A typical romance story always starts off with a damsel in distress. There's a knight in shining armor, and a ton of drama. But really, in the end, the prince eventually proposes to the damsel and they'll live happily ever after. So simply cliché, and okay, so I'll admit, my life is sorta like a whacked up, weird, re-written, twisted romance story itself. It starts off with a normal girl having typical relationships, with none ever going so well. When the girl just about quits on love, BAM! Some hot guy moves into the neighborhood, and what do you know? He's her next door neighbor, and say the guy asks you out, and you say yes. So, cue in the romantic scenes, and just when you think everything's perfect, this fairytale switches to a horror. You find out the guy's really working for the government and the want to do some kind of experiment on you and their cat just so happens can say more than just 'meow.' Typical. THEN, I have to worry about twelfth grade. Joy.
Seconds remained before my world would shatter. One drop of water was all I needed to save me from utter embarrassment. But before the water could even drip, the beaker’s substance exploded. I felt the disgusting green foam ooze onto my desk and soak through my white science coat sleeve. Sighing, I wiped it away from my goggles. I didn’t dare gaze behide. I knew I would meet Mr. Neese’s, our chemistry teacher, unwelcome glare. Putting back the beaker of water back onto the wooden desk, I dragged out a long sigh.
Just one mistake was all it took for me to fail. Mr. Neese was probably writing a big “F” beside my name right now. I was done for.
I stayed behind after class once the last bell rung. Mr. Neese passed me a pair of white gloves as the rest of the class left. Bending down towards the green mess, I began wiping the chemistry disaster. It felt disgusting between my fingers and I did my best not to make a face. But what really had my stomach in knots was that nobody in class had even offered to help me clean up. Not even one person asked if I was okay. I felt the taste of loneliness and the bitter fact that I was on my own.
Mr. Neese cleared his throat beside me and handed me another towel. He masked a stern face as he did so.
“I thought you were good at chemistry. You were doing so well.” He glared hard into my eyes, searching for some sort of exclamation.
Mr. Neese opened his mouth to make another harsh comment, but I quickly cut him off.
“I was trying to get the water out,” I blurted, “but it wouldn’t come out,” I took a deep breath. “And when I tried to ask you for help… it was too late.” Mr. Neese glared as I finished. “That’s no excuse,” I heard him grumbled, as he slowly began to walk away.
When I finished cleaning up the mess, I walked out the school building. I wasn’t in the best of moods, and I felt my legs agreeing, as it stomped all the way home. I knew something was up; it was a weird burning feeling inside me, pleading for attention. Something was going to happen. Something that would change my life forever. Putting that thought in the back of my head, I turned a corner and arrived home.
The first thing I noticed when I arrived to my house was the big red letters “sold” imprinted across my old neighbor’s “for sale” sign. It was sad to see them leave, and I wondered who would live in their house now. I guess I would soon find out.