TEEN FICTION: 'Dearly Loved'

12/26/2011 05:17 pm ET

This is a regular column featuring original fiction by and for high school students, provided by, an online community writing site for young people.

I felt a pair of strong, warm arms wrap around my shoulders. My mind registered the person’s familiar scent and the face of my captor instantaneously popped into my head. On instinct I leaned back, resting my head against his shoulder. Eyes closing, I sighed in content.

The dream always started off the same, just like it always ended the same.

From then on I’d wrap my hands around his, tightening my much small fingers around his, not really in a possessive manner, but in such a manner that told him I never wanted him to leave. His arms would constrict around me, and then he would rest his chin on top of my head. I was always perfectly at ease there, in his arms, even if it was just a dream.

Everything seemed to go downhill from there though. As always I could feel him slipping away. The absence of his warmth would leave me cold. And I always ended up alone.

Even in my dreams I found being alone quite difficult, almost too much to bear. It seemed my dreams were the only place I could go to be with him, even if he eventually did leave. Waking up was the hardest part, and I had a feeling it always would be. It meant facing another day, facing another day without him.

Things used to be perfect. We were best friends and it seemed as if our relationship escalated from there because the next thing I knew we were more than friends. He won’t even talk to me now and that’s the worst part. Every tear that I shed, was for him and nothing else. I wanted him back so badly it hurt.

“Vida finish your paper.” I blinked, jerking awake as Kayla waved a tan hand in front of my face. She raised an eyebrow at me, eyes traveling in the same direction I’d turned my own to. I could practically hear her thoughts now. Asking me why I couldn’t just get over him, leave him behind like he’d so easily left me?

But it wasn’t that simple. Love was never that simple.

“Girl you have got to get over that boy. He’s obviously gotten over you. And here you are writing your paper about him. You’re supposed to write about yourself.” Her words hurt even though she hadn’t meant them to. Kayla had always been the blunt one and she was always straight to the point, the exact opposite of me. She was telling the truth though, something else she was good at. He had obviously gotten over me. I could tell by the way he smiled, so carefree and happy.

Why couldn’t I be like that?

All I felt in my heart was longing and jealously as he openly flirted with the nameless blonde girl he was standing with. She was pretty and evidently just as interested in him as he was her. Not that she could help herself. He was gorgeous even though he tried to modest about it, something else I loved and admired about him. He’d never been arrogant, which was surprising considering most guys who looked like he did normally were.

But no…he wasn’t just your average boy. No he was more.

Kayla groaned, probably just tired of watching me stare. “Finish your paper before I have to drag your ass out of here.”

My eyes snapped to my dark haired friend as she stared down at me. She seemed pretty determined for me to finish my paper. I glanced down at the paper, sighing. “Fine.” I grumbled, taking a pencil in my hand before beginning to write in my loopy cursive. Our English teacher had us writing a paper about ourselves and Kayla was right. I wasn’t really writing about myself. I was basically writing about how much I missed him, and how I was heartbroken. And the truth was I didn’t know who I was without him.

I tore my eyes away from the paper to once more glance back at him. I watched as he ran a hand through his dark hair, a smile adorning his handsome face. I watched the way his green eyes sparkled as he laughed, how he looked at her. I swallowed, wishing he still looked at me like that. But that’s all it was. A wish.

I tore what I had written out of my notebook, crumpling it up and tossing it in the trashcan that sat nearby. I took my pencil in hand, ignoring the look of interest Kayla was giving me, and then I wrote the first sentence of a new beginning.

I am Vida and my name means dearly loved.


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