Wish by H.R. Davison (phonics books .TXT) 📕

“Sure thing!” Lilli exclaims happily, “Follow me.”

I follow Lilli down the hall to the principal’s office. Walking behind her I have a moment to appreciate her style. She is wearing white shorts and red shirt tied in a knot at the back to pull it tight against her small frame, her tiny feet clad in a pair of red converse high tops that match her shirt perfectly. Her blonde hair is cut in a pixie style that frames her face and sways back and forth as she walks in front of me, practically skipping through the hallway. I have never met someone so happy to be at school I think to myself.

“Here we are!” Lilli proclaims as she makes a grand gesture of pointing to the door labeled OFFICE.

“Thanks again, Lilli. Um… maybe I’ll see you around?” I ask her, suddenly unsure of myself. Why would this happy go lucky girl want to be seen with me? Looking down at my monochromatic outfit of black and white, I seem drab and boring next to her.

“Sure.” She says as she is already walking away to a group of boys that are eagerly beaming at her.

Walking into the office I smile weakly at the secretary behind the counter. She points her finger to the right of me, startling me. I look at the direction of her finger. There is a boy leaning back against the wall. “Now Mister Saraf, the school year has yet to even begin and you are already in trouble.” The secretary says with an emphasized sigh that blows the hair out of her eyes. “Stay right there and Mrs. Gendry will be right with you.” she points at him again for good measure before turning to me. “And how can I help you Miss…?” She asks looking at me over her glasses that are pushed down to the end of her nose.

“Broadchurch.” I say “Kathryn, Kat Broadchurch. I moved here over the summer from the city. You should have my transcripts.”

The secretary turns to a desk behind her and mutters to herself as she shuffles through some loose papers. “Ah-ha!” She exclaims, “Here it is.” She hands me my schedule and continues talking about the history of the school and how happy I will be here, out of the big city. I zone out and smile as she drones on and on.

I look to my right at the boy leaning against the wall. With my head down, I slowly look up, drinking up every inch of him with my eyes. I have never seen a guy so exquisitely gorgeous. He is wearing ratty sneakers and loose fitting cargo pants; his shirt is form fitting, show casing each well-defined muscle on his abdomen and arms. A strong jaw line surrounds pouty lips, a straight Spartan nose centered on his face. High cheekbones make his cheeks dimple as he smiles. His eyes are captivating, dark brown with black eyelashes fanning out. Overall his features are picturesque, like he was carved from stone, modeled after a Greek God.

Looking into his eyes I suddenly realize he is staring straight at me. As if I was caught cheating on a test I immediately blush and look away, but not before he winks at me knowingly. About to die of embarrassment I interrupt the secretary, “I have to go and find my classes!” Without waiting for a reply I pivot on my feet and run out of the office.

The rest of the day goes by quickly, each class more boring than the last, until my last period, Art. Sketching in my art pad is when I am the happiest. This past summer I went through three sketch books, all filled with images of my mom. My mother laughing, cooking, swinging on the porch behind our old house, every memory I could think of, I put on paper. With my pencil I filled page after page until my hand ached.

The art teacher instructs the class to do a free hand sketch to determine our abilities. I open my pad and flip past images of my mother until I come to a blank page. I poise my graphite above the white expanse and clear my mind, letting it wander as my hand does the work. Before I know it the teacher is standing at the front of the class clapping her hands together for attention.

I look down at the page I realizing for the first time in four months I haven’t sketched an image of my mother. Staring back at me from the page is the boy from the office. I have gotten his likeness on the paper to a tee. His dark hair just a tad too long curling around his ears and hanging down to his eyes, his dark lashes curling up to the sky, and the classic smirk of a bad boy on his pouty lips.

Too embarrassed to turn this in, I quickly flip back to a sketch of my mother; signing my name at the bottom I turn it into the teacher. Gathering my things I rush out of the school and to my new car waiting for me in the parking lot.

Stuck to windshield under the wiper blade is a piece of paper. My heartbeat leaps into my throat. I wonder who would leave me a note. I only spoke casually to the other students that spoke to me first throughout the day. Have I made an impression on someone? Is it from the bad boy from the office? Why am I thinking so much about him?

Mr. Saraf is how the secretary referred to him. I wonder what his first name is. No, I don’t need to know his name, or who he is. I need to focus on school and college and making my parents proud of me.

Curious about the paper I break out of my interior debate to glance around the parking lot, embarrassed someone may have seen me daze out. I notice there are papers tucked under wiper blades of every car. I’m so stupid, why would I think someone would leave me a note? Since the school has an open campus and students can leave for lunch, it must be an advertisement for a local restaurant. I quickly grab the paper without reading it and unlock my car. I throw my bag and the paper on the floorboard of the passenger seat and stretch and yawn in my car before departing. After the lazy summer of doing nothing with no one, today as taken a mental toll on me, I need caffeine.

Near the school is a local café that serves coffee and pastries. I decide on a whim to pull in. The bell above the door tinkles like a wind chime as I walk in, announcing my presence. Hey everybody the new girl in town is here. Check out the freak! The café is crowded with students; almost every table is covered with books and laptops. Slinging my bag over my shoulder I walk to the register, scanning the tables to see if I should order my coffee to go.

I notice there is one table in the back corner with only one chair. Perfect. Made for a “forever alone” like me I think with a sigh. I order my vanilla latte and head to the table. I place my coffee on the table and my bag on the floor next to me and pull out my sketch pad and my iPod. It is the perfect setting to people watch. I listen to the music flowing from my ear buds, sip my coffee in what I hope is a casual way, and start to sketch.

I break from my trance of drawing when a shadow falls across the page. Looking up I see him, the boy from the office. I jump up in my seat, sitting up straighter, my heart flutters in my chest. I pull the ear buds from my ears and look up at him questionably.

“Hi, do I know you from somewhere?” He says with a smirk on his pouty lips. I can’t help but wonder what those lips taste like.

“Uhhh no.” I mumble repeating the same song and dance I have went through all day with countless students and teachers, “I am new to town, I moved here over the summer.”

“Oh.” He says with a mischievous smile, “I know why you look familiar!” He emphasizes the last word with a snap of his fingers.

I manage to smile weakly as he leans in close to me, like he is about to tell me a secret. I smell his cologne mixed with the tang of his peppermint gum. I draw a deep breath inhaling his intoxicating scent. Why does he have to be attractive and smell so wonderful? I know what he is about to say next. That he recognizes me from the news. The mysterious death of my mother, the countless interviews my father dragged me to pleading for any information that could lead to answer explaining her disappearance. I lean back into my chair with an annoyed sigh, I blow the bangs off my forehead, “Oh yeah, please go on.” I say sarcastically with a flip of my hand.

“I’ve seen you in my dreams.” He whispers directly in my ear. Standing up straight he winks at me again.

I know his type, a player, a guy that thinks he can get with the new girl. He probably made a bet with his friends to see how long it would take him to bag and tag me. I groan in annoyance. Why is he a jerk, why? Because he is so attractive, every girl must want him. Well not me, I’m not letting my sub-conscience and teenage hormones dictate my girly reaction. I laugh sarcastically in his direction, “Hah, Hah, Hah. I don’t think so buddy.”

Undeterred by my response he drops his cell phone on the table next to my sketch pad. “May I join you?” He asks. Without waiting for my response he pulls an unused chair over from a nearby table and plops down next to me. “What are you drawing?” He questions leaning over to look at my pad on the table.

“Nothing, nothing…” I say, grabbing my sketch book quickly I stuff it into my bag. “I should get going…” I start to say.

“My name is Daniel.” He interrupts me, “But everyone calls me DJ.” He stretches his hand across the table and takes a strand of my hair betweenhis fingers. It is a strangely intimate gesture between strangers, but I don’t feel uncomfortable. “You can call me whatever you want though, as long as you call me.” He says gently tugging on my hair.

I lean back in my chair pulling my hair out of his grasp. What is this guy’s problem? Why is he bothering me? Concentrating on a proper retort I don’t notice Lilli come up.

“DJ!” She yells loud enough for the whole café to hear. “Would you leave the newbie alone? Go on, get out, go!” She playfully smacks him in the arm with a rolled up magazine as he scampers off with a grin.

“Okay, okay I’m going, hope to see you around.” He says to me waggling his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

“Thank you.” I say to Lilli smiling at her in appreciation. I am so embarrassed at the scene I attempt to hide my face behind my hair.

“No problem babe, DJ is… well you met him!” She exclaims while situating herself into his recently vacated seat.

Not sure how to respond to that I take a sip of my coffee, which by this time has cooled and tastes horrible. I grimace while swallowing the cold vanilla latte. “Well, I should probably get home.” I say, putting my iPod away.

“Oh.” She says. “Listen Kat, you seem nice. Shy, but nice. You should come to my annual start of school party tomorrow night, meet some people. Get out and live! This is your senior year and you might as well start it