A Teenager's Guide to Overcome (Introduction)

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
(This is meant to be an introduction to a bigger story that is currently being written, if you like the intro, please let me know and give me some encouragement so I don't abandon this project)

A teenager accepts a dare, sparking a series of events that lead to him being reduced to an extreme state of depression, as he searches for a solution, he realizes the true reason his regrets are overtaking him.

Submitted: July 16, 2015

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Submitted: July 16, 2015



It all started with a kiss.  I know that sounds like the most cliché thing in the history of mankind, but that’s how it started, with a damn kiss.  There was the kiss, then the pen, then the end of school.  Then the fire consumed it all.  I’ve heard to tell a good story, you have to start from the very beginning, but let me give you some straight up, blunt philosophy of a typical teen: Life is built on a level ground.  Everything that happens in each of our lives all started on a flat surface, and then we get to the high points and low points.  The high points where you feel like you’re on the top of the doomed world, that you can look down at the people begging to take them with you and laugh in their faces.  The low points where you’re watching all the inglorious bastards conquer a planet that’s destined to doom.

Perhaps I should start from the beginning, the kiss.  The kiss was the thing that started all of this, so I should start there.  I was on a trip, with my friends in the drama club, to Louisville.  We were going to see Wicked, and it was amazing, we all thought it was.  Being actors and/or stage workers or whatever the hell you’d call them we looked at it a bit more closely than the twelve year old kid forced into a suit just so he could go watch his sister or cousin or whichever sing and dance for two hours.  We had fun, as a whole.

However, that’s not what brought about the kiss.  The bus ride home was long, and we had no radio at that time, so all we could do was sit and talk, and some asshole had to say “Let’s play truth or dare!”  Hard to believe it was Eric, one of my best friends, suggesting a damn girl’s party game, but we played.  We didn’t play the kind of truth or dare little kids would play, we got a bit personal.  Personal, of course, meaning dares that resulted short sessions of fictional affection, of course involving kissing.  Of course, kissing among other things were dares that I ended up receiving. I had to kiss a girl, she was a senior, and I was a freshman. It was the kind of situation that’d get you a pat on the back from anyone who was any amount of popular compared to someone like I was back then, in other words, a total nerd getting congrats from a football player who just happened to have Biology with.

We all called her Ginny, because she looked like Ginny Weasley from Harry Potter.  Sure, her real name was Marisa Travis, but we had fun with the nickname, it was a staple for her friends, because if you didn’t know her, you just thought she was ‘the red’ because, the cliché teenage life demands it.  Ginny was beautiful, God, she was beautiful.  She had that kind of attractiveness that demanded attention, the kind of aura that could only be wielded by a select few, and Ginny was one in a billion.  I didn’t know then that I held her in enough of a high regard that I’d miss her when she graduated.

Damn, I was wrong, it’s been two years and I’ve missed her more and more every day.  Ginny changed my life, for better and for worse all at the same time.  She rocked my world and then she wrecked it, but I’m getting a little too far ahead of myself.

After a couple of ridiculous dares were cast, such as licking the bus seat and giving yourself a wet willie, it started to get serious.  Eventually, Eric, the same one who started this whole mess, looked at me.  In the shadow I could see a mischievous grin on Eric’s face.

“Truth or Dare, man?” he asked, showing off his braced teeth.

Eric was not an individual everyone took seriously, he was known on a county-wide scale for running down the street in his underwear when he was four because he didn’t want to take a bath.  No one really talked about it anymore; it’d been over a decade.  Plus, it wasn’t like it’d be any real value to anyone who’d torment him; he was four years old, for God’s sake.

“I’ll take a dare, so you bunch of asses don’t get mad at me again.” I said.  I’d chosen truth for the previous two people that had asked me, that didn’t make a lot of people happy, as you might expect.

“I dare you to kiss Ginny over there.” He said, pointing to Ginny, who smiled at me after hearing it. I looked at him with a look that I can’t even describe, it was angry but relieved at the same time that he didn’t say to strip her down and make love to her on the damn bus seat.

I moved over to the seat where Ginny was, just one row back from where I was to start with, and I didn’t even say a word, then we kissed.  I didn’t mean for it to be as long as it was, but she had her hands on the sides of my head, running her hands through my hair and I had my arms wrapped around her and didn’t even notice.  Eric laughed at the sight of us not-so-casually kissing.  “Break it up, lovebirds!” he said with a laugh worthy of the Joker.

We separated our lips, and Ginny smiled at me, “Nice job, lover boy.” She told me, I smiled back, a little embarrassed as to how it turned out, and I felt like I was blushing.  My fears were realized when she put her hand on my cheek.  “You’re looking awfully red over here.” She told me.

I moved my arms out of the constricting position I had her in, and looked down at my feet, her hand still on my face, she finally moved it after a while, and I’d probably only gotten redder.  The whole crowd of a dozen teens, all of which were juniors and seniors, were smiling like a bunch of damn idiots.  I kept my eyes firmly planted on my Converse shoes.  “Dude, you need to take your turn.” Eric said to me.

I looked up at him for a moment, and then I looked back at Ginny, who was still smiling at me.  “Truth or dare, Ginny?” I asked.

“Truth, please, beautiful lover.” She said.  Damn, why’d she have to call everyone who’d even showed her the slightest bit of affection her beautiful lover?

One of the many things that made Ginny my own enigma, I guess.


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