The young lovers ( ponyboy fanfic)

1: to the past , 1960s

My name is Kaylee renae vaughn . I guess you could say I'm just like any other girl. I'm popular, pretty, and smart. What more could I be? Life is pretty much made for me. Even at school things are easy. I don't have much to worry about. I have perfect grades, except one. And I'm not all too concerned with it. It's just one. I'm the one all the guys go for. And everyone is charmed by me.

Perfect, I know. But sometimes, I feel in a bind. My home life is pretty much terrible. There's always tension with my parents and I. They don't understand me or anything I do or like. Ugh. It's so frustrating.

We always fight. And we act like we hate each other. I'm not sure why. I'm the perfect child they could ever ask for! I guess it's their problem and not mine.

"Kaylee? Are you listening?" my teacher asks. I blink and realize I was daydreaming... again. The other students laugh as my cheeks burn from embarrassment. This is the only class I get in trouble in. I think too much in here.

"I'm sorry," I answer. "What was the question?" She looks at me with a merciful glance. "See me after class, please." I sigh and sink down in my desk. I attempt to hide way from everyone's amused stares. I don't want to stay back. What's the point? She'll just tell my parents I'm slacking. Then they'll tell me to work harder in a monotone voice. What good will it do? Oh yeah. It won't.

The bell sounds, and everyone begins to leave to go home. I stay in my seat, twiddling with my pencil. My teacher walks over to my desk, her heels clicking against the floor. She leans down with an old, rough looking book in her hands. She gently places the book in front of me. It looks as if it'll fall apart if I touch it, let alone look at it.

"Your grade is low in this class, Ms. Vaughn. You're almost failing. Can you explain why?" she says gently. "I- I don't know why..." "Well I do. You seem to have an overactive imagination here. So I'll tell you what. Read this book, write a detailed summary about something you learned, and I'll consider adding on to your current grade. Okay?" she asks. I hold the book in my hands, staring at the faded, worn pages and cover.

"What is this?" I ask.

"It's a novel about teenagers facing struggles like you do. Read it sometime. It will honestly make a difference. And not just to your grades. Have a nice afternoon, kaylee." With that, she packs up her things and leaves. I follow close behind with the book tucked under my arm and the thought of her words in my head. What does she mean it won't change just my grade? Why do I even have to read this lousy book? I hate that class anyway. Why please someone you don't want to?

I approach the huge house I've lived in all of my life. Though it's big, it's empty. It's just me and my parents living there. I wish there was something more than that, but it is what it is.

I place my book bag on the hook and take the book to my room. I place it on my vanity. I sit outside to calm my nerves. I like watching sunsets and the clouds rolling by. It's always a pass time of mine. I only do it when I feel like the day is going well. Otherwise, I stay inside and do nothing. Sometimes I wish it wasn't like that.

It feels like hours pass before someone comes to get me for dinner. Even then I don't want to leave. I reluctantly go anyways. It's an awkward feeling, as usual, as I sit in my chair. My mom and dad look so far away. "How was your day, sweetie?" she asks me. I look up from my plate.

"Fine," I mumble. I poke at the food with my fork, not feeling an appetite.

"Your reading teacher tells me your grades are strangely low," dad says. I mentally roll my eyes. Whatever.

"Yeah," I answer.

"That's not acceptable," he says.

"I know."