“Little did I know, my life was going to change the moment I stepped into my Honors English class. The face of the man I loved was there, well love was stretching it. More like I was crushed, crushed the moment I knew I couldn’t outwardly tell him I wanted to be with him.
It struck me that I even liked him, he was just so repulsive.”
Kalana repeated it over and over again in her head as she stared at the writing engraved on the screen. The perfect face of Nicholas still burned into the memory senses of her brain, every line in his perfect face carved around her nerves.
She had sighed the moment she remembered how stupid and cliché the paragraph sounded, nothing like a decently written book would ever start out with. She would never read something that started off like that, so why should she write something that made it sound like a love-struck twelve-year-old wrote it? Because that’s exactly how Kalana was acting.
What was with me? She asked herself, still gazing at the small paragraph in front of her. I didn’t have crushes. She personally thought she was a very independent seventeen-year-old girl that would graduate with honors, leave for her career, and watch other couples fall in love as she wrote about them in young adult books. There was no time, no opening in her life, that had her involved with all the lovey-dovey romance most people seem to love.
So why was she still staring at the repeated words that described the man she obviously cared for?
She smacked herself on the head, her fingers tracing down her sleep-deprived face as she continued to stare at the bright words on the screen.
“Stop. This isn’t the route you should take here.” She responded to herself. “Stop it right now. Before it turns into something worse.” Her raspy voice bellowed out, the bright light giving a strong glow on her face.
Lana slammed her laptop closed, tossing it to the end of her bed and laid in her nest of pillows and blankets. The tiny red dots of her alarm clock stated it was close to two in the morning, making it Monday once more, and another day for her to see Nicholas in class.
AP English, locating on the west side of the giant high school most called Minico, the class of three-o-nine that smelt of cinnamon and apples, the class that made Nicholas Perring smell of a mix of spice and mint.
She yelled to herself. Stop thinking about him. It’s never going to happen. He’s a quarterback for crying out loud! Quit being so cliché.
Curling herself in some of her childhood blankets, including one that was decked out with Tinker Bell that was still covered in Kool-Aid stains when she was nine, she covered her eyes with her arm, staring blankly into nothing.
Nicholas Perring, the only boy that had ever given Kalana Montgomery butterflies in her stomach.The only person alive to have her bubble up with words and wish she was the one under his arms congratulating him after a game. The only person she could ever say she had felt something similar to love.
She didn't quite understand the hassle of everything when it came down to it. What was the point of relationships? The point of having your heart break over and over again for the same person just because you can't imagine a life without them? The feeling of both happiness and sadness, hate, and love, the complete polar opposites of every feeling on Earth for someone you have a chemical attraction to?
And why, of all people, was Nicholas the boy to make all that happen to her?
Kalana Montgomery never fell in love, because no one before was physically or mentally attractive to her. She, of course, had some boys ask her out yes, but she would politely decline some, and others she accidentally got super sick the night before the dance. It just never occurred to her what would happen if she was the one falling in love.
Kalana stood up from the bed and walked into the kitchen, grabbing a clean bowl and stale cereal from the cupboard, and proceeded to make a late-night snack.
In the Montgomery family, two a.m. snacks were not uncommon. Every night someone in the family was making food before bed. Whether it was her father's scrambled eggs and coffee, her mom's apple pie finishing up in the oven, or her making the only good thing she knew she could make without screwing up: cereal in a bowl.
However, at that moment, the only sound she could hear in the midsts of the darkness was the turned down television in the family room. Her mother was probably curled up with her blankets, her tablet resting on her chest from late-night reading, and the white cat they had adopted snuggling somewhere under her armpit.
Her father was asleep in the game room, and her little brother long ago passed out in his own bedroom. She was alone in the night, alone with her thoughts, and the dreaded assignment still on her computer looming over her.
English 101 was not what it was cut out to be, too tedious when it came down to it. What was so important about a novel assignment? It sure had nothing to do with common-core English that was for damn sure.
It was becoming even worse when she had realized the only thing she could produce was a romance story about Nicholas.
Damn you, Nicholas.
Lana sat in the dark alone with her thoughts, barely registering that the spoon of Captain Crunch was making it into her mouth and still wondering how she did ever like him in the first place. Was it his hair? His smile? The cute way his lip curved when he said his "h's" in history?
Lana didn't know, but it was repulsive to know how well she studied him by the way he curved his lips when he said her name.