~Seven~
I woke up with a feeling of unease in my stomach. My alarm clock was screaming at me and my head was pounding. I got up and walked sluggishly to the bathroom, had a quick shower and got dressed. My blue dresser was trying to strangle me. The holes in my shoes were scowling. I couldn't eat so I choked down a glass of milk that tasted like poison. On the drive to school the trees looked dead and bare and black clouds seemed to be following me.
As I walked into school the bullies cracked their knuckles at me and the popular girls put their heads together and whispered as soon as I walked past. My locker looked as if it would swallow me if I got too close. Butterflies were fluttering inside my stomach. I had to get it over with. It would be like ripping off a plaster; a plaster wrapped tightly around my heart. It would be easy! I could do this! I took a step towards a group of girls. The butterflies inside my stomach turned into angry bees. I couldn't do it. I didn't have the guts. "Coward" a voice echoed inside my head. It was what my brother had called me when I was too scared to jump off the diving board. I took another step towards the girls. Before I could stop myself, words were tumbling out of my mouth. "Isabella, do you want to go to the school dance with me?" She was the prettiest girl in school. She was bound to say no. Her friends were laughing and scoffing at me, but she was smiling. "Sure!" I walked off with a grin on my face and a skip in my step.
My shoes were no longer scowling; they were smiling broadly up at me. The bees in my stomach were replaced by a growing sense of pleasure. The bell rang for lunch, it sounded like a lark's song. I walked into the cafeteria and walked right into a big, muscular body. "Gimme your lunch money, twerp" said a deep voice. "No thank you" I said, feeling brave. The bully raised his fist to punch me. I didn't feel brave anymore, I felt scared. Scared out of my wits. I was going to die. But, right as the bullies big fat hand was about to connect with my nose, a big body stepped in front of me. I looked up. The principal, who had a very angry look on his face was shouting at the bully. I smiled to myself.
"James!" I looked around. Isabella was sitting at a table beckoning to me. I sat down with her. "Do you want to walk home with me?" she asked with her voice that sounded like an angel's. "Sure!" I answered too quickly, she noticed. Blood rushed to my face. She laughed at my red cheeks. I felt so happy that I could make her happy.
The rest of the day rushed past. I kept thinking of Isabella. Her long blonde hair. Her rosy cheeks. I got told off in maths when I failed to answer a question. I had been daydreaming about Isabella's deep green eyes that looked like they hid the meaning of life.
Later on, I met Isabella by the P.E shed. I was beaming, but she seemed sort of sad. On the way home I chatted away happily, though she said barely anything. When we got to my front door Isabella said she had to tell me something. Tears slid down her beautifully sculpted face. "James, I said I'd go to the dance with you because I like you so much. But I shouldn't have. I have to move. I won't see you again, but I'll never forget you." She gave me a hug then ran off sobbing. I felt like she had ripped out my heart and taken it with her.
Tears sprang to my eyes and trickled down my cheek, off my chin and landed on my shoes; which were now looking old and worn out. I trudged up the front steps, kicked off my shoes and collapsed into the couch. Life had given me milk, I had made a milkshake and now it was being poured down the drain. I was depressed and it wasn't helping that mum was making a fuss over me. I slouched off to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me.
My stuffed toys were crying, mirroring their owner. I slumped onto my bed and hugged my knees tightly. My first true love had been dragged out of my life. I was wishing to have lots of memories with her; holding hands, going down the slide together, but it would never happen. I pulled out a crayon and wrote "I love Isabella" on my bedside table. I'll never see her again, but I'll always remember the day I had with Isabella.
Gosh, it's hard being seven!
By Holly Keast
