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Chapter 1: Lily's Perspective

I hate people. People are narcissistic, moronic, immature, and needy. And to make matters worse, they're only needy when fed by other people. I don't need much, and I only have one true friend. Her name's Stacey Ramos; she's more needy than I am, and probably more narcissistic than anyone I've ever met. But that's what I admire about her -- she doesn't care about you unless you can do for her. Stacey and I have known one another since elementary, and she's changed alot in high school, but who hasn't?

 

As a senior at Manhattan High, I don't even feel the need to converse with these pin-headed classmates of mine. I'll just do my work, head home, and play guitar. It's my favorite thing to do in my spare time, and it sort of frees me from the reality of my world. I actually sing along, and I've made a few songs; but I don't have them written down -- I can still remember it all by heart.

 

Today was like every other day; the science teacher Ms. Hanson kicked a student out for disrupting the class (singing loud and obnoxiously), no one understood the math teacher's (Mr. Ramirez) spanish accent, two girls in the hall fought over a guy, and my english teachr Mr. Olds looked rather dashing in his plaid vest and polo shirt. Mr. Olds is the only english teacher who doesn't assign essays, and is younger than 35. Afterschool, I walked by myself since Stacey has volleyball practice afterschool. I always walk by myself and I always feel claustrophobic around this time. I usually walk home, which is about two miles away, but my mom got off early for lunch and offered me a ride home. As I'm walking I see an amazingly attractive boy walking my way. I'd seen him around school before, but today he really caught my eye. As he looked at me, we made eye contact for about five seconds and I nervously looked away. Then, flash! I look up, and the boy is holding a camera, and he's just taken a photo -- but of what?

 

"Did.. you just take a picture of me?" I blindly ask.

 

"Yep. It's for a project I'm working on", he told me. "You see, I've seen you around and today I just had to take a picture of you. You were so calm and focused in a chaotic background, it looks stunning. Plus you look mighty sexy."

 

I was appalled; did this guy know me? Did he realize that I still sleep with the same stuffed animal that I've had since I was 18 months old? He didn't even know my name and he was taking pictures of me and calling me sexy.

 

"Did you just call me sexy?" I looked offended and confused, but I was really just confused.

 

"Oh, I'm sorry. I completely forgot to introduce myself. The name's Jared. Jared Peterson," he said. "And your name is?"

 

"Oh, uhh," I stammered. "It's Lily Morgan."

 

He stared off as if he had seen Andy Warhol right behind me, and told me that he thought my name was beautiful.

Reviews

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It's an interesting perspective. I'll be looking forward to seeing how it plays out.

The narration is good, clean, crisp. The end could probably use more dialogue, but no problems, really. A couple spelling errors. Again, no hassles.

Overall, a nice read!

The best to you and this project!