I'm going to stay in bed until I die.
That was my thoughts as I slumped home. As a senior in High School at Aveyard High, was not like they said it would be. They promised it would be the easiest year, that I would have the time of my life. I hate to break it to them but they were dead wrong.
At this moment I am walking onto bowling street, with at least six pounds of books in my bag, and some weird acid on my new shirt. Which I just bought. Yeah, I am upset.
As I walked up the porch to the two story, white House, I can see my mother and father talking in the living room through the window. I open the front door, kicking my black and white converse off. My mom gives me the same smile, she does everyday when I get home. It's soft but greeting. I say hello to my parents then walk up the stairs to my room.
I through my bag down and it flop on my bed. I lay there for a minutes before I hear a crashing sound, I open my eyes and look over at my window, to see my neighbor, Vincent Walker. He looked like he always did, the smirk on his face, jeans, converse, and leather jacket. We had grown up together, but my parents would only let us see each other if one of them was there, they didn't want us touching, too scared they we were meant to be together. I rolled my eyes, "What do you want?"
He still had the smirk, as he picked up a few books he knocked off my desk, "Can't I just come over to chat?" He looked at me.
As I slowly start sitting up, he sits down next to me, "As long as you know how to help me with my Writing assignment"
He just nodded, he was very creative, so whenever I have writers block, he is my savior. "What do you have to write about?" He asked and then laid down on my bed, his legs dangling off the end, which was understandable, since he was 6'2, and my bed was made for a midget off the Wizard of Oz, so it fit me nicely, since I myself was only 5'3.
"I have to write a fantasy book, the school is going to pick one seniors story and see if it can get published."
He knew how important it was to me, I dreamed about being an author, ever since my parents let me play with an old typewriter when I was six.
"Fantasy yeah?" He said, I could see the gears in his brain working. "Blue men? Demon fairies? Oh maybe you could write about another planet that doesn't evolve around finding your soulmate." He said, as I chuckled. "I can't help that's how the planet works"
He rolled his eyes, "It's stupid, all we worry about is finding a soul mate, all the worry about is touching that one person and seeing in color, what's so special color anyway?" He said and sat up. "When I find out I'll tell you" I smiled slightly, but he knew it was going to be awhile. He knew how scared I was about love. I don't want to centered on one person when, I can't even think about myself, plus I think it's stupid. He just got up and went to my computer, "So Demon fairies right?"
