To Write A Book
The beautiful Sierra who lives one block away. Her long blonde hair that goes to her knees. Her beautiful porcelain face. The girl who does not go to school, but stays in her big lonely house with her mother and studies diligently under her rule. The one girl who has ever smiled at him. Jamie must write his book. And it is going to be about her. And it is going to be quite a good read.
Sierra. The willowy blonde girl who stands at about five foot one and has the deep blue eyes. He has only seen her several times and he is infatuated. He is lovestruck. But he is worried.
Her mother with her Red hair and portly frame who will not talk to anyone. Who slammed the door in his face when he brought cookies over as a welcome. Her father with his skinny body, worried face, thinning mustache, bald head with a few feeble hair strands combed over. He is seen sometimes. In his car, picking up the newspapers stacked outside the front door, bringing some groceries. But he never goes inside the house.
He has to go to school now. He has to pick up his backpack without his homework. He has to eat his cereal like a good boy, take a kick in the rear from his older sister.
He races outside and onto the bus, where he sits in the very back and stares out the window and waits.
The bus moves. It rolls squeakily to the next stop and comes to a halt outside her house.
There is the father. He is picking up the newspapers again. That is not what interests him. Will she be there? His eyes are peeled wide open as he hopefully waits.
The bus is rumbling and he sighs unhappily. But a flash of white-blonde hair by the window startles him and he starts to smile. The bus is starting to move but screeches loudly, stopping again. The girl startles and looks to the noise. Then looks straight at him.
She is wearing a white nightie with pink polka dots and frills at the edges. It is big on her skinny body, and makes her seem all the more impish.
She sees his crooked smile. The boyish face that is looking straight at her. She mimicks him, showing her small sharp teeth.
She smiled at him! She looked at him! She sees him! She knows him! They are friends! The boy is very happy until the mother rushes over crookedly walking like she always does. She jerks the curtain shut, and her face is eerily blank. The bus is rolling away, and Jamie, the boy, watches as beautiful Sierra's father jolts as if shocked and drops all his newspapers.
The bus rolls away and they are gone.
Her mother with her Red hair and portly frame who will not talk to anyone. Who slammed the door in his face when he brought cookies over as a welcome. Her father with his skinny body, worried face, thinning mustache, bald head with a few feeble hair strands combed over. He is seen sometimes. In his car, picking up the newspapers stacked outside the front door, bringing some groceries. But he never goes inside the house.
He has to go to school now. He has to pick up his backpack without his homework. He has to eat his cereal like a good boy, take a kick in the rear from his older sister.
He races outside and onto the bus, where he sits in the very back and stares out the window and waits.
The bus moves. It rolls squeakily to the next stop and comes to a halt outside her house.
There is the father. He is picking up the newspapers again. That is not what interests him. Will she be there? His eyes are peeled wide open as he hopefully waits.
The bus is rumbling and he sighs unhappily. But a flash of white-blonde hair by the window startles him and he starts to smile. The bus is starting to move but screeches loudly, stopping again. The girl startles and looks to the noise. Then looks straight at him.
She is wearing a white nightie with pink polka dots and frills at the edges. It is big on her skinny body, and makes her seem all the more impish.
She sees his crooked smile. The boyish face that is looking straight at her. She mimicks him, showing her small sharp teeth.
She smiled at him! She looked at him! She sees him! She knows him! They are friends! The boy is very happy until the mother rushes over crookedly walking like she always does. She jerks the curtain shut, and her face is eerily blank. The bus is rolling away, and Jamie, the boy, watches as beautiful Sierra's father jolts as if shocked and drops all his newspapers.
The bus rolls away and they are gone.
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