As I entered the park, I wished I had worn something fancier. I was wearing jeans, tennis shoes, and a grey NYC t-shirt. Basically, everyone stopped and stared. I could feel billions of eyes watching me with disapproval. Girls all ages were wearing heels and pink or blue Lily Pulitzer dresses. Men were wearing suits! They weren't even walking their dogs or anything, they were just talking to each other. I could tell I was sucking up all the preppy elated energy out of the place. I tried not to care, but I did.
I put my head down and tried to walk in the shadows. After about a minute, I popped my head up. Everyone resumed walking and gossiping. I darted my eyes in search for a fountain, but I couldn't find one.
Analyzing the park, I realized it was humongous. You could see everything in it. It was as flat as a pancake. No hills but several short trees. One thing that really stood out was the shallow pond in the middle. There wasn't even a playground. It made you feel like a giant, but maybe that was the point. It seemed like the place where you could think you were special, mature, and better than everyone. A place I didn't want to be in. I only liked the park's air. It wasn't stuffy city air that sometimes smelled and tasted like cigarettes. It was pure, clean, and refreshing. I loved it.
I tiptoed quietly to a bench nearby and ran my fingers down the wood. It was so smooth that it distracted me for a second.
All of a sudden, I wanted to hide. Someone stood me up. There wasn't even a fountain! It had to be a cruel joke. I bet whoever did this was sitting somewhere, laughing at me. I just tried to focus on the somewhat peaceful pond and listened to my stomach growl. I hadn't eaten in days. Not because I didn't have the chance, I simply didn't want to.
That's why the smell of cupcakes had my full attention. I had a huge sweet tooth so when I searched for it, but couldn't find that delicious scent, I was shocked. So when she touched my shoulder I jumped up. She spoke calmly, "Hi my name is Fountain."
YOU ARE READING
Two More Months
Teen FictionWith two more months left, what do you do? Maddison follows an anonymous note towards a suspicious contest. True friendship begins rapidly in a time of turmoil. Maddison gains that, and so much more. (Written in 8th grade)
