Left on Read

Pt. 1 - I

Birdie, 3-29-18
Dear Diary,

Most love stories begin with two people, not looking for love. They find each other and they have some sort of miscommunication, but they always end up back where they started.

I wish I could relate in that way.

See, my not-so-lovey-dovey story starts with me and a boy who views me as his bff - best female friend. Believe me, it's great having somebody that you never get tired of seeing as your best friend, but it is heartbreaking to know they don't feel the same way romantically towards you. It's comparable to the sensation of knives through the heart and it's also something I fear I will never get over.

Besides that unbearable sorrow, today is just a beautiful day waiting for me to bring forth the best in the ultimate happiest I've been in a while! Wish me luck
            -B.C❤️

"Honey, breakfast's ready!"

"Ok, mom, I'll be down in a sec!"                       I closed the worn down diary I've had since I was six as fast as I could to hurry down the elegant spiral staircase that leads to the dining hall.

As I mentioned, my family is exceedingly wealthy. We live in the area most excluded from the kids who are... well, normal. However, we still have neighbors in our exclusive little suburbia, and I heard from our landlord that we are adding a house to the bunch that will shelter a small family just a block from my own.

"So, we get to meet the new additions today, right? I'm so excited!"
I practically squealed of joy when I neared the close of my sentence.

"Oh, everybody here is chattering about such matters. I personally apprehended from Penelope that they have a son who is about your age. Said he is a handsome young fellow. Maybe-"

I cut her off,"I know what you're thinking, mother, and no, I'm not going to try to "slide in his dm's"."

"I know dear, I'm just fooling around!"

She turned around and I heard her mutter "slide" and "dm's" with a chuckle shortly afterward.

My mother is what some would call a "tries-to-be-cool-and-young" kind of person in her mid 40s. Despite the way she tries to speak modern teen lingo, she is a very beautiful woman with flaming red hair and eyes as blue as the Mediterranean Sea. She doesn't look 47, and most of my friends thought she was my cousin when they finally met her. My mother, Megan Costa, is a model for various companies, which can be a good thing, but it does result in much catcalling, which irritates me at times when we simply want to go to the mall or stop at Menchie's. Nonetheless, I am very lucky to inherit those ocean eyes of hers. Just kidding, mine are more brown. I wasn't fortunate enough to inherit my mother's bright irises.

"Hey mom, is dad still at work? I thought the new iPhone design was almost complete?"

"It was, until there was some sort of malfunction with storage-space-something-or-other."

My mother almost groaned speaking about father's business. She hates technology, as she tries to stay "hip", though she is an old fashioned woman at heart.

My dear mother was use to my father working late hours on Apple's newest prototypes and models. I had never really started noticing it was unusual to only see my father a few hours a week until I was six and my friends asked me about it. Although they seemed saddened by my lack of family orient, they didn't seem to dislike the fact I am rich, and my father works for the money, therefore they don't dislike my father for spending so much time at work. It's logic, plain and simple.

Speaking of friends who thought it was nice to be around me, who is crazy rich, there are all kinds of so called "users" or "fake people" etc etc. I learned the hard way that some people only like you for your popularity, or your money, or what shoes you wore on Friday. Luckily for me, there are a few decent highschoolers on this cold planet, and I am associated with the likes of them. Let me introduce you to them:

Willow Parker. 17 years old. The most trustworthy and loyal confidant (female) I have experienced in my highschool and junior high years. You will hear her name many times in this story.

Madelaine Dominique. 16 years old. Most hilarious and musically talented person I know. (Also I want to add that she speaks fluent French which is pretty dope.)

James Rosefort. 17 years old. The most beautiful soul on this earth topped with red hair and a face covered in perfectly formed freckles plus a jawline sharper than your sense of humor. (Adding that we are soulmates, and anybody that argues such will be thrown into a furnace.)

Now that you know I only have three real friends and assuming you have most likely finished making fun of me for it, I'm gonna go see who my new neighbors are.

"Mom I'm going next door to check out the new neighbors. Be back in a bit!"

I half-shouted on my way out the door; and before she could reply the door closed and I was headed down the road.

To my surprise, none of my other neighbors were there. Just the new family. I caught sight of a little blonde haired boy prancing up to the porch towards a familiar body.

"Who is that...?"

"Birdie? OHMYGOD BIRDIE!!! DO YOU LIVE NEAR HERE!? ARE WE GONNA BE NEIGHBORS!!???"

Startled I heard the fast and loud remarks and looked up to glance at the person talking to me. At once I noticed the beautiful face and glorious red hair.

"James!?"

Sorry the parts are so short. I want to write the story but I'm super impatient and forget about it for a while. Let me know if you like it or not and how I can further attempt to improve the reading experience. Thanks :) ❤️
-hellomynameisjeffy