more than words

more than words

Status: In Progress

Genre: Young Adult



Status: In Progress

Genre: Young Adult



When the mysterious writer Amelia joins Oliver's school he is psyched. but she is distant, only relying on her words that have been written down. Yet Oliver can't stay away. But she can't let him get close.

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When the mysterious writer Amelia joins Oliver's school he is psyched. but she is distant, only relying on her words that have been written down. Yet Oliver can't stay away. But she can't let him get close.

Chapter1 (v.1) - Intro

Author Chapter Note

A/N: My prologue is short so I posted Chapter 1, too. Enjoy!

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: February 13, 2017

Reads: 20

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: February 13, 2017



More than Words



Writing is a beautiful thing. A grand thing that can only be brought to justice by beautiful people. People who can create lives and souls with words. Who can teach the world things we forget with a pen and paper. A writer can create peace in the midst of a war.

Writing is magic. A power that connects people throughout the world. But only talented,  beautiful people can write something as amazing as writing itself.

She was beautiful.

And man oh man she could write.


Chapter 1

I showed up to Creative Writing without a clear head. Everyone was advising me to step away. My friend didn’t take this seriously. Thought it was some stupid chick thing that was affecting our so important reputation (or lack of one).  He didn’t say write.

My father won Father of the Year with this fight. How he wished I played sports like an “average American boy.” How he wished he had a son who was more like his friends’ kids. Do something meaningful (as if hitting people with a helmet seems better than writing). Be a kid. Make the teams. Get a freakin girlfriend or more friends or something. Put the “wordy thing” (his words) aside. He did not say write.

My mother was the only supportive one. If you want to write go ahead. Create your own path. Don’t let anyone tell you differently. Be your own person. It’s not anyone else’s life but your own. She said write.

So I ignored what Ben said, what my father said, and listened to mom. Think about what you want. I did. And I ended up here.

The teacher, Mrs. Lee, took attendance. There is only 10 of us, of which is two boys. I am one of them and the other is named Will who doesn’t talk much cause he is so focused.

But attendance is different. “Amelia,” she called. No one answered. “Amelia Richardson?”she questioned again. “Hmm..” Then a petite girl bursts through the door. “Here! I am sorry, I got lost on my way and couldn’t find the class.” She pants and her face is red as she pants but is also embarrassed. One of the girls starts laughing and the rest of them do.

“It’s quite alright. I am Mrs. Lee. Welcome to Bridgeport High. This class is totally free. No guidelines really and not many lessons. Ask anyone here if you have any questions. Actually, I have one question, where did you move from?”

She turned to face the class. Her cheeks were red, but she held her head high. “Grand Park, Colorado.” She said. Everyone was confused. “It is only two hours away from Denver, except Grand Park was a lot smaller. Even smaller than here.”

Amelia turned to go to a seat, but then one of the girls Vanessa tripped her. She fell and all of her stuff flew out of her hands. Books, journals, even her binder. I rush to help her. “Thanks,”she says as I hand her a book, Sure Signs of Crazy, and her journal. Imprinted on the leather binding are the initials N.R. I look confused but don’t ask. As I hold out her things I truly see her. Beautiful is an understatement. She has brown hair with blonde faded highlights that normally would look awful, but on her perfect. Blue eyes that held the sea in them. And I could drown.

Glasses over them. Hipster, black glasses that rim her face perfectly. And a hint of a smile I hope to unlock the rest of.  “Thanks,” she says again and heads to her seat. Wearing a red and black flannel with a Marvel grey t-shirt underneath, ripped jeans, and a gray floppy beanie. She takes out headphones and turns them on and she starts to write. She does it for a long time with many emotions. Happiness, concentrated, confused, frustrated. I see them all until she looks up to find me still staring. I turn quickly, reddened, yet she just laughs a little. And smiles. God, it was words can’t describe. Her laugh was a melody I could listen to as that grin filled her face.

She then continues to write. I wonder what she is writing. Whatever it is, I intend to find out.

I didn’t get much writing done that class.


I get up to walk to math. Amelia already left, probably to have extra time to find her way. Along the way from my desk, by her’s, I saw a piece of paper. I bend down to pick it up, only to find out it belonged to the mysterious girl. The handwriting is in neat, elegant cursive. I fold it and put it in my pocket to read later.  

When I walk into Geometry (which is a year ahead of my grade. It pretty much is advanced cause all of us are in 10th grade taking an 11th grade course.) Jonas (my only best friend pretty much)is practically jumping down. I pay attention enough to say “So I heard that…” and then I notice Amelia is sitting there with her earbuds in, writing. I was going to return the paper, but decided to read it for. She doesn’t look up for a second. But I do when I feel a sharp pain.

“Oww.. What the hell, Jonas?” I say irritated. He just slapped me and it hurt. “Did you listen to me at all? I said that Vanessa Jones is throwing this killer party Friday night and we should go, but you’re staring at God knows what! So do you want to go or not?”

I don’t have to think. Vanessa is the equivalent to those girls in that stupid movie my older sister loves. Mean Girls or whatever. That girl, Regina or something. Anyways, Ben like everyone else is  obsessed with her cause she’s pretty (which she isn’t). She is also a freakin jerk and would rather not. “No thanks. Not a big fan of parties nor Vanessa.” Ben wants to protest, but Mrs. Jackson comes in, saving me from a crapload of complaining.

“Alright, today we are starting with a new subject.“  Then she starts talking and no one pays attention. Jonas puts in earbuds and watches Try Not to Laugh Vines and Amelia is writing with earbuds in. Everyone else is talking. I pull out the paper and begin to read.

Then Mrs. Jackson calls on me. “Mr. Malik” she calls. “Yes, ma’am?” Then with my luck she asks me to answer the question that I didn’t hear. And isn’t on the board. I stay silent. “Well then, please tell us all what took your attention away from my teaching.” Jonas takes out one earbud. “Nice going Oliver.” Mrs. Jackson nods to me as a sign to go on.

“Well I was reading this paper that a really good writer wrote. Here goes nothing,” I take a

deep breath and begin, looking at Amelia who took out one earbud to listen, but is still writing. “Life is a crazy unpredictable thing. It can be given one minute and taken away next. It can be an emotional rollercoaster full of hardships, or an easy going ride. We say our lives are in the hand of a greater figure, whether the Ancient Greeks believed it as the Olympian gods or the Christians with their own.”

Amelia looks at me stunned as I continue. “ But death is overwhelming. When will my time come? Where will I go? Will I live a full one till I’m 100 or have a tragic feat young. When will I enter the unknown?

These worries are humanity's flaws. Everything is about the future. Instead of living a full life that means something to the world, you waste the only one you have. That life that may or may not be in the hand of a greater power, is the only one you get.”

Then I say, “there is probably more but not on the page.” I look over at the class all stunned. Amelia is red and glaring. If looks could kill I’d be dead already.

Mrs. Jackson couldn’t talk for a while but she eventually continued class. And everyone kept looking at me. But the only one I care about is Amelia and I feel awful. What to say?

The bell rings and everyone runs out of class. Before you know it’s just Amelia, Jonas, and I. I take my time getting ready as Jonas looks at her. “Who is that?” I explain it is the new girl Amelia, who is super cool and in my creative writing. I do not mention she wrote that cause I don’t want her getting madder. She starts to walk over and Jonas goes, “Sign me up.” I ignore the comment although curious if he meant the class or her. Hopefully neither.

“How dare you read that to the entire class?! I just showed up and you already made a fool out of me. What if people found out I wrote that? How did you even get that?” She yells but her eyes stop showing anger and instead show sorrow. Amelia takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell, it is just I like my writing private. And I was listening to my music and then I heard you start reading the paper and I freaked.” Jonas decides to intervene. “Hi I am Jonas.Had to say loved the piece. You are amazing maybe we should hang-” Both Amelia and I cut him off by saying “Shut up”playfully and laughing. Then she goes, “Next time try asking a girl out after you get her full name.” Jonas turns red and goes to the door without even saying goodbye.

“Listen I owe you a full explanation. I found your missing page in the class before. I took it and was going to give it to you. And I was so curious I just wanted to read it first. That’s when I got caught and had to read it to the class. I’m sorry sort of. I felt bad embarrassing you and sharing it. But I am not sorry everyone got to hear an excellent piece. It was well-developed, truthful without sugarcoating anything. It was great and I only read a page.” She blushed at the compliment and the Mrs. Jackson came up. “Are you two staying after because you missed the bus?” Amelia looks at the clock. “Crap. I have no idea how to get to my house from here.” I think about what I’m about to say and decide to go for it. “You can come to my place. My parents don’t mind and I’ll help with your homework which you probably have a lot of.” I stop, otherwise I would keep going, except I add one more thing. “Purely platonic, of course.” Stupid. Why did I have to say that? She just laughs. “Okay then, thanks.”


We walk out of school together andI warn her. “I don’t have a car. Would you mind if we walked. If not I Can call a cab, it’s like 5 miles from here.” She looks at me like I’m an alien. “It’s only 5 miles. That is easy.  When I lived in Wyoming for a few years, everything was at least 20 miles away, and I walked to my school which was 10. And I was 7.” I was speechless. “Okay.”

As we walked we talked about her piece. “It’s about a girl and her outlook on life, as you saw. Her life is rough. Her father died at sea when she was 6. Lost her mom at 8. All she had was her older brother. And he…” she starts to get a little teary eyed which I don’t know why. “He works his ass off to support them. She is too young to work, only our age, but she doesn’t have it easy. And they escaped from the orphanage, lived on the street and finally got an apartment that is a craphole but they are together. So the story is about her, but also her teacher who gives this assignment. To write a take on life. What it is, what it means. And at first it talks about pain. Struggle. Heartache. Painful. The end is partially what you read. It might sound boring, but I like it, it is interesting.”

“Wow, can I read this?” I say. All she responds with is a maybe but I keep going. “It sounds great.” We get to the house and I let her in before myself. “Ladies first.” She walks in and I yell to my mom that we are going to my room. She comes out. “We-oh hi there. Ollie who is this?” I blush. Really, Ollie. All Amelia says is cute nickname. Then she introduces herself to her and my dad comes out to listen. That’s a first. “I am Amelia, um Oliver’s friend. I just moved here and he has helped me out a lot. He said I could come over if that’s okay. He was going to help me catch up. But I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Oh you're not. We love to have you. I’m Evelyn and this is my husband John. Very nice to meet you.” She shakes both of their hands and notices my dad’s Giants jersey.

“Giants huh. I’m a huge fan. I grew up watching them with my dad.” My dad looks shocked. “Yeah, think they have a shot?” She responds immediately. “ Yeah, it depends if they blow it in the last quarter. Also, if when it is a 3rd and long and they do a short pass or run it. We have receivers that are great if we let them go deep.” He is stunned as I motion her upstairs. She runs up them and I start to but my dad calls me as I reach the seconds step. He winks, “She’s a keeper.” I ignore the comment.  Of course that is what he takes out of that. Not oh cool friend. Not anything deeper than she likes sports. Date her.

I get upstairs and Amelia is waiting. “I didn’t want to intrude, so I waited to see which room was yours.” I laugh as she goes red and she questions me “What?” I respond

“It’s just you are so polite. Our family has no privacy and you know you are waiting to go into the room because you don’t want to be rude. It’s cute.. I mean funny.” Then she laughs. There are five doors. Two on each side of the hall and one on the end in the center. I go the the second one on the right. “This way.” We walk in and I am immediately am embarrased. Comics were in stacks. My POPS! were arranged in a row and books were everywhere.  The room was a blue nerdfest. I brace myself. “It’s awesome.” She says. “You like comics. That is really cool! And all the books. That’s awesome. Oliver, this place is awesome.” Then she goes over to my cd collection. “Fall Out Boy, Panic!, Three Days Grace, AC DC, awesome! Wow I am way to hyper and excited about this. Sorry.” She smiles sheepishly. “No that is cool. Awesome that you are into my nerdiness. And seeing you so excited was neat.” She smiles brighten, radiating a golden glow. “Nerd,” I cough. She finds a pillow and throws it at me. “Hey!”

After that we start on school stuff. We sort out her classes and we have a few classes together. History, Math, Creative Writing, Gym, and English. Which is cool. She said the first few days she was with the guidance counselor instead getting everything situated with the new school.  But now she is all set.

The math is easy to her. Everything is easy. She had about roughly 3 hours of homework in each class and gets it done in 30 minutes each (and has no homework in Gym, Culinary, or Health). And she doesn’t have any projects yet, so she is done before dinner. Now we talk after I get my homework done. “So,” she says. “You know what I’m writing how bout you?” Oh. Right. “Well umm…. It’s about.. I don’t know. I didn’t like mine.” She responds immediately, “ Well tell me. Maybe I can help.”

“Um okay. It is a murder mystery. A lead detective was murdered and her brother who is a nerdy forensic scientist. Stuff like that.” She nods. “Ok, well I need to read it. And maybe I can help. It sounds interesting and (insert yawn). Sorry, I’m tired. Anyways, it has a great concept that you could carry out.” I reply with a “Can I read yours?” She nods and we switch journals. But she doesn’t let go. “Amelia. I won’t judge. And I know you want honesty. I will do both. But Amelia you have to let go.” She nods again and hands it over. We both rest ourselves on my headboard with the books in our hands. We are so invested in each other's work. “Woah she says after a while as she flips the page. “It’s great. Intriguing and suspenseful. Give this up and I’ll never talk to you again. You hear me?” I nod as it is my turn. “One hundred percent honest. Take pride in this Amelia. It is interesting and I can tell you worked on it hard. I love it.” She looks at me in awe. “Thanks.” She finished my journal and rubs her eyes. A few minutes later she falls asleep with her head resting on my shoulder. She looks so peaceful and not stressed or worried. She is beautiful. As always. I put my head on top of hers and close my eyes. Hoping we could stay like this forever.


Unfortunately we were awoken a few minutes later by my mom. “Kids dinner, oh!” She yelled as she came up to find us sleeping. I opened my eyes and looked at Amelia whose eyes are still closed.

“Hey. Time to eat.” I say and gently shake her awake.

“Huh?” She opens her blue eyes as her glasses start to fall off of her face. I push them back up.

“Morning Sleeping Beauty. Time to eat dinner.” She slaps me playfully, but starts to get up. She falls of the bed and drags me down with her. I land on top of her and we stay frozen, daring not to move, talk, or breath. I yet again stare into her sea blue eyes with fascination. “What?” She asks. “You’re looking at me funny.” I have no response. “Let’s eat,” she says telling I feel awkward. I nod. “You have to move,”she giggles. “Right.” I get up flushed. We walk downstairs and find my mom made enchiladas for dinner. “Is this alright?” She asks Amelia.

“That’s great thank you.” So polite. We sit at the table. I wait for the interrogation which happens after my mom which yells at my dad to get in. “John, stop watching ESPN and get your ass in here or so help me God I will throw away that goddamn tv!”Then she looks at Amelia. “Sorry about that honey. Men huh?” Amelia looks at me and smirks. “Men.” She shakes her head at me. I laugh as Dad walks in. “Hun, don’t yell when we have guests.” I shake my head at him. God such a pain.

My parents have a complicated relationship. Is it love? I don’t know. I mean yeah every couple has ups and downs, but this has been going on since I turned five. It was my dad being unfaithful. Then booze.

He drank until my mom made him go to rehab. He said he quit but I still find Yuengling (I dump it before he drinks it). Now they just argue. I tell my mom to leave him. She deserves much better but she says that they love each other when really I know it is for my benefit. But he hates me anyways cause I never live up to his all American boy athlete expectation.

“So you moved here from?” My mom asks to get the conversation starting.”Grand Lake,” she replies. “It was a small town with a population of 400. Everyone knew everyone. It was nice.” Both of them look at her complexed. “Why did you move?” My dad asked.

“My father passed away a few years ago stationed in Iraq. We stayed for a few years but my older brother Adam and I needed a fresh start. So we moved here to Bridgeport, CT.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I say things get quiet and solemn. “These enchiladas are great!” Amelia smiles and lightens up the room. The conversations continue. “Amelia is a great writer.” I say. “We read each other’s pieces and it was awesome. She had not only great detail and phrasing, but good contrasts.” She blushes and my dad rolls his eyes but my mom shakes her head. “I’m not that good,”Amelia says. Now I shake my head. “Stop being modest.” She turns from pink to a deep red. “Well, Oliver’s piece is way better. Suspense and other great elements. He should talk more about his piece. It’s truly exceptional.” This time I turn a few shades darker. My dad winks at me for having her compliment me and my mom says she is proud of both of us.

After dinner Amelia and I clean up dinner. “You don’t have to, you know. I have it under control.” She shakes her head. “It’s the least I can do.” Oh, Amelia and that brown hair with bits of blonde. Those sky blue piercing eyes, underneath black framing glasses. Her smile shines brighter than the stars yet her face looks a little dark. Like she’s strained and I can’t figure it out. Her eyes wander to the ground and her face can become dark even when smiling. But she is just so beautiful I decide to ignore it.

When we are both at the sink I spray her a bit, getting both her lenses and shirt wet. She looks at me with a glaring expression. Then a sly smile, “It’s on!” She yells and grabs the detachable faucet and turns it on full spray. I am soaked running around  the marble island and laughs. I grab my water bottle and splash it at her. We are both wet and cracking up until she slip. She goes down and brings me down with her yet again. I try to get up, but slip again. Eventually, I give up and lay on the floor. Amelia does too and puts her head next to mine. We just laugh, when Mom comes in. “What in the world?” She asks looking to see a soaked kitchen with two soaked kids.  “Ummm…. We are so sorry Mrs. Malik. We washed all the dishes and um everything is clean. There is a mess but don’t worry about it. Um.. I will clean it up right away.” She starts to get up and grabs a rag. I help her and we are in silence. A comfortable silence.

We get everything cleaned up and head back to my room. It is only 7 so I turn on my CD player. “Pick a Cd, any one.” I say. She heads to the selection. “Hmm. How about Three Days Grace?” She puts it in and My Time of Dying starts to play. I obnoxiously sing. “I will not die. I will surivive. I WILL NOT DIE! I’ll WAIT HERE FOR YOU.” Then without thinking, I grab her hand and  start to spin her. I let go to change the CD to Thomas Rhett a country singer my mom likes. Playing with Fire comes on. “May I have this dance?” I ask ad I hold out a hand. She nods bedore sheepishly taking it. I stand her up and she puts one hand on my waist andb keeps the other connected to mine. Her brown hair sways in the wind with us and her face looks soft and peaceful. She starts to sing.

“ Stay away from your side of town.

It’s too late.

I’m in your drive right now.

 I don’t know why I don’t put it out baby.

We kiss and the flames just get higher.

But yeah I know when I hold onto you baby, I’m all tangled up in barbed wire.

I get burned,

I don’t learn I’ll be back give it time

. Yeah, I know it sounds crazy but I guess I like

Playing with fire. ”

Her voice sounds beautiful. “You are great.” I whisper, not trying to kill the mood. She smiles before putting her head against my shoulder. We keeep dancing like this. I want to kiss her, but I know she doesn’t feel the same. Why would she? She is amazing and I am me.

I have never felt like this before. I fell for her in less than a day. I fell harder than I ever have. Yeah, I used to be interested and have crushes but nothing like this.

She looks up at me and sees me staring. “What? Why do you look at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m amazing or something I’m not. You look the same way at my writing.”

I blush. What do I say? Then I am an idiot and blurt out “You are amazing.”

She mutters something along the lines of “I can’t do this.”

“I gotta go.” She rushes out grabbing her bag. She runs down the stairs and out the door. I follow.

“Amelia, wait!” But she rushes off.


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