Categories > Original > Romance
NO To Conformity, YES To Lipgloss And Rock Music
0 reviewsthis girl he knew (a one shot about a boy's one shot)
0Unrated
Everyone at the party was wearing metallic tops and shiny makeup. She was in hot pink and a black skirt with frayed and torn edges. Her iPod was in her hand and her eyes were closed, obviously oblivious to the trance music blasting from the huge speakers.
He knew this girl. He had watched her for the longest time- behind his history book in class (he sat behind her), in the school bus every Tuesday, Thursday and Friday (he sat across from her), and in detention almost everyday (he sat beside her). She had dark purple hair and grey, grey eyes. He swore that he could drown in them.
Once, he was just a 64 away from her. He had dialed 73114, but didn’t continue. Too bad.
Beside the clubhouse was a playground. It was late, almost one in the morning, and he was terribly bored. Getting out of that sweaty room was the best thing that he did that evening. He sat outside, facing the swing set. He just didn’t feel like dancing with the group of girls we went with. No, that was too boring, and besides, he doesn’t dance. Looking up, he saw no stars, and the sky was a dark shade of black. Almost the darkest, in his opinion.
Sitting on a chair a little ways from the side door, he heard Bonnie Bailey sing louder, and then go back to her normal volume, as Someone came out of the jam packed party. Someone started walking towards him. His heart climbed up his throat and tried to get out, so he clamped his mouth shut. He remained motionless, sitting with his back to the Someone who was slowly approaching. But no. He knows this Someone standing behind him. He knew it was this girl, this girl he knew.
“Hey. Wanna dance?” she asked. He could tell she was smiling. He didn’t dare look at her.
“Nah. I don’t dance,” he replied. It was his usual answer, complete with his “I’m-so-cool-I-don’t-bother-with-DANCING” toss of long-ish black hair. She walked ahead of his chair, and started towards the swings.
“Suit yourself.” She shrugged.
His eyes never left her as she hummed a tune and started dancing. Yes, alone. Near the swings. At one a.m.
He didn’t know it then, but he loved this girl. Oh, he knew he liked this girl, for why else would he watch her behind his book, in the school bus and in detention? No, he knew he liked this girl. What he didn’t know was that he would love her.
She stopped suddenly, and took out her iPod. Cliiiiick.
He watched, mesmerized, as this weird girl danced to her own music. She was twirling and twirling, and he almost got dizzy watching her twirl and twirl. Why is she twirling? What kind of song is she listening to? Surely not her usual rock, for she wouldn’t be twirling, but head banging. Then what is it? He wanted to know.
Slowly, almost as though he was scared of this tiny, purple-haired freak, he walked towards her. The moon was out now. He looked up; oh, there it was: the first star.
“Hey,” he said. She didn’t take out her earphones. Apparently, she could hear him clearly enough.
“Hey. So you wanna dance now?” She chuckled. She has a nice laugh, he thought.
He shuffled his feet. “Actually, I don’t dance... because I can’t dance.”
“Hey, now. Everyone can dance. Here. Dance with me.”
And he danced with her. The stars were all out now. How weird is that? He sighed, and he danced some more, although he heard no music.
They danced, but at 1:23 a.m. he remembered why he came over to this girl.
“Hey, what’s playing?” he asked, gesturing to her iPod.
“Hmm?” she mumbled. She was still swaying.
She probably didn’t hear that, he thought.
“What’s playing?” he repeated, again gesturing to her iPod.
Her eyes were closed, and she smiled. A strand of purple hair fell onto her face. He tucked it behind her ear. She smiled wider, but no teeth were showing. She smiled one of her hundred smiles. And he would know all of them. He knew it.
She handed him her iPod. It was turned off. (Cliiiiiick)
He smiled.
He knew this girl. He had watched her for the longest time- behind his history book in class (he sat behind her), in the school bus every Tuesday, Thursday and Friday (he sat across from her), and in detention almost everyday (he sat beside her). She had dark purple hair and grey, grey eyes. He swore that he could drown in them.
Once, he was just a 64 away from her. He had dialed 73114, but didn’t continue. Too bad.
Beside the clubhouse was a playground. It was late, almost one in the morning, and he was terribly bored. Getting out of that sweaty room was the best thing that he did that evening. He sat outside, facing the swing set. He just didn’t feel like dancing with the group of girls we went with. No, that was too boring, and besides, he doesn’t dance. Looking up, he saw no stars, and the sky was a dark shade of black. Almost the darkest, in his opinion.
Sitting on a chair a little ways from the side door, he heard Bonnie Bailey sing louder, and then go back to her normal volume, as Someone came out of the jam packed party. Someone started walking towards him. His heart climbed up his throat and tried to get out, so he clamped his mouth shut. He remained motionless, sitting with his back to the Someone who was slowly approaching. But no. He knows this Someone standing behind him. He knew it was this girl, this girl he knew.
“Hey. Wanna dance?” she asked. He could tell she was smiling. He didn’t dare look at her.
“Nah. I don’t dance,” he replied. It was his usual answer, complete with his “I’m-so-cool-I-don’t-bother-with-DANCING” toss of long-ish black hair. She walked ahead of his chair, and started towards the swings.
“Suit yourself.” She shrugged.
His eyes never left her as she hummed a tune and started dancing. Yes, alone. Near the swings. At one a.m.
He didn’t know it then, but he loved this girl. Oh, he knew he liked this girl, for why else would he watch her behind his book, in the school bus and in detention? No, he knew he liked this girl. What he didn’t know was that he would love her.
She stopped suddenly, and took out her iPod. Cliiiiick.
He watched, mesmerized, as this weird girl danced to her own music. She was twirling and twirling, and he almost got dizzy watching her twirl and twirl. Why is she twirling? What kind of song is she listening to? Surely not her usual rock, for she wouldn’t be twirling, but head banging. Then what is it? He wanted to know.
Slowly, almost as though he was scared of this tiny, purple-haired freak, he walked towards her. The moon was out now. He looked up; oh, there it was: the first star.
“Hey,” he said. She didn’t take out her earphones. Apparently, she could hear him clearly enough.
“Hey. So you wanna dance now?” She chuckled. She has a nice laugh, he thought.
He shuffled his feet. “Actually, I don’t dance... because I can’t dance.”
“Hey, now. Everyone can dance. Here. Dance with me.”
And he danced with her. The stars were all out now. How weird is that? He sighed, and he danced some more, although he heard no music.
They danced, but at 1:23 a.m. he remembered why he came over to this girl.
“Hey, what’s playing?” he asked, gesturing to her iPod.
“Hmm?” she mumbled. She was still swaying.
She probably didn’t hear that, he thought.
“What’s playing?” he repeated, again gesturing to her iPod.
Her eyes were closed, and she smiled. A strand of purple hair fell onto her face. He tucked it behind her ear. She smiled wider, but no teeth were showing. She smiled one of her hundred smiles. And he would know all of them. He knew it.
She handed him her iPod. It was turned off. (Cliiiiiick)
He smiled.
Sign up to rate and review this story