Sequel: Saving Sloane Winters ›
Status: COMPLETE! Check out the sequel 'Saving Sloane Winters'.
Finding Sloane Winters Crazy
T W E L V E
Sloane Erin Mallory Winters
Glastonbury College for Girls
Visual Arts College Captain
Edelstein (Burgundy) House Captain
Student No #13783
Xavier College for Boys, Senior Building, empty music room, Teak.
Walking past, for my Physics class, I hear a beat.
Tremble of a drumbeat—a beat that builds, twists, grows, braids itself into your brain, a beat you can get lost in, never forget. I’m already lost, so I peak inside.
And there’s the object of my desire, hatred and permanent infatuation.
He glances up at me for a moment, then at his drumsticks, black where he holds them, and stops, and there’s his blank deep, smirking and smooth voice, “Sloane.”
My head tilts, and I stare at the sticks in his big pale hands, “You play the drums.”
He doesn’t make a reaction for half a beat, like he’s choosing what he’s allowed to say, “Yeah.”
And then he leaves me wanting to hear his voice again, “How long?”
Teak looks away, and into the window, it’s Autumn time, the sky is filled with grey clouds, taunting me, because they’re the same colour as his eyes. “Ever since I was a kid,” he pauses, then a smile, not a smirk, creeps onto his lips, a faraway look on his face, “My mum bought me my first real drum kit when I was eleven, right after…”
There it is; his face.
Treacherous. Thunderous. Murderous.
Unframed. Unplanned.
Unreal.
It only lasted a moment, because he remembered I was there, he gave me a hint, a hint of what he was hiding, hiding from everyone. Hiding from me.
I don’t say anything about it, it was common sense really, he had those sticks in his hands anyway, and I knew he had a good aim, he never misses. So instead, I tell him, “That’s nice.”
He shrugs, turns to look at me, that violent look on his face gone, and is replaced with a soft and curious one, “What do you do?”
I nearly choke, and I’m thinking of what to say. “Painting… I, er, paint.”
Teak has that secret smile again, raises his black brows and turns to go.
He’s gone now, and I’m still standing in the room, before I sigh, walking out of the door.
Teak Cameron Richardson
Xavier College for Boys
Resident Evil
Student No #10243
Sloane Winters is disarming.
She’s intriguing, beautiful in a way that she doesn’t try to hard, her smile is disarming.
Her voice has that combination of dryness, laziness, and lively spark. Rake up some autumn leaves, light a match and throw it in, then it rains—that’s her voice.
Awfully smart and observant too, she’s seeing things, about the world, the weather, Xavier College, hormonal teenagers, and me. I’ve slipped up one too many times, and she’s noticed, it’s that effect she has. She can make you get out of the walls that hold your secrets, and the past you’ve lived.
And she’s got some kind of past too, and she’s hurting, you can catch a glimpse of it when she watches her naïve but shy friend Bess talk to Riley. They’re a happy bunch of people, Bess and Riley are, no secrets to hide, nothing to be too careful of, they’re carefree people. And Sloane hurts over that.
She’s passionate, and likes to argue if someone insults her beliefs, or what she likes, and her friends too.
Friends, she’s got them. She’s an easy going person, a good listener too, I can tell, so she’s probably friends with two thirds of the school, maybe the teachers as well. But it’s that three girls she’s always seen with, Bess, Sarah and Kay.
Kay, she doesn’t like me, maybe it’s all those rumours the stupid boys make about the Teak Richardson, they like gossip like girls. She doesn’t want me talking to Sloane.
Tough luck, I’d say to her.
That day, in the music classroom I told her about my drumming, and she actually seemed interested, I told her a bit, and then—I nearly slipped.
I can’t tell her about that, she’s got that innocence too, you know, I’m not going to ruin that for her, she shouldn’t even be near me anyways, but she’s drug, and I can’t get enough.
Something about Sloane though.
The way she never breaks eye contact when she’s listening, the way she arranges her words, the way she arranges her face, the way her blue green eyes flash when she notices a secret.
Glastonbury College for Girls
Visual Arts College Captain
Edelstein (Burgundy) House Captain
Student No #13783
Xavier College for Boys, Senior Building, empty music room, Teak.
Walking past, for my Physics class, I hear a beat.
Tremble of a drumbeat—a beat that builds, twists, grows, braids itself into your brain, a beat you can get lost in, never forget. I’m already lost, so I peak inside.
And there’s the object of my desire, hatred and permanent infatuation.
He glances up at me for a moment, then at his drumsticks, black where he holds them, and stops, and there’s his blank deep, smirking and smooth voice, “Sloane.”
My head tilts, and I stare at the sticks in his big pale hands, “You play the drums.”
He doesn’t make a reaction for half a beat, like he’s choosing what he’s allowed to say, “Yeah.”
And then he leaves me wanting to hear his voice again, “How long?”
Teak looks away, and into the window, it’s Autumn time, the sky is filled with grey clouds, taunting me, because they’re the same colour as his eyes. “Ever since I was a kid,” he pauses, then a smile, not a smirk, creeps onto his lips, a faraway look on his face, “My mum bought me my first real drum kit when I was eleven, right after…”
There it is; his face.
Treacherous. Thunderous. Murderous.
Unframed. Unplanned.
Unreal.
It only lasted a moment, because he remembered I was there, he gave me a hint, a hint of what he was hiding, hiding from everyone. Hiding from me.
I don’t say anything about it, it was common sense really, he had those sticks in his hands anyway, and I knew he had a good aim, he never misses. So instead, I tell him, “That’s nice.”
He shrugs, turns to look at me, that violent look on his face gone, and is replaced with a soft and curious one, “What do you do?”
I nearly choke, and I’m thinking of what to say. “Painting… I, er, paint.”
Teak has that secret smile again, raises his black brows and turns to go.
He’s gone now, and I’m still standing in the room, before I sigh, walking out of the door.
Teak Cameron Richardson
Xavier College for Boys
Resident Evil
Student No #10243
Sloane Winters is disarming.
She’s intriguing, beautiful in a way that she doesn’t try to hard, her smile is disarming.
Her voice has that combination of dryness, laziness, and lively spark. Rake up some autumn leaves, light a match and throw it in, then it rains—that’s her voice.
Awfully smart and observant too, she’s seeing things, about the world, the weather, Xavier College, hormonal teenagers, and me. I’ve slipped up one too many times, and she’s noticed, it’s that effect she has. She can make you get out of the walls that hold your secrets, and the past you’ve lived.
And she’s got some kind of past too, and she’s hurting, you can catch a glimpse of it when she watches her naïve but shy friend Bess talk to Riley. They’re a happy bunch of people, Bess and Riley are, no secrets to hide, nothing to be too careful of, they’re carefree people. And Sloane hurts over that.
She’s passionate, and likes to argue if someone insults her beliefs, or what she likes, and her friends too.
Friends, she’s got them. She’s an easy going person, a good listener too, I can tell, so she’s probably friends with two thirds of the school, maybe the teachers as well. But it’s that three girls she’s always seen with, Bess, Sarah and Kay.
Kay, she doesn’t like me, maybe it’s all those rumours the stupid boys make about the Teak Richardson, they like gossip like girls. She doesn’t want me talking to Sloane.
Tough luck, I’d say to her.
That day, in the music classroom I told her about my drumming, and she actually seemed interested, I told her a bit, and then—I nearly slipped.
I can’t tell her about that, she’s got that innocence too, you know, I’m not going to ruin that for her, she shouldn’t even be near me anyways, but she’s drug, and I can’t get enough.
Something about Sloane though.
The way she never breaks eye contact when she’s listening, the way she arranges her words, the way she arranges her face, the way her blue green eyes flash when she notices a secret.