Monday, 21 December 2009
06:31:57 PM (GMT)
Silently climbing down the stairs, my father asks, "Is something
wrong? You halfway screamed and stopped a few times five minutes ago, for 8 minutes."
He stared at the clock when he was at the "halfway screamed". Probably making an
exact choice of words.
I have lived with him by myself for a few years now. My mom died of cancer, and I
have no little siblings. His voice is probably what I like most about him. It's deep
and comforting, well the last part might be just me. Since I am on the subject on how
my father sounds, let me explain his looks. He is about six-foot two-inches. Amazing
blue eyes. Really they are gorgeous. They are like a gray blue, but dark enough to be
like the night sea. His eyes are normal sized, but they are beautiful. I am lucky to
inherit that. My father's hair is black, pitch black. He has a nice set of abs now
that I think about it. What? He had no shirt on at the time. And his pajama pants are
Spongebob. Yes, Spongebob! I am a sixteen year old and I still love Spongebob. I
smiled at him, hoping it would cover up the fear that is probably still on my face.
"Sorry, I was thinking about the nightmare I had last night." I glance at the clock.
"Want to talk about it?" Curiosity is in his voice.
Shaking my head, I reassured him, "No dad, it's okay. I have to go to school, like
now. See you when I get home." No, I do not speak slang. I hate slang. It vexes me
terribly. I am different, and I accept that fact,as I accept others about me as
I grabbed my book bag, slipped on my watch, and darted for the door before he could
ask anymore questions. I opened the door and suppressed a moan. Someone was in my
"Hello, I am a newcomer. I will be attending to your school; can you show me the way
there and to my classes?" He sounded British, but I am smart enough to know the
accent is a act. His eyes are a chocolate brown. Sort of muddy, but still is
chocolate like. This stranger's eye color matches his hair. He is fairly tanned, his
light blue shirt and tan shorts fit nicely, and they don't clash with his skin. They
are like three puzzle pieces put together and actually fit.
"Uh, sure, but how did you know where I live and that I go to the same school as
you?" He looked over my shoulder and my dad's hand was there seconds later.
"Hey. You're Zeke, isn't that right?" So called Zeke nodded and my dad continued,
"Yes, Alexia will be kind enough to show you around." I stared at my father in
disbelieve, he winked in my direction. God! Can't my dad be normal and except I don't
want to be with anyone at the moment? This is fourth attempt to get me a date. He
patted my shoulder and ran his fingers through my still wet hair. "Now run along
before you two are late for class."
My hair is so easy to deal with, it is straight, but the tips of my hair is curly.
It's a tree bark brown, I inherited it from my mom. I have a pretty nice set of abs
myself being only sixteen and all.
I continued to stare at my dad in disbelieve. He pushed me forward once Zeke turned
around. I moaned and decided to continue that argument when I get him. I didn't want
to upset the "newcomer".
Zeke hesitated and sighed giving up on the British accent. "So how far is the
school? When does it start?" His voice was calming, and his voice is deep, but not as
deep as my father.
"Umm...," I look at my watch. "It starts at eight-fifteen. The school is two and a
half miles away."
If it was possible, his eyes would have popped out of his head. "Are you insane?!
You'll walk over two miles to go to school?" I nodded.
"School is the only thing important to me. I have no friends-including
boyfriends-and I only live with my dad. Nothing to really do, but school work." I
"So, you technically never have been in love?" He sounded interested. I wonder why,
I ask myself sarcastically.
Last edited: 6 November 2010