Preppy Pictures For Wall Novels & Stories

"Oh..." The room has been beautifully decorated. White roses and purple orchids sit in elegant centerpieces on every table. Photographs from different stages of my life have been arranged along one wall. There are pictures of me as a child on my first day of kindergarten. My high school graduation. The day I received my college acceptance letter. Photographs of Greg's championship victories. Our engagement in Las Vegas. Our surprise wedding. Even a picture from this morning of me standing in my graduation gown has somehow already been printed and framed.

On one of the walls were a picture memory. I walked up to this wall. I saw a picture of a little girl with curly hair and intense eyes so like mine. Then another boy with kind eyes and hair who looked so much like John. The picture was black and white and looked a little old school. Then I saw another picture of both the boy and girl, now grown probably in their twenties. The girl was in a wedding dress and the boy in a tux. Then the next picture was that of both the boy and the girl and a little boy. The next picture was of the three of them looking older. The little boy looked like John but now in this picture, the woman was holding a little baby.

“It’s like it never happened.” “Oh it happened, my sunburn is still peeling,” Ryder huffed. “Ew, mine too.” “Mine hasn’t even started yet!” “My back is peeling like a new iPhone screen cover.” “That’s disgusting.” Aiden listened to his classmates bicker for a while, but it wasn’t long before their voices began to blend together and he zoned out. His eyes circled the wall where most of the photos from his night with Miles were pasted. Over half were bright orange with fire, and the others deep blue with a midnight sky.

I can't help but admire the quartz and glass countertops, stainless steel appliances, and the beautiful hardwood and tile flooring. The walls are plastered with photos, Crayvin being in most of them. A fireplace is to the left, in what looks like the living room. Above it, rests a huge portrait of Crayvin and I'm assuming his parents; he looks happy with his signature smile and dimpled left cheek. On the mantle are several smaller pictures and my eyes instantly land on one in particular. Crayvin's graduation photo. I had seen one like it in the yearbook. He doesn't look so happy in this picture as he does the other, but he was still handsome. A devil, but handsome.

I asked. “You haven’t seen them?” Her voice dripped with fake sympathy. She reached into her expensive little Prada bag and pulled out glossy pictures, handing them to me like they were weapons. "It's all over the school website. Someone took it yesterday in the evening. They seemed like they were from a date. "

“I’m gonna go grab a coffee before the meeting, see ya shortly” Jace’s eyes don’t leave his screen and he just hums in response. Climbing the stairs from the basement and heading down the hall to the front door, I pause by a group of pictures hung with care on the wall. There are dozens of pictures on the wall of Jace and his mate Chrissy all in quirky, mismatched frames.

I downloaded the photo and hid it in a folder on my phone, then deleted the text. In the photo, I was clearly in one of the bathrooms at school. The puke green tiles were on the wall behind me with a clear view of the industrial-style sink. If one of the deans or principal saw this picture, I'd be suspended, maybe even expelled from school. The photo was a close up of my face and chest, covered in a thick liquid. I was on my knees. They say a picture says a thousand words. I could think of one hundred of those words right off the top of my head. Stupid.

*** The house was small, modest in every sense of the word, but it breathed warmth. A compact living room opened directly into a tiny kitchen, with no dining area in between, just a narrow counter that separated the two spaces. The walls were painted a soft cream, slightly faded with age, and adorned with framed photographs that told quiet stories. Most prominent among them were old pictures of an elderly man and woman, both dressed neatly in pressed shirts, long skirts, and cardigans, standing side by side with books tucked under their arms. In one picture, the man wore wire-framed glasses and held a piece of chalk, standing before a blackboard. In another, the woman smiled gently beside a

“Yeah, the other teacher you saw me talking to in my classroom.” “Preston,” I say his name again as I reach for the tape measure. “Figures, a man wearing deck shoes for fashion would have that name.” “What’s wrong with his name? Sounds very similar to yours in fact. Preston, Weston.” I take a few measurements, marking where the nail needs to go on the wall. “Did you want him to do this instead?” I pick up the nail and hammer, lining it up and tapping it into the wall. I grab the picture, lifting it and placing the taut wire on the nail. I step back, making sure it’s level.

I choked out as the dust settled around us. “My office”, she says like it’s obvious. Despite the dust, the furniture is very her! There is a picture of her and Meme on the wall that looks like they’re about to tap-kiss each other as they lean across the hood of Spencer’s McLaren in their pep squad uniforms. There is another of her at the top of the pep squad pyramid. The last picture is of her and Spencer. They have the crew’s leather coats on and he stands behind her with his arms wrapped around her. Gabe stands off to the side of them, staring at Amory.