We kiss deeply, but we eventually fall in each others arms and lay there. I must have fallen asleep, because when I opened my eyes, it was pitch black outside.
“Claire,” I whispers, poking at her arm, “what time is it?”
She moans, “Time to get a watch.”
“Seriously, what time?”
“Grrr, it's 7:20 P.M. Why?”
“Shoot.” I yell, getting out of her bed. I play hind-and-go seek with my shoes for awhile.
“Why do you have to go?”
“My parents don't know where I am. They could be worried.”
I am about to wave bye to her when she walks over to me, pushing me up against her door.
“Aren't you going to say bye properly?”
I choke back my moan and kiss her full red lips. Her tongue enters mine and she hands glide over my body.
“No,” I push her back, “i gotta go. See ya Claire.”
I shouldn't have looked back, but I did. She gave me the saddest look ever, than shut her door. Before I hit the last step on her stairs, I hear a sob...and a broken heart.
Sneaking back into my room was fine. I got through the door and up my stairs...going into my room was another story, because once I turn on my light for my room, I see a envelope on my bed. I slouch against the door frame, debating what to do. I could burn the letter? I could throw the letter away? I could put it into another mail box? Or, I could read it?
I don't decide what to do til I take a shower, get my jammies one, brushing my teeth, and combing my hair. I finally decide to read her letter.
Your not very great full are you? I carried you around in my belly for 9 months of hell and than had to gave birth to you. Who took care of you? Who gave you what you wanted? I DID! Not your father and not his dimwitted girlfriend Lorie. So all I want is respect. Sure, I made a mistake, but I don't hold your mistakes against you. I didn't hold against you that you killed a turtle that belonged to your class for an experiment. Nope, I didn't make you go and say it was you who stole it. I was there for you for everything.
Cold. Freezing. Anger is building. Tears are falling as I sit crossed legged on my wooden floor, crying. Crying how everything is falling apart. Crying because my mom might win, and get what she wants. She wants me to be miserable at best.
I won't let her win. Not again.
Getting a paper and a pen, I write her:
My name is Snow, but it's k. Oh, and you were NEVER there for me. After you became “depressed” I had to answer the door, answer the phone, and cook for us. I found you almost dead by the pond. SO you did nothing wrong? Wow, you really do belong there...huh mom?
Well, gotta go,
“Love and War.”
Stopping by the bridge was my only option after school to wipe away all my sadness. Claire wouldn't speak to me. She is really good at the cold shoulder. Dad won't look at me and neither will Lorie. I am alone. So I figure, why not go to the bridge. As I enter the view of the bridge I see Winter sitting on the bridge...crying.
Getting brave, I touch her shoulder, “You okay?”
Wiping her nose, she turns towards me, tears spilling out of her beautiful brown eyes and her lips quivering.
“Why, what's wrong?”
Looking me in the eyes, face to face, she whispers a word. One miniature word, but it makes the most sense.
I nod, kicking the rocks away. I nod and look at her, “Ya, I understand.”
We just stare at each, trying to find words...but the great thing is we don't need to speak. We don't need to speak, because one glance at each other and we know what where thinking.
Winter is amazing. We sat on the bridge talking about everything. She tells me how she wants to me a musician or an actress....something creative. I sit there listening about her hopes and dreams...soaking in everything she tells me. Winter lets it slip that she likes girls, which popped up illegal thoughts in my head...but what can you do about it? Nothing.
“Why did you come to the bridge?” Winter asks me as she walks me home. Watching the building make shades of black and the sky dancing in colors of red and orange, I think about why. What do I say? Can she be trusted?
“Issues.” I say, trying to kick the subject aside.
“We all have issues.”
“Nope not everyone.”
Winter grabs my arm and stops me, “Who doesn't?”
The feeling of suffocating is overwhelming, so I spit the truth, “Claire.”
“Ya, she has no issues.”
We stand there in my yard staring at each other. Pity fills her eyes and a smirk takes over her mouth.
“Let me guess, you are one of her toys?”
“Ya, we had a thing last year. That was before she told nasty rumors and had me exiled socially.”
“Wait...she would do that?”
“I don't know,” she smirks, creeping closer to me. So close that there is only and inch between us. I can smell her minty breathe, her flowery skin, and the blossoms of her outfit.
She closes the gap between us and kisses me, “You tell me?”