THERE SHE GOES | ❝This is the worst day of my life.❞
Seventeen-year-old Hallie could have thought of a million better places to be staying for two weeks than her Aunt's home. But since her parents have cleared off for a romantic getaway, she wi...
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CHAPTER THREE ❛ chestnut brown eyes and swooshy hair. ❜
INEVER USUALLY TOOK THE BUS TO SCHOOL since my Mom always used to insist on driving me there. It was on her way to work, and she said it was convenient. However, it seemed that these following weeks were going to be an exception, as Syd usually took the bus and Aunt Maggie was insistent on us two having 'bonding time.'
So, there I was. Sat on the school bus next to Sydney Novak, on my way to do the daily grind of the school day.
I have to admit that the bus wasn't the most... pleasant thing that I'd experienced. Living so near to school had meant that I'd missed out on that world entirely, so in one way I was somewhat excited to see what it was like. Unfortunately, it was disappointing. Too much dried-up gum under seats, lack of fresh air and unnecessary shrieking for my liking.
Sydney's head was leaning against the window, and I had my right leg stretched out into the aisle. I didn't think there was much point in starting any conversation since neither of us were good at keeping it up, so I slipped my phone out of my pocket and switched it on. I still found it so bizarre having a touchscreen phone — for years I'd used this little Nokia flip phone which did the trick just fine. But it finally broke at the beginning of this year, hence why I'd been given an 'upgrade' for my seventeenth birthday in June. I mean, don't get me wrong, I loved it, and felt so high-tech with my touch screen phone... but part of me felt nostalgic for having to jam my fingers into that stiff little keypad when sending a text to get the right letter.
There was a vibration that shot immediately through my fingertips as my phone woke up from its doze.
New Message — Stanley Barber, 11:06PM
I'd only just seen it now. He must have sent it after I'd gone to bed, because I usually switched off my phone when I went to bed, because who needed that distraction when I needed sleep?
Still startled about how sensitive the screen was to my touch, I opened his message:
Him: Hi, it's Stan :-) just wanted to check that you definitely got my number.
I wrote back, and surprisingly, a bubble with three dots bobbed up immediately after I sent my response:
