➯ "𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲?"
the bittersweet story of a 16-year-old south-side greaser and her chaotic life as the infamous kid sister of dallas winston. life in tulsa, oklahoma isn't easy with the f...
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✰✰✰ "sooo... uh, who- who are you writing your essay on?" the blonde boy the desk to the left of me attempted small talk just as i let out an early morning yawn.
it was 7:45 a.m. and for the first time in my life, i was fifteen minutes early for first-period english class, let alone early at all. i was always one of those people who considers arriving somewhere twenty minutes late the same thing as being on time.
probably not the best mindset but i don't really give a damn.
"not really sure," i replied to his question with a tired half-smile and rested my head in the palm of my hand from where my elbow sat prompted up on the raggedy old desk top scattered with inappropriate drawings i'd lie if i say i didn't add too.
the kid beside me had been referring to the "the people who made us" assignment worth fifty percent of our junior year english grade that i of course hadn't even thought about starting until he mentioned it.
"yeah same... anyway, i'm, uh- pres by the way. well, i mean it's really presley. like my birth certificate actually says presley. well, technically presley james, but god, um. yeah." he looked too socially awkward as he played with the corners of his notebook and i couldn't help but think if he was scared of me.
i was glad we were the only two in the classroom or i think he'd have a stroke.
his long hair covered some of his eyes, but he'd almost shake his head side to side super quickly to reveal his blue eyes before it fell over them again.
"so, most people just call me pres." his rambling stopped and i sat there a moment, trying to comprehend whatever the fuck he just said.
"yeah, i know your name." i turned to him and he looked confused.
"hey, i might look fuckin' stupid but i pay attention." he smiled right after i did, almost like he was waiting until i did.
"oh." he muttered and began to laugh to himself.
"but... presley. like the elvis presley?" i tried to make him laugh a little more and he seemed to loosen up a little, just in the way his shoulders suddenly lost their tension.
"yeah, like elvis presley. my parents are obsessed." he gave me a subtly stunned smile and i had come to the conclusion that he was in fact probably terrified and still decided to have a conversation with me anyway.
"well, i'm levi..." i introduced myself to make him feel less awkward and removed my head from my hands, debating to say my last name.
it's not just one of those things you throw around like it's nothing. it meant something. it had a reputation greater than i'd ever be and that really seemed to mean something to everyone but myself.
"yeah, i know your name." he threw it right back at me and i rolled my eyes.
i bent down to the side of my desk and reached in my black combat boot for my pack of smokes. my loose jeans started to make the rest of my body hot, so i took off my leather jacket when i came back up, revealing my tight white t-shirt.
