Dear Thought Bubble,
This is what you've been reduced to, Robo-D. A Thought-B. Forget my tablet not working or my pencil being lost. I wouldn't be able to write for the life of me. So this is your current form – an abstraction residing inside my head.
Banana's been abducted and I'm locked in the computer lab with Crush. Being alone with him would normally terrify me, but it'd be a good kind of terrifying. Like a rollercoaster ride of messy, sugary emotions.
This situation, however, makes my heart beat in terror and my stomach contract violently as I glance at the whiteboard for the millionth time, while psychotic butterflies desperately try to escape my belly every time I am made aware of Crush's presence.
Like when I get a whiff of his perfume.
Or when I can distinctly hear each step he takes.
Or when I suddenly feel a scented warmth engulfing me and I jump up, my arms awkwardly in the air, brutally smacking Crush's face as he is trying to put his jacket on my shoulders.
"Oh, sorry," he laughs the embarrassment away. "Didn't mean to startle you. It's night already and it's getting cold." He struggles to suppress his laughter. "Your tears are getting lost in the maze imprinted on your cheek."
Frustrated, I had slammed my face into a keyboard earlier and got lost in you, Thought-B. I touch my cheek and, indeed, rectangular shapes are engraved on it. And it's wet. I'm bawling without even noticing. Right in front of Crush.
"Here, have this. You need it more than I do." He hands me a chocolate bar - my favorite one.
"Byank tu." Way to make me sound sexy, clogged nose!
But Crush understands and smiles. My butterflies are getting ferocious.
Chocolaty sweetness rushing through my veins and Crush's comfy jacket around me, I resume my head-on-keyboard state. Loudmouth trapped us. I can only turn myself in. Banana's a hostage, Crush is collateral damage. I'm so sorry, guys. So, so sorry...
I am jolted intro awareness by arms that grab me and carry me away. As my vision clears up, I see the windows breaking into tiny pieces and hundreds of white spherical objects whooshing in.
"That... was... close," Crush wheezes as we take cover under the teacher's desk.
I only now realize it's morning. Did we spend the night together? Alone? Crush holds me and the horrifying sounds around us start to die down. I am certain the color of my face would make a tomato envious.
"I've never seen such a hailstorm," Crush says, bewildered.
Several balls roll in front of us and we each grab one. Taking a closer look, I notice they have colors splashed all over the white surface. They remind me of...
"Jawbreakers!" Crush exclaims after a taste test.
We get out and assess the damage.
"These glass shards look odd," Crush states as he takes one from the floor and it crumbles in his hand. "Lace, this is sugar," he concludes after putting a bit on the tip of his tongue.
I look around at the white computers, full of bumps from the jawbreaker hailstorm. Their texture's different. I poke the spacebar on a nearby keyboard. It's soft. Marshmallow soft.
"Lace, the walls weren't brown before, right?" Crush asks with both dread and excitement in his voice.
"Let me guess, gingerbread?" I joke.
YOU ARE READING
Freak WeekGeneral Fiction
In this futuristic novella, Lace Heavensmall is trapped at her high school during Freak Week, a global warming side effect that makes weather -- and people -- act completely nuts. Written by: Grace Helbig and YOU Want your chapter to be included? C...