Teens Room Metaphorically Novels & Stories

The driver adjusted the rearview mirror and looked at her over the rim of his glasses. “Someone is going to need your love very deeply. And when that moment comes, you’ll forget the anger, the hatred. You’ll reach out your hand. And that’s when your life will shift. When it does… you’ll understand. And you’ll be very happy. Much happier than you imagine.” She opened her mouth to ask what that meant, but before she could speak, the car turned the corner—and everything changed. Now Zoe was standing inside a teenager’s bedroom. The walls were covered with posters, photos taped up with colorful tape, books and random objects scattered across the desk. The air carried a sweet, youthful perfume.

Removing my gaze from her, I peer into her room when she brings the lights on. “See? It’s always tidy in here. I admit I was a rowdy lazy thing in the past but yup, I have grown up” She speaks with pride beneath her empty voice and I giggle, nodding in approval as she closes the door behind us. Like a typical female teenager, her room is in a cool shade of pink, with a large bed that can fit three people right in the middle with folded comforters on it; pillows are pink and just like the sheets, are of Disney cartoons. The windows are large and there’s a reading desk with a pink lamp. A tall wardrobe of four doors stands across from the desk and next to the bathroom door.

whereas I was forced out of my home, he had been forced to share his space with a teenager. “It was my home gym before ...well you know, hence the male themed walls” he scratched the stubble of his beard. He wanted nothing more than a gate way out of this awkwardness. “I like the colour its different” I smiled; I was being honest the room was nice compared to how I had pictured in my head since the social worker told me Id be catching a flight out here.

Twelve Years Ago-Age Thirteen Daddy was letting me redecorate my room. He had said I was a teenager now, that I was old enough to have a new room and design it myself. It was such a cool idea and very sweet, but I wasn't like the other girls at school. I didn't hang out at the mall on weekends and polish my nails pink and giggle over boys. As a matter of fact, my only two friends were boys.

"Did you hear that? He says he’s starving, but he’s too busy flexing in the mirror to eat." I rolled my eyes. "You’d be surprised what teenagers can do." Kairos laughed, and his laugh felt natural—like it was something I could get used to. Like it had been there all along, waiting for me to catch up. I glanced at Darius Morrow. "I was thinking about the addition. The boys need more room. And it might be time to add another bathroom too." Darius Morrow nodded thoughtfully. "It might be time. It could be good to have more space, especially with more visits."

It had a nice walk-in closet and positioned between the bathroom and Maverick's room. There was a lock, which didn’t look too difficult to break into, but knowing we’d have to pay a deposit for any damages made me think Maverick wouldn’t try anything. I bit my bottom lip and placed my bag on the bed, which came furnished since it was a college apartment. All my sheets and the small amount of décor sat in the truck of my Honda downstairs. I wanted—needed—this room, but all my memories of high school surfaced. There had to be someone else looking for a roommate somewhere.

“It would’ve been so much fun. This room feels like a polished prison sometimes.” “Tell me about it,” she groans. “Last semester, it used to be two per room—until a certain Hailey Montague decided to spin a fat lie about me.” Her voice flattens. The humor fades, just enough to make the air shift. Her eyes fixate on the ceiling, mouth pulled into a tight line. “Wait—lied about you? Is that why you two are giving Mean Girls 4: Werewolf Edition?” My heart skips. I’ve waited weeks to get this tea.

She deserves so much more than to be my girlfriend for the rest of her life. I’m sitting in the room dedicated to Rene’s things watching my family from the balcony. I’ve been thinking about getting rid of the things inside. I never thought I would but we’re starting to run out rooms. The girls are at an age where they need their own space, and this place hasn’t been used in years.

The stink of yesterday’s clothes, hard particles of crud from a carpet that had never been vacuumed, stale air from an unventilated room. A typical teenage boy’s room. Iron Maiden posters on the wall. A pile of dirty laundry in the closet. A tottering stack of well-read comics next to the bed. Porno mags hidden under the bed. Trashcan filled to the brim. Loose leaf paper, pens, spiral notebooks, backpack. Textbooks with a brown paper bag cover to minimize damage. Not much different from his own, except the furniture was more ragged.

Then I write, "Send it when you are done. She sends it two days later. A room drawn from imagination, which is a different kind of accuracy than observation. The room she imagines for the child. High ceilings. A window. Light coming through. In the corner of the room, barely visible, two initials. I look at the drawing for a long time. Then I photograph it and put it with the handwriting series photographs because it belongs there. A sixteen-year-old in Ohio imagining the room a child will grow up in and putting CB in the corner without being asked. The inheritance is moving forward. The officials are traveling.