Love the 10 mins to Christmas idea! A friend recommended your blog and I'm really enjoying it. Here's what I wrote with the broken pencil prompt...
He broke the pencil across his forehead, again. Who the hell knows why? He's a high school freshman, scrawny for his age and apparently trying to impress me with this feat of pure unadulterated strength. We talk each day, in our American History class when we're supposed to be listening to Mr. Z. chatter on. No one even remembers what his full last name is - something too long - so we abreviate. Blake and I sit in the back so he can't hear us talk. We switch school planning calendars with each other so we can write little notes in them on random dates for the other person to find later. As I flip through his, intending to write "pick your nose" on every Friday the 13th of the coming school year, I see a note he's left for himself. "Find a date to homecoming." My heart stops. Would he ask me? Do I want to go with him? Will anyone ask me? I glance over at him - he's drawing a naked lady across half the month of December with one of his jagged-top pencils. He probably won't ask me - he breaks pencils on his forehead for god's sake! I'll find my own date.
Love the 10 mins to Christmas idea! A friend recommended your blog and I'm really enjoying it. Here's what I wrote with the broken pencil prompt...
ReplyDeleteHe broke the pencil across his forehead, again. Who the hell knows why? He's a high school freshman, scrawny for his age and apparently trying to impress me with this feat of pure unadulterated strength. We talk each day, in our American History class when we're supposed to be listening to Mr. Z. chatter on. No one even remembers what his full last name is - something too long - so we abreviate. Blake and I sit in the back so he can't hear us talk. We switch school planning calendars with each other so we can write little notes in them on random dates for the other person to find later. As I flip through his, intending to write "pick your nose" on every Friday the 13th of the coming school year, I see a note he's left for himself. "Find a date to homecoming." My heart stops. Would he ask me? Do I want to go with him? Will anyone ask me? I glance over at him - he's drawing a naked lady across half the month of December with one of his jagged-top pencils. He probably won't ask me - he breaks pencils on his forehead for god's sake! I'll find my own date.
Anonymous, I love your piece! It came out whole, a tight little story. Well done!
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