Essay on The Night - Original Writing

Essay on The Night - Original Writing

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Monday was different because I didn’t actively avoid Alex outside of class. Rhonda was surprised when Alex came along with me to lunch. I ignored Rhonda’s little smiles. At lunch, I didn’t have to talk as much because they talked nonstop to each other. There would be the occasional question directed at me, but for the most part, I was a lawn ornament. It became a routine I could handle.
A few weeks later, Rhonda tried to hold Alex’s hand, but he pulled away from her. Rhonda didn’t look exactly dejected, but I could tell she had been hoping.
I waited to talk to her about it thinking maybe she needed space. After about a week, I caught her in the hallway. “Hey, are you okay?"
“Oh, sure!" She smiled, but it looked fake.
I just looked at her.
“Okay, so I’m sorta okay. I mean, I thought we were talking and he liked me. You made it clear you didn’t want to date so I just thought maybe he thought—”
“—that you and him could be a couple?"
She pursed her lips. “Yeah."
“I’m sorry.” I really didn’t know how to make small talk, and girl talk was completely foreign to me.
Rhonda eyed me. “You really are clueless, aren’t you?”
I knitted my eyes together. “About?"
“He likes you. You can see it every time he looks at you. Like I said, the only reason I made a move was because you’d made it really clear he didn’t have a chance with you.”
Aw man.
“Uhhhhh….” I stammered. “I…uh…um…”
It was a good thing the bell rang because I had no idea what to say.
By lunch the next day, things seemed to be back to normal. Whatever issues Rhonda and Alex had, were over. They seemed to be laughing and talking like nothing happened. Rhonda would give me a look every so often and make me squirm. I wanted to kick her.
It made English incredibly uncomfortable. Bio...


... middle of paper ...


...want to see it, but if you make a big deal about it I’m going to walk back into my house and never speak to you again.”
He turned and pulled up the back of his shirt so I could see the massive artwork. A vine swirled around a large tree, and the leaves of the tree were eyes. Each leaf of the vine was the shape of a butterfly, and each butterfly was a Fruit of the Spirit. The vine itself was a delicately scrolled verse?
“But the wisdom that is from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, easy to be entreated, full of mercy and good fruits, without variance, without hypocrisy. That’s, um…from James!" I said, surprised.
“James 3:17 to be exact…" He said and then he hopped over the side of the deck. Looking up at me, he smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Your dad asked me to take you to service tomorrow.” Then he walked through the side gate, and I heard the car start.

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