“If you want to become a writer, just know that it’s going to be a long, hard journey. But in the end, it will certainly pay off.” my grandfather told me the night before he died. He was a writer himself, and a famous one at that. His book One Syllable received many awards, and is a New York Times Bestseller. I’m extremely proud, is what I usually intend to say to people when they ask me how I feel about my grandfather’s accomplishment. Now that he has died, I don’t know what to say.
“Maddie, I have no idea what I should do now. Do you think it’d be best if I just ask my dad for help on my writing career?” I asked her as I picked at my salad. I never did eat my vegetables much without some ranch on it.
“Bells, calm down. What’d you thinks gonna happen? You’re still an excellent writer, even without some tutoring. Go n’ look for another teacher, or ask your friends to help. Like me, I can tell you if sentences aren’t flowing right.” Maddie suggested, eating her hamburger.
Maddie was my best friend ever since the 3rd grade, with large hazel colored eyes and nutmeg hair that was long and wavy. She was 6 days younger than me, and like other best friends – we still had our fights. She succeeded more than me at everything, except maybe writing I would have to say.
“Maybe, but my grandpa weren’t kiddin’ – it really isn’t that easy to write a story. But, Grandpa Lewis made everything look so simple and complex, but it truly isn’t. It’s hard to let the reader into your mind, and you want to give them details of everything, but you don’t want to give them so much that they get bored, either.” I said, biting into my apple. We were in the 5th grade, eating lunch in the cafeteria. We never ate with the girls, only with the boys in my class.
Joey must have heard me, because he popped into the conversation.
“Isa, how can you like writing? It’s so boring and difficult to me, and it gives you hand cramps.” Joey complained, shivering at the hand cramps part.
“Joey, how can you not like writing? It gives you a chance to put imagination, to fill the readers with your own thoughts. As for the hand cramps part, it’s part of the offer. Take it or leave it, huh?” I said, spitting out an apple seed.
Oh, I forgot to mention: my name’s Isabella.
“Isabella, quit debating stuff without knowing if you will regret it or not.” I heard from behind me. Joey, Maddie and I turned around to see who it was. It was, not doubt, Winston; Winston the philosophizing boy, sitting in an empty table by himself.
He was, you could say, my “boyfriend”. He was the one I came to for advice, and he favored me more than the other girls. Girls always looked, correction – stared at him whenever I wasn’t by him. They thought he was handsome, likewise he was to everyone. His handsomeness blinded most girls from seeing who he truly was – except me.
“Winston, my opinions are mine. Say what you want, nothing will matter.” I said, confident as possible. Joey stifled a laugh from it, while Maddie just smiled her That-was-cute-but-try-harder-next-time smile.
Winston whirled around, and faced me.
Winston’s skin was pale as snow, just like mine except not as fragile. His eyes were a piercing blue, one of the only ones in the whole school. He had blue-black hair, that was ruffled and messy. Everyone called him the “Otter”, from this one game played by the person who made it up. His eyes were perfect to me, considering words couldn’t describe them. Girls pretended to act genuine to him, saying they were literally down-to-earth and modest. But by them saying that, wouldn’t that make them not modest?
“Oh Isabella.” was all Winston said before turning around again to pick up his tray, get up from his seat, and dump his tray. He returned later to his table to crouch down over it, saying nothing.
Maddie and Joey knew better than to mess with him while he was in that state, everyone did. Besides me.
I don’t know why, but impulse told me to pick up my tray and to sit down next to him.
“Isabella?” he asked, as soft as cotton.
“If I changed, and was no longer like an “philosophizing otter”, would you still be attracted to me?”
I thought long and hard about this, until I finished my lunch and had dumped my tray. When the lunch bell rang, saying that it was time to go to recess, I said to him:
“Walk with me and I’ll tell you about it.”
As we were walking along the school field, while the other boys played football in the middle of it, I shivered slightly from the cold. It being winter was my favorite season, Winston knowing that more than anybody. I caught him from the corner of my eye smiling.
“Snow is already here.” I stated.
“Yes, it is.”
We walked a little more, until I stopped.
“Winston, who even gave you that idea?” I asked.
“The idea of you no longer being an advice chamber.”
Nothing. He just stared at the ground, shuffling his feet,
“I-I don’t know.” he replied, staring into the cold gray sky.
“I can’t answer that without knowing who you’d change into.” I answered, my final answer for his question.
“Yes, you’re right.” Winston replied, as we started walking again.
While recess was nearing, Winston looked around hesitantly. I was confused, wondering why of course.
Then Winston gave me my first kiss.
Fireworks ran off in my head, and I couldn’t help but pull back as fast as I could. Winston was taller than me, and he immediately responded to that. His face was startled, but sorry at the same time.
“Isabella, I-I’m sorry.” was all he told me before we lined up. He walked away, bundled up in a black scarf, and walked faster to line up.
Butterflies were flying in my stomach, and my heart hurt so bad that my knees nearly gave out and I almost fell down. A saying I heard kept ringing in my head, and when I opened my eyes, I saw it written across the sky.
Strangers stab you in the back. Boyfriends stab you in the heart. But best friends merely poke each other.
Maddie was the first to notice my condition, and came running towards me.
“Isabel!” was all I heard before my world went black.
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