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Posts : 286
Join date : 2009-11-09
Age : 28
Location : LeXiSlAnD!!!!!!!! : O

PiNk Or PuRpLe? Empty PiNk Or PuRpLe?

Mon Jan 18, 2010 10:19 pm
This is a story I wrote last year for english. Hope ya like it. It's silly i know, but hey, what ya gonna do??

“ Beep. Beep. Beep.” The alarm sounded. I opened my eyes and lay there in bed for a minute, then reached up and turned of the alarm. I sighed as I got out of bed to get ready.
Once I was dressed, I went into the kitchen to eat my usual bowl of cereal. When it was time to go I grabbed my bag and left for the bus stop. I got there and stood in my corner by that frosted patch of grass as everyone waited for the bus.
When I got to school I went straight to my locker and put away my things. I took out my phone and hopelessly checked my message box. There was nothing new. I looked in the mirror on my door and checked my purple streaked hair, when Hillary Crenshaw walked up to me.
“ Where did you get those hideous clothes?” Hillary asked. She has been tormenting me ever since Christmas break had ended. She had to make me more insecure just to feel beautiful and it disgusted me. Hillary was the head cheerleader at our school, and was one of the most vain girls you would ever meet.
She was still talking when I walked away feeling the tears come on. During Christmas break I had gotten a whole new wardrobe. Everyone had seemed to avoid me when we got back from break. I had been alone ever since, at lunch, in class, even at home; no one would ever talk to me. The exception being Hillary, but those conversations were never pleasant.
“Oaf.” Came out along with my wind as I fell to the ground. I looked up and saw him, Allen Crandle. He looked back at me.
“Samantha Atler?” he asked as he helped me up.
“Yeah.” I confirmed. He gave me the strangest look; it made chills run up my back. The chills weren’t bad though.
“What?” I asked.
“Huh… I thought you moved or something. I never thought that the new girl wasn’t really new let alone you. From goodie good to punk? Interesting choice, I like it.” He thought out loud. Then it was my turn to look at him. He smiled at me then walked away.
Allen was one of those boys, you know, the troublemakers that act like they don’t care much and try to make a statement by wearing weird clothes. Most would define them as the “punks”. Green hair, spiked bracelets, black clothes with the occasional neon color popping out at you, wired logos, and all of that kind of thing. People tried to avoid them, just as they avoided me.
Later that day I went by myself to eat lunch at my usual table. I looked up and saw Allen smoothly stroll towards me. When he got to where I was, he sat down across from me.
“Hey purple girl.” He greeted me as he sat down.
“Excuse me?” I asked not believing he was talking to me for the second time today.
“ Please don’t tell me your favorite color is pink.”
“Huh?” I was confused.
“Well, from your hair I take it your favorite color is purple, but then I look at your shirt and now I’m thinking it’s pink.” He said pointing to my shirt, “so is it pink or purple?”
“Umm… I don’t know. Purple? But pink is a possibility.”
This went on for about a month. Allen would come sit across from me at lunch and we would talk until both of us were done eating and we would go on with our day pretending nothing happened.
Until one day he asked, “would you agree if I asked you to hang out after school?”
“It’s a good possibility.” I replied playfully.
“Well I’m asking.”
“Oh, umm. I would have to drop off my stuff at home, but I could meet you somewhere.”
“Okay then. Meet me at Kent’s market at 5:00.” He said casually.
“I’ll be there.” I said as we stood up to go dump our trays. Allen was telling me a joke while we walked out of the cafeteria as Hillary Crenshaw walked in.
A shriek stabbed my ears as Allen caught me from falling. It was Hillary who had screamed and was now on her butt glaring up at me.
“Watch where you’re going Atler!” she snapped at me.
“Hey, you weren’t watching either or we wouldn’t have bumped into each other.” I simply stated. She just glared at me. Some emotion I didn’t recognize crossed her face and she got up and started walking away.
“Well, you better start watching.” She shouted behind her back.
“So five o’clock?” Allen asked again.
“Five o’clock it is” I said as we walked our separate ways.

“Please Mom! I never get to go anywhere anymore.” I pleaded.
“Alright, but I want you back by ten o’clock.” She said in defeat.
“Thank you!” I said kissing her on the cheek as I ran out the door. It was 4:45; I had fifteen minutes to get to Kent’s before I was late.
I got there ten minutes later. There he was, leaning against the soda machine chugging an orange soda. I slowly walked up to him, pretending I had no worries. Allen turned and saw me. He waved as he threw away his can and walked towards me.
“Hey! You made it.” He welcomed me.
“Yeah, I’m here.”
At first we just walked around the parking lot talking, then we started towards the park. There we sat down on the swings and talked some more. That was all we did, we would question each other about the kind of movies we liked or our favorite books. It turned out that he liked poetry and could kind of play the keyboard.
“Wow, not to be rude, but I thought the only thing you could do was ride your skateboard.”
“ I’ve heard that one before. It’s no big deal.” He shrugged.
“You know though, skateboarding is a big feat in its self. I can’t even do that.” I said trying to cheer him up.
“Really? I could teach you, it’s actually pretty easy.”
“ I don’t know. I’m not the best at sports, if you know what I mean.” I explained shyly.
“Well that settles it. I’m going to teach you how.” He said as he stood up and held out his hand to me. Allen helped me up and started walking away when he stopped and turned around.
“Aren’t you coming?” he asked. I just stared at him in confusion.
“Isn’t the skate park that way?” I asked, pointing the other way.
“Well, first I have to get both of us skateboards, and second, we’re not going to the skate park.” Allen politely explained.
“Oh” I said, blushing as I hurried to follow him. We walked all the way uptown and stopped at a gigantic, three story house with a red mustang in the driveway. Allen started up the driveway and went in to the garage.
As I stood there waiting, I observed the beautiful house. It had the white picket fence and the grass that is too green for the middle of March. I was in upper class Roy, UT. Allen had told me his family was well off, but I had never imagined exactly how well off they were. My mouth was just slightly open when Allen came down the driveway with a skateboard in each arm.
“Here you go.” He murmured as he handed me a skateboard.
“This is where you live?” I asked staring at him.
“Yeah. Unfortunately, this is home sweet home.” He remarked in a dull tone.
“Come on, let’s go.” he said turning away. I followed. We didn’t talk much as we walked to the school parking lot. It was only when I saw where we were I said,” What are we doing here?”
“We’re skateboarding.” He simply replied.

I stared at him in the dimming light. He dropped his skateboard to the ground and was off. He rode around the parking lot twice and came back to where I was.
“So are you ready?” he asked, cheeks red form the wind in his face.
That’s when the streetlights turned on. I checked my phone it was nine o’clock. I looked up at Allen and said, “We don’t have much time.”
“I never said this was a one session teaching.” Allen smiled at me and held out his hand. I took it and he pulled me over to the skateboard. He explained how you should stand on the board and that balance was the key. He was there to catch me when I fell and encouraged me to keep trying. We were laughing when I pulled out my phone to see what time it was.
“Oh shoot!”
“What’s wrong?” Allen asked curiously.
“It’s ten-thirty. I was supposed to be home at ten o’clock.” I explained stress in my face.
“That’s not good. Here, I’ll take these and you head home.” He said grabbing the skateboards.
“Thanks” I called behind me as I ran as fast as I could. I ran through the door with my lungs on fire to find my mom and dad sitting on the couch, quietly staring at me.
“You’re forty-five minutes late.” She sternly informed me.
“I’m so sorry. I lost track of time. It’s all my fault.” I apologized.
“And you’re sure that boy had nothing to do with it?” my dad asked skeptically.
“No! Allen didn’t do anything. He’s just a friend, Dad!” my anger flared.
“Okay.” My mother said with a sigh, trying to make peace. My parents fought and apologized back and forth with me all night. I got so tired of hearing it I went to bed thirty minutes later.
The next morning I woke up to a knock at the front door. I grabbed my robe and went to see what the hubbub was about.
When I got to the living room, in the doorway was a cop. I was so puzzled that I froze mid-step and almost tripped over myself.
“This is our daughter Samantha.” Mom introduced me to detective Anderson.
“Samantha, I was wondering if I could ask you some questions.” The policeman said.
“Sure...okay.” I was confused. I went and sat down on the couch.
“Okay, I need to know exactly what you were doing between the hours of seven o’clock and eight o’clock yesterday.”
“Uh, I was hanging out with a friend. Why?” I asked in a daze.
“I’m sorry that’s classified.” He curtly replied. I just stared at him. What have I done wrong? I started fiddling with a loose string on my sleeve.
“What’s your friend’s name?” the detective asked another question.
“Allen Crandle. What is this all about?” I was starting to get frustrated.
“Last night someone vandalized the locker rooms and destroyed everything in them.” reluctantly explained the detective.
“Are you saying you think I had something to do with that?” it was clear now, and the relief flooded through me.
“Yes, that would be what I’m saying.” Anderson replied.
“It’s that boy! Sami, what were you thinking? That’s it! You are not allowed to see him again!” my father shot at me.
“I didn’t do anything! I didn’t do it and neither did Allen! We’re not stupid, we wouldn’t do that!” I yelled. I turned to the detective who was staring at me as if I had sprung from the ground underneath his feet. When I glared at him he started to compose to himself.
“Actually, your friend Allen has a record. I can’t tell you what he did, but he’s done some things.” He said calmly.
“No!” I shock my head, “I don’t believe you. Allen’s not stupid like that.” I said defiantly.
“I think that’s enough questioning for now.” My mom said putting her arm around me. The detective nodded and walked out of the house and drove away in his Roy, UT police car.
It was a Saturday, so there was nothing for me to do but wait. Later that day more police came to ask me questions. My parents got so overwhelmed that they called a lawyer. I just waited.
Finally, Monday came around and I was dressed before I usually even got up. As I sat at the table I stared at the clock. It was the hardest thing I had ever done, waiting for the time to come. As soon as it was time I told my parents and left for school.
Through out the whole day I kept looking for him, but Allen was nowhere to be seen. When lunch came around he didn’t show up. I sat by myself for the first time in a while. The only person I needed to see wasn’t there.
One day awhile later, Detective Anderson came around again, but this time he had a warrant to look around our house. While they were looking, they found the photos my mom just had developed and they took them for “examination”. I was getting really tired of these people.
Not long after, they had me attend trial. That’s where I finally saw him. Allen was sitting at the defense table in the courtroom. I went and sat down next to him.
“Where have you been?” I asked casually.
“They stuck me in juvenile detention because I’ve been in trouble before.” He explained distracted.
“What kind of trouble?”
“Just the wrong place at he wrong time.”
Then the judge came in. The first day didn’t last long. Both sides explained their positions in the case. Then the judge said he wanted us back the next day.

Later that day, I went to visit Allen. As I walked into the visitor room I sat in the section across from where Allen was sitting on the other side of the Plexiglas. We picked up the phones at the same time.
“Allen, I need you to tell me what happened with what ever you did.” I said.
“Which time do you want to hear about first?” he asked calmly.
“Just start from the beginning.”
“Okay.” He went on to tell me how he used to have these two friends that got into a lot of trouble.
One day his friends came and picked him up to hang out. It turned out that they had stolen the car and cops arrived minutes after they had picked Allen up. They charged him with accessory to car theft. He got stuck in juvenile detention for nine months for that one.
The next time was with the same friends. He had been hanging out with them one day when they pulled out some pot. Before Allen could leave the cops came around again. One of his so-called “friends” had slipped a joint in Allen’s pocket and got him sent to juvenile detention again, this time for a year.
“Just the wrong place at the wrong time.” Allen ended his explanation with.
“You had some pretty bad friends,” I stated.
“Yep. That’s why I stay away from them now.” He agreed.
I looked at my watch. It was five minutes before visiting hours were over. I said my good byes and went home.
The next day the big part of the trial started. The prosecutors presented their evidence. They had a spray paint bottle with fingerprints on it, a picture of me from two months ago, and something that looked oddly familiar. I stared at the bag in his hand. When I got a good look I gasped.
“What is the problem miss Atler?” the judge asked me. I looked up.
“That necklace was stolen from me about a month ago, your honor. I haven’t seen it since.” I responded.
It was a simple, sliver chain with a locket hanging on it with an engraved inscription inside. It had gone missing during gym one day. I had taken it off and put it in my locker, when I got back it was gone.
After my burst out the prosecution went down a list of witnesses they would be calling to the stand. One name particularly stood out, Hillary Crenshaw. I should have known she had something to do with this one way or another.
When our defense lawyer was done with our evidence and witness list, our lawyer requested that all documentation that dealt with this case be dusted for prints along with the witnesses be fingerprinted to see if there were any matches to the spray paint can. They started the tests that day and said the results would be back in a couple of weeks.
The days passed like years as we sat there listening to witnesses and arguments. I just waited for the results to come, knowing something big would happen when they did. The only thing I ever looked forward to was the time sitting in front of the Plexiglas with Allen on the other side.
Finally, the results came back. They came the day Hillary was to speak on the stand. As everyone settled down they called Hillary up to the stand.
The prosecutor started to ask her questions about the locket, things like if it was mine, and had she ever seen me wearing it. She confirmed what everyone already knew. Then he asked about the school day before the crime.
“Miss Crenshaw, did you see Allen and Samantha the day of the crime?” the prosecutor asked.
“Yes, I did.” She confirmed.
“Did you talk to Samantha that day?” he asked another question.
“No, not really.”
“Didn’t you say that she had knock you to the ground that day in your witness statement though?” he pointed out.
“Yes, but she did it for no reason.” Hillary answered.
“Note, ladies and gentlemen of the jury that Samantha Atler has a history of random aggression.” He commented toward the group of civilians sitting in the jury box to the side of the courtroom.
“What happened after she knocked you down?” the prosecutor asked sympathetically.
“She laughed and walked away.” Hillary replied confidently.
“Miss Crenshaw,” he said redirecting the questions, “did you ever hear Samantha Atler telling people what she was planning in the locker rooms?”
“No, but I did hear her planning something with Allen.”
“You mean the defendant sitting over there?” he asked pointing at Allen.
“Yes” she said nodding.
“When did you hear Samantha “planning” as you say with Allen?” he asked.
“Just after Sam had pushed me down, Allen had asked if they were still on for five o’clock.” Hillary explained.
“Thank you, Miss Crenshaw.” The prosecutor thanked her and walked back to his seat. As he sat down, our lawyer stood up and walked toward the stand.

“Miss Crenshaw, did my client, Allen, ever say where they were going or what they were doing at five o’clock that day?” our lawyer asked curiously.
“Well, no, but...”
“So how do you know that they weren’t planning to go to a movie or each other’s house?” he cut Hillary off.
“Isn’t it obvious what they were planning? I mean, look at the locker rooms.” Hillary stammered.
“How do you know they weren’t planning to grab a bite to eat or to go to a study group, maybe they were even planning to go to a party? How do you know what they were planning?” he continued leaning closer to Hillary’s face than possibly comfortable.
“I know because I followed them okay!” Hillary yelled in his face. He leaned back and raised his eyebrows.
“I followed them after I overheard Allen, and when they got to the parking lot I thought it would be the perfect revenge.” She disharmoniously explained.
“Revenge for what? Accidentally knocking you down?” he challenged.
“No! Revenge for upstaging me, and making me look stupid. She had to go get a makeover. She had to be prettier than me!” Hillary started sobbing, “Getting everyone to avoid her wasn’t enough. I needed more than that!”
“Well, I guess, now it makes sense why your fingerprints were on the spray paint can.” He said dropping the print results on the stand in front of Hillary, “I’m done with this witness your honor.” Our lawyer said as he sat down.
They took Hillary away in handcuffs and let Allen out of them after trial that day. The next day the jury declared Allen and me innocent of all charges. We walked out of the court building hand in hand, free as birds.
Hillary went to trial the next week. It turns out her boyfriend had helped her, the poor sucker. The court found them both guilty of all charges and sent them to juvenile detention for a year.
Now, Allen and I spend a lot of time together. School is so much better now. Hillary had actually told everyone that I was a new girl and I was weird beyond belief, so everyone stayed away from me. Since trial a lot more people talk to me.
Allen and I will usually still have long talks or we’ll go skateboard. Now, he’s starting to teach me how to play the keyboard (It’s not as easy as he makes it look).
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