick it up for her, hoping to win her over instantly. But I didn’t. I was scared. She let her books tumble on a table. She tossed her purse down and crammed her ipod into her purse. She tilted her head to the side, blinked, and then spun around, her dress flying up a bit. She crouched down in the most graceful way of lowering yourself, and picked up her book. I was staring. I felt like a creeper so I tried to snap myself out of it. But she was one of the few people in the library. I had no class now, and she looked a bit too young to be in college. Then again, who was I to know? I had nothing to do but wait for James. I tried to concentrate on my literary paper. I did for a few good minutes. When I glanced back up at her table, she wasn’t there. Neither was her stuff. I pouted a bit, regretting not talking to her. I heard a thump and turned my head to look behind me. She was crouching down like a trained professional, picking up a book. She stood up and looked at me. “Do you go to school here?” She stood there and then shook her head. “That was stupid. I’m sure you do. Uhm, I mean. Do you know if there’s any Shakespeare?” I didn’t know. I was done with Shakespeare. That was highschool stuff. Immediately, my response was not so helpful. “You actually like him?” She giggled. I forgot the sound of a girl’s giggle. I was familiar with the often cursing and gossiping, but not this natural giggle. “He’s got some good stuff, ya know. He’s an okay guy. Personally, I don’t believe he actually wrote all those compositions. I think somebody else did. I mean, this guy didn’t have any education and he was a bit screwy, if ya catch my drift.” She was opinionated. I was in love. “So do you?” She leaned in a bit, but didn’t step any closer. “Oh. Well, I don’t really know. This is one of my first times in the library actually.” I admitted, a bit embarassed. “Are you serious?” She tilted her head. “I love this library! It’s huge!” She smiled, delighted with the fact. I nodded and felt like a silly school boy. I was embarrassed as hell. I noticed she was small, no taller than 5’3. Then I looked at the heels on her boots, and realized she must have been 5 feet. She did look young. So I asked her, “Do you go to school here?” Her smiled dropped. “I’m sorry-“ “It’s okay!” She smiled again. “No, I’m a sophomore. Highschool. I know someone who goes here.” She shrugged. I didn’t know what to say. I was speechless. I wasn’t a great speaker, I wasn’t much of a charmer, and I didn’t know a thing about literature except that it is a class you should never take in college. I was beginning to wish I was James, right now. He would have her won over in a quick second. All I said was, “Oh.” She smiled and suddenly, she twitched. It made me smile. She dug into her purse and fished out a phone. “Hello?” She smiled at me, apologetically.”Library.” She shifted her weight back and forth to both legs. “Oh okay. No, I’m going to get something to eat. I’ll see you tonight.” And she hung up immediately. Her smile was gone and she stuffed her phone into her purse. She sighed and she looked like she was near tears. “Are you okay?” was the only suitable question. She smiled a nodded and then paused. “No, I’m not. I really need to vent. May I?” Before I could say yes, she slid into the seat facing me and put her book on the table face down. She began. “This guy, he always just leaves me hanging. I wait and I wait, and I try so hard for him, just to maybe, I don’t know, see him. But then he’s busy. He’s caught up. I mean, I know that’s not a bad thing with all his classes, but it hurts too. I get my hopes up and then bam! Crushed, au revoir!” She sighed. “But everybody says I’m way too needy anyways. Always having high expectations. It’s not my fault I believe that people can at least give all the love they have in that heart of theirs.” She smiled at me. “I’m sorry. I’m crazy, I know. What do you think?” I didn’t even monitor my words I just said it. “He doesn’t deserve you.” She sat there, looking at me for a while. She had a small smile playing on her face. Her lips were small and so was her nose. Her cheeks were especially rosy pink. Her eyelashes were long, cascading shadows on those pink cheeks. “You have lovely eyes.” And with that, she grabbed her purse, shot up and smiled at me. “I’ll see you later. Au revoir.” You have lovely eyes. Au revoir. I had never been left with such mind-boggling words. I didn’t even say goodbye to her. I was a fool. My eyes. She liked my eyes. They were green and they shone gold when the sun was bright. Au revoir. She spoke french. Well, she faked a french goodbye. I spun around, but she was gone, out the door and off to her life where she would meet guys who could actually hold a conversation with her. I flipped over the book she left. Shakespeare. James got out an hour later and he met up with me in the library. I told him all about this literature girl. “Did you get her name?” “No.” “What’s wrong with you! You should have chased after her!” “She ran out the door.” “Ouch.” “And vented about some guy. Her boyfriend, probably.” “Really? Ouch. Sorry man.” James gave me a ride home and I sulked about this girl. I decided the next day I would go to the library at the same time. And that is how I met the girl I fell in love with. The next day, she was at the library. She sat down, and we chatted. She did most of the talking because she was endlessly fascinating. She told me she was fifteen. She loved literature. She hated highschool because she found it dreadfully boring and the person who went to school here, always got her out of class when she wanted. She was impressively smart and carried herself with grace. She was classy, it was clear. She had a lot of self respect and confidence. Her phone would vibrate occasionally and she would glance at it, and then turn back to me. She was polite and well mannered. She was also chaotic. She’d get distracted and switch topics a lot. It was the most fun I’ve had in a while, watching someone talk. Then, I saw James walk in. I decided that if I pretended like he didn’t exist, maybe he would catch the hint. But he walked over. I smiled at her and asked her if she wanted to go to school here. James was closer. “No, I want to go to NYU. That’s always been my dream, to major in-“ “Literature.” I looked up and everything happened so fast. Too fast. I wanted to throw up. James smiled down and her and she leaped up, throwing her arms around him. They kissed. And then they kissed again. She smiled and giggled. James said, “Hi Honey.” “Hi!” She smiled and James picked her up and hugged her tightly. Then he helped her sit, and pulled up a chair beside her. James was surprised we knew each other and asked how we met. She told him about yesterday and James pieced it together before her story ended. He looked at me, and then wrapped his arms around her. After a while, James didn’t hold a grudge against me for crushing on his girlfriend. It was clear that he loved her immensely. She would visit almost everyday and I ended up spending a lot of time with her. I was falling more in love with her. James was not pleased. We didn’t speak of her but when we were both with her, the tension grew and she would carry the conversation effortlessly. I learned about her, so much about her. She was so interesting. After two months, I had become accustomed to the flirtation between her and I. She was naturally sweet, talkative and charming. She would talk about James and say that she loved him, she loved him. I couldn’t be bitter about their relationship because they were great together. I wanted what they had. I wanted what James had. I wanted her.
