I'm trying to write in second person point of view. This story is about a bunch of high school kids. It's only going to be five chapters long, more or less. What's special about this story? You'll find out as you read.
Alright, here's the secret because you probably won't get it: the characters aren't going to have names. Why? It's an assignment for my writing class in school. I was suppose to create a story where anyone who was reading could put themselves in the situation, weather it's happened to them or not. The characters could have names, but I decided not to go that way. It's too hard. So, here it is, my universal story. Well, not really. This is kind of a practice. See if you can put yourself in the story and picture yourself as the main character 'you'. Tell me if you can, and if not, tell me why. I'll try again with another story.
--
You walk by her without a care in the world. She flips her hair, glances at you, and you don't even acknowledge her.
Of course, why would you? After the things she's done to you. The misery that still makes you cringe in disgust. You don't hate her, per say. You don't hate people anymore. It's bad for your health. You dislike people. But what's the difference? Nothing.
"Hey," She says to you. You sigh, knowing something is going to go wrong. "I need to talk to you."
She pulls you aside in the hallway. You don't know why, but you begin to feel warmth rise to your cheeks. But that happens with everyone, as you hate social contact. Or, dislike social contact.
"What?" you reply, coolly, but not cold.
"Look," she says, not meeting your gaze. "I know we've had a falling out in the past, and I know it's my fault."
The final straw. You know why your warm, and it's not because you're nervous.
"It wasn't you," you choke on the words.
"What?" She says, picking her head up.
"It wasn't you," you repeat, looking her in the eyes. Filled with innocence; filled with nothing. "It was me. It was my fault. I just, didn't like people back then. So, all I did was keep them out."
She doesn't say anything, but you can hear here breathing hitch and see a blush rise to her face.
"I know I said things back then," You say. "I know you'd never forgive anyone if they said those things. But, I want you to try and find it in your heart to forgive m–,"
Your cut off by her lips on yours. It only lasts for a second, but to the two of you it feels like an eternity. The halls go silent. She pulls back, and putting her gaze back on the ground, she walks back to her friends who glare at you like it was your fault. You just stare back, wide eyed and confused. Your eyes turn the sound of a gasp from the silent hallways. You stare into the eyes of your current girlfriend.
She turns from you and runs off down the hall, sounds of her crying fill the air. You want to glare at the other girl. Make her feel as helpless and angry as you do. But you don't, knowing that it wasn't really her fault. Without even knowing it, you're running off after her, pushing past people who are stilled stunned silent.
You hear the bell ring for the start of Third Period Class. Instantly you are swept into the crowd of silent kids heading to their class. You stop futilely trying to fight the crowd, deciding to merely ride it out to your next class.
You feel worse than a pile of dirt. You know it's you everyone's talking about. You kissed her, she kissed you, you broke her heart. You just want to crawl under an imaginary rock and disappear. But, you could still make things right.
You feel renewed confidence in yourself as the epiphany strikes you: you and your current ex-soon-to-be-girlfriend have third period class together. You smile and walk with the crowd towards the math department, determined to make everything right.
--
You arrive in the class and everything goes quiet, but you don't care. You drop your bag next to your desk and sit down. Everyone's whispering about you, but they're too stupid to know that you can obviously hear them. You ignore them and turn to your notebook and begin to the homework you should have done last night. Another silence falls across the room. You look up to see her, standing in the doorway, her eyes, the brightest blue that you'd ever seen, were red. You feel guilt pang inside you as she sits next to you, as there were no other seats in the class open.
The teacher begins to take attendance as you try to reason with her.
"I know you're mad at me," you say. "But I have to tell you, it wasn't my fault. She kissed me. I swear."
"Of course she did." she answers you. There is a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
"Listen," you say, trying to keep the evident plead out of your voice. "I'll do anything to prove that I didn't kiss her. Anything to make it up to you."
"You want to make it up to me?" she said, looking at you for the first time. "The leave me alone."
You feel worse than before now. She hates you and you know it. You turn back to the unfinished homework and throw your pencil on your desk, feeling too crummy to even try. You feel like breaking down. You feel angry, for a second. You just want to hit something so hard that it'll feel as bad as you do.
You fold your arms on your desk and rest your head on them. Your nose rests on your forearm that's half-covered with you long-sleeved shirt. You hear someone call your name. You turn to the teacher at the desk. He motions for you and tells you to bring your stuff. You obey.
"I don't know what happened out there," He says. "But I think I can tell what you're feeling from that look in your eyes. Why don't you go down to the guidance counselor?"
Normally you'd say no. You's rather die than go see the guidance counselor. But, since you didn't finish that homework, you strut out of the room and wait in one of the chairs outside the guidance office after checking your name in.
--
"So, what's up?" the counselor asks you after you sit in the chair inside her office.
The office is small and cramped, but you aren't surprised. Small and cramped are two things that are in abundance in your school.
"Don't pretend that you haven't heard." You spit back, your voice full of loathing.
"Ah, yes, I did hear about that." The counselor admits. "So, is that why you're here?"
"Of course it is." You say in the same manner as before. "It's not like her kissing me didn't ruin my life. Like it didn't ruin my current relationship."
"Okay, hit the brakes there, speed-racer," The counselor puts a hand up. You gaze hatefully at the perfectly manicured fingernails and think to yourself, in the half an hour it took for her to do those, over a hundred people in the world died. "Did you ever think about what was going through her mind?"
"It doesn't matter." You say hopelessly. "My girlfriend hates me, she's too nervous to even talk to me, what's the use?"
"There's no need for talk like that," The counselor said reassuringly. "You're a nice, sweet, kind, good-looking kid. You'll have yourself another girl or guy in no time. Don't think of this as a set back, think of it as a fresh start."
You don't say anything. You like the silence more than her voice any day.
"So, where do you see yourself in the future?"
"How far in the future?"
"Anytime."
"I see myself getting up and walking out that door in about a minute."
--
F.Y.I.
The main character, 'you', is not based on any particular sex. Remember, it's suppose to be about you, so you can make it whatever gender you'd like, weather it be your own or the opposite. Just clearing that up, a couple of my friends didn't understand after they read the dialouge from the guidance counselor.