Opening your find
Opening your find
"I just want to know why." I say as I turn over, trying to find his figure through the dark of my room. "Why what?" He asks. "Why you're being so nice to me." I say quietly, vulnerability seeping into my words. "How we even became friends." He sighs, "I want to know how." I scrunch my brow. "How what?" His response is soft, the opposite of his sarcastic personality. "How you don't see it." ******* Reagan Holt was about as average as a high school student could be.
She didn't play any sports, didn't participate in the popular activities, and wasn't the girl all the boys chased after. All except one boy. He wrote her a letter every week. Each letter described something new for him to love about her.
Whether it was how beautiful her laugh was or how his heart swelled with every smile she gave, he never failed to write how he felt. So the two should be together, right? That's the way Reagan wants it, but there's just one problem.
He signs his letters "Love, Anonymous." "Smile!" My books almost fall out of my arms due to the heart jumping surprise I suffer through when I hear the familiar click of a camera go off. I whip my head to the side and see my best friend, Chloe, holding the newest Canon camera up to her smiling face.
She laughs and flips the camera around, waving it slightly so that I can barely see the most likely horrid picture of me on the screen. "I think this one should go on the cover of the yearbook." She hums with a sly smile. I look closer at the small screen and cringe at the picture she captured.
I was mid-scowl when she took it, so my light pink lips look as if they've been poorly sewn together. My dark brown eyes are squinted since I was apparently in the middle of blinking, and somehow she managed to capture me looking utterly cross eyed.
My chocolate hair that I actually took the time to make look wavy this morning instead looks tangled and frizzy, and I know for a fact it didn't look like that just a few seconds ago. "I get that I'm not a photoge
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