The Soul of Me (standard:drama, 3823 words) [1/11] show all parts
Author: Maya	Updated: Jun 09 2001	Views/Reads: 3525/2336	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
This is part one of a longer story about a girl who thinks she is all alone - but isn't. Being different in high school is one of the hardest things kids have to face.

This can not be happening.  I was running across the campus as fast as I
could.  Hot tears were streaming uncontrollably down my red face.  I 
knew he was following right behind me. I could only hope he would have 
pity on me and let me go.  I had to get away.  Away from him.  Away 
from the laughing, the taunting, the spiteful looks on the faces of the 
crowd.  Away from everyone and everything.  I had to go somewhere, 
anywhere, I could be alone.  When I was alone I no longer had to 
pretend to anyone but myself. 

“No. No. No.” I thought to myself over and over again as I tried to find
somewhere I could just disappear.  I could hear him calling my name 
directly behind me.  Well, he could just keep calling.  I was not going 
to stop.  I couldn’t take it any more.  If I had to hear one more lie 
come from his mouth I would die right then and there.  I hurt so much. 
Why did he have to be like everyone else?  When will it be my turn to 
be happy.  I wanted the pain to end.  I want it gone.  No matter where 
I went the pain came with me. 

All my strength was exhausted, and yet I ran.  I ran to forget every
taunt that had ever been thrown my way.  Every look of disgust.  Every 
look of pity.  Everyone that ever hurt me.  I ran from him.  The one 
thing I couldn’t run away from was me. 

I knew Aaron was since I moved to town in the 3rd grade.  Then he was
just a cocky little twerp who thought he was funny.  Now, eight years 
later, he was still cocky and he still thought he was funny, but he was 
also the nicest and most handsome boy I had ever seen.  He had slightly 
long brown hair, parted in the middle, that softly swept over his ears 
like feathers on a bird.  His high cheek bones delicately accented his 
perfect face.  His brown eyes sparkled when he laughed or smiled.  His 
large and perfect nose rested above his luscious, full, kissable pink 
lips.  His skin was flawless.  His hands...oh, his hands... were 
beautiful, graceful, and sexy. 

He was an athlete, and his body showed his dedication.  At 6’1” he was
the star basketball player, destined for a scholarship to his pick of 
schools.  He was thin and muscular.  You could tell he spent a lot of 
time on the weight machines.  I had gym class at the same time as he 
did, so I was blessed with views of his body that I probably wouldn’t 
normally have seen otherwise.  Whenever I thought he, or anyone else 
wasn’t looking, I’d slyly peek at him.  The sight would take my breath 
away.  He was perfect.  An angel on earth.  I could see his muscular 
upper thighs, and his beautiful round butt secretly hidden by the soft, 
cotton material of his workout clothes. His muscles would moved 
seductively whenever or however he moved.  The work-outs on the weight 
machines gave him a delectable set of six-pack abs that made anyone who 
saw them want to reach out for a soft caress.  He had well defined arms 
and a broad chest.  Oh, how I wished to be held against that chest by 
those strong arms. 

I knew this was never to be.  I would never be close enough to hear his
heartbeat or feel the soft rhythm of his breathing.  I would never hear 
the words I dreamt of hearing come from his soul, out of his mouth and 
into my ears.  I was not meant to be loved by this beautiful, sexy boy. 
I was not meant to be loved by anyone. 

I was not physically beautiful.  I had unremarkable, brown eyes, and
mousy brown hair that I kept relatively short. My lips were thin and my 
nose was small.  Try as I might I could not achieve the perfect, 
flawless skin that I so desperately desired.  I had high cheek bones, 
but my face was so round that they could not be seen.  I was chubby.  
My body was never going to be thin and sleek.  It just wasn’t in my 
genes.  Instead I was short, about 5’2”, and fat.  There wasn’t a boy 
in school that would take a second glance at me.  I was just Heidi, the 
fat girl.  Everyone knew who I was.  It was a small school, and I’d 
been around most of the kids since 3rd grade.  If I was lucky I managed 
to get through a day here and there without some sort of taunt or stare 
or giggle behind my back.  No-one ever let me forget I was not worth 
the air I took in to breath. 

I had one really good friend – Jody.  Jody and I were as different as
could be.  She was tall and thin and beautiful.  Perfect skin, lovely 
blond hair, deep blue eyes, and a smile that could match the summer 
sunshine with its brightness.  Jody was more beautiful for what she 
carried with her on the inside - honesty, integrity, sincerity, and 


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