“Helena” My Chemical Romance
The sun beat down on Estella. Small beads of sweat popped on her forehead. Knowing she was semi-breaking her pledge she slipped off her black t-shirt, revealing her white tank-top underneath. She had promised to wear something black everyday for at least a year in honor of her grandmother.
“Stripping?” someone called.
She turned, under a willow tree sat a boy in her grade. Paul.
“No,” she answered, walking over to him. “It’s scorching out here.”
“Just noticed?” he asked sarcastically.
She sat next to him. The cool, damp soil refreshed her although she knew that it would get her light colored jeans dirty.
She leaned back and looked at Paul, “Ditching?”
“So are you.” he said.
She smiled.
After a few minutes of silence, Paul stood up. Estella kept tearing at the grass. “May I walk this stripper home?”
“I don’t know.” Estella pretended to think about it as she got up and brushed herself off. “It might cost you extra…”
Jokingly he took out his wallet and said, “I have a dollar and fifty cents, will that cover it?”
“For walking me home? See usually, I charge a dollar eighty, but considering I’m halfway there, yes, a dollar fifty would cover it.”
“I’m in luck.” Paul said. They started walking, she plugged in her earphones and he took one.
“This song reminds me of my grandmother.” Paul said.
“Mine too.” Estella admitted. “It’s been three months since she died. That’s why I’m always wearing black.”
“Oh, I thought you were going goth.” He said.
“Nah.” Estella said.
They walked silently and ended up at her house. “You look prettier in color… black makes you more… I don’t know how to explain it. You just look prettier in color.” Paul stuttered awkwardly, looking at the ground.
“Best compliment in the world- with an insult.” Estella responded. “But, seriously, thanks.”
He nodded and then turned to leave. He turned around and said, “Estella?”
“Hmmm?” she struggled to put the key in the lock. Seeing her, he came over and helped her. He pushed the door open. She turned to him and saw lustful eyes.
Suddenly, their lips were connected. She wanted to be closer. She wrapped her arms tightly around him and pulled herself closer. She let his tongue in, and it explored her mouth. She loved the way his lips were cool and smooth, the way he tugged at her hair and the way her fingers got lost in his brown hair. He pulled away, his brown eyes filled with hunger.
“Sorry,” Paul said. “I should go.” Hands deep in his pockets, he made his way down the driveway and eventually down the street, until he was out of sight.
Estella entered her house, thinking that she might not wear black so often. After all, it wasn’t everyday she got called pretty by a cute boy.
No, it wasn’t.
