Type a new keyword(s) and press Enter to search

Short Story - The Pressure of My Teenage Years

 

             Mum said it would be good to start over and to get away from the old memories. Mum and I have been on our own for about two years now. I haven't seen Dad for ages since he and mum divorced. Being the new kid at school, I was prepared to be looked at in funny ways and also to be on the receiveing end of conversations that the other person didn't really want to have. I didn't know anyone really well, so in most of my spare time, I'd visit the library. I liked being in the library. It was quiet all the time and noone bothered me about anything. And a couple of study lessons wouldn't hurt me, since there were only a few weeks before the big exams.
             I thought it might be a good idea to be reading Shakespeare. I was in deep thought when I was interrupted by a loud bang of books falling to the floor. It was my new neighbour, Lyndsay. I've never spoken to her before. I found out her name because she was in one of my classes.
             She saw me and was starting to walk over.
             "Hi!" she said in a preppy high-pitched voice. "I'm Lyndsay, your new neighbour,".
             "Hello," I replied.
             "You're Anne. You sit infront of me in English class. I meant to introduce myself before, but I was really busy. Studying. Have you been studying? I have. Day and night for the past month now. I hope I do really well on my exams. Don't you?".
             Geez, couldn't this girl take a breath?.
             "Err.," I couldn't get a word in edge ways!.
             "Come over here. There's someone you just have to meet,".
             So, I was dragged to a table where a girl was sitting, what looked like intentive reading. She had long blonde hair and glasses.
             "This is Sandy," said Lyndsay. "And this is Anne.".
             Sandy looked up to smile for a second, and then buried her face in the book again.
             "You can stay and study with us if you want?" Lyndsay asked while taking my books from me and placing them in a place for me at the table.
             "OK, sure. I guess." I replied unenthusiastically.
             When I got home, Mum and I had a long talk about how our day was and if I'd been studying and if I was beginning to feel the pressure of being a seventeen year old.


Essays Related to Short Story - The Pressure of My Teenage Years