Steve. What a name for a pillow. Seriously though, who names a pillow? When the pillow has two eyes and a line smile, it comes naturally.
Steve was magenta flower pillow. She was two pieces of generic blossom-shaped fabric stitch together via another strip of fabric, looking almost like a basic cake. There are probably thousands of these pillows available in Targets or some other store, but the one was special.
But why, you ask, is a "female" pillow named "Steve?" The story behind the name is an eventful one.
Initially, the pillow was just a decorative addition to the room. She would be on the couch and someone would move her to sit down, and would just end up holding her for the duration of class, because she fit so well in anyone's hands.
It quickly became a race to class to see who would get to hold Steve. Initially, five or six of them would walk-race to the youth room, because running wasn't allowed inside (of course). Then the count dwindled, ubtil just two people remained: Jordan and Evelyn.
That was her name. Evelyn Fulton. At first glance, she seemed like an average girl; Starbucks, cell phone, chipped nail polish, heels at random times, the like. The more Jordan got to know her, the more he found that was not necessarily the case. Yes, she listened to One Direction (or as Jor called them, One Dimension), but she also listened to rock music, the good stuff from the eighties. She liked football, she was a slight fan of baseball, and she played volleyball. A lot. She didn't excel at it, but she loved to play despite the fact.
He really enjoyed that she was incredible at writing poems. Prose, rhyming, short, long, didn't matter. She was good at it, and he liked to read them.
To Jordan, she quickly became a close friend. Because she was friends with his sister, she was at a lot of the same events. Evening youth fellowship at two different churches, Sunday service, and any time she came over to his house to socialize with his sister.
But back to Steve. The joke was, Jordan had named the pillow Steven, but because it was magenta, the girls said it was female. Jordan, in a moment of genius (according to his ego), quickly said, "Her name is Stephanie, which shortened is Stephan, which shortened is Steve. I'm still calling her Steve."
From that moment on, "My Steve" was a very common phrase heard each Sunday morning and Wednesday night.
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The Age Of Teen
Ficção GeralThe teenage years can be hard. Looking back on them, though, one may realize they were the defining years in one's life. They were the interactions, choices, and consequences that shaped how that person became, well, them. A formation of an identity...
