You're Just a Boy Who's Afraid of the Dark
In the honor of your presence, dear.
Jenny Parson pushed her red plastic glasses up her pale, freckled nose. She was sitting on a cold wooden chair in her school’s library. Waiting. How she hated waiting. Jenny fidgeted. Patience had never been her strong suit.
She also despised tutoring. The kids she tutored were always rude, ungrateful, and sometimes just downright mean. But this program would look good to colleges, so she kept it up. And of course, they were always late. So Jenny was always waiting.
Jenny pulled a worn paperback book from her backpack. Pride and Prejudice. One of her all-time favorites. Brushing her bronze bangs out of her eyes, she started to read. Jenny knew the words almost by heart.
“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife…”
Moments later, the door to the library creaked, and she looked up from Jane Austen’s most famous story. A tall boy sporting a red hoodie, baseball cap and hi-top Nike sneakers came strutting in. That must be him, she thought to herself. Gabe Saporta. She recognized him vaguely. His dark hair was cut short; his lips formed the hint of a permanent smile.
“You Jenny?” he asked, taking a seat across from her and setting his backpack on the floor.
“Yeah,” she replied. “And I think we should get started. You’re late.”
“By 5 minutes?” he said, in disbelief. Then, sarcastically, “Well, I’ll be sure to come earlier next time.”
Jenny groaned inwardly. Another jerk. “Whatever. Take out your copy of The Crucible and your notes, please.”
“And by the way, Jenny,” said Gabe, after getting his stuff from his backpack. “I’m not stupid.”
And this, Gabe proved in a matter of minutes. He flawlessly compared the play to McCarthyism and the Red Scare, identified all the play’s characters and was able to fill out three scenes worth of plot questions with ease.
“Can I ask you a question, Gabe?” Jenny said, frustrated by this.
“Shoot,” said Gabe, giving her a look that held a hint of a challenge.
“Why are you even here?”
“I don’t know,” he said, “Why do you think?”
“Because you’re lazy, and you don’t make any effort in class,” she replied, quickly and surely.
“Correct,” he grinned, shoved his English notebook back in his bag, and left.
She also despised tutoring. The kids she tutored were always rude, ungrateful, and sometimes just downright mean. But this program would look good to colleges, so she kept it up. And of course, they were always late. So Jenny was always waiting.
Jenny pulled a worn paperback book from her backpack. Pride and Prejudice. One of her all-time favorites. Brushing her bronze bangs out of her eyes, she started to read. Jenny knew the words almost by heart.
“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife…”
Moments later, the door to the library creaked, and she looked up from Jane Austen’s most famous story. A tall boy sporting a red hoodie, baseball cap and hi-top Nike sneakers came strutting in. That must be him, she thought to herself. Gabe Saporta. She recognized him vaguely. His dark hair was cut short; his lips formed the hint of a permanent smile.
“You Jenny?” he asked, taking a seat across from her and setting his backpack on the floor.
“Yeah,” she replied. “And I think we should get started. You’re late.”
“By 5 minutes?” he said, in disbelief. Then, sarcastically, “Well, I’ll be sure to come earlier next time.”
Jenny groaned inwardly. Another jerk. “Whatever. Take out your copy of The Crucible and your notes, please.”
“And by the way, Jenny,” said Gabe, after getting his stuff from his backpack. “I’m not stupid.”
And this, Gabe proved in a matter of minutes. He flawlessly compared the play to McCarthyism and the Red Scare, identified all the play’s characters and was able to fill out three scenes worth of plot questions with ease.
“Can I ask you a question, Gabe?” Jenny said, frustrated by this.
“Shoot,” said Gabe, giving her a look that held a hint of a challenge.
“Why are you even here?”
“I don’t know,” he said, “Why do you think?”
“Because you’re lazy, and you don’t make any effort in class,” she replied, quickly and surely.
“Correct,” he grinned, shoved his English notebook back in his bag, and left.
♠ ♠ ♠
Whoa, this is going in an entirely different way than I expected, haha.Hope you all enjoy the upcoming chapters, anyway.