Collins' Collection of Creepy

The Blood Red Jacket.

There was this girl in my class that intrigued me...not because she had a fiery shade of red hair that contrasted with her chocolate skin. Nor was it her verdant green eyes that glimmered like the steadiest lake. It wasn't even because she always kept to herself and her voice was never heard by any of us. Those things were all eerie, but what was so captivating about her was the blood-red football jacket that she wore with the number eight that glistened on both the front and back.

I remember the loose strings, random dirt stains on the fluffy white lining, and a broken zipper which delivered its history quite well. Ever since she was transferred to my school, it was always present on her curvy, petite frame.

Her white thirty-two's were rarely on display and although she was liked by many of the hormonal teenagers in the class, she never gave in to the temptations.

There were so many questions that raced through my mind about her but only one remained prominent. Why does she always were that stupid jacket?

In the sun's heat and the rain's cooling, the wind's blows and the snow's frost not once did she ever take it off or pull up its long heavy sleeves. Even her name held mysteries waiting to be unfolded.

Everfree

I've always wanted to talk to her. I wanted her to be my friend but considering how introverted I was, I didn't even try to. In my pale grey eyes, she was cool. The perfect example of the word. A person who wasn't a show-off but not too introverted that they were ignored... like me. She was always the hot topic of the school without her voice ever dancing in our ears.

I remembered one faithful day in class when I was jotting down my future fantasies about us in my diary, observing her lazy posture. She was slumping over the wooden desk that the school provided us. Her head resting on one of the palms of her hand. The other was busy blocking out the jealous glares of the sun. Her feet were swinging mindlessly below the desk as she kept shuffling on the metal chair.

Her blood-red jacket accentuated the room's white walls and dull, dirty chalkboard. My mind drifted to all the imaginary possibilities of us being friends. My favorite was the one where we would be skipping together into the setting sunlight on a beach with the sand between our toes. Our bath suits would stick to our skin from the days swimming and would be talking about our future weddings and what we would name each other's children.

Sometimes we would be talking about who would be the better godmother and I would always win. My thoughts were quickly written into the pale white leather dairy in front of me. I remember the teacher being in a meeting and everyone finding something unconstructive to do.

My body froze from the odd feeling of someone watching me, calculating my every move. My grey's strayed from the dairy and unto a pair of verdant ones.

My body took a screenshot, my heart having a mini attack. The corner of her mouth lifted into a warm smirk as her hand, which blocked the sun's rays, offered a friendly wave. All the oxygen from my body became extinct. Blood rushed to my head as a result. My heart galloped faster than a racehorse. My fingers laced with a thick coat of perspiration as my stomach fluttered at the attention I've never received before. My sloppy figure rushed to straighten up as my jello hands reciprocated the wave.