We hesitantly make our way down the soft steps, unreachable to our sneaker covered feet, until they are planted on polished hardwood. The aroma of sweat peas and corn on the cob is welcomed into our noses and we follow the scent to a kitchen. The floors move from hardwood to tile right beneath our noses and I look up to see the aproned lady and a man I don't recognize. He has black hair, smoothed back neatly, and a prominent mustache on his upper lip to accompany it. When he looks up to place a fork on the table, his eyes find instead two scruffy boys staring directly at him.
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i love being in high school theatre.
YOU ARE READING
Star
Teen FictionThe class mindlessly chatters around me, unaware of the boy with a war crowding his mind. That is, all but one. "Hey, you're Dan right?"
