I couldn't take her staring.
I couldn't take Mr. Sawyer's glare positioned directly next to me.
It was stupid.
I knew who she was, and she was trying to know me.
But no one would, especially her.
She looked almost like her.
The hair color, black, so dark, that when the light hit it, it looked like she carried the stars.
Her eyes a blue-green of the unsettled sea.
I hated blue eyes ever since her.
Her laugh, a eerie noise, like half-breath and half-pain.
Like she didn't want to laugh.
And the scar of white, stark against her arm.
YOU ARE READING
Bottoming Out
Teen FictionA story about how a boy was after he had his heart broken. And how a Golden girl managed to slip into his mind.
