Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: REED / READ (02/23/23)
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TITLE: Black hair, brown eyes, and a wicked smile | Previous Challenge Entry
By Corinne Smelker
03/01/23 -
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“I’m all right, nobody worry ’bout me; why you got to gimme a fight? Can't you just let it be?”
“Huh, whaa?”
Kenny Loggins brought me back to reality as his song blared from my alarm. Every fricking morning. Just once, I would love to know whether I made the jump and who my mystery passenger was. I only ever caught a glimpse of a swathe of black hair, brown eyes, and a wicked smile.
I stumbled out of bed and into the shower, where 10 minutes later, I emerged clean and ready to face the day. Well, clean, at least. One out of two ain’t bad.
As a senior, I was among the lucky ones allowed to park in the high school parking lot. I squealed in, right on time, and rushed through the crowded corridor to first-period English. I’d prefer to be in the gym or on the tennis courts, but I knew my chance to continue representing the school at regionals depended on not failing this class. I determined to try my best, but was it my fault my mind wandered as soon as I sat down? I mean, what did the works of Shakespeare have to offer a 17-year-old young woman?
“Good morning.” Mrs. Conroy stood at the front of the classroom, and glory-be, she was not holding a thick tome. Did this mean we were done with Shakespeare? Perhaps we could read something that was written in the last two centuries? I mean, even something from the mid-1900s would do me.
As she droned on (maybe that was unfair, she was not a bad teacher, and at least she was not boring like Mr. van Tonder), I cast back my mind to the dream I’d been so rudely awakened from. The passenger with the swathe of black hair, brown eyes, and a wicked smile filled my memory. I knew it was a dream, but it seemed so real.
I was startled back to reality by a thump on my desk and the form of a body taking the seat directly to my right. I looked first down at my desk and saw the book Mrs. Conroy had placed there. “How to read the air,” by Dinaw Mengestu.
Interesting title. I turned the book over and read the cover. Ok, not bad. Gotta be better than Shakespeare or Wordsworth.
A movement in my peripheral vision brought my mind back to the present. I turned slightly and couldn’t hold back my gasp. There, sitting next to me, was a swathe of black hair, brown eyes, and a wicked smile.
The apparition cast those brown eyes toward me. “Hi,” a deep voice rumbled. “I’m Reed. I just started today. Weird question. I have to find the tennis coach after this class. Do you know where to find her?”
“Yep,” I squeaked out, staring at Reed in amazement. I cleared my throat. “Yes,” I said more confidently. “I’ll show you. Wait a minute; she told me I was getting a new mixed doubles partner. Is that you?”
“It is indeed. She told me all about you before I moved here. In fact, it was hearing about your famed backhand that made us move! I hope this will be the beginning of a beautiful partnership,” Reed said as he opened “How to read the Air” and began perusing.
I followed his cue, and I opened my book too. But every so often, I’d be caught off-guard by a swathe of black hair, brown eyes, and a wicked smile.
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