Note: This is my first fanfic. I really appreciate feedback, constructive criticism.
Chapter One: The Boy
My alarm beeped, getting louder and louder as I refused to wake up. My dad had insisted on strategically placing it on my dresser so I couldn't hit the Snooze button in the morning(my attendance record had been riddled with tardies because of it. Now I'm tardy because I simply don't want to go to school.). I finally groaned and rubbed my eyes. Another awful day at Lyndon K-8 School.
I pulled on a pair of not-so-clean blue jeans and a t-shirt. I no longer tried to look nice. It's not like anyone at school cared. I went to the kitchen, threw a Poptart in the toaster and started the daily struggle of brushing my thick, curly, dark blonde hair. My dad walked in from his miniscule room in sweatpants and a white undershirt and smiled. I tried to smile back, but it was hard. I only kept going to school because I couldn't stand hurting him."Jenna," he said, "you wanna catch a movie after I get home tonight?" I mulled. "Sure." I usually didn't like to go to movies, because I'd see people from school. But I hadn't hung out with my dad in a long time. He started to brew some coffee and went back to his room to get dressed in his scrubs. Once he left for work, I would take the rest of the coffee in the pot.
20 minutes later Dad and I left. He kissed my forehead, hopped into our '91 Toyota Tercel and waved as he backed out of our tiny driveway. I smiled and went into the garage to get my bike. It was one of the crappiest bikes you'll ever see. Not only is it old and beat up(my dad got it from someone at his work after their son had outgrown it-their son, by the way, was the kind of kid who burnt baby dolls in his spare time), but it was the ugliest shade of olive green I could have imagined. I put on my bright red helmet(which looked even worse next to the bike's color), wheeled it out and started toward Mt. Vernon St, about nine blocks from our apartment. One thing I hated about living in West Roxbury - everything was too close to drive to, but too far too walk to. Lucky Dad, the hospital he worked at was in Jamaica Plain, too far for bikes.
I hopped onto my atrocious bike and began down Gardner Place. I closed my eyes for the downhill part, confident that I wouldn't crash. I'd been taking this route since I first learned to ride a bike four years ago, in third grade. The slight September breeze flittered on my face. I opened my eyes to see a squirell scamper along a fence. I wondered if my dad was at work yet, and what he was doing. I loved my dad's job. I wanted to become a doctor someday, to help people. But the way I struggled in school now with slight dyslexia and ADHD, I doubted I'd ever make it though med school.
I was about half way to school when I saw him. I was at an intersection, waiting for the light to change. He was probably an inch shorter than me, had rustled blonde hair, a bright face, and blue eyes. His face was deeply tanned, and he looked athletic. He was walking down the sidewalk perpendicular to the one I was on. I don' t know why, but I couldn't stop looking at him. I wondered where he was from, because I'd never seen him before. He pushed the button to cross the street, the same way I would be going. I stared at him. Then he turned his head toward me and our eyes met. He smiled. Then he turned back and crossed the street. I kept staring at his retreating figure. Cars were honking, waiting for me to cross. I did, but nearly fell off my bike. I had to know who that boy was.