The Story of Us

[darkmoon]

Premise 1: This story is mainly true. However, names will be changed and probably I'll enhance some details to make everything more pleasant to read.

Premise 2: I don't know how long will this little story come out: I think a few chapters. We'll see.

Chapter I

"Boy, what are you looking to?" said Isabel. She was a beatiful Hispanic 16-years old girl who had just blossomed in her womanhood. Long shiny black hair, perfect body, pretty face. She wore a short black dress and a pair of 4'' sandals.

"Nothing" shly answered James. He was a boy of her same age, but this was the only thing they had in common.

James was an A student, Isabel barely had passing grades.

Isabel had lots of friends and boyfriends, Jim only a couple of friends and no girlfriend in the foreseeable future, let alone in the present.

James had two big and strong brothers, Isabel three equally-beatiful sisters.

"So, look to something else. There's plenty of furniture to stare at" harshly answered Isabel. In her head, she thought that the brown-haired boy was staring at her breasts. Wrong. He had been caught by her shoes, how quickly she danced in them, how prettily her heels hit the floor at every step.

People danced and laughed around James. Sophomore year's prom. He didn't know why he had come. Now he regretted not staying at home, watching a movie in TV, playing with the PC, reading. Beatiful girls danced with handsome boys, flying on the floor as butterflies.

"Jim, come here with us!" called Florence. She was the only girl who spoke with him: she happened to be a nerd, quite good with maths but with few friends. Just like James, although he was more skilled in English than in maths. He walked towards her, in a corner of the room. She was wearing a T-shirt, a pair of jeans and blue flatties.

Florence was a tiny, skinny girl with no breasts, many zits and unattractive brown hair.

"Are you getting bored?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Same goes for me". Nobody had wanted to dance with her. It's a cruel age, James thought.

"What time is it?" asked James.

"Ten p.m.. Too early to go home, if you're thinking the same as me" flatly answered Florence.

Isabel jumped near them, with her boyfriend, Zachary.

"I love you, Man!" she uttered, kissing him in the mouth. James' eyes irresistibly went down to her half-naked feet, and her clicking heels. They went out, and disappeared in the bushes. Later that summer, James learnt that she had 'done it'. And had got pregnant. Luckily, an early-term miscarriage saved her from the shame of abortion.

But, differently from the rest of the school, James did not think to her pregnancy. He could not stop thinking to her heels, to how well they hit the floor at every step, the neat 'click' sound which made him shake in his clothes. And whenever he thought to them, he could not save himself from thinking that, when he would have had a girlfriend, he would have surely chosen one who wore high heels. All day. All time.