My Dearest Little Abby

Chapter 2: High and Mighty

Chapter 2: High and Mighty


My room was a mess. Clothes were scattered all over the floor and the bed. I removed some of them off the bed to make a spot for me to lie down. I then laid on the bed and opened up my chips.

I looked at the letter. The OYWA; and organization I had never even heard of until just a few minutes ago. I tore the envelope open, unfolded the letter, and began to read:


Mr. Bradley Richardson

We have recently discovered your unique writing talent from your entry in The Teen magazine, and would like to offer you an opportunity to expand your skills by joining the OYWA.

We believe that this could be a first step in a writing career. Thousands of teens have already joined and have become far better writers and artists than they were before joining.

If you wish to join, please fill out the questionnaire attached to this document. The deadline for its return to us is March 31st. If we do not receive it by March 31st, we will assume that you do not wish to join. It will also be rejected if it gets to us any later than March 31st.

We hope that you will consider joining. Writing is your talent, and we can help you broaden and get even better at it. The choice is yours.


Sincerely,
Megan Ricestone
OYWA Chairwoman



About half way through the letter, I crumbled it up and attempted to throw it away, but when I threw it, I missed the tiny waste basket in the corner of my room. I never walked over to throw it away properly. I would later regret that.

I had no interest in joining any stupid writing group. I was opposed to any kinds of clubs or sports. I was never in any extra curricular activities at school. For some reason I always thought that they were just a waste of time, and I hated them. And that's how I saw the OYWA: an extra curricular activity. A waste of time.

I was something of a good writer, though, and I really did write and article for The Teen magazine. It's a kind of magazine where teenagers write about their problems and pretend that people actually care about them.

"Blah....blah....blah...my girlfriend broke up with me......I hate my step-dad....," you know, stuff like that. I tended to skip all of that and go straight to the poetry section. I eventually decided to write a poem due to reading so many great ones, and I submitted to the magazine. And then, five months later, these people find it and want me to join their little writing club.
Forget it.

I eventually got tired of just lying on my bed and I decided to go out. I wanted to go to the library to find a book for my book report that was due in two weeks. I took the twenty my mom gave me to buy some McDonald's on my way back. I drove to the library and saw that hardly anyone was there. Well, duh. Who goes to the library on Valentine's Day? Me, that's who.

After scanning through hundreds of books, I was shocked when I saw Stephanie there also scanning through books. I had expected her to be out with Brett.

I doubted that they had decided to spend their night at the library, so I figured that something was going on between them. Something that I rather did not want to know about. I slowly backed away from her, hoping to disappear behind stacks of books. I had almost made it, when some unstoppable force urged Stephanie to look behind her for no particular reason.

"Hey, Brad," she said with her usual bright and happy voice that could calm a storm.
I was startled. It had happened so fast.
"Oh, Stephanie," I muttered. "I-I didn't see you there."
I lied. I was nervous and my voice clearly showed it.


"Whats's wrong with you?" she asked. "You seem nervous."
"No, no, no. It's just....I didn't expect you to be here. You told me you were going out with--."

I stopped. Because at that moment, here bright smile disappeared off of her face; something I had never seen before.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

She didn't answer and sat down on a nearby couch and covered her eyes. I felt like such an idiot. What was I thinking?

I sat down next to her and put my hand on her shoulder.
"What's wrong?" I asked softly.
She was crying, and I knew I really screwed up.

"He broke up with me, Brad," she said through sobs.
Damn, I really screwed up.

"Oh....I didn't know," I said. I didn't know what else to say.
"I know you didn't," she told me.
She stopped crying and now focused her beautiful eyes on me.
"No one knows. I didn't want to tell anyone."

"Oh. I see," I said.
"He broke up with me a week ago. I couldn't believe it. We were voted 'Cutest Couple' in last year's yearbook."

It's true. Stephanie and Brett had been going out together for years. Although the "Cutest Couple" nomination usually went to seniors, someone had pulled some strings to nominate a sophomore couple. Stephanie and Brett easily won. The mere thought of them breaking up was inconcievable.

"Yeah, it's hard to imagine," I said, trying to sound sympathetic.
There was a pause and she just looked at me.
"I'm sorry," I added, fearing that I wasn't being sympathetic enough.

She then rested her head on my shoulder, and I felt my heart beating faster.

"Do you know why he broke up with me?" she asked softly.
"Why?" I asked, equally softly.
"Because of you. Because of you, Brad."

I was confused. I wondered what I could have done to make Brett break up with Stephanie. I hardly even knew the guy.
"What? But what did I do?" I asked.
"He found out about it. He found out about the way I talk to you and the way you talk to me. He found out about our flirting. He told me 'Since you like him so much, why don't you just be his girlfriend?' and he dumped me. Can you believe it, Brad? Brad?"

I couldn't speak. My mind wouldn't get over the word "flirting". I wish I had said something because she raised her head from my shoulder and my heart returned to its normal beating rate.
"No," I said. "No, I can't believe it."

Stephanie and I talked for a few more hours before we were forced to leave due to the library's closing. It was seven-o'-clock.
"Damn," I said as we left. "I forgot to get a book."

Stephanie followed me all the way to my car.
"Brad," she said as I opened the door.
"Yes?"
"Thank you. I had a good time with you. You really helped me out."
She looked deep into my eyes. She was serious.
"No problem. Anytime," I said with a less than sincere tone.

The she walked up to me and hugged me. She had never hugged me before.
"You're a good friend," she said tenderly.
I couldn't speak, though I wanted to say something.

At some point she eventually stopped hugging me and told me she would see me tomorrow or something, but I was too dazed to even notice. I think I mumbled the word "bye", but I'm not sure.

When I finally "came to" again, I was alone in the parking lot.

The night was still young, my parents wouldn't be home for another two hours, and I was still bored. I wanted to go somewhere else. Somewhere where I would receive more female attention. I guess I was feeling pretty high and mighty after spending hours alone with an amazingly hot girl.

I drove around and eventually saw a Valentine's Day dance. I parked my car and went inside. It cost only twenty dollars to get in, which was all I had. When I was inside I looked around.  Someone had really gone through a lot of trouble to fix this place up. It looked kinda like a warehouse, but the decorations and fancy Neon lights overshadowed what the place truly was.

When I looked around, I saw that hardly anyone was dancing and most of the guys and girls were just looking on aimlessly. A cute, brunette girl eventually caught my eye. Without fear or doubt, I walked over to her and asked if she would like to dance.

I smiled and looked deep into her eyes. She smiled back and said "okay".
Score.

I took her hand and led her out to the dance floor. Although I was completely inexperienced in the art of dancing with a girl, I must say that I didn't do too bad. I only stepped on her foot twice.

We danced for about ten minutes before I realized something. This wasn't me. I didn't know who I was. Never have I been brave enough to ask a girl to dance. Never. And now I felt like I was on top of the world. So high and mighty. It felt good. Very good.

"What's your name?" I eventually asked her.
"I'm Rachel," she answered. "Who are you?"
"My name's Brad."
"Nice to meet you, Brad."
"Nice to meet you, too, Rachel."

We eventually stopped dancing and then sat down and talked for about an hour. But then, a few feet away from me, I saw Stephanie's ex-boyfriend, Brett. He was kissing and dancing with another girl.

Now, I had been pretty steamed at him for breaking Stephanie's heart and now moving on and kissing another girl so quickly. I then believed he had broken up with Stephanie just so that he could be with his new girlfriend. What a dick. I watched him and waited for him to go to the punch bowl. Then I confronted him.

I told Rachel I was going to get her some punch and walked up to him.
"How could you do that?" I asked fiercely, which got his attention.
"What? Are you talking to me?" he asked. No, you idiot. I'm talking to the punch.
"How could you break up with Stephanie like that? You really broke her heart."
"Well she was being a slut. I couldn't---" .

He stopped there because at that moment he received a fist delivered directly to his face.

The music in the place stopped and every single eye in the room was on me. I didn't care.
I yelled "You dare call Stephanie a slut!" and I spat on him. Then I immediately left the place, which was probably the smartest thing to do.

When I got back in my car, I realized that the time was 9:40. My parents were home, and I was past curfew; a deadly combination. I began to regret even going to the stupid dance. I should have just gone home.

When I got home, sure enough, dad was standing just inside waiting for me so he could lay on the punishment.

"Where were you?" he asked.
"I was out, dad, it's Valentine's Day. I didn't want to be stuck in the house doing nothing."
"I understand that, son, but you knew that your curfew was nine-o'-clock."
"I know, I know, but I lost track of time."
"That's the exact same excuse you used last time, and I let it slide then. I cant be so lenient this time."
"Aww, dad...."
"You're grounded for the rest of the month."
He couldn't wait to tell me that.
"What?!"
"Yes, and if you break curfew again, I'll ground you for an entire month. Do you understand, son?"
"Yes, sir," I said, sighing.

My mom then came down the stairs holding my letter that I failed to throw away.
"Brad, what is this?" she asked.
"Nothing important, just some stupid offer to join some stupid writing club."
"I think you should join," mom told me. I was afraid she would say this.
"No. I don't do stuff like that," I said.
"It could be a good opportunity for you. You're a good writer, Brad", mom said.
"I think it would be a good opportunity for you, too," Dad said, throwing in his input.
"They say that they can help improve your writing skills. Don't you want that?" mom asked.
"My writing skills are good enough," I said. But it was futile. I knew that I was joining. And all because I was too lazy to throw the stupid piece of paper away.

"They could be better", mom said.
I sighed. I was done fighting.
"Please, Brad," she said. "I just want you to be part of something. You might actually like it."
I gave in.
"Fine, okay," I said with a roll of my eyes.

I didn't say anything else and stomped up to my room for the night.