her name was annie

i fell in love at the age of 16 with a girl who spared no love for me. her name was annie. and i could imagine why; i was a dork, to say the least. and annie was... annie.

but let me warn you before i begin. this is not a story of love and ruthless kisses and reckless adolescence with no regrets . this is not a story in which the underdog gets the girl and they all live happily ever after. this is a story of teenage angst and let me tell you, it's filled to the brim with regret.

anyways, annie was different. not in the cliché teen fiction way. not in the "i read books and drink green tea way." annie was different in the most admirable way possible.

her hair was always curly. crazy curls, even when it was restrained within a braid. not the perfect ringlets sported by most girls. crazy, natural, awe-striking curls.

annie always wore red lipstick. it had matched her red hair. she wore it in the morning, the afternoon. she probably wore it to sleep. but no one ever saw her reapplying it or fixing the corners of her lips. annie's lips were just always painted red. she never painted her eyes or covered her freckles, but her lips were always red and nobody questioned it aloud, but everybody wondered.

annie was a puzzle. she rode a different bike everyday, but always had the same dirty white keds. her arms were always laced with bracelets and she always wore a denim jacket with the sleeves cut to the elbows. earbuds always poked out of her pockets.

another thing about annie: annie always was alone. you saw her reading her book alone. you saw her standing in the halls alone, you saw her sit in class alone. whatever she was doing, she did it alone. she never complained, nor did she ever speak unless she was provoked. she was always seen with a smirk playing at her lips.

annie was an undeniable mystery. no one could figure her out; no one could get close enough to try. then i did. by some crazy twist of luck, i, daniel lawson, uncovered the story of the one and only annie.