Status: active.
Silent Lover
(ONE.)
Veronica Miller
-noun
1. One girl that is too scared to give anyone her heart because she knows everyone will end up breaking it.
2. The “new girl” at a public high school.
3. A nothing and no one.
The school was nothing special. Red and black hung everywhere. It announced the upcoming events, the placements of sport teams in certain tournaments. Jaguar prints were placed spaciously around the corridors and if you followed them correctly they would lead you straight to the performing arts corner of the school.
The door to the ASL room looked as if it was about to fall off its hinges. If it didn’t do that, Ronnie was almost one hundred percent positive it was going to spontaneously combust. She assumed since kids walked in and out of it daily, that it would do neither. She faced it solemnly. This would be her first class on her first day.
Her hands ached and her throat ran dry as she gripped the doorknob. Quickly, she took in a breath and threw open the door. Five kids sat around the room in bean bag chairs or desks or on tables. Everyone was talking and laughing; it had all gone silent when she entered though.
Ronnie ran her fingers through her hair. The feeling of awkward had rapidly settled in the air. The instructor, obviously sensing something off, looked up. She smiled at Ronnie and signed to introduce herself. This made everything slightly better.
By the time the bells were ringing for the one minute warning, fifteen kids sat in the room. Ronnie had sat in the back corner, putting her bag on the floor and leaning it against the chair leg. The door flew open for the last time as the final bell was ringing.
-noun
1. One girl that is too scared to give anyone her heart because she knows everyone will end up breaking it.
2. The “new girl” at a public high school.
3. A nothing and no one.
The school was nothing special. Red and black hung everywhere. It announced the upcoming events, the placements of sport teams in certain tournaments. Jaguar prints were placed spaciously around the corridors and if you followed them correctly they would lead you straight to the performing arts corner of the school.
The door to the ASL room looked as if it was about to fall off its hinges. If it didn’t do that, Ronnie was almost one hundred percent positive it was going to spontaneously combust. She assumed since kids walked in and out of it daily, that it would do neither. She faced it solemnly. This would be her first class on her first day.
Her hands ached and her throat ran dry as she gripped the doorknob. Quickly, she took in a breath and threw open the door. Five kids sat around the room in bean bag chairs or desks or on tables. Everyone was talking and laughing; it had all gone silent when she entered though.
Ronnie ran her fingers through her hair. The feeling of awkward had rapidly settled in the air. The instructor, obviously sensing something off, looked up. She smiled at Ronnie and signed to introduce herself. This made everything slightly better.
By the time the bells were ringing for the one minute warning, fifteen kids sat in the room. Ronnie had sat in the back corner, putting her bag on the floor and leaning it against the chair leg. The door flew open for the last time as the final bell was ringing.