Valentine's Writing Contest
Posted 14 February 2013 - 11:11 PM
If only he knew. But he doesn’t.
He should. He’s two years older. Smart, too, if you consider getting straight A’s a good measure of intelligence.
I’m not sure I do.
I was at that point in my walk where I had to decide: take a left, head toward the park, to my swing, or… go the other way.
It was a perfect February night. The snow was crusted with ice, yielding a satisfying crunch each time my boot broke through the shiny surface into the deep powder below. The park would be lit up like a baseball field with the full moon reflecting off all that undisturbed, drifted snow. The rhythm of the swing as it rose and fell would be soothing, the cold air whipping past my face, invigorating. Exactly what I needed.
I took a right.
I’d composed one reply after another in my head since his sister passed me that note after second period. I’m ashamed to admit, even to myself, the excitement I felt when I first saw that fat wad of yellow lined paper.
Maybe since it was extinguished as quickly as it sparked I can pretend it never happened.
I spent five hours of classes, two more of basketball practice, and a family dinner obsessing about what to say, even though I knew the answer was nothing. Do nothing. Write nothing. At least none of the things I wanted to write.
Syd had been passing me notes from her brother for two years, since he graduated and moved on to high school. There were much quicker ways to communicate, and we did talk on the phone, sometimes for hours at a time, but notes were our thing.
It is totally possible to be in love with someone’s handwriting.
During class, I’d stare at Lydia’s perfect little nose and those soft waves of pale blond hair. Her skin looked airbrushed. It wasn’t hard to figure out why Justin was so attracted to her.
Only nothing with them had ever been easy.
Lydia was moody. Cold. Hard to predict and harder to please.I knew this from observation, but also from Justin himself. It was a thoroughly discussed topic.
Usually these conversations centered on Justin trying to figure out what he could do or say to make Lydia happy.
Over Christmas break, things started to change, though. In the middle of our late-night phone calls, mixed in with Brady Bunch marathons and rewriting song lyrics to make fun of the students and teachers at my school, he started in with the observations.
Lydia’s just too much work.
I don’t think anyone could figure her out.
And the big one: I don’t know why things with her can’t be easy. You know, like it is when we’re hanging out.
I clung to those words like they were the last hunk of wood bobbing in the frigid waters around the sinking Titanic. And in the weeks that followed, when he quit asking how he could get Lydia to like him more, when mentions of Lydia actually stopped, I did what I swore I wouldn’t do and started to hope.
I slowed as I approached the parking lot outside of Luigi’s,the only nice restaurant in town. It had begun snowing again, the big, fat flakes that stick to your eyelashes when you look up in the sky. The diners inside would have to sweep off their cars before they could drive home.
Justin’s car was right in front of the big window at the entrance of the restaurant. I picked up my pace, keeping behind the cars so nobody who happened to be looking out would be able to see me.
I stood behind his old VW and peeked around, a self-inflicted wound.
There was Justin: talking, animated, leaning in like he does when he’s building up to the climax of his story, his mouth in that crooked smile. Lydia, across the table, was looking down, hand sliding her fork around the plate aimlessly, never lifting it to her lips.
Around Valentine’s Day, it’s easy to forget that the heart is shaped like a fist.
I leaned my back against the hatch, closed my eyes, and lifted my face to the sky, letting the snowflakes cover my skin.
No, I would not write anything. My answer was a thing of all caps and emoticons, unsuitable for the antiquated art of pen and paper
But maybe I still could respond.
I tugged off my glove and traced my heart on his passenger window, confessing my misery, to be expunged by the snow.
Posted 15 February 2013 - 04:11 PM
Posted 16 February 2013 - 08:25 PM
Posted 17 February 2013 - 03:59 PM
Posted 18 February 2013 - 08:29 PM
Aaeris17 with the story, "Knock Out"!
Congrats to Aaeris17! And thanks to everyone who entered. The next contest will be announced soon!
Posted 19 February 2013 - 11:11 AM
Well done Aaeris17 !! It was a great story
OH WOW!! THANKS EVERYONE WHO VOTED!! This is the first time I've ever won anything for my writing!
I am definitely writing more!!
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