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florence didn't live too far from the school, but it was far enough for her short legs. her cream bicycle was a gift from her grandfather when she was thirteen and she took care of it as well as she could. it brought her everywhere, including mooredale secondary.
"morning flor!"
the blonde girl glanced up and grinned at the approaching figure of eric effoing. he joined her in locking their bikes up, signature smirk on his face.
"hey eric, hi otis," florence greeted, waving over to the third cyclist.
"and how was your summer?" eric questioned, slinging an arm around her shoulders.
"uneventful. got a few new book though—"
"you're going to read your life away, flor. now, tell otis how the new year is the perfect time for him to finally have a sexual encounter."
florence looked sympathetically over eric's shoulder to the lanky teenager. "you've got plenty of time."
"what i said!" otis exclaimed, pointing an obvious hand to the girl.
"whatever. this is a chance for us to move up the social food chain!" eric chanted. "prepare for the best two years of our lives."
and with a muffled laugh, they were being dragged into the old building with high hopes.
i started writing in the summer amongst my boredom. only one page was about you because i had no muse. i didn't pass you in the corridors or spot you in the cafeteria to gaze adoringly, as eric would put it.
but now we're back in school and i can't seem to escape you. we have two classes together and my locker is only a meter from yours. and still, you haven't looked in my direction. but you have looked a lot in maeve wiley's. i can't blame you, she's pretty and despite how frightening she seems, maeve's cool. so i can't be mad at her.
