Category : Books-Fiction

Sub Category : YoungAdult

      *This is from a 500-word Writing Contest about high school love*

      Our love is something so beautiful, something I couldn't live without, yet nobody must know of it. You had me when I first walked into your classroom and called my name. The gentle way you said Trevor Humbert aloud, then I raised my hand letting you know I was there. I am here, and always will be. 
    I go to sleep thinking of your brown eyes, behind those thick, black spectacles and wake up with your chestnut hair blanketing my pale face. Before I leave my house with my younger brother, Jeff, coming to see you, I grab a glass of water and glance at an orange medication bottle. 
    It's still empty. I need to remember to call-in a refill. But then again, I feel like a new man. I don't need them anymore, especially since I have you now. 
      I can recall when I didn't know if you felt the same way the first couple of weeks here at Nabokov High School. My insecurities had taken control of me, being the new kid in a new school. That, and the fact that I was a junior and had never kissed a girl. I had no idea my first kiss wouldn't be from a girl, but a woman. My woman, Miss Dolores. 
      Now, those insecurities have fled. We've exchanged a few words with each other, but our eyes have been doing most of the talking. You gave me your hypnotic glare telling me, Yes. And from then on, that is all I want to hear from you. You told me to keep what we have hush-hush, nobody could know about us. So I start writing you love letters. 
      I told you how sexy you look in your kitty-cat costume on Halloween. You respect my decision to not dress up, for what I truly wanted to be would've got us into terrible trouble. I still dress-up when alone at home, walking around my room  as—
      ...your sex slave. 

      The note I receive from you has your much-desired phone number. However, when I call, you never answer. Why is that?
   Christmas is around the corner. I can't stop thinking and dreaming of you. I'm so giddy, I feel I have to tell somebody. 
    My younger brother, Jeff, is a sophomore and see's you after lunch for English. He doesn't believe me when I tell him all about you. Now, I have to show him that it is indeed true. I'm dating the sexy English teacher, Miss Dolores. 
    Before I see you in class, I grab Jeff and show him your letters. Your phone number, your red lipstick kisses, and passionate perfume. I tell him who every thing is from. He can't believe it. He is shocked. And so am I, when he asks, "Dude, you know Miss Dolores is like seventy-years old, right? And all of these letters seem to be in your handwriting, even the ones supposedly from her. Are you off your meds again?"