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A Secret Admirers' Metamorphosis
He drummed her fingernails against the corner of his undersized school desk. Three… two… one- exactly six and one half minute until sixth period lets out- six and one half minutes until he delivered. It was a schedule he had followed since sophomore year, every other Wednesday just after sixth period, he delivered the note. Never anything that could give him away- he either typed it up and avoided the use of his hand writing, or cut his desired words from newspaper and magazines ransom-note style.
The message was always the same- the words always different. On Valentines Day last year he had given a small bag of Conversation hearts, a cheesy card, and a Yellow rose. Halloween two years ago it was a chocolate eyeball and a small card saying, “You are my treat- here’s one for you. No tricks.” Red and Green gummy bears just before Christmas, Irish Truffles around St. Patrick’s Day. Today however, like most delivery days, a simple folded piece of loose leaf was all he intended- in now four minutes and sixteen seconds- to slip into her locker. He had decided to give a plain and simple note today, a wrinkled “You enchant me” was all that was uttered on the wide-ruled paper he clutched in his right hand.
One minute and forty-three seconds, also know as eternity, to go. One hundred and three seconds was officially his least favorite number… one hundred and two… One 0 one…
He got a sort of kick out of it- he imagined so did she. He wondered how exactly it made her feel when she received his notes. Was it the one thing that gave her self-esteem? Or did she think of herself just as fondly as he though of her? Who did she think dropped the notes, - a jock, or a techie, perhaps, but certainly not him? He knew he was a secret, pondered or not, he didn’t know, but only he knew that this Clark Kent lay under Superman’s six-pack.
The seconds ticked away as his patients and level of attention to the lesson diminished. He became jittery as Mr. Jacobson announced that it was now time to pack up- only twenty-four seconds remained on the teasing clock. Finally- the second hand reached the twelve and the minute hand became perfectly aligned with the two. He held his breath and waited for the bell to set him free.
The thirty-two seconds Mr. Jacobson’s clock was off by were agony- but in a way made the final bell even sweeter sounding. He wove his way through the crowed hallway; the destination was soon in sight.
Ten feet to go… three… two ... one… touchdown. The paper seamlessly slipped into her locker, making the tiniest sound as it landed on her thick beginning-of-spring hoodie. Not a moment later, though, his regulatory schedule was upset. She was exactly twenty-one seconds early- giving her a chance to see a hand dropping the note into he locker- and to whom the hand belonged.
If it was possible, his heart stopped and smile jumped onto her face simultaneously. His gaze met hers, and at this moment he was still her lab partner, he was still her childhood friend, and he was still her next-door-neighbor.
But in that moment, and everyone that followed- the one thing he finally wasn’t, was her secret admirer.
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
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You get ideas from daydreaming. You get ideas from being bored. You get ideas all the time. The only difference between writers and other people is we notice when we're doing it- Neil Gaiman.
Who are you to be who you are?-Le'Na Pernell
I have to agree with banangela, there were a few awkward sentences. But the story overall was beautifully written. ^_^
Keep up the good work and thanks for commenting on The Key!
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"I went insane from long intervals of sanity." - Edgar Allan Poe
"The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say but what we are unable to say." - Unknown
"You must say drunk on writing so that reality can not destory you." - Ray Bradbury
61 articles 36 photos 216 comments
"I'd rather be hated for who I am, than loved for who I'm not"
"Somewhere betweeen us talking, you saying I deserve better, and you making me laugh when I wanted to cry, I fell in love with you."
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"A friend is someone who knows you, but loves you anyway"
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I don't believe in hell but I believe in my parent's couch-- Watsky
Agh! I wonder how I missed that! Thanks so much for commenting and pointing that out, do you know if there's a way to revise your work on teenink?
Thanks so much for commenting, every words is appreciated.
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"Don't cry that it's over, smile because it has happened."
This is one of the sweetest stories I've read in a long time. I like how you focused on such a small part, yet made it really important and stand out a lot. Also the counting down and drumming fingers against the desk added to it, also. Just a couple things to watch out for:
At the beginning you had some pronoun confusion. For example: "He drummed her fingernails against the corner..." It should be "He drummed his fingernils against the corner..." I was confused for a bit. That's really the main thing besides some typos that can easily be fixed. I suggest reading it over a couple times or reading it out loud -- that usually helps. Nice work!!