The next morning as I tramped down the stairs, I heard an attractive, melodic voice, muffled through the wall to the kitchen. I leaned around the corner precautious-like before I penetrated the dining area. The musical voice apparently came from the stunning, young woman perched at the dining table, speaking pleasurably with Bett and Roger.
Their conversation came to an unanticipated halt as they detected me among them. "Well, hello there!" The striking lady smiled genially and gently, holding out her hand. I shook it politely with a slight smile. She wore dark brown straight-legged slacks, and a ruffled cream blouse. Brown leather boots, and a matching brown bead necklace and bracelet set finished off her flawlessly coordinated attire.
"Amelia, this is our daughter, Cecilia," Bett introduced, "she will be staying here for a few weeks."
"It's grand to meet you Amelia; I know we will be the greatest of friends!" She pumped my arm enthusiastically, while I stared deep into her gleaming light-gray eyes. She laughed before excusing herself from the dining room, her dark brown hair swinging along behind her.
"She attends college out of state and comes home every few months to visit," Roger spouted out of the blue a few minutes after Cecilia left.
"Oh, thats...nice," I stammered at a loss of words. I grabbed a strawberry yogurt, my book bag, and mumbled a hurried "Goodbye" while rushing out the door and to the sidewalk to begin my amble to school.
I rocked from side to side as I strolled to school humming random tunes from my iPod.
'College looks so intruding this early in the morning,' I yawned as I leaned on the door, opening it to retrieve my history books from my locker.
"Hello Amelia," the sociable, uneven voice greeted. I turned around, forcing a smile on my face.
"Hi Cedric. So, what is your first class?" I asked promptly, combing my mind for conversation topics.
"Trigonometry. But I detest triangles with all the power in my soul," He grinned, "Yours?"
"History," I stuck out my tongue. He chuckled as I started, "We better get to our classes."
"Yeah, sure, the history building is near math, I'll walk you there," he took my books from my arms and held the door out to the sidewalk for me.
"Thanks," a charming smile played at my lips, and he beamed, "so what are you pursuing in college?" I questioned.
"I want to go into some type of science. Right now I am taking Physics," he countered modestly.
"Wow, isn't that a junior or senior class?" I stared at him, astonished.
He flushed, "Well, yes, but...but," he attempted to seek for an unpretentious way out of the discussion, but failed.
I grinned slyly, "You know it is an immense achievement, don't try to depreciate it!" I scolded him lightheartedly.
"I guess not," He became blissful, my unintentional flattery stimulated elation and he all but skipped to trigonometry.
The same crew in history meant I was in for another hour mockery. I heard 'teacher's pet', 'podium polisher', and 'suck up' whispered among impolite snickers from the back of the classroom. On top of that misfortune, I felt a few sodden spitballs hit me through the duration of Mr. Reynold's motivating lecture about Aztec culture. I attempted to disregard the wet pieces of paper and focus on my notes.
The bell rang, sounding the end of our first hour of class. Again, there was a crazy dash to the door, a race of "who will get out of history first?"
"Sheesh," I muttered aggravated, collecting my books and papers.
"See you tomorrow Amelia," Mr. Reynolds waved, smirking at the mob of students dispersing at last from the hallway outside the door.
"Bye Mr. Reynolds," I replied, grinning before exiting the classroom. Fortunately, there were no obstacles until I arrived at my locker, where Cedric was waiting with books in hand and a wandering look in his eyes.
He apparently did not see me approach, and I had to clear my throat after several failed attempts to make him budge.
"Oh, sorry!" He laughed nervously when he realized his error, "I didn't even see you come up." He blushed.
"Its okay Cedric, I just needed to get in my locker," I chuckled. I expertly entered the combination into my lock and pulled my locker door open to display my already abundantly embellished cubby. Assorted pictures of me, my brother and Casey covered the walls, accompanied by scraps of colored, patterned paper, and tinted magnets with clever sayings printed on them.
"Nice locker," Cedric chortled, "Who's that?" He pointed a bit jealously at Bryan.
A captivating smile flashed to my face promptly, melting his invidious fears instantaneously. "That is just my brother silly, no need to get envious," I smirked teasingly.
'Quit leading him on!' My brain screamed at me, 'He will only get hurt!'
'No, this is fun, no harm will come out of it...', I tried to convince myself.
"But I have to go to my journalism class, I'll see you later," I briskly excused myself from a bowled over nerd, who was positioned enthralled in front of my locker.
I entered my journalism class to find I shared it with both Barbie and Mr. King of the School. 'Great', I sighed inaudibly, rolling my eyes.
I dropped my books and sat in the only available seat, in the front of the class at the desk closest to the teacher, Ms. Moore. She was a woman, probably in her early or mid 40's but looked as if she were in her 30's, with dirty blonde hair that went to her elbows that were usually worn in curls and vibrant green eyes. Regardless of her appealing looks, students tended to fill the back of the classroom before the front, explaining why I was forced to sit at the first desk.
"Class, would you please get out your magazine article you chose to model for our next project? Thank you," she requested politely, holding up her article on healthy diets as an example. I removed my clipping from my binder and flattened it out on my desk, scanning it inquisitively.
The article, all about a recent study of how green vegetables affect an individuals' everyday diet, was written in detail by a well-known journalist named Daniela Robertson.
Ms. Moore's voice became hushed as she finished describing the assignment to the class and I was brought back to the classroom from my focus on my fascinating editorial about healthy consummation of the almighty "Green Giants".
"Anyone have any questions?" Ms. Moore questioned as courteously as she always spoke. There was a mumbled chorus of 'no' and she smiled gracefully as she clapped her thin, delicate hands sharply. "Alright, you may begin your projects and-"
She was interrupted by the strident, droning bell, tolling the end of yet another class period.
At my locker, I was amiably stunned to find deserted; no welcoming committee awaited me this hour. I heaved a sigh gratefully but inside, my heart was being pricked with millions of needles.
'I wonder why he wasn't here...' I shook my head dissatisfied with my juvenile disappointment. 'You know you don't like him.' I attempted to convince myself adamantly.
The end of the day finally rolled around, with no trace of Cedric, and I was closing my locker when I detected the sly, smooth voice from behind me, "Hey Suck-Up."
I whirled around, with a half-forced smile on my face. And there was Dennis, leaning on a locker a few down from mine, smirking.
"Oh, where's Barbie? Well, if she is not around then I apologize, I am not permitted to even look at you if she isn't keeping a watchful hawk-eye on me," I tried to keep a straight face, but cracked due to my over-exaggerated sarcasm.
He obviously picked up on it, and just simpered even more. If you could speak 'smirkily' then he definitely would've been.
"Barbie?" He laughed quietly, "I've heard Laura called that before. You sure pick up things quickly.
"Haha, your hysterical," I stuck my tongue out at him, "But really, I can't talk to you, she might eat my face or something."
"No, I can't see that happening," he approached me bit-by-bit until he was only a foot from me, "but it is kind of delectable-looking," he winked and ran his hands down my arms tenderly, making my heart quiver. I stared wide-eyed and wordlessly.
"Yes, I usually have that affect on girls," he gave one last conceited, but handsome, flashing smile before disappearing out the front doors.
I shivered one last time before I grasped who just hit on me. I smiled to myself and turned to head back to Mr. Reynolds's class to ask him when our next essay was due, when I saw Cedric strolling out the History classroom. Something was terribly different; he wasn't his usual jovial and blushing self, he was dejected and disheartened. There was something awkward in his face when we passed each other and he glanced up solemnly into my eyes. Pain. This, like eminent heartbreak, ache and longing injured his generally ebullient outlook. After a second's connection in our eyes, my heart twinged guiltily.
'I hope it is nothing I did', I thought earnestly, feeling dire for poor Cedric.
Why do the most pleasant people forever get hurt?
Indeed, why do the best always get hurt?
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