(Based on Just Good Friends by Jeffrey Archer)
Each day, I would wait outside the building, looking out for him. My friends criticised me as being desperate, and I do admit that I was obsessed with this guy. After about an hour, he appeared.
There he stood in his crisp school uniform, a tall youth, handsome in his own way. Clarence was his name. I first met him when he helped me chase away a dog which, to put it mildly, was threatening me. I doubt he even remembered the incident, but I have admired him ever since.
Today, he was waiting. Waiting, just as I had been. School had just ended, and his waiting by the school gates probably meant that he was waiting for a fellow classmate to accompany him home – or not. My heart flared with jealousy as I saw him holding his hand out to a pretty girl, just about his age. From the way they talked and smiled, I knew I did not stand a chance.
Rydia, her name was – oh, how I hated that name. For days, I plotted against her, scheming up ways to break the two apart, but I knew I could never bear to put any of the plans into action. After all, or so they say, true love knows no bounds. I was determined not to cause him unhappiness just to further my selfish desires.
So, for days, I watched the two as they met daily, after school, by the gates. Agonised, I observed them become more intimate, moving from holding hands to hugging and kissing. Jealously I remembered every smile he had for her, as though they had been for me.
Oh, how I wanted to let him know how much I loved him, but all I did was to watch him.
One day, however, things changed. When Rydia appeared at the gates that day, she was not smiling. Neither did she stop at the gates. Clarence ran up after her, asking her to stop. She did so, and they started quarreling.
I observed, glad that I was hidden among the crowd, sorrowful that so many would observe what was obviously an embarrassing moment for Clarence. The fight climaxed with Rydia slapping him, then leaving in a huff. With nothing interesting left to see, people started leaving.
I knew that this was my chance. After the crowd had dispersed, I walked up to Clarence. Nervous, apprehensive, I looked at him, wishing with all my heart that he would know how much I cared. There was no need for words. He looked at me for a while, smiled, and started walking home. Surprisingly, he didn’t stop me when I followed.
When I reached his house, I was envious once more – of him. I was a stray, a child with no parents, and had grown up in the streets. He had a beautiful home.
He let me into his house, and for hours we lounged in the living room. Later, to my surprise, he asked his mother if I could stay over. To my greater surprise, she agreed.
Days passed, and I was happy. Finally, I had found a home. Recently I’d heard that he had patched it up with Rydia, a fact which had caused me some anxiety, but seeing as how the way he treated me did not change, I did not mind.
This morning, I walk into Clarence’s room and gaze upon him once again. I think that he looks cute sleeping. The alarm clock rings, and he wakes up. He gives me some milk to drink and proceeds to give me a hug.
It is a myth that we only swish our tails when angry.
16-year-old writer’s commentary:
I remembered really little of the original story except for the last line which is entirely copied, so I based the writer’s thoughts on my own. Kind of.
Anyway, in case you hadn’t figured out, the writer is a cat. My teacher once said something to the extent of please don’t write at the end that you’d died, that’s illogical, but apparently being a cat author is totally alright. Well, I guess it isn’t really but I think the necessity of it’s effect on the story made it acceptable.
Clues that the writer is a cat (in case you really didn’t catch it) include the mention of the dog threatening the writer, the term stray, the milk given by Clarence and of course the swishing tail. There are other behavourial traits that I think I’d included, but those are more minor. Things like how the writer had so much time to wait for Clarence everyday, how the writer could follow him home and the mother just letting her stay like this, etc.
Rydia is a female game character name. When I want to use abnormal (nonconventional) names, I use game or book character names. A habit of mine.
But at the end of it, although I liked the piece, I was quite unsatisfied since the twist was still totally unoriginal. Oh well, at least I was on the way.