Chapter 1

Chapter 1

A Chapter by Noah Scott

Six o’clock, “Is it really time to get up?” My question was answered as my alarm clock continued to sound. I started across the kitchen towards the coffee maker. My red hair was still down and messy, I was still in my pajamas, and groggy.

As I flipped through the weeks-old papers and the piles of mail that were spread out across, what should have been, my kitchen table, I came across a letter with no return address.

The envelope was old and browning, with brown rings where someone had, evidently, used it as a coaster. It was thick, yet to small to be a business letter. As I opened it, something small and metal toppled out onto the table. It was a black, brass button that I recognized immediately.

Now I remember who the letter was from. In fact, I had written the letter to myself when I was a freshman in high school. It was a kind of time capsule that my English class had been assigned.

Now class, when your older, you can have something to remember the experiences your had in high school. Due when you come back next week.” That’s what my English teacher, Mrs. Shay, said as she announced the up and coming headache of a homework assignment she was giving just to ruin our weekends.

When I took out the letter, I realized just how much six years could change, from the paper itself to my handwriting. The letter read,

Dear 20 year old Tricia,
As I write this letter, I feel so silly for writing to myself. Yet, at the same time, I’m so excited to receive this letter in six years. I’ve included some pictures from this year.
        Sincerely, 14 year old Tricia
P.S. I hope we’ve achieved what we always wanted to do.

But I never had achieved what I wanted. In fact, I couldn't even remember what I had wanted. I pulled out the pictures and looked through them. In each one, I saw red hair, freckles, and black, square frame, thick rimmed glasses that made me burst out laughing whenever I saw them. I wore all black and had my two-inch long hair spiked, and I was surrounded by friends. In one picture though, there was only one other person standing next to me. A boy with dirty blond hair and purple eyes.

His name was Sam, he was my first real boyfriend. His appearance was similar to mine, except the fact that he was about a foot and a half taller. In the picture, we were holding hands in the hall with our backs to the camera but our faces turned toward it, looking, very obviously, caught off guard. Friends with cameras are a dangerous thing.

What happened to us? I haven’t spoken to any of them in years.” I said, disappointed at myself for forgetting my friends. As I glanced at the time, I realized that if I didn’t haul a*s, I’d be late for work. Pulling on my black slacks and suit jacket, I thought of the letter again and slipped it, and all the pictures, into my bag.

As I got into the building, I reached into my bag so I could show my badge to the guard, but the letter came out with it and fell to the floor, the contents scattering in all directions. Thankfully, someone stopped to help me pick them up. “Tricia?” the stranger asked. He was holding the picture of me and Sam. “Is that you Trici?” a nickname only one person had ever called me, “Sam?” He smiled as I said his name. “So it is you, you work here too?

Too?” I asked, really hoping that I hadn't gone nearly two years without realizing my ex-boyfriend was my co-worker. “Yup, I work up in Hair and Makeup.” he said, handing me the last of the pictures. “I work in Design.” I replied, as we walked to the elevator. After awhile, we grew silent until we reached Hair and Makeup. As he got off, he turned and asked, “Are you doing anything later?” I shook my head no, so he said, “Then meet me after work in the lobby.” As the doors started to close, all I could say was, “ ok.” and ride up the two floors to Design.

OK, what’s with you today!? You’ve been spacey and beet red all day, are you sick?” asked my friend, Mari, clearly running out of patience. “Oh, no I’m not sick. Just a little sidetracked.” I saw a devious smile run from ear to ear. “Is it another boy?” With her question, I could feel me face go a dark shade of red. “I knew it! Ok who is it? Anyone I know?” she asked, fairly excited about her new discovery. Knowing she wouldn’t let down, I decided to give her what she wanted, “You might, do you know Samuel Olson from Hair and Makeup?” not really asking so much as just giving the name because Mari knew absolutely everyone in the building. “Oh, nice one, good guy.” she commented. “Yeah, he looks nothing like he did while we were in high school.” I saw a quizzical look cross her face. "We went out in high school.

You WHAT? You never told me about that, and you tell me everything.” she started, “And who ended it back then?” That part startled me, “I don’t remember, I think it just ended because I was a mess after my dad left.” She nodded, remembering the story I had told her about my dad leaving after he and my mom got into a fight, he never came back and my mom got into drugs and alcohol. She just smiled, then looked at me and said, “Well, I hope it works out this time.

The rest of the day dragged on as I sat, sketching at my station, waiting to go meet Sam in the lobby. When work finally ended, I rushed to pack up my supplies and put my things back into my bag. When I got to the lobby, he was waiting there, sketching in his work book. “Hope you didn’t have to wait too long.” I said. He apparently hadn’t seen me walk over, because he jumped pretty high in his seat. “Sorry for scaring you.” I chuckled, trying not to laugh too loud. “It’s ok, I just wasn’t paying attention.” he said, putting his book and pencils into his bag, “Anyway, shall we go?” he asked, offering me his arm, which I took, and lead the way out the door.

So you haven’t talked to any of them either, huh?” he asked as we shared a pizza and fries. Just like old times, I thought to myself, looking at the boy across from me, the same boy I had been with five years earlier. How can someones appearance change so much in five years. “Trici?”, I’m spacing out again!Oh, sorry. I’ve kinda been out of it today.” I started, when all of a sudden I hear snorts coming from across the table. When I looked across from me, he was laughing, “You haven’t changed at all.” he chuckled, “Thank goodness.

© 2012 Noah Scott

Author's Note

Noah Scott
I'm very proud of this piece, I got an A on it in my Creative Writing class.
Please tell me what you thought.
Tell me if I made any mistakes.

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Added on January 12, 2012
Last Updated on January 20, 2012
Tags: Black Button Tricia Bateman Samu


Noah Scott
Noah Scott

Minneapolis, MN

I'm Noah. I love writing, reading, and art. I write a lot of different genres, though mostly romance and horror as well as GLBT related stuff (interesting mix, I know). A lot of it is Transgender-rela.. more..

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