Stella Harlington's Day

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
Well, it was just a typical day at school for Stella Harlington, an 8th grader in Michigan High School. Guess who was she having her crush on?

Submitted: October 07, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 07, 2008



Title: Stella Harlington’s Day written by amira (5 Pure Science)
Kevin’s head turned slightly towards me. His own pair of blue eyes gleamed brightly, as bright as the silver moon. Oh my god! Kiss me! Kiss me! I prayed hard as I crossed my fingers and hoped the wish will come true. He tilted his head to my side; his dark hair brushed against my cheek softly. I could smell his hot breath as he…RRRIINNNG! RRIIIINNGG! RRIIII…INNNGGGG! A thousand of buzzing sirens vibrated in my ears, in fact, knocking my ear drums continuously, they almost burst to pieces. I waved my hands frantically and hit the red button on top of my Mickey Mouse clock. Flopped! It dropped.
I blinked my eyes twice. The sun ray penetrated through my window panes, despite being covered by a set of smooth silk curtain imported from Egypt. The sun! I jolted upright. The clock lied helplessly on the carpet. It was broken almost to tiny pieces; thank god it did not. Seven- o- five. Goodness gracious, I am late!
I rushed like a mad dog into the bathroom and closed the door tight. Unfortunately, in the numerous brutal attempts, I broke the larches and had to push a bucket full of cold water towards the door to prevent the door from opening. Now, that was the 8th time the latch was broken…by me! Mom is so going to kill me. I turned on the shower and the water heater till it reached a suitable temperature. It was still cold, being the end of winter season.
Minutes later, I was slipping into my dark brown pants, a sweater and buckle a belt neatly around my puny waist. I grabbed my light brown trench coat, woolly hat and a purple sling bag and made a dash to the door.
“Breakfast?” mom greeted me with a smile on her face (Wait till she sees the door latch). She carried a tray of bowls filled with oatmeal cereal. I stopped her from sliding away and took a spoonful of cereal. Tasty…as the flakes of cereal slide through my throat. Too bad I couldn’t take another. Next, I sprang to the front door without even sipping the hot tea. So much for breakfast.
As I made my way briskly to my locker, I bumped into Jean Walter, my best buddy for years since I was back there in kindergarten.
“You were late” she whispered in my ears, much to my annoyance. I ignored her remark and walked straight to my locker, next to Adam Ackord’s, one of the gay guys in high school. Very lucky, wasn’t it? Jean kept up with me. I slipped my right hand into my pants’ pocket and took hold of a bunch of keys. I clutched it tight before opening the locker door. While I put away my trench coat and search for my books, Jean started a conversation.
“Kevin is going out with Sara Dunchton” Dunchton was one of the ‘Mean Girls’ flocks in our school. She was beautiful yet a pain in the neck.
“Awww, come on Stella. I have been friends with you for like…years! Open up, dude! You like him, didn’t you?”
“Of course not!” I said as I gave her my modest look. I picked up my books and a handful of paper, crumpled them up and threw them into a nearby rubbish bin. I finally lock the locker door and trotted to my first class. History class to be exact.
“So…you don’t mind?” Jean was still bucking me up.
“Really?” one of her excitable silly mood, perhaps. I didn’t answer her last question though.
How noisy the classroom was! Before I even reach the classroom’s door, I could hear Mary, the gossip queen in school talk loudly about clumsy Clark Laney who rushed to the toilet to answer an urgent call of nature, before he slipped on the wet floor while undoing his pants and bore a hole large enough to wiggle a finger through his undergarments (Totally disgusting!). Jean couldn’t help but burst out laughing upon hearing this. Then, there was Stephen Hudson, the class clown. He was standing in front of the class, mimicking Mrs. Cunnningham’s way of conducting the class and peering to the students through her thick spectacles. Behind the classroom, at the corner, Natasha Northenn, the most emotional teenage girl I have ever come across was crying uncontrollably. She was either dumped by her boyfriend the 5th time or she just spoiled a best dress she could afford to waste her money on. How pathetic.
I have reached my desk. It was in the second row, 3rd from the left. I sat down with a loud thump. But still, it was no match with the deafening sounds my classmates were creating.
“Stella…” I turned to the direction of the mystery whisper. John Neddler who was sitting a desk away was calling me.
“What?” I asked him, putting my best effort to fight Carla’s ringing laughter. John held up a sheet of white paper. His long index finger with uncut dirty nail pointed at a big title, whish was quite blurring for a short- sighted girl like me. I squinted my eyes to have a look at what was printed boldly on it.
“Add Maths?” he nodded. I unzipped my sling bag and rummaged through its content. A piece of white paper torn at one edge was taken out. I formed a shape of a Russian flying jet out of it and threw it high up in the air to pass it to John. It landed perfectly on his desk. Mission accomplished.
After dozing for at least 10 minutes, I woke up to the sound of shuffling feet. I gaze up to find Mrs. Cunningham in her long batik- printed dress in a hurry. Before she starts on the lesson of the day, she apologized for being late. Like, who really cares? The whole class was as silent as a graveyard. I could only make out low but frequent beeping noises behind me. Dean Winchester was typing a short text message using his newly- purchased handphone. Not wasting another ‘precious’ second, she ordered us to open our textbooks to page 56 and… (Well, there was no need to go into the long and tedious details) I mumbled a few sentences before I drifted into a deep slumber, eager to continue my disrupted dream. ZZZzzzz…
Recess time. I carried my worn- out body with each heavy step to the crowded café. It was weird but I was too tired to feel hungry. I didn’t even bother to pick up the metal lunch tray. I just grabbed a small carton of milk and a slice of neatly- cut papaya and helped myself to it. All the while, I strained my eyes to locate my friends’ distinct table; their usual hang out. There they were, packed up in a corner.

 Carla slides sideways, was trying to make room for me. I sat down after nodding a simple ‘thank you’.

“I’m going out this weekend, to Centrepoint’ said Courtney. She was still mumbling on her turkey sandwich. Tiny droplets of saliva poured out of her mouth, along with bits of bread and turkey stuffing’s. Eeeww, gross! I wrinkled my nose.
“Me too. I’m buying a new dress for next week’s prom night” Lisa chimed in.
“You’re coming?” Jean nudged me at my left arm.
“Urmmm…I’ll think about it” There was no point of going, I reminded myself.
Just then, the bell rang, indicating it was time to return to our usual schedule; like duh, classes! Moans could be heard from the guys, while some of the girls were still busy talking. Stephanie gobbled up her food quickly while Courtney stuffed the last sandwich pieces inside her full mouth.
I dragged my tired limbs to Chemistry lab all the way. In class, I stole glances at my watch while I stared blankly at the Chemistry equations scribbled on the blackboard with white chalk. But, I was careful not to fall asleep in Mr. Gary’s class. Once, John committed a terrible major mistake by sleeping throughout his lesson and he came home with a face as red as a beetroot that day. We figured out why; Mr. Gary had smacked him at the bottom. John got a sore bottom for a week.
It was last period before going home; French class. The only point I went to school. I slipped into the girls’ washroom and hurriedly put on a thin coat of lip gloss on my pale lips. Then, I dabbed a glittery dust powder on my cheek, so I looked a little bit fresh and quite appealing. I pleated and smoothen down my clothes; at least it won’t look too wrinkly and messy. I wore a gorgeous smile on my cheerful face as I entered the class. Luckily, Jean was not in French class; she took Spanish as a second language instead (but Kevin was). His seat was just behind my row, two from the right. I could easily pretend to dawdle and turned to the right to meet his stare. Oh boy, didn’t he look sweet in that blue shirt?
Yes, surely he will never ask or invite me out, however how hard I fancy him and tried my best to win his heart. It was not a surprise he was going out with Sara at the moment. I guessed this put me off the prom mood that seemed to be haunting my friends till the end. Well, these disturbing thoughts stayed in my head, threatened to crack my brain open and squirt its juices until my mom came to pick me up. Another typical day at school ended today will starts tomorrow.
((This short story was extracted from my own English essay. *amira*)

© Copyright 2017 amira. All rights reserved.

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