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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1667423-A-Boy-Named-Marcus-C2
Rated: E · Chapter · Teen · #1667423
A short story about a young girls love for someone she knows nothing about.
Chapter 2



  The lesson, from that point on, went on as normal, except for the bubbling emotions fizzing inside your brain.  Marcus was clever and witty. He answered all Miss Heelers questions politely and with a cocky smile. Then turned to you,

  “Miss Heeler? No wonder she’s not married is she speaks to you like that!” You had to stifle a laugh.

  “So what’s your name?” He asked you as you walked out of the classroom and down the stairs,

  “Dalia. Dalia Porter...” You said; trying not to meet his eyes. He was so gorgeous!

  “Dalia...” Your name rolled off his tongue in his American drawl. “Sweet.” Your eyes met for a second but you didn’t blush.

  “Marcus!”

  “Marcus come here!”

  “We need to show you to French!” Several female voices called his name. It was Sadie Clemens and some of her popular friends.

  “I’ll catch you later sweet Dalia.” And he winked! You’d never been winked at by a boy before. Let alone a really hot one. You watched him as he put his arms around Sadie Clemens and Poppy Tanners necks and turned the corner. ‘This may be the start of something!’ you thought eagerly to yourself...but then...probably not.

  You saw him later. He was sitting with Will Vamon, Luke Driscoll, Sam Briggs and Russell Perkford and a group of girls. They were all laughing and giggling. You saw him flirting with Betty Davies. He kissed her hand even when she was in front of her boyfriend.

  “Are you okay?” Emily Baxe walked up to you.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “I dunno, just wondering...” The two of you stood in awkward silence for a few minutes, “D’you wanna come to the library? We could finish that history essay on the Berlin wall!”

  “Yeah okay.” You followed her out. Popularity, you thought, it must be all to do with good looks. You thought of the people who were popular. The girls were all pretty with nice clothes and stunning figures. The boys were all muscular and handsome with great hair! And Marcus had only been here a few hours. He was already popular. It must be to do with looks. No, it must be everything to do with looks. No popular people were ugly, or fat, or nerdy. They were all the same things; rich, good-looking, clever without trying. Then there was Harriet Faynes. She was proof that it didn’t matter what you looked like. She was tall and had a masculine figure. She was very sporty and had thick legs. She had a short neck and thin blonde hair. She was originally from Australia and had the accent to prove it. She was popular. She hadn’t had a boyfriend in this school but all the boys loved her. Maybe they thought of her as one of them. So it mustn’t be all to do with being good-looking, thought that probably had a large stake in it, maybe there was something to do with personality too. For example Maye Gordons was a girl you knew. She was a bit too thin but the perfect image of feminine beauty. She was quiet and shy. She never raised her hand in lessons and hardly spoke to anyone so she would never be in the popular crowd.

  You didn’t see Marcus in lunch or in town. Or in the last two lessons of the day. You spent that time on your own. You didn’t really want to talk to Emily or anyone else. Their conversation wasn’t very good either.

  That night you went to bed at eleven and fell asleep straight away. When you woke for school the next day you blearily got dressed and washed when you heard a knock at the door. Neither of your parents answered. You wandered downstairs and opened it. Marcus was there. He was wearing a long, knee length coat with a high collar and a purposeful smile. He kissed you. His lips were warm and soft and red. You opened your eyes after he kissed you and lifted your head from your pillow. There was a small puddle of drool on your pillow where your head was. There was a knock at your bedroom door and your dad walked in.

  “Everything okay?” He asked. You nodded hurriedly, wiping your mouth. “Time for school.” And he left. A few minutes later you left too for another day of standing around awkwardly and swotting in lessons.

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