The Forbidden Fruit Tastes The Sweetest

The Forbidden Fruit Tastes The Sweetest (2)

Lunch time. The worst time of the day.

I searched the cafeteria for my best friend, Alexis. I always sat with her and her boyfriend, Zelda. He was all against his name, and we always teased him about it. Apparently, he thought it sounded girly, so we called him Zeke. But I knew Alexis absoloutley loved the name anyway.  I had known them since 7th grade, and they were my only friends. Then I spotted her; a gorgeous, tanned girl with long, black hair and deep brown eyes. She was loud, dramatic, playful and lovable; we were complete opposites.

She was wearing blinding white skinny jeans, a silver and pink studded belt, hi-top converse, and a pink All Time Low concert jersey. I looked at my own outfit, feeling alot less spunky. I was wearing a plain, deep green knit Pac Sun shirt and dark blue jeans. I sat down across from Alexis, who was having a full blown makeout session with Zeke. 

"Um, no PDA at the table," I muttered, leaning back in my chair. Alexis rolled her eyes. "Hey to you, too." She said. Zeke just grinned at me.

I put my head down on my arms and yawned. "Did you see that kid?" I asked, trying to hide my interest. I didn't know why I was thinking so much about him, anyways. 

Maybe because he's attractive.

What's that supposed to mean?

He seems too attractive. 

Well, there's tons of attractive people out there.

He's unnaturally attractive.

Yeah, just the average argument with your conscience.

"Oh my gosh! I saw him! That Forestt kid!" She screamed in my ear, so close I could see the shiny lip ring she wore every day. 

I shot her a look, shrinking back. "Tell the whole school, why don't you?" 

Zeke patted my head condescendingly. "Young one, you will never learn," he said. I squinted my eyes at him. "What?" He shrugged. "I act on the spur of the moment." 

I sighed, shaking my head. "Anyways, I don't like the look of him." I said.

Alexis stared at me like I was crazy. "But he's HOT."

Zeke pouted.

I bit my lip. "But he's a player. I hate people like that." At that moment, Forestt himself walked in, and sat next to Jennifer, who immediatly began flirting with him. I knew I wasn't wrong in my judgement. Look at the boy, he was probably so used to getting all the attention in the world. And he was the talk of the school anyways. We were all just wrapped around his pinky finger. 

I got up, my appetite suddenly gone. "I'm going to go work on my art project."

I slung my bag over my shoulder and left, feeling like I was being watched. Every year, there was an art contest at school. This year I was actually eligible to apply. Only seniors could do it, and it could result in me getting a scholarship to the college of my dreams, and a 50,000 dollar prize for first place. You could say it was a big deal; and I took my art seriously.

I'd been drawing since I was 7; it was my passion. I won 100 dollars in a 5th grade competition with a drawing I sketched in the dentists office. 

I headed to Mrs. Locke's art room, and opened the heavy door. She was eating lunch and rifling through some sort of pamphlet. She looked up as I entered, and smiled. "Hello, Miss Vance. Come to work on your art project?" She asked around a bite of lasagna. I nodded, and sat down, pulling out a sheet of paper and my art materials.

I was drawing... my Father. I had decided it was the way I was going to remember him. I was going to win this, for my Father. He had always wanted me to get into a good college. I began drawing, first the outline of the body, then the face. That was the hardest part...

I tried to fight back the tears, but the lump in my throat just grew and grew until cold, silent tears slowly trekked their way down my face. 

The door swung open then, and I furiously wiped at my face, keeping my head down. A smooth, attractive voice came form the doorway. I knew that voice.

"I found this on the floor, and I thought it's owner might be in here." At this I hesitantly looked up, to see Forestt, looking slightly amused. 

Mrs. Locke nodded, looking slightly pink. I felt a pang of anger. Everyone liked this boy. Some people had to work for favor. 

Forestt approached me, and held out my iPod, which must have dropped out of my bag on my way here. "Here you go," he said. "You're name is Willow right?"

I took the iPod from him and nodded slowly, hoping my tears weren't evident on my face. Forestt gave me a questioning look for a moment, but then turned away, his eyes unnaturally bright. "Just so you know, you and your sad little drawing are not going to win the contest." He said, in a lighter tone.

I stood up indignantly, stuffing my things into my backpack. He had no right to just pop in out of nowhere and insult my art.

I glared at him as I stalked out. "You disgust me," I spat vilely.

He just chuckled and it made my rage worse.

Forestt Blake Woodrow had done nothing wrong, not really, besides insulting my work. And it could have been a joke. If anything, he had only been nice to me. 

I absoloutley hated him.

---

I woke up the next morning feeling empty. I looked around my room and at it's pale blue walls, sighing. Then I changed into a black hoodie and light blue jeans, letting my dark red hair cover my eyes, as usual.

I stepped downstairs, to see my Mother at the table. I could already feel the tension.

"Morning, Willow." She said, smiling tightly. I backed away from her. I could feel it... It was about to happen.

"Where's Dad today?" She asked, clutching the cup of coffee in her hands tightly. I chewed my lip rapidly. "He's... he's..." I tried to get the words out through the lump in my throat that had come up again. 

"Yes, Willow? Hmm?" 

I chocked out the words. "He... is... dead."

My Mother let out a burst of laughter, tight, uneven, crazy laughter.

I quickly stepped out of the house, swallowing hard. Life had been so much better when my Dad was alive.