January 4th
Dear Diary,
Mum made me go out on a walk with her today. It was hot and humid, which meant that the twenty-eight minutes I had spent fixing my hair when I heard we were going out went to waste.
But we're inside now.
She says that I'm to start school next week. I don't know what she said after that because I ran home and locked myself in this dreary room that's still full of boxes because I don't want to move in.
I sort of resent that because now she is insistently knocking on my door and won't leave me alone. Perhaps I'll open it when I'm hungry.
Now she wants to introduce me to a neighbor? Is that what just slid through her lips then under the thick wooden door and into my ears to sit inside my brain? She wants me to meet someone? What sort of nonsense is this?
Regardless, I must obey. She is my mother, after all.
Perhaps it won't take me twenty-eight minutes to do my hair now? Ah, nevermind.
I don't care.
Not so sincerely,
Charles David Barnes
January 4th, continued
Dear Diary,
I'm back again, for some reason. Mum introduced me to the neighbors, a man who looked to be fifty-three and his wife, forty-six. They had two children, which was something Mum never wanted. She never said it, but it's because I'm apparently too much to handle, especially if she had another child.
The younger of the two, at around eight, was a blonde female by the name of Amy Rivers. She had sweet brown eyes, and a small array of freckles across a delicate little nose. Ballerina.
The older of the two, though, he caught my attention. Steven Rivers was taller than me by exactly seven and a quarter inches, not including his shoes' boost of half-an-inch. He was seventeen, as was I, except that he was obviously one of the more well-known popular boys in his school. But I don't exactly know how the schools here work with popularity pyramids. This is my first time in America.
His hair was buzzed on the sides and back, and beautiful brown-auburn hair curled together at the top to flop down gracefully on the right side. I suddenly felt foolish for not adjusting my own hair when I had the chance.
His body was a work of art, a sculptor's dream. Defined and toned muscles were prominent, though he was still slim and hadn't overdone the workouts.
His style, as well, was eye-catching. Here was someone who knew how to dress to their body type and not go too far off. Tighter jeans, but not too tight, showcased toned legs and thighs, and a slim bum. Was this the first time I caught myself looking at a man's bum? I suppose it was the first time looking at anyone's backside.
His shirt was on the tighter side as well, though it was a soft vintage one that depicted the old fender logo across the chest. He wore well-cared for but still worn basketball sneakers, so he obviously played.
But the main attraction, the most strikingly remarkable feature of his appearance, were his eyes. A bright hazel, mostly brown and green, was ringed with grey-blue and had blue and green sprinkled across the irises. His thick lashes surrounded these masterpieces, shaded by carefully tweezed dark brows.
This boy was a monumental treasure.
The family introduced themselves, and I nodded respectfully.
Mum introduced us to them, and Amy handed her a steaming pan through thick oven gloves.
"A soufflé," Mrs. Rivers explained. "To welcome you to the neighborhood. There's a barbecue happening at the community center this Friday night, and you're welcome to come."
"Thank you," Mum gushed sweetly. "That's so generous. We'll be sure to make it."
As the Rivers walked back, Steven shot me a glance over his shoulder. I assume he caught me staring.
He winked.
I suppose he didn't mind, after all.
Sincerely,
Charles David Barnes
YOU ARE READING
He Was My Everything
General FictionCharles David Barnes has always been, well, different. And he's upset now, more than ever, because his mother moved the two of them from their home in England to New York in America. But of course, Charles doesn't get to live in the city. It's an ol...
