school help: Wrote a short story, looking for opinions - Help.com

Wrote a short story, looking for opinions

And I’m posting it here for the last time after I edited it. Please give honest feedback so I can improve:

When I started public school in 7th grade, things went pretty well for me. I got good grades, lived close to school and didn’t have to wear collared shirts anymore. My transition was pretty smooth despite the changes, and I was very grateful for the way things were turning out. But something was missing. And it wasn’t until a year later that I figured out what that was.
It all started when a classmate stuffed something in my pocket after health class. She was a weird kid, not that I didn’t like her. She had a tendency to get worked up on various occasions, and sometimes her energy came out in sudden bursts of excitement around certain people. I happened to be one of them. The bell rang ending the last period of the day and dismissing students to go home for the weekend. It was then she rushed up to me, did a few crazy things, then stuffed something in my pocket, and hurried away.
By the time she left, I searched my pocket to see what it was she put there, and glimpsed at something shining in my hand. A small, silver dime with FDR’s face stared back at me as I continued walking toward the bus. Not knowing what else to do with it, I left it in my pocket, boarded the bus and looked for my seat by the window toward the back. I took a seat, placing my things next to me and contemplated the ride ahead of me.
It would be the last time I would sit on this bus before I moved to my new house over the weekend. I watched the swarms of rambunctious students behind the fog of my breath clouding the window, and let my head rest on the pane of glass beside me. I waited inevitably for the seventh grader walk down the isle with his instrument with him and choose where to sit for the afternoon. Then I saw him coming. I looked away, trying not to make him feel like he had an obligation to sit in a particular seat. I wanted him to choose. I tried the best I could to hide from him, to look away and not make eye contact. But I knew he’d sit down next to me soon enough. And surely enough he did.
“Hi,” he said. “What’s up?” I tried my best to act as indifferent as I could. I probably shrugged. “How’s it going?” he asked again. I waited for some other kid to listen in and join the conversation, but it never happened.
“I’m fine I guess,” I conceded. I looked out the window and waited for him to move somewhere else.
“Is this yours?” he said. I turned around, careful to avoid his eyes, and noticed the small dime that the girl stuffed in my pocket had fallen onto the seat space between us.
“Oh you can keep it, that’s fine.” I said. I looked away. He started talking again.
“Heads or tails?” he offered.
“No, that’s fine.” I said.
“Come on, heads or tails?” he offered again.
“No, really, it’s fine,” I said, trying to remain indifferent.
“Come on, chose one.” I turned around to see him looking at me, waiting for a response. I finally gave in.
“Okay. Heads.” He flipped it. It spun in the air with a metallic whir as it flew upward, landing with a thump in his palm. He turned it over with a smack on his other hand and opened it up, revealing the backside of the coin.
“Aw, too bad,” He said. “”Wanna try again?”
“I’m okay,” I said, trying to give him a reason to stop talking. Though I really didn’t want him to.
“Pick a side,” he insisted.
“Tails.”
He flipped it again, and this time, it went flying to the back of the bus into who knows where, landing with a metallic chime that was lost in the incessant chatter in the back of the bus.
“Oh sorry, do you want me to get that?” he asked, getting ready to get out of his seat.
“No, that’s fine, I don’t need it,” I said, expecting him to leave now that the dime was gone. But he stayed anyway.
He didn’t move. No matter how frequently I looked away, no matter how much I tried to give him a reason not to talk to me, he kept talking to me. I wanted more than anything to prove somehow that he wasn’t just talking, that he wanted to talk for a reason, and I felt the only way I could figure out was if I gave him every reason to stop talking to me without being rude and see what is reaction was. Whatever the reason was, he kept talking.
“Just leave him alone, he obviously doesn’t want to talk to you,” somebody said from the back of the bus. I didn’t know what to make of it.
“Am I bothering you?” he asked me all of a sudden.
“No,” I said almost too quickly, shaking my head.
He looked at me again.
“Do you think I’m making fun of you?” he asked.
My head seemed to sink. I felt so stupid when he asked me that question. Is he trying to make this hard for me? Why does it seem so difficult to understand? I couldn’t imagine why he acted the way he did around me. I couldn’t figure out the reason why he kept talking to me. Why is he so nice to me? Is he being fake? Does he feel sorry for me? I couldn’t think of a reason for the way he acted around me.
“I don’t know, you tell me,” I concluded, not knowing what else to say.
His facial expressions and his body language seemed to change, the tone in his voice seemed to tighten up along with the rest of his demeanor. Then he spoke.
“Look,” he said, “I don’t do that kind of stuff.”
Each word had an impact. I didn’t understand why, but something burnt inside me with his response. There was some kind of thrill out of hearing what he had to say this time, unlike all the other things he said to me in the past, this time it actually meant something. Yet almost as soon as that feeling came, it disintegrated into another.
It was my last time riding the bus. And it was probably the last time I would ever see him. Slowly, my mind started sinking through my neck and into my chest, slowly crumbling through my body as the news sunk in. Just as things started to piece together I was devastated by the blunt, unchangeable truth that I was going to leave. And there was nothing I could do about it.
All these thoughts flashed through my mind as we approached his stop before he got off. I desperately tried to think of something to say before he left.
“Bye! I’ll see you Monday,” he said before he got off the bus.
I wanted so badly to talk to him one last time now that I knew he wasn’t making fun of me, but the words wouldn’t come out. I didn’t know how to begin with everything that was going through my mind.
“It doesn’t matter…” I started to say, that I wouldn’t be on the bus Monday. But I was stuck not knowing what to say.
“What’s that? It doesn’t matter?” he said, then waiting for a response. But I couldn’t find the words to finish the sentence.
“Okay, see you Monday then,” he said, unchanged, and got off the bus.

************************************

I couldn’t believe how bad I screwed it up. The minute I figured out he wasn’t making fun of me, all I could say was ‘it doesn’t matter’. Of all the words to remember, I had to say that. But it did matter. It meant the world to me. And on top of that, he didn’t seem to care about that at all.
I couldn’t take it any longer. I decided to take a walk around the neighborhood, something I did when I felt bothered or stressed, hoping afterwards I would be able to focus on packing the rest of my things away. I wanted so bad to stop thinking about it, to move on with my life and ignore everything he said. But I still wanted to change what I said, to have finished my sentence, to start to explain to him what I really meant. I wanted him to understand, and above all, I wanted it to matter. But I knew it was too late.
It wasn’t until I made my way back home that I heard the first person on my stroll. It was a soft jingling noise in the distance; it gradually got louder as it came from behind me. But this time, I didn’t care who it was, there were other things on my mind.
It was while I was thinking this that the jingling noise stopped next to me. I remained unchanged. Then someone started talking to me.
“Hi,” said a familiar voice. I turned to my side to see who it was. There was the kid, the one from the bus, standing next to me, with a panting dog on a leash walking next to him.
“Oh, uh, hi,” I said, in total disbelief.
Then he was speaking in a way he never spoke with me before, somewhat calm, relaxed, typical small talk; asking me things about the weather and school, making a whole conversation without any jokes or games. As he was talking, I was thinking about what I really wanted to say. The words started to come out on their own.
“Look, I’m sorry if I kind of blew you off when you’d talk to me on the bus…” I started, thinking how to formulate the rest of an apology.
“Oh no, that’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he said, trying to cut me off. But I had to say something this time.
“I just didn’t know you were trying to be…uh…” then I didn’t know how to finish my sentence. What was he trying to be? What was he doing? Was he being just being polite? kind? outgoing?
“A friend?” he suggested.

This open post was written 11 months, 4 weeks ago | V/U/S: 88, 2, 2 | Edit Post | Leave a reply | Report Post

Mind, school, Bus, Window, Head, reason, matter, Monday, Side, word (How Tags Affect Reciprocity)

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