Hopeful Girl

Her eyes draw me to her. Red. Not a good sign.

Hours before Skillet takes the stage. Before the venue doors open. I notice her approach the ticket booth hooked on a guy's arm. Her eyes draw me to her. Red. Not a good sign.

"I'm here to buy a ticket for tonight's concert," he searches his back pocket. She clenches his arm. A smile briefly touches her lips. It takes a moment to find his card. He begins to draw it out.

In the next moment, I see the change. His body stiffens. Her smile falls. I hear a wail. Small at first. It builds.

Desperately, she lurches into his arms. "They're sold out," she whisper-screams into his shoulder. "I want to go," her words halt me. Nothing hides her despair. "Can't you do something?" Her voice rises. Her eyes plead with him. "Help me," they scream. "They can't be sold out."

He does his best to shush her. A line stretches around the building. Don't make a scene, his actions scream. "I'm sorry, honey. We'll try again the next time they're in town." He tightens his grip on her shoulders. Pushes the hair back from her face. As if to say, "It'll be okay. Trust me." Half-carries. Half-drags her away from the ticket booth.

Do I give her my ticket? What if I become her? What if the next concert I want to go to is sold out?

They round the block. Her fingers clung to his shirt.

What if I run out of money? Never get this chance again? They're my FAVORITE band...

She turns back. I meet her eyes. Meet his.

Red eyes.

I realize then, she knew, before she ever set foot down here, they'd be sold out.

Then she's gone.

My heart invites me to chase after her. My feet stay planted.

Her anguish sticks with me.

At least she has someone to lean on in her pain, I reason. I do not. Dad is somewhere in Portland, Oregon plopped in a movie theatre. If this falls apart. I'll be alone. AGAIN. Not like anyone's gonna help me do what I love: listen to music. Adventures. If I chase after her I lose twice. I lose my spot in line. Lose my ticket. I'll be stranded here till after the concert's over. Another disappointment. There's already too many.

I make up my mind. She'll get another chance. I might not. Head in the door. Hand over the flimsy piece of paper.

Slip to the front.

"This is the last night...." the lead singer, John Cooper belts out.

Yet I can't help wonder...Will I be next?

© 2018 rollerbladegirl

Author's Note

I would love feedback on how to write better. Trying to write a book

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Reviews

Nicolerhi

This is definitely a good piece of writing, although I'm a bit confused for the motivations of the narrator. I can understand wanting to help the girl by giving her the ticket, but not wanting to actually give it up. However, I can't seem to envision why giving his ticket away would mean he would be alone. What I mean to say, is that the narrator seems to be acting in an unrealistic way. In some cases, the narrator's behavior here can be justified -- if given proper background into their life to give reasoning to the action. As a stand alone story? It doesn't really make sense to me.
Despite saying this, I do like the way you write, how you play around with sentence structure and how you say certain emotions without saying the word ("My heart invites me to chase after her" --sympathy). I think you should write a book, and I would love to read your final product.