Precious

Life in Mono

The stranger sang a theme

From someone else's dream

The leaves began to fall

And no one spoke at all

But I can't seem to recall

When you came along

Ingenue, ingenue

I just don't know what to do

_______________________________
And then, dozens of people got in between us, and I could no longer see him. When I shifted my head back and forth around the people to see him again, I could no longer locate the brilliant black hair that adorned the god I had just seen.

And although I had only seen him for about a minute, the side effects of withdrawal kicked in.

All of a sudden, my head was filled with hundreds of voices each of which had questions, comments, and concerns.

Who is that boy?

Does he know me?

Was he here back in middle school?

What did he mean by "welcome back"?

Why doesn't he come over and introduce himself?

Why do I feel like I'm high-off adrenaline?

But the sanest of all the voices said:

Get your shit together, Estella Rose!

That voice was freaking out that a boy had affected me so much – this had never happened before. Not even with Davie. And Davie was my Prince Charming.

I ignored the voice that could have saved me a bunch of heartache, and was about to run after the boy when the principal got a mic and said, "Welcome back Estella! Come up here! Let's hear it for Estella everyone!"

I was frozen, staring at the ground to focus as I tried to decipher what 'welcome back' meant.

Did he already know me?

Was he from New York?

The crowd of my fellow classmates cheered wildly as if we were in a Championship finals Miami Heat basketball game, but I could barely hear them. I was in another world at this point, one where only my questions, that stupid gorgeous boy, and I existed. It was terrible. I couldn't remember the last time I was this distracted, or focused, rather, on one individual. I had moral issues with this type of outrageously disgusting behavior, yet I couldn't stop.

Why am I so wrapped up in thinking about that boy?

Didn't I swear to stop acting like this already?

            I wouldn't have heard my stupid principal, I barely recognized my name being called by hundreds of students until Jude had pulled my hand and asked, "What's wrong?"

I immediately snapped out of it and began walking towards the stage with a great big smile.

At that point, I thought I deserved an award too.

It was amazingly difficult to pull myself together to do what I always did – flaunt my perfection and fake happiness in front of others.

Once I got in front of the microphone I looked down on all of my classmates, laughed, and pushed my professionally straightened shiny brunette hair back, so that it reached the lower part of my back. My familiar middle-school principal, Mrs. Jean, who had apparently been promoted to the high school during my absence, beamed as she handed me the microphone and instructed me to say a few words. As I looked away from her, I looked down and my heart skipped a beat.