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I hope that this one seems shorter than it is,since it's extremely long.
It's a bit older than the rest; I had written it to get over writer's block a couple of months ago.
Currently, I'm writing the sequel, so... stay tuned. : D
Ella Waver sat down on the bench that was in front of the school, writing the test answers down on the rubber sidewall part of her black Converse hi-tops. She mumbled something under her breath, and then shuffled around in her striped messenger bag for her watch.
Once she found it, she checked the time, and gave a small sigh of relief. It was currently 7:07 AM, thirty-eight minutes until school began. Why was she here so early? Simply because everyone else was here early to watch the football team play, yet she thought that it was just a big waste to watch her fellow high school students play. Her reasoning was: you went to a game, watched them play, cheer at the parts in which that they won, and then what, you did nothing? In Ella logic, it was a complete waste of time.
So, there she sat, isolated from everyone else. Or, so she thought.
Right in front of her was a boy staring at her, and she blinked.
“Shouldn’t you be watching the football game, kid?” Ella asked, raising an eyebrow. She recognized him as a freshman that had just moved to Seaview High School a week ago. “And shouldn’t you be scared of the big, bad junior? Seventeen-year-old’s are scary… roar.” All the boy did was smile, and then shake his head.
“I don’t like football.” Was all he said, sitting down next to her. “And I’m not scared of kids in higher grades. We’re all high schoolers, so shouldn’t we sit back and enjoy our classmates while we can?” he paused, and looked at her shoe. “Hey, wait are you writing?”
“Well, that makes two of us.” Ella said firmly, capping the pen which she was writing with and slipping it into her pocket. “Hey, you have some pretty weird beliefs. Most people are scared of me.” Panicking, Ella took her foot off her knee and blinked. “And why do you care what I was writing?”
“Huh? Why would people be afraid of you?” the boy questioned, blinking and tilting his head to one side.
“Uh, dude.” Ella said, staring at him. “I don’t know who you are, but apparently you don’t know how things work around in this school.” She stood up, and brushed some nonexistent dirt off of her black pencil jeans. “I’m Ella Waver, ever heard of me?” The freshman shook his head. “Never in your life? Does the name Cinderella Rainia Waver ring a bell?”
“Oh!” the boy exclaimed, and Ella smiled.
“So you’ve heard of me?” she asked eagerly, staring at the unknown boy with intent eyes.
“Yeah!” he said, standing up. “You’re that girl on the tennis team!” Ella frowned, and slapped him across the face.
“No!” she yelled, stomping her foot. “Well, yes, but that’s not what I mean! Haven’t you heard any bad rumors around? There’s been a couple recent ones that you might’ve heard, like something about me being on drugs and another one about me dating, like, twelve different guys at once? Ring a bell, at all?”
“I don’t like rumors,” he said calmly, sitting down on the bench again. “I find them disgusting and, most of the time, just lies.” Ella blinked, and sat down next to him.
“Hey, kid. What’s your name?” she asked, looking behind her to see if people were going to start coming since the game was over in a couple of minutes.
“Quinton Marcus,” he said with a curt nod, “and you already told me who you were—Ella Waver, right?” Ella nodded.
“You seem to have more of a conscience than most people I know.” She commented, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. “It’s kind of weird. I mean, no offense or anything, but don’t I have the right to be skeptical about your cordialness to a complete stranger?” Quinton shrugged.
“You seem like a nice enough person.” He said with a smile, and Ella just rolled her eyes.
“Whatever. Just, what are you even talking to me for, anyway?” Ella inquired, glaring at him with narrowed eyes.
“You looked pretty lonely.” He responded truthfully with a smile. Ella frowned, and slapped him across his face once again. “Ouch…you know, you really shouldn’t do that.”
“I’m not lonely.” Ella said, staring at him. “I don’t know who you think you are, but just go away, alright?”
“No,” he replied plainly, shaking his head.
“Fine,” Ella whispered, standing up and beginning to walk away. “You’re giving me a headache. Besides, class starts in twenty minutes. I need to go to my locker, finish writing down the test answers, and then talk to my friends.” She continued to walk in the direction of the school; away from Quinton.
“Hey!” Quinton exclaimed, waving one hand in the air and running after her, “I’m not done talking to you yet!” Ella looked behind her and rolled her eyes at the idiocy of this child.
“Look, kid,” Ella began.
“Quinton.” He corrected, and Ella just cleared her throat. “Sorry.”
“Look, kid,” she continued, “you may not be done talking to me, but I’m done talking to you. M’kay? Yeah, so go away, goddamn it.”
The first bell rang, and Ella trotted into the school and away from Quinton.
“You again? What are you, my stalker?”
Ella stared at the grinning blonde child that stood at her locker, and frowned.
“God, you don’t know how much I want to slap you again!” she exclaimed, pushing past him and toying with the lock on her locker.
“Wait—before you slap me,” Quinton said quickly, pulling something out from his binder and handing it to Ella. “Read this.”
Ella read it, yet every sentence made her want to rip it up.
“Where—where the ******** did you get this?” she choked, stuffing the paper into her messenger bag and closing her locker.
“From my mom,” Quinton said with a shrug, attempting to snatch the paper from Ella, yet he failed.
“And where did she get it?”
“Straight from you,” Quinton said. Ella gawked, and shook her head, beginning to walk away.
“That’s completely impossible—it’s absurd.” The high school junior said, throwing him a glance over her shoulder.
“How?” Quinton said, stepping up next to her. “How can it be impossible?”
“She said that she had no real family, like me.” Ella explained, frowning at the boy which she now considered a blatant liar.
“‘People lie’, as you state in that all-tell story about your life.” Quinton said with a small smile.
“But… therapists don’t lie—they can’t lie—can they?” she said desperately, almost running into another person due to not watching in front of her. Ella’s eyes were glued to Quinton, analyzing everything on his head—his bright, shining hazel eyes, the blonde hair that flew all over, his freckles, and even the slim glasses that were seemingly stuck to the very edge of his nose. She looked straight into his eyes, looking for the lie that was hopefully hidden there—yet, all she could see was brutal honesty.
“I guess they can.” Quinton mumbled, ashamed that his own mother would cause such distress in a girl who was already stressed out enough to go to a therapist.
“Well,” Ella said haughtily, pushing open the door to her next class, “It’s not like I wanted to see a psychologist. It was my foster mom’s idea.”
Ella just stared at him with her cold purple eyes, but eventually she blinked.
“Ah-hah!” Quinton shouted, pointing a finger at her accusingly. “You blinked!”
“Yeah, well, screw you.” Ella mumbled, beginning to shut her front door on him.
“Hey!” Quinton complained, slipping into her house right before she shut the door on him. “I still need to talk to you!”
“Well,” Ella said, putting her hand son her hips, “You stalk me at school, and then follow me home without me knowing it. I thought I was finally losing it when I heard something behind me and there was nothing! You—” she jabbed a finger at his chest, “—are an absolute stalker!”
“Whoa, there!” Quinton said, taking a step back since he was afraid of being slapped once again. “Don’t wrongly accuse me of anything!”
“I’m not wrongly accusing you of anything!” Ella shouted, stomping away from him. “Get out of my house and get out of my life!” she walked into her room and furiously slammed her door.
“God…” Ella mumbled to herself, collapsing on her bed and staring at the ceiling. “Damn… I have a headache.” She moaned, grabbing an aspirin from her headboard and popping it into her mouth. “What the ******** wrong with that guy? Frickin’ stalker…”
Once Ella had calm down after a short nap, she finally trotted out into the living room and saw no one in sight, not even her family. Though, something did catch her eye—a note stuck to the door.
Curiously, Ella walked over and began to read it:
Dear Ella,
The family and I have decided to go out for dinner at Olive Garden, but we didn’t want to wake you. There’s some leftover pizza in the fridge if you get hungry, just put it in the microwave for a couple of minutes. We’ll be back at around nine.
Love,
Your mother
“You’re not my mom…” Ella corrected, staring at the note. She didn’t care if her foster mom couldn’t hear her; it just comforted her to say that. She glanced at the clock; it was only seven. Two whole hours to do whatever I want, Ella thought while reading the rest of the note.
Love,
Your mother
P.S. Some nice boy was here early today to drop off a note for you. Is he your boyfriend?
“Meh, like I’d ever date him.” Ella whispered to the letter, picking up a piece of paper that was carelessly left on the floor. Out of sheer curiosity, Ella began to read this one as well:
Dear Miss Waver,
I am so sorry for annoying you at school like I did, but it was necessary. I just needed to see if all the rumors and gossip I had heard turned out to be true. You’re a nice girl, Ella—maybe a bit rough around the edges, but, with some effort, you could be a real nice person. I know what you’re afraid of, though—being accepted. Turning into one those perfect Barbie dolls that you seem to hate so much—but don’t worry. You’re a unique person, but to make more friends all you need to do is be nicer. I know people have hurt and betrayed you in the past, but all that is behind you know—not everyone is like that. I know that you’ll never tell me whether this letter changed your mind on how to treat people, yet I’ll still know how you’ve changed by this letter.
Sincerely,
Quinton.
Ella blinked, and set the letter down on the table. Completely unmoved by his words, she went to put the pizza in the microwave.
The next day at school, Ella had this strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, so she walked up to someone who looked like a freshman.
“Do you know someone named Quinton?” she asked, turning the girl around to face her.
“Hm?” the girl said, shaking her head. “Who’s Quinton?” Ella blinked, and then just walked away to find another kid.
“Quinton? You know him?” Ella asked, taping someone’s shoulder, and as a response she got a shrug and a small shake of a head.
No matter how many people she had asked, no one seemed to know who Quinton was. Ella was beginning to get so desperate, she was about ready to ask teachers about him, but then something hit her.
‘I know that you’ll never tell me whether this letter changed your mind on how to treat people, yet I’ll still know how you’ve changed by this letter.’
“What could he have meant by that?” Ella asked herself, ignoring all the odd glances from everyone. ‘Did he even exist, or have I completely lost it? Wait, do crazy people know that they’re crazy?’ Ella mused, looking around for a short freshman to walk up to her and ask her how her day was going.
Despite her better judgment, Ella didn’t look around for him anymore and just went to class obediently.
“Hey,” Ella said, bursting through the front door to her house and setting her messenger bag down on the sofa. “How was your day?” Her foster mom looked up from the newspaper, and smiled.
“Just great. Hey, how are you feeling?” she asked, folding up the newspaper and placing it softly on her lap.
“What do you mean?” Ella asked, sitting down next to her. “I’m fine, just fine. Why, was I sick?”
“No,” her mom said, frowning. “You just look pale.” Ella rolled her eyes. “Paler than usual, I mean. Like you’ve seen a ghost. Honey, you’re as white as paper!” she put her hand on Ella’s forehead. “You don’t have a temperature, though. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”
“Yeah,” Ella said weakly, nodding a bit. “But I have butterflies in my stomach and a headache. Hey, mom? Last night, when you went to Olive Garden with the family, did a boy stop by at all?” Her mom blinked, and shook her head.
“Never.”
“But…” Ella said, reaching across to the coffee table and grabbing the message that her mom left, “You said that one did here…” before she could continue her sentence, she stopped. Scanning the letter, Ella frowned. No where did it say that a boy had stopped by, unlike what Ella had read the previous night.
“Excuse me?” her mom questioned, looking at the letter with bafflement. “I don’t see where it says that.”
“Me, neither…” Ella said softly, standing up. “I don’t feel all that good, now that you mention it. I think I’m going to bed.”
Without another word exchanged between the two, Ella strolled out of the room and sat down on her bed, where there was another letter.
Dear Miss Waver,
By name I’m sure you’re wondering whether you are sane or not, but I assure you—you are completely sane, yet other people are unaware of my existence. Whether you believe me on this one or not, that is your choice,
Sincerely,
Quinton.
Ella blinked.
“Aww, damn, my head hurts.” Ella moaned, numbly accepting the fact that she was probably insane. Reaching across to her headboard, Ella snatched a few aspirins from the container, popping them in her mouth. She knew that all these aspirins were definitely not good for her health, but she just figured that we all die in the end. At least this way, if she died, it would’ve stopped her headache. “Who the hell is he?”
“Meh…” she mumbled, stretching down on her bed and attempting to get some rest.
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