The prettiest smiles hide the deepest secrets.

The prettiest smiles hide the deepest secrets.

A Story by Patrick B
"

Contest with Diana, b*****s! Though kind of forgotten. Critics, go!

"
BING. BING. BING.
I groggily open my eyes to my alarm going off. One of these days, I will beat that damned thing with a bat, I think to myself. Whoever decided that high school should start at 7:20 in the morning needs to be pushed down a good flight of stairs.
BING. BING. BING.
I look at the clock, and it reads 5:50 am.
I push the snooze button, because I couldn't find the resolve to get up. It didn't take long for sleep to come once again. 5 minutes wouldn't hurt, right?
**********************************************

BING. BING. BING.
It was much easier to open my eyes this time, stretching in place when I take a glance at the alarm.
6:15 am. 5 minutes until the buss came. Perfect.
The fact that I could possibly be missing my bus was enough motivation to pull on a t-s**t and jeans, and to tie my shoes. I don't even want to look at the clock at this point to check for time. It was because of that piece of crap that I was going to have to skip breakfast. I grabbed my backpack and I'm out the door in perfect time, with the bus just stopping at the front of the driveway. Not even bothering to check both ways for safety, I run across the street I climb aboard the vehicle.
There was no empty seat available, the nightmare of all people who take the bus. I was going to have to sit with a random person I probably didn't know.
I silently made my way through the ail, holding up the bus from moving. No one moved their backpacks to make room. They all seemed to be in their own little seclusive world with their headphones in.
"Just pick a damn seat kid, I don't have all day!", the bus driver yelled.
Slightly alarmed, I just pick a random seat, even if the person inhabiting it didn't move their possessions. I moved it for them.
I look at the person I rudely interrupted, who was staring at me silently.
It was a girl, who looked about my age, who had straightened brown hair and deep blue eyes. Very pretty if I do say so myself.
"If you were sleeping, I'm sorry to disturb you. I couldn't find a seat and..." I begin.
"No, it's fine", she said shaking her head sympathetically while rolling up her headphones. "I wasn't sleeping, and there wasn't even a good song playing. Maybe if I wasn't so secluded in the average flow I would have moved my bag in the first place. I'm Viara Copertura, nice to meet you." She extended her hand, the rest of her arm covered in bright blue cloth from her sweater. I shake it, sort of surprised by the kindness. I mean, it's about 6:30 in the morning. Almost everyone one on this bus was as lively as the grave, and wouldn't even respond for conversation. Maybe she was just a morning person.
"I'm Nick Trovare.", I tell her. From the stress on the vowel, I could guess that she was Italian, like me. "I go to Walkerson High School, what about you?"
For a quick recap, the student's from the town of Barksfield were divided into separate schools from near the town. Some of my good friends were lost that way.
"Same one!" She said, then a beautiful smile spread wide on her face. Stunning, I think.
"The ride is too long", Viara said taking out her headphones, "Here. Put one in and we'll just listen until we get to school." So I did, and we were silent for the rest of the ride until we reached the school.
**********************************************

English class was probably the worst thing ever invented next to alarm clocks. I mean, I already know the language. Why not make my life harder, it's not like I have a life to get back to. I pretty much had tuned out my teacher as we read "The Adventures of Whatshisname.", and I could really care less. I could always just read the book myself when I get home or go on Spark-notes. I looked down at my book and pretended to read for the time being.  I wipe my head from the sweat, because it was the 8th of June and the temperature was high today. Why not make the day more miserable Mother Nature? Have at it, I curse in my head.
Suddenly, something light and ruffled hit me on the back of the head.
My first instinct, was to look below my shoulder to see what I was hit with, so my teacher did not become suspicious.
Just a regular rolled up piece of notebook paper. Now the only question was who my attacker was. I turned around to see Viara flashing me that smile in the very back of the classroom, all by her lone self. Was she always there?!, I think. Maybe she was just another face in the crowd before I met her this morning. Strange...
I wonder what other classes we might share together, if any.
Out of random, the teacher stops reading. "Since your all not paying attention anyways, I guess I will just collect the homework then.", casting a scornful glance at me. I bring out the assigned homework and she checks me off. Nothing too different than any other boring day.
Then she gets to Viara.
"So why didn't you do it this time, eh? Never mind, I don't want to hear the excuse. You are failing this class, Viara. Have fun in summer school." The teacher scorns with harsh words. Though Viara didn't seem to be phased at, simply pulling her smile and saying, "I'll enjoy it more because you wont be there."
The teacher was already walking away, but did turn a little blush, silently giving the "If only I wouldn't be fired for saying the things I want to say" message. The final bell signalling our right to go home was only 5 minutes away, so the rest of the class started to pack up and shuffle around.
We crowd by the door impatiently waiting for the bell. I notice Viara's face was drenched in sweat, yet she still had her sweatshirt on.
"Why are you still wearing that?", I ask nodding to the blue fabric.
"I-It's like a security blanket. Never leave home without it." She responds.
The bell sounds off, and we heard through the door like packs of sheep.
"Won't your mom get pissed if she finds out your flunking into summer school?" I ask.
"Um... I don't like to talk about my parents that much. But she's usually PMS-ing to the extreme most of the time." she says.
A little odd... I think silently.
I pick up my pace a little bit when I see the yellow bus signalling home in my sights.
Viara was walking a bit slow though, even with me picking up, as if she was delaying the bus ride. I slow down to match her pace.
"Why are you walking so slow?" I ask with heavy concern.
"I just don't feel to well", she said with a bright smile, "Do you always worry this much?"
"Only when it might matter.", I tell her.
She stares at me for a moment, then quietly says, "We're going to miss the bus if you keep asking questions. Do you want to go home or not?"
I grunt an answer and we walk to the bus in silence.
We shared the same seat, but rode on the bus in complete silence. I didn't want to drill further than I did already, so I just aimlessly stared outside the window. The bus stopped on a street I never been on in front of a driveway.
Viara gathers her things and looks at me.
"I'll talk to you later, okay?" she said, flashing her smile.
"You got it." I tell her, and give her a friendly hug.
She walks down the ail like any normal person would, and turned to the bus door.
I saw her walk out of the bus, and into the driveway.
That is, until a tree branch caught hold of her sagging hood and pulled her sweatshirt off.
She shrieked as if something had bit her, and tried to cover her arms with her hands, a spaghetti strap shirt covering her body.
The length of her arms was blotched in very large, black bruises.
She looked back at me, her face absent of the smile

**I'll come and edit this in the morning. Blotchy ending.**

© 2013 Patrick B


Author's Note

Patrick B
Now I know it's a cliffhanger ending, but if you paid attention to the hints in the story, I think you might get it.

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AK
It is really very nice:) You are doing a great job phrasing the story. When you add more, I'll be pleased to read it. however, one line did catch my attention-
"....we were probably both Italian."
This line makes the reader feel like the persona(Nick) doesn't know whether he is Italian himself. You could try making it something like-
"....she was probably Italian too."
-unless Nick doesn't know his own nationality.
Keep writing!
Akanksha Suresh

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

This story (or beginning) has really nice dialogue and authentic voice. Great start!

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

[send message][befriend] Subscribe
AK
It is really very nice:) You are doing a great job phrasing the story. When you add more, I'll be pleased to read it. however, one line did catch my attention-
"....we were probably both Italian."
This line makes the reader feel like the persona(Nick) doesn't know whether he is Italian himself. You could try making it something like-
"....she was probably Italian too."
-unless Nick doesn't know his own nationality.
Keep writing!
Akanksha Suresh

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Okay, now I'll post mine. It's seriously unfinished though. I have too many details. I'm still not sure where I'm going with it. Hepp :c I want to see where yours is going though. I bet the broad'll be a major character >_>

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on April 9, 2012
Last Updated on February 17, 2013

Author

Patrick B
Patrick B

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About
So I gave in and put my full name there. Stalkers, feel free to take notes. In a brief summary, I write mostly quotes and poems, but hopefully something greater will come out of it all. Not much as.. more..

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The Storm. The Storm.

A Story by Patrick B



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