Anna: Growing Into Myself

Reads: 55  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
Anna has just turned eighteen and is coming to terms with the newfound freedom graduation has brought around. A new twist on a tired teen storyline.

Submitted: December 23, 2011

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 23, 2011

A A A

A A A


Anna sat beneath the fluorescent light as it trickled down her cheeks. Freshly applied foundation peeled off her nose in the cool air outside the nightclub. Screeching techno pulsed at her heels, gnashing and seething under the pavement, a savage beast that gave boys courage to be men within the strobe-lit walls. As the concrete bit into her thighs she could feel the imprints of bodies against hers, hypnotically heaving and mouthing lyrics she could not get her lips to master after a few too many shots. Her kneecaps were ghostly, skin so pale you could almost see the purple veins beneath them as the light flickered. Delicate fingernails in red polish scraped intricate patterns as she waited; waiting to be missed by him. He was Luke. Her pinky nail dug deeper into her shin as she whispered the name, dark hair and broad shoulders wrapping themselves around her already blurred thoughts. They’d met two years ago, friends by default through attending their respective single sex schools, uniting for a yearly dance brimming with groping and midriffs. Yet over those 730 or so days they’d managed to keep their clothes on and hands to themselves, more or less. ‘Friends’ shouted Anna, whenever a lurking ass grabber with three-day stubble leered at her, pointing back and forth in the space between their chests. ‘Just friends’, he always murmured to his girlfriend. Girlfriend. Anna’s throat constricted around those letters, the ones she so craved to hold against her chest and claim as her own. The curves and slopes of the word uprooted her, rising from the steps and pulling at her wrists, tugging her away from yet another late night mistake. There had been many. Heels clacked over cracks as her ankles crossed each other in a tipsy duel refereed by passing catcalls. Middle finger raised high to the latest whistle she crossed the road, ignoring the little red man in his glowing anger, stuck with his hands by his sides, legs rigid while the button censored the cusses he threw at her as she walked the white lines like a tightrope. Bleep. Bleep. Bleep. The curb dipped against her toes and the light shone green over her blonde hair, an alien halo leading the string of pedestrians crossing behind her. Rummaging in her bra, the edge of the train pass slid beneath her fingernail, jamming under it as she pulled the rectangle out from beneath the underwire. Train stations had a different scent at night. The tang of detergent wasn’t as fresh as it was at her usual Redfern 7:36am bench spot by the payphone, awaiting the connection to the CBD in a crisply ironed school skirt. Washed away by briefcases and suits it was now a saltier smell, metallic and smooth yet dirt clung in her nostrils at every inhalation.


© Copyright 2017 bibliogee. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

More Young Adult Short Stories