(c) Dragonflies Secrets

This is a really, really rough first draft I just typed up. I've been tossing this idea around in my head for a long time, and it's kind of based off my own life. Reviews are LOVE. This isn't really going to be a love story, just little snippet's of these two different characters' lives















He was the boy that didn't care. That no one botherd to figure out, always lost in his own world somewhere.

She was the girl that just wanted to get lost.














Kaylin.

I sink down in my chair as I stare at the pages in my book. I'm not reading it, I'm just looking at the words, paying attention to what the people across from me are saying. From what I can make out, one of them probably made a joke about ass, or something of that sort, and the whole group bursts out with loud laughter.

Seventh period, Friday, and everyone's excited as usual. Gritting my teeth, I try to guess what the hell is making them laugh so hard I sink down into my seat and glance up at them. I hear my name. They're talking about me. Of course. The bell rings and I rush out the door before everyone else. I hurry down the hallway, don't stop, just get to the bus. That's how I get through the day. Keep going, just couple more periods, don't let then know it hurts.

I bet 'bumped' into in the hallway three times, shoved once. I run outside and hurry onto the bus, finally resting my head against the window. I'm always the first one on the bus in the mornings and the last one to get off.

My house is the farthest away from the bus stop, so I walk home alone. My parents are working durring the day, so when I get home I have the houe to myself. Aidan's car isn't in the driveway eve though he should be home for Thanksgiving break right now.

"Is it true your brother died?"

I shake my head and run up to the front door. It's locked, of course. It's pretty common of my parents to not leave a door open for me, and not trust me with a key. I sigh and walk around the side of the house, coming to the window that I always leave open a crack for this purpose. I shove my binder through the crack, lift the window open and hoist myself through.

There's a note on the counter with a twenty attatched, telling me to order pizza if I'm hungry. First I check the fridge to see if there's any leftovers, or even something like a bagel. No such luck. If my parents ever went gorcery shopping, it'd be the start of the Apocolpyse. I'll have pizza for the second day in a row, which I guess is better than eating crackers.

The pizza comes and I sit on the couch, with the slice in my hands, turning on the TV. I don't care that the couch is white, it has a year's worth of red and brown stains on it already. No one in my family cares about it anymore. Just like a hell of a lot of other things I could mention.

When I'm done eating, I shuffle upstairs. I stop next to Aidans door for a minute. It's closed. That suddenly sends a small rush of anger thtough me. I don't like it when his door's closed. I open it and peer inside. The navy walls and bed are just as they were when he left that day. I walk past the room and into mine.






Trey.

I sit gazing out the window, letting my eyes wander over the snow-covered streets. The sight of snow is so calming. I smile slightly as I watch people shuffle through the streets, hearing them call each other. It's winter break and even though my family doesn't really celebrate Chirstmas, I love this time of year. People are always so nice to each other, and that's a good thing to see.

I lean against the headboard of my bed, gazing through the glass. It's foggy, and with my finger I run my finger over the window, wiping away the mist in little lines. I draw a stick figure on one of the window squares, and a lightning bolt and some stars on the other. I wait and wait to see the silver car come up our street. I've been waiting for it for a month. I know she'll come back.

She said she wouln't, but I know that's not true. She left us and I'm just waiting for that day when she'll go back on her word and return home. I don't know if I want her back. I'm used to having her gone. She'd get pissed about something and leave for a couple months at a time. Whatever.

I draw three stick figures on the window. One is Dad, one is me, and one is her. Angrily, with the side of my fist, I erase her from the picture. That's better. I like it now.

She left us. Again.

I gaze into the streets, and I see a little boy walking with his mother, father and little sister. I hope he knows how lucky he is nd silently pray for him that his family won't wind up like mine. The anger directed towards her will well up inside me until I do something terrible, so I block out the thoughts. I take a deep breath and lean back again, closing my eyes and inhaling slowly. I can feel the anger leaving, as I start to drift off into my own world.

I wish I could stay there. I don't like the real world - it's mean. People don't really care about each other, and if they do something nice for someone it's only so that person will stop complaining, or because they'll get credit. I like my world better - people care about each other and you can do anything. Literally, you can even fly.