The girl I knew
My name is Jean Cunningham, and this is my “story”, as you may call it.
A few years ago was my freshman year in high school. I had skipped a grade a few years back so I was a year younger than even the youngest kids. It was my first day and there was this girl, and she was sitting alone at lunch. I assumed she was just new like me, so I decided to go talk to her.
The first time I met her, she seemed amazing. She was funny, sweet, and just brave enough. Her name, Beatrice, rolled off my tongue. I thought she was the perfect girl, and so I wondered why no one had talked to her. Skip to the beginning of the second trimester, and we were hanging out almost every day. It made me so happy that I had a friend, but I didn’t want to be just friends..I liked her. No, that’s wrong, I loved her. By that time, I had figured everything out. I was gonna tell her and I was almost sure she’d say yes.
A day prior to when I was supposedly going to tell her, I was getting flowers. I had parked my bike further in the back because most of the bike racks in front were being fixed(A truck had crashed into them about a week before). I spent over an hour picking out the perfect flowers. They were a medley of daisies, black eyed susans, and lilacs. The sun was setting and I had to get home soon so I ran out to my bike as quickly as possible.
As I was about to get on my bike, I heard rustling behind the garbage cans. I peeked over and there she was. Beatrice. I saw her. She had something on her hands, but I wasn’t quite sure what it was. She looked at me, dead in the eyes. She did this for a few seconds, broke eye contact and left. I ran over to check on her, but she was gone. That night I could hardly sleep.
After our little “run in” at the store, I decided to set the day I was gonna tell her a few weeks back. The next day of school, I asked her about it. She barely acknowledged the question and continued to make jokes and make me laugh. I was a bit on edge for the rest of the week, and I think she could tell. In the halls, she’d look at me strangely, and when she did, her eyes almost seemed to be smokey almost, like what your eyes look like when you get cataracts. After that week, I decided to stop talking to her. Luckily, by that time, I had made other friends so I had people to hang out with still. Now, she would look at me with those cold, dead fish looking eyes more and more. As you probably guessed I gave up on the whole “loving her” thing. At this point, she just scared me.