junior year, huh? it was.. weird.
i remember that like, a week or two after school started, this guy, wilbur moved in. he was british and super tall. never talked, you would only hear him if he was answering a question in class. stayed as in the background.
and then there was me, vanellope.
i was a dumb teen who wanted to be on tv. fairly popular, not really top of the school, ya know, average. when our worlds collided, it made for an unforgettable highschool year, whether it be for better or for worse.
i remember the first day we talked. it was late fall, right after school. i didn't have anywhere to go so i went to a nearby park. i remember the leaves. they were a rich red-orange color, and the trees were almost bare. like skinny hands reaching out, maybe trying to stop me from going. i looked toward a bench, and there he was. just looking out toward the hills of the park.
i sat next to him and looked out with him.
about a minute passes, and he whispers something, i go, "huh?" and he goes "i like your shoes." i smile and go "thank you!" "you're really good in school," he buzzes, his voice less than a murmur.
that catches me offguard. i chuckle. "i think you've got the wrong girl."
i see a shy smile and hear a small snicker from wilbur. "no, i mean," he shifts to face me.
for some reason, i remember his hair. it swept over the curve of his forehead, and it looked like he hadn't gotten a haircut in a while. he continues, "you talk so effortlessly. i wish i had friends like yours. you guys seem so nice."
"wilbur's your name, right?" -- i see his face light up for a split second. -- "i never talked to you, but you seem nice."
he looks confused as i take out my phone. "could i get your number?"
his face lights up again before he starts to fumble to take his phone out.
"uh- p- yeah!" he stutters, his voice raising slightly.
bad choice, little me.