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(Jazz)
Everything went wrong after Mom died. Andie stopped feeling. She didn't talk to her friends or her boyfriend or anything. She used to be popular, but then she gave up everything
and became one of those rejects and sat at a table all alone at lunch. I wish I could've done something, but it's all too late now. I was too caught up in my own selfish life, spending
all my time with my friends (whom most of which I hardly knew) and making it with boys. I had multiple boyfriends a day. My grades were perfect, everything in life was perfect.
Until Dad announced that we were going to move to North Carolina. I bought at least a dozen waterproof mascara tubes that day, because I knew I had to tell all my friends and
boyfriends about the move. Andie was lucky. . .she didn't have to tell anyone. She just packed silently and got in the car silently and stayed silent the whole way there. I didn't
know what to say, because I knew nothing about her. I knew that she used to have friends and used to have boyfriends and used to have as much fun in life as I did. She used to
be outgoing, spontaneous, and fun. But now she wasn't. Now she never spoke to anyone. Now she never smiled or made eye-contact. The whole way there, she stared out the
window. She unpacked silently. She ate dinner silently. She got in bed silently. That night, after she went to bed, I went downstairs to the kitchen, where Dad was unpacking
everything else. ''Need any help?'' I ask. He nods, not saying anything. Then I finally burst out with the question that had been burning in me for so long. ''Dad, why did we really
move here?'' He looks up at me, his expression unreadable. ''Is it because of Andie?'' A lump forms in my throat. I feel like I might start crying, but I'm not sure why. ''Is that why
we moved here?'' I say. Finally, Dad stands up and sighs. ''Jazz. . .Andie needs a new start. We moved here so she could forget about everything that happened back in California.''
He says. ''Dad. . .remember when Andie found out Mom had cancer?'' I say quietly. Dad looks at me. ''She didn't talk to anyone for a week. But then she moved on. . .and she
was fine. But now that Mom is actually gone. . .'' The tears finally come, one by one at first, but then in groups. ''. . .I don't know if she can move on and get back to her old self. ''
I dare myself to look Dad in the eyes. He's crying too. ''Andie needs Mom. But Mom is gone. Mom was fun-loving, crazy, wild, and everything else. That's what Andie needs.'' Then
I run upstairs so I can let the tears come without being embarrassed. I don't know if I'm crying because Mom was gone, or because Andie can't become herself again, or because
we moved, or because of something else. It just felt nice to get everything out.
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(Andie)
When I walked downstairs that morning, Dad was sitting across the table from me. I didn't look at him. I stared down into the lake of milk and stirred my spoon, too depressed to
eat. ''Andie?'' Dad says. I lean back in my chair and look at him. I don't say anything. ''You'll be starting school today, Andie.'' He says, looking at me, hoping for something. He's
hoping I will make friends. And be happy. I take a deep breath. If he wants me to say something, fine I'll say something. I stare him straight in the eye with narrowed eyes and say,
''Okay.''
---
(Still Andie)
The hallways are wide, with narrow, green lockers. I stare at me feet. The tiles are white, yellow, and blue. I wiggle my toes in my black converse and look for locker 249. I feel
alone, because everyone is staring at me, wondering who I am. I want to tell them to back off, but what would that look like? I finally find my locker, open it, take out my first
book, and walk away. I don't look at anyone. I stare down at my Converse as I slide into a desk. I stare at my desk and play with the heart that someone carved into it. It has
been drawn over in pencil and pen and marker. I run my finger over it and stare at it. The boy in front of me turns around. ''I'm Trevor.'' He says brightly. I look up and look him
in the eyes, surprising my self. I almost drown in the deep pools of chocolate. ''If you need help around the school, I'd be glad to help.'' He says. I stare into his chocolatey eyes
for a moment longer until they shift themselves to disappointment, and I realize he's waiting for me to say something. ''Um. . .sure.'' ''Great!'' His eyes brighten and he turns back
around. No. . .wait! I think desperately. Then I try to remember my answer. Then I turn my attention to the teacher. Then I wait desperately for class to be over.
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How to Pencil Turn in Jazzby livestrong25,710 views
can u say whos who
ohmygomezproductionz 2 years ago
jellybelly992 2 years ago