Ninth: The Boy Liked Her
It was Saturday.
That meant dad didn’t have to go to work. But mom would be. I woke up just in time my dad made French toast. I saw Andrew sitting at the table and was already eating.
“Morning.” I mumbled; my eyes still getting used to the bright light.
Dad looked at me, “Good morning.” Then back at the pan.
I sat across Andrew who was still in his sleeping clothes, “Is that a book?” I asked. In front of him was a small but thick book.
“Yeah.” He answered. His eyes concentrating on the book.
I was surprised. He never read a book. I scanned the title, “100 most beautiful places you have to see before you die.” I whispered, “That’s why. It has pictures in it.”
Dad served another plate of French toast in front of me.
“Thanks. Smells good too.” I added.
“You know what stinks?” Andrew closed his book and placed it on the edge of the table.
I rolled my eyes, “No.”
Dad sat and joined us on the table, ignoring the conversation. He had his newspaper and began reading the first page. He did this every morning.
“Ethan. Remember that skunk bag?” instead of waiting for me to answer he continued, “Of course, how can you not forget him? He was your first crush.”
“Are you kidding me?” I shuddered, “Just gross.”
“Whatever. Yesterday after swim class he asked me if I wanted to race with him back and forth to the yellow flag. I told him that I don’t want to because my muscles were aching but he kept on insisting me, on and on and on. I told him not to force me or else I’ll punch him on the face—“
“Seriously?” I laughed.
“Seriously.” He answered. “Just then I noticed that he just wants to impress this new girl who just moved. She was pretty I suppose. But not all that gorgeous.”
A long pause had occurred and the only sound I could hear was when dad flipped another page or when another car would pass by the street. I shrugged and put down my fork.
“And who was this new girl?”
“Her name is Rachel. I never knew her last name.” he said.
“So you’ve talked to her?” I asked.
“No.”
“Then how did you know her name?”
“Some girl called her, so I guess that could be it.”
“Oh.”
So what? He has a crush? Everybody has.
YOU ARE READING
A Beautiful Mess
Teen Fiction"I had never thought in a million years that a boy who used to hate me, who used to make me cry, who used to play tricks on me could possibly make me fall in love with him.." Saydie was only four when Ethan started playing tricks on her: purposely s...
