The Phone Call.

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20/05/03         Hannah Gregory

The Phone Call

She ran, not knowing where she was heading. The only thoughts in her head at that time were “Must run! Must keep going. Can’t stop!” She was starting to regret eating the snack earlier. As she hardly ate a thing, the tiniest morsel of food could seem like she had eaten a three course meal. But if she had known before about what was going to happen she would have lost her minute appetite. But she couldn’t have known it was going to go pear-shaped, could she?

        It had started out as a normal November morning, chilly and breezy, with the lazy sun not quite quenching the thirst for sunlight from the grass. The girl had set off for school, Cliffmont High School, at about 7:00am, her usual time. It was only a mile walk to the bus stop, but it took her a good fifteen minutes. She lived in the outskirts of Detroit, in a place known as Plady Way. It was not the friendliest area.

        Arriving at school was something the girl enjoyed very much. She liked to make an entrance. As it set off, she could hear the engine whispering quietly underneath her, while the heating purred loudly, like a cat being stroked under its chin. At the next stop, a girl got on. She had not been at the school before and everyone was curious to find out who she was. She was pretty, though she had unusual features. She had wide, staring, deep blue eyes, a perfect nose, and full lips. Her hair was long, a nice medium brown. She was slim, with long legs, and perfectly manicured hands. Her name was Lyla. Lyla sat down, six rows from the back, right opposite the girl, and stared at her inquisitively.

        “Hi, I’m Lyla!” She stated, and then added, “I’ve come from Ocracoke Island, North Carolina.” That much was obvious: she had a southern drawl that had a flowing, soothing tone about it. “I like to write poetry and sing about things.”

“Oh my God!” thought the girl, “Lyla seems like a total dork!”

Being one of the most popular seniors, the girl had a reputation to keep up with. She was known not to be seen with anyone in the least bit geekish/ nerdish/ freakish. The girl was a model student, in every sports team, head cheerleader, future valedictorian of her senior class, with early offers to three Ivy League Colleges. This girl was all that. She was the girl all the boys wanted, and the one all girls wanted to be. She certainly didn’t “sing about things.”

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        Bang! Jerked back to reality, she realised they’d arrived at school. Reliving her daydream, she got off the bus as quickly as possible, hoping to avoid walking in with Lyla. Managing it, she got into the main entrance and looked around her. Familiar faces of those who frequently surrounded her, the faces of those who were familiar to her but names were not of importance, geeks, nerds, jocks, cheerleaders. A normal high school day, or so it seemed.

        Advanced Chemistry first, then Geometry. Really boring, but the girl managed this with little effort. She was alright breezing through class; concentration ...

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