Status: I wrote this one summer after meeting the inspiration of this story. Maybe you can find out who is it :):):)
Emerald Eyes
A+
When classes ended that day, I took my stenciled portrait home and started coloring. I thought the drawing was pretty good. I found a colored pencil, Violet Amethyst, for her eyes. The next day, Ava met me by my locker and showed me her portrait. I saw she was a gifted artist. She drew me perfectly.
“Asher,” was neatly handwritten in cursive at the bottom.
“Do you like it?” she asked. Her hair was in two neat pigtails.
“Like it? This is amazing,” I complimented.
“Thanks,” she smiled. She had perfect, white teeth. My drawing was in my locker. I could tell she wanted to see mine too.
I stared at her obliviously, “Oh,” I said facing my locker. I adjusted my locker combination and opened it. I took it out carefully and showed her.
She smiled, “I like it,” she said. I smiled back.
“Want to go turn them in to Mrs. Ericson?” I asked.
“Okay,” she said. I closed my locker and we walked together to the art class. This was the first time we walked together down the hall. We reached the art class. Mrs. Ericson was already inside when we entered. She looked up from her desk and stood up.
“Oh hello Asher, hi Ava,” she smiled.
“Hi Mrs. Ericson,” we said in unison.
“Are you here to turn in your portraits?” she asked.
“Yes Mrs. Ericson,” Ava said quietly. I liked how her voice was so gentle.
“Good,” she said. Ava offered to give in my portrait, I let her.
“Wow!” Mrs. Ericson awed.
“These are lovely!” Mrs. Ericson cried. Ava eyed me, and for the first time, we smiled each other.
“Is this you Asher?” she said holding up Ava’s drawing.
“This is handsomer than you are,” she said. I blushed.
“Of course, I’m kidding,” she added, she merely looked uncertain, I was actually used to it. She then put Ava’s drawing down and looked at mine.
“Wow,” she said again.
“This is beautiful,” she said.
“Good job Asher.” I smiled. After placing my drawing down, she looked at the two of us. “
"I guess that’s an A for both of you,” she grinned. Ava and I looked at each other again and smiled. We exchanged minor glances in the halls throughout the rest of eighth grade and that was pretty much it.
By the time we got to high school, things changed, I was older now. The buildings of Eastwood High School were much bigger than Newport Province. But I still had the same feelings for Ava Stream. I was still friends with my classmates from junior high, and I even made some new ones. I often saw Ava with her friend Summer Roberts.
I knew her because she was in my French class last year. She was completely different from Ava, being more outgoing and social, but I didn’t make that my business. It turned out we ended up in the same homeroom together for freshman year. Mr. Emerson, my homeroom teacher placed me in the second row, Jenna Stewart, sat in between of Ava and I.
Throughout the first semester, we never talked, except for subtle hellos and sometimes we asked each for writing materials. I knew I wasn’t making a good effort of telling Ava Marie Stream how I feel. I’ve known her for two years already and I hadn’t even said anything to her. I knew by now I should’ve asked her out.
“Asher,” was neatly handwritten in cursive at the bottom.
“Do you like it?” she asked. Her hair was in two neat pigtails.
“Like it? This is amazing,” I complimented.
“Thanks,” she smiled. She had perfect, white teeth. My drawing was in my locker. I could tell she wanted to see mine too.
I stared at her obliviously, “Oh,” I said facing my locker. I adjusted my locker combination and opened it. I took it out carefully and showed her.
She smiled, “I like it,” she said. I smiled back.
“Want to go turn them in to Mrs. Ericson?” I asked.
“Okay,” she said. I closed my locker and we walked together to the art class. This was the first time we walked together down the hall. We reached the art class. Mrs. Ericson was already inside when we entered. She looked up from her desk and stood up.
“Oh hello Asher, hi Ava,” she smiled.
“Hi Mrs. Ericson,” we said in unison.
“Are you here to turn in your portraits?” she asked.
“Yes Mrs. Ericson,” Ava said quietly. I liked how her voice was so gentle.
“Good,” she said. Ava offered to give in my portrait, I let her.
“Wow!” Mrs. Ericson awed.
“These are lovely!” Mrs. Ericson cried. Ava eyed me, and for the first time, we smiled each other.
“Is this you Asher?” she said holding up Ava’s drawing.
“This is handsomer than you are,” she said. I blushed.
“Of course, I’m kidding,” she added, she merely looked uncertain, I was actually used to it. She then put Ava’s drawing down and looked at mine.
“Wow,” she said again.
“This is beautiful,” she said.
“Good job Asher.” I smiled. After placing my drawing down, she looked at the two of us. “
"I guess that’s an A for both of you,” she grinned. Ava and I looked at each other again and smiled. We exchanged minor glances in the halls throughout the rest of eighth grade and that was pretty much it.
By the time we got to high school, things changed, I was older now. The buildings of Eastwood High School were much bigger than Newport Province. But I still had the same feelings for Ava Stream. I was still friends with my classmates from junior high, and I even made some new ones. I often saw Ava with her friend Summer Roberts.
I knew her because she was in my French class last year. She was completely different from Ava, being more outgoing and social, but I didn’t make that my business. It turned out we ended up in the same homeroom together for freshman year. Mr. Emerson, my homeroom teacher placed me in the second row, Jenna Stewart, sat in between of Ava and I.
Throughout the first semester, we never talked, except for subtle hellos and sometimes we asked each for writing materials. I knew I wasn’t making a good effort of telling Ava Marie Stream how I feel. I’ve known her for two years already and I hadn’t even said anything to her. I knew by now I should’ve asked her out.