Our Icebox

Chapter one

Luisa's POV

*Harry Harris was the most anxious and yet unpredictable person ever.*

"Have you ever noticed how the sky always seem brighter with the person you love? Have you ever thanked them for accepting the love you give them? Thats the thing about humans we make ourselfs unperfect by trying to be perfect. We forget that everything is our fault from the hole in the ozone layer to the lost of self control." I finished writing on my laptop as the professor dismissed the class. I put my things away in a hurry to catch the bus.

"Hey Luisa! You got Mrs.Severllati's copy of the novel?" Some random guy asks.

"Nope, sorry!" I lied, last time I said yes I had to beg Mrs. Severllati for a new one, and in college is really hard to find teachers who give copies out.

I walked down the street to find the bus stop. It was the new semester and my car was stolen at the local bar where I get my "inspiration." The streets were filled with Sanava students and people on the streets selling ice creams or burgers. The famous football team and the American football team were opposite to each other, poking fun at one another. Foolish people I thought, but I envy them, as a writer I would love to have that incomprehensible passion in hating something as they do. Actually I wish I would hate writing, that way I could write with more passion something Mr.Benurji gets impatient with.

Five blocks down the street was the current bus stop, which was filled with people. I was three long blocks down when my bus came and stopped, I ran for it but by the time I got there it was already turning the block.

" Fuck." I murmured under my breath, I harshly sat on the bus stop waiting area, crossing my arms and glaring at the now far away bus. I looked around me and found a young looking boy with curls and ...boots? who wears boots on September, on a eighty degree weather?

" Hey, you alright?" I asked the boy, I was intrigated by his mental stability.

"Huh?" His accent was strong.

"I mean why are you wearing boots on an eighty degree weather?" He scratched his head and his eyebrows knitted together thinking how to answer my question.

"When you think about it, the wind creates a colder weather and since most of the sun is hidden between the clouds and not mentioning the hours I sit here, is gonna be cold." He said holding his arms up into his head, His response simple yet effective.

"Gonna is not a word." I said. I like challenging people, and he looked like the kind of person to like it.

"Well, I hope one day it will be." He said smiling, staring into the distant supermarket.

"And that cold to wear boots?" I questioned him.

He nodded, his curls becoming tiny frogs that leap from his head downwards, what a weird comparison.

"Alright. Got any idea when the bus is coming?" I asked crossing my arms in my chest. I was impatient, had to be home to cook, clean and get my life together and no matter how interesting this caricature of a person was, I wanted to go home.

"Um, twenty minutes." He said going back to his backpack reaching for a book.

I moved my head to face the cover of the book it was "The Need To Trap." I had read that book in middle school, I remember because I was in trouble right after the teacher found it, "That's made for a thirteen year old." The book, plot and author were great and maybe Anna Marget Bolivar was who started my addiction to books after all everything starts with a single numbered page and it ends with death.

I look away from the medusa boy and stare ahead into the distance, what will I make for dinner? What show do I watch?

I started humming and eventually tapped my feet to the beat of moves like jagger, which I guess Medusa found ridiculous since he glared at me.

" Can't you see I'm reading?" He gritted his teeth, his arms put the book down and intimidated my fat ones.

"Can't you see I'm bored." I whispered not waiting a reply from Medusa but the outspoken and much annoyed lad replied "Then leave."

"Woah, talk about manners." I said pursing my lip. I wonder if he has friends with that nagging attitude, I mean who doesn't follow along to the musically talented sound of Maroon 5?

"Really?" He murmured and held his book page with his finger and looked directly at me.

"I am not the one making noises when other people are trying to concentrate, now if you'll excuse me." He got up and left with book in hand. Talk about sensitive or maybe I didn't make a first good impression.

"Hey Medusa!" He turned around clearly confused by the name.

"You dropped something." I yelled at him as he made a confused face.

" Your chill." I smiled at him, he turned around and the last thing I saw from curly was the middle finger.