Part 1: Morgan's POV A human being is nothing but a story with a skin around it. Inside that skin is a heart, a soul, and memories. Everyone has a story behind them. Something or someone made them the way they are today. But every story has an ending. It may be sad; it may be happy. You just never know. That's the beautiful thing about life: it always changes. You're up to bat, and you don't know what life's throwing at you. It may be a curveball, and you strike out. But it could be a fastball, and you could hit a home run. Some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next. The story of my life is all of those things above. And it's beautiful. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Meh. It's short, but I'm finally writing stories again
Part 2: Morgan's POV "Morgan! It's time for your first day of your SENIOR YEAR!" Oh, the best thing to hear in the morning. Your mother's screeching roar about getting ready for school in time. Everyone adores it. "Coming, mom!" I yelled back, putting the last bits of my peach-ish eye shadow and mascara on. It went together well with my white blouse tucked into my light skinny jeans and turquoise necklace. I don't use eyeliner; some people find it weird, but I just feel it drowns out my blue eyes. As I got into my white Jetta, I looked at my 17-year-old self in the rearview mirror and sighed, said a little prayer to my father, and drove to school. That's been my routine every morning since that horrid day... As soon as I parked in the Deer Creek High School parking lot, my best friend, Kelly, attaching her face to my window. "What the hell are you doing?" I laughed as I rolled down the window. "Making you uncomfortable," she smiled. "I don't think I'm the only one you're making uncomfortable," I said, looking around the parking lot and seeing everyone giving us strange looks. Kelly nudged her head in one direction repeatedly as I got out of the car, forcing me to look over at a guy I didn't know. I blushed as he smiled and walked into the school. "Who was that?" "Oh, him?" Kelly smirked. "That's Jordan. He's new this year, but he's on the varsity tennis team. Like you!" she said with a wink. "That's strange. I never noticed him at tryouts over the summer." She shrugged and walked inside with me to my locker. We talked all the way down the hall, and said our goodbyes as we went into our separate classrooms. I had literature first. Bleh. Of course, I got the teacher that lectures the whole entire class, so I started to zone out and lay my head on the desk... "Hey," someone whispered next to me. I jolted up wearily, and realized it was Jordan. He was sitting next to me the whole time. "Hey," I whispered back. "Jordan, right?" "Yeah," he smiled. "And you're Morgan?" "How did you know?" "We're on the tennis team together. I'm not really 'social' yet, so I understand why you don't know me well," he laughed quietly, darting his green eyes from the teacher to me. It was sort of...cute. The bell rang as we talked throughout the lecture, and he walked me to my next class: biology. "Well, this is my stop," I said. "Yeah, I've got history next," he said making a disgusted and gagging face. "Alright, see ya," I laughed as I walked into my classroom. He was different from the other guys in the school. He didn't want to get into my pants; he genuinely wanted to talk to me... And it felt great.
Part 3: The bell rang to end the final class of the day. I darted out of my history class to the parking lot, finally being able to leave the lecture about the Trojan War. As I walked down the halls, my eyes darted from side to side trying to find Jordan. We've had one conversation, yet I already feel like I know everything about him. Disappointed I didn't find him, my head fell down as I walked outside to the parking lot. When I got to my car, I bumped into something, someone. Jordan. "Hey," he smiled. "Hi," I said almost too enthusiastically. I mentally slapped myself upside the head. "So what are you doing here?" "Well, I though maybe we could, uh," he scratched the back of his blonde hair timidly. "Hang out?" "Sure! What do you have in mind?" "I'll pick you up at 8," he wrote his number down on a piece of paper and handed it to me, then ran to his red truck. Did he just ask me out? I stared down blankly at the piece of paper and finally got into my car and drove home. As I walked in the door, I heard crying. I followed its noise hastily and found myself in the kitchen. My mother was slumped in a chair with a phone to her ear, tears streaming down her face like raindrops on a windowpane. "Mom, what's wrong!?" I screamed as I ran to her. It took her several agonizing minutes to finally choke it out. "Your father..." she said between tears. I took her hand and the car keys, my own tears descending down my face. I put her in the passenger seat and ran to the driver's side as raindrops started falling from the grey clouds overhead. I raced to the hospital where my dad was being held, not paying attention to red lights and stop signs on my way there. If I got pulled over, I would have a good reason. Just as I'd suspected, red and blue lights began flashing behind me as I got pulled over. Tears streamed down my face harder. The policeman walked up to my window as I rolled it down, trying to explain to him why I was driving so horribly. It was still only sprinkling raindrops. "I'm...trying to get to the...hospital," I choked out. "My dad...something's gone wrong!" "Hmm," the officer scratched the back of his bald head, trying to decide if I was lying or not. He looked as if he were in his late 40s. "Okay. Just try to drive a little better." I speeded off, only minutes away from the hospital, tears still streaming down mine and my mother's face. I parked in our usual spot and ran inside with her trailing behind me. "Daniel Herbert," I huffed out to the receptionist. "He can't have any visitors..." she said reluctantly. "Mom!" I shouted. She was huddled in a chair, head on knees, her arms hugging her knees, bawling into them. I sat next to her and did the same, sitting there for an hour at least. A doctor walked into the waiting room. "Kelly Herbert?" he called out. "Morgan Herbert?" We shot straight up and ran over to him, almost begging for an explanation of what was happening. "Daniel..." he sighed, looking at his clipboard to avoid eye contact with us. "Is...not in good shape. It seems the cancer has spread upward to his brain. We are trying to do everything in our power but...it looks like he won't make it. We have him on life support at this moment, and it's your choice of when you want to let him go. I am terribly sorry for your loss." He pulled us into a hug as we buried ourselves in tears, cursing the lord for taking him from us. We walked back to our seats, me clinging to my mother's arm. As we sat down, she spoke up. "We have to take him off now," she choked. "It's no use making him stay here; we need to just...get rid of his pain." I nodded in agreement. We walked down the hall next to the doctor, clinging to each other for support. We opened the door to his room, and saw him hooked up to all kinds of machines. We both nodded to the doctor. He turned the machines off, making the room go silent. We both kissed his forehead, and said our silent goodbyes as the nurse pulled the sheet over his head, separating us from him. Forever.