Jocelyn — Joce for short — could literally trade all her time to be with Anderson Simpson (or Andy, as she preferred to call him); in fact, every girl would!
She was standing before the mirror, admiring her well-developed hips. She caressed her skirt delicately, then pulled the pin that held her blonde hair to let the hair fall, navel-length, at her back. She smiled at the image in front of her and blew a kiss at it. Joce lived just nextdoor from the Simpsons, and found herself lucky. . . no, fortunate, to be part of their neighbourhood. She'd been friend with Andy since Elementary School. The Simpsons were one of the oldest people in Mcbornie town. She sighed as she thought about Andy. He's such a nice guy. His father is also a very smart guy. He owned the first business firm in the town. And there; there was also his mother — From her window, she could see Andy walking out from his house. His hair was neatly combed, glasses as clear as crystals. He wore his favorite jacket over a tee-shirt — then there was this very nice, hair-black pair of jeans too. "I could catch up with him," she said to herself, grabbing her hand bag just beside her, skedaddling downstairs. Her mum and dad were having breakfast, both smartly dressed for work. Jocelyn's father — Daniel Redwood — was the town's sheriff; while her mother — Stella Redwood— was an employee to The Simpsons Business Firm. They both enjoyed their work, and devoted lots of time to it. Joce dashed to the door, but on second thought, retraced her steps to take the plate of cookies she knew was hers on the table, then she turned it into her lunch bag. "Bye Mum, bye Dad," said she, heading for the door. "Have a nice day, honey!" her mother called over her shoulder. Daniel and Stella exchanged knowing looks, then suppressed a smile.ANDERSON exhaled out, deeply, after narrating what had just occurred at the Edgetons'. His father had listened patiently, without interruption, only affirming with a nod.
Mr. Simpson was a larger version of Andy. Like Andy, he had a perfect seablue pair of eye, long legs that resembled those of basketball players, and brown, curled hair over his scalp. He also wore a pair of glasses since his youth. "Son," said he, "shall I contact the local sheriff nextdoor and speak to him about it? He probably might just know the best thing to do." Andy sighed. Then he threw his head back for a moment. Mr. Simpson observed his son down his nose, he smiled looking back at himself — he looks no different from me as a boy — then he hid a grin by looking the other way. "No. Not yet," Anderson said. "I think Harry can handle it — if there's one thing he despised most, it was a bully. I'll have to hear what happened today, if he's willing to tell." He tapped the screen of his watch, and the time displayed on it; 7:15. "Oh my! I have got to go, Dad." His father smiled, throwing a warm pat on Andy's shoulder. Then he said, "Make sure you handle it well, your friend needs you —" "I will, Dad, thanks for listening." "I got to get going, myself." Then just as Andy headed out, he said, "And Andy?" "Yeah?" "Tell me all about it at dinner." Andy nodded then began to run out to the junction where he would wait for the school bus. It passed by, at approximately 7:30 a.m. He'd just passed Jocelyn's house and two others when he heard his name. Turning back, he was not surprised to see Joce. She was putting on a short-sleeved shirt tucked inside a figure-hug skirt. She flashed a very sweet smile, exposing her dimples. He almost could not believe what the summer holiday had done with Joce. "Oh, hi Joce." "Hi Andy, how d'you do?" "I'm okay, not bad at all." She held on to her smile. Together, they increased their pace and got to the junction in no time. They sat on the waiting-bench. To save himself from further discussions, he tapped on the Smart Watch and said, "Music." His favourite song began to play, and as he flowed with the lyrics, he could see from the corner of his eyes that he'd left Joce astonished. "Woah!" she exclaimed. "Now, how did you do that?" He suppressed a grin. "It's a Smart Watch I invented during the holiday—" "You did what?!" He was about to reply when the school bus screeched its wheels before them and horned, once. "Better get going," he said, and she nodded. They both picked up their bags and walked into the bus. Turning his head to his favourite position in the bus, he smiled as he saw Harrison with a reserved seat. He heaved a sigh of relief, then sat down beside him.* * *
The day seemed very appealing, Andy thought. The school had appreciated his Opening Session Speech — if that was what the, "That was a nice speech this morning, Andy," meant that came from the students and teachers. Andy and Harry discussed over lunch. Harry had just been narrating to Andy how he'd "kicked" his father's butt. Andy laughed hard at Harrison's manner of narration, and the ecstacy attached to his voice in doing "such a bad deed." "You should have seen his face, dude, he finally marvelled at my strength—" he flexed his biceps for emphasis. They both turned their attention over Harrison's shoulder as James dashed into the cafeteria, noisely. James ran to the front line as usual, rather than joining the long queue of students taking turns in getting lunch. Anyone could have pretended oblivion, as always, but not this time. The new guy, Thomas, was already extending his plate to Mrs. Tennyson (the cafeteria lady) when James pushed his plate over Thomas'. "F**k outta here, dushbag!" Thomas cursed. Mrs. Tennyson gasped at such foul language, then frowned. "Who're you calling 'dushbag', asshole?" Thomas retorted. "I'm going to have to teach you some manners!" In a split second, all one could see was Thomas on the great bully, James Heatherfield. Blows kept landing until The Great Bully began to bleed profusely. Flashlights from mobile phones danced across the dagger-drawn boys. "He's murdering my big brother!" What great resemblance! Thomas acknowledged, after averting his eyes to a petite version of The Great Bully. Already, Anderson had contacted the school authorities. In no time, they were in, advancing towards the scene. Only there and then had it dawned on Thomas Hardington the repercussion of his hysteria. Me and my anger, he thought, hands shaking over the unconscious body. He grieved inside his heart, then began to rise on one leg, then the other. He skedaddled his gaze across the room of students and teachers — mobile phones hanging high. Then he looked at the exit, moved two feet when he felt a strong grip on his arm. He traced the hand to the School Prefect, Anderson Simpson. "No you don't." Thomas tried to struggle, but the Prefect's grip was firm. Then, he felt a much tenser grip on his other hand — the principal's, Mr. Sanderson. "Good job, Anderson—" Mr. Sanderson turned to Thomas, "—that's enough first impression, Thomas, don't you think?" Thomas tried to protest, he felt he was misunderstood, but knew better"I shall do no such thing!" Anderson thundered. "I must be even in my responsibility as School Prefect, and you, my friend, are being biased.""Biased! Did you just hear yourself, Anderson? You're the one who's being biased here!" Harrison shot back.Andy heaved out a heavy sigh, then he spoke more calmly. "Harrison, I understand that you have an immense dislike-""Hatred-" Harry corrected."Yes, a strong one, for bullies.""Uh-huh," Harry nodded, "you're very correct.""However-" Andy continued."Oh, here we go again-""You have got to understand that school laws shall, at no instance, be broken."Harry arched an eyebrow as if to say, "seriously?""Come on, Anderson, you saw what happened back there. James deserved what he'd received and, in fact, I'm not sure I'd have done it any better than Thomas, if I were in his shoes."Andy shaked his head in vehement disappointment."Let me ask you a question, Harry, if you we
It was a bright day. Laughter and joy filled the air. It was Mr and Mrs Simpson's wedding anniversary. Mr Simpson and Anderson played Beach Ball over a net, and just within sight was Mrs Simpson high on the waves, surfing. She waved at them, and they waved back; all smiles. Then, all of a sudden, another wave swept her off balance. Before the guys could move a muscle, the wave swept her further away from them. The last thing they heard from her was her scream: "Honey!" "Mum!" Anderson screamed out, protectively, only to wake up in his room. It was that dream again, that taunting nightmare that had been replaying the scenario that'd occurred two years ago to Anderson. Some days, Anderson would sleep like a baby, and most. . . He turned the light, over his pillow, on. Tears slipped off his eyes as he stretched his hand and picked the frame beside the clock on his bedside table. He raised it to his f
"But why would you even do that for me? It doesn't make any sense." Thomas' mouth hung open in confusion."Let's just say I'm a very nice guy." Harry smiled."You're kind to someone who committed a near-murder? That doesn't sound nice, unless you're encouraging it." Tom's eyebrow was arched, this time."For the right course, yes," Harry said, pulling the glass of juice before him to his mouth.Tom stared at him over the lunch table, as he listened to Harrison's throat gulping down the juice in one turn, and analysing the information he thought he was getting."So what are you proposing?" he asked as Harry dropped the glass against the table with a thud.Harry arched an eyebrow at Tom, questioningly."I mean - you must want something in return for a good deed, right? It's the I-owe-you-one dilemma; just like in the movies: 'I save your butt, you be my slave.'"Harrison gave out a soft laughter."Please, rephrase," Harry said. "It'
Jocelyn ran her hand through the thick forest on her head. She'd never felt less uncomfortable with herself (appearance) like she did now. She brought out the lip gloss she'd snucked into her bag earlier that day at home.Acknowledging the fact that there was a mutual infatuation between Andy and her brought her the best feeling conceivably - with it's inconveniences."I'm a girl," she whispered to herself. "I've got the hypnotism; but darn! isn't he so cute?" Jocelyn let out a deep breath.After applying some of the gloss to her lips, she caressed them by rubbing both lips against each other, forward and backward.Looking around the restroom, she sighed. It was as though she were expecting to see something. Her eyelashes flapped, meticulously, over her eyes, as she catwalked about the room, eyes fixed to the mirror. Her head wondered from one thought to the other.Just then, the fears popped up. She'd know Andy all her life, literally. He'd never ha
Tom and Harry were going out of class, together. They discussed as they advanced to the locker room. Classes were over. Surprisingly, Tom was very friendly. "See, I'm sorry for how I'd exploded on you, earlier." Harry waved it off. He liked the sound of sincerity he thought he was hearing. "Naw, I understand. We all have our sensitive spots." Wait. . .was that right? He wanted to rephrase that. "Oh, yeah?" Tom turned to him, opening his locker. "And what's yours?" "Maybe you can come over to my house for dinner, what do you think?" Tom pulled out his backpack and looked at the time on his wrist. "I guess so, but I've got to pick my sister from school, then when we're home, I'll help her with her homeworks and see if I can balance the time left." Harry's eyes were wide. "You have a sister?" "Uh-huh," he nodded. "She attends
As they dined in the large dining room, Hanson cracked his voice and began to speak. "Young Simpson, I want to tell you a little story about myself." Andy looked up from his food and smiled, nodding in approval and attentiveness, mouthful. "I have never told anyone this, except my beautiful Elizabeth here," he pointed out. This time, Anderson's curiosity was risen. He knew this was very important, so he gulped the food piled in his mouth, asking, "Then why are you telling me this?" "Because I feel there's an adventure for you in this story, to help you achieve your goals." "Adventure?" "Yes, an adventure. I want you to listen very attentively. My wife and I have considered it, and we've come to agree we can trust you. We can, right?" Andy nodded. "Definitely." The couple smiled and exchanged glances. Andy immediately tapped on his SW to begin recording (this was
Yo guys! Sorry, Andy's not in this one. But I hope you'll like it. Also, don't be confused by the name, "Amanda." One is the mother of Harry, the other is his classmate.– – – –The birds chirped over the window frame, euphoniously. The heatless sun hung delicately in the clear blue sky, while the air smelt nice and cosy. Harry gave himself a big stretch on the bed, with a roar-like yawn. Throwing the blanket off his body, he threw one leg before the other to the ground. He blinked, sequentially, trying to adapt his misty sight to the room. The room was a total mess. Clothes were piled all over his room; trousers slung here and there. He walked to the standing shelf adjacent to his bed and pulled it open. He squeezed his face to see the horrible mess he'd made it. He couldn't make a word out of it, save for one; mess. He dropped his fingers in his head and began scratching hard. "I need to get this room in place!" he sa
Anderson was doing some workouts at the gym, that night, when Harry called him to ask where he was. Andy replied that he was at the gym, and Harry said he was on his way. In less than twenty minutes, Harry'd arrived there to meet his friend all reddened and sweaty, seated with a towel around his neck, a bottle of water in his hand, and his outerwears just beside him on the bench. His mouth was in an evil smirk. As Harry advanced towards him, he observed his surrounding — perfect — save for the misplacement of some machines. "Hi, Anderson." "Hi, Harrison." Harry smiled. "My dear friend has gotten into a fight, which is a rare topic these days. You literally fight once in a year." Andy raised his eyes to him, without a smile on his face. "I've not even said anything, yet." "You don't have to, I know the smile you make when you've kicked someone's butt." Harry watched as Andy uncapped the bottle