"I ROCKED that audition! Juliet is in the bag!" I cry relievedly, as I'm walking out with Anthony. "Y-yeah. Yeah, you d-did," he mutters distractedly, looking troubled. "Anthony? You okay?" I ask, because we can always tell when the other is upset.
"It's just ..... hard today," he mumbles. I cringe, because I know what he's talking about. For most of his life, his home life has sucked. His mom bailed when he was a baby, and his dad is a drunk who likes to use Anthony as his punching bag.
As if that wasn't hard enough, Anthony's picked on by the other kids because he has a speech impediment that makes him stutter. I was pretty much Anthony's only friend, which made him my only friend. All these factors combined resulted in him engaging in a constant battle with depression.
Wordlessly, I sling my arm across his shoulders as we head to our lockers. They're right next door, (we have 14 and 15), and we like that. We open our combinations simultaneously, and grab our stuff for home.
I turn around first, and my wake knocks a white folded triangle from where it was shoved into my ventilation grate. Backpack on my shoulder, I bend down to retrieve it. "What's that?" Anthony asks, coming up behind me. "Don't know. Haven't opened it yet."
Slowly, I unfold the little triangle. In handwriting I've never seen before, the following is written: Roses can be red, violets blue, but neither are as sweet as you. There is no signature, or anything else written. Anthony whistles. "S-sounds like s-someone has a S-secret Admirer!" "Oh, shut up," I protest, punching his arm, but I can't hide the pleasant flush in my cheeks. This will be one interesting year.
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Ficção AdolescenteA drama freak with some interesting friends. A secret admirer. A disturbing phone call late at night. Megan's only love is the stage. She lives for acting, it's in her very blood. Her best friend, barely wants to live at all. Couple that with someo...
