A Story based on real events... in my home town.

This is just a cute little thing I typed up in my spare time. The people and events are real, just not the actual names. :P


My Home

“Is everyone here?” I asked with a quizzical look on my face, to which everyone in the house replied with a resounding yes. It was the day before the first day of the year. We were the senior class of the prestigious San Francisco School of the Arts, and we were here to stay.
“Everyone, I am proud to announce that WE! ARE! SOTA!” I yelled as the crowd roared. The cheers of our welcome back party could be heard well into the night from my tiny flat in the famous Haight Ashbury.

The air was frigid, and it felt good; better than the stinging sunlight of the late summer as I rode my bike down the hill past UCSF Parnassus.
Taking a sharp turn onto Seventh Avenue, I push harder, my legs straining as I pedal the way to Forest Hill Station. Upon my arrival, I see the 44 Quintara pull up right behind me. “Perfect timing,” I exclaim as I step in to the interior, my bicycle shaking in the hold on the front of the bus.
I hear a faint voice reply, “It sure is.” As I turn around to see who it came from, I see a girl turn away, and I could just barely catch a glimpse of a slight reddening to her cheeks. Smiling I approached her. She was slight of frame, with pale skin and straight brown hair. I knew her name, but never really talked to her. It was Kate, and she was the exact opposite of me. I was always hanging out with my friends at breaks and lunches, joking loudly, and never truly caring about school, leaving me with a B average, while on the other hand she was the type of girl who was a year younger than I was, sat alone In Ms. Woodward’s room typing away on her laptop, utterly silent, and was always the head of her classes.
“Oh hey, Kate,” I said as I took a seat directly across from her with a loud thump. She looked up as I said her name, the blood never having drained from her cheeks. With a slight smile I noticed that her eyes were a lovely shade of blue-green, with an opalescent sheen to them, twinkling in the early morning sunlight.
“H-hey there,” she managed to stutter finally, her voice laden with conflicting tones of embarrassment and enjoyment. I sat there looking at her, as she repeatedly asked me what I was staring at, though I barely acknowledged that. All I could see was the way here eyes shone in the light, the way her skin was so smooth, the way she never wore any make-up. To me, she was pretty.
Finally, she gets my attention with a snap of her fingers and a wave of her hand, directly in front of my face, shouting, “Hello? Hello! You!”
Awoken from my reverie I snap awake, and the sudden strain put on my neck makes it spasm and cramp. “Ouch, oh wow!” I exclaim as I rub my neck, attempting, and failing, to alleviate the pain.
“Are you all right?” She asks sympathetically.
“Yes yes, I’m fine.” I respond, pain obvious in my voice. I notice her staring at me, at my eyes, at my hair. “Yes? Is there something wrong with my face?” I ask her, somewhat annoyed.
“Wha-? Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” I could hear her mutter, blush, and then turn away in exasperation. Apparently, I had found her doing the same thing that I had not moments previously.
“Um this may sound a little strange, but would you care to… go to the movies with me on say, Friday? I mean… if you don’t want to, you don’t have to but…” I was cut off there by a slight yelp of enjoyment. I looked at her quizzically and she stuttered something that I couldn’t hear. “Come again?” I asked.
“Yes!” She replied excitedly.
Two days from then, Friday, I got over to her house at around 5 o’clock. We were headed to the Metreon to see a six o’clock showing of the new movie “9”.
I strolled up her front steps, looking sharp in my grey travel shirt and blue jeans complete with leather shoes. Ringing her doorbell but once, I was greeted by an ever perky Kate.
“Hi Jack,” she said and invited me in. As I walked through the threshold, I noticed how large her house was. It was two stories, and was one of the older homes in the presidio.
“Oh, I’ll be only a moment. I’ve forgotten my purse,” she said with a smile, and dashed upstairs. She looked rather stunning in herself in her blue skirt, albeit not a mini-skirt, like so many girls nowadays wear, with a short sleeved, white, V-neck tee shirt, complete with blue sweater, left unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up and a pair of blue flats. I felt rather dull in comparison.
As I sat on the couch, waiting, I was greeted by her father, who had apparently just come home from work, as he was still in his dress shirt and slacks, tie undone around his neck.
He noticed me after a few moments, as he started to go through the living room. “You are?” He asked me, obviously very confused.
“I’m Jack. Jack Paulson, sir.” I said as I stood, my eyes locking with his as I extended my hand, so as to be shaken. “I’m here to take your daughter to a movie.”
“Right. Okay then. How do you know her?” He asked me, taking my hand. I was expecting more out of him.
“Well sir, Kate happens to attend my school, and I thought she was a nice person, so I decided to ask her on a date. I do so very hope that is acceptable,” I said. “Sir,” I quickly added.
He fixed me with an iron-hard stare that I was sure would be the death of me.
Then, to my surprise, he busts out laughing. As I stared in horror and surprise, he said, “That’s perfectly acceptable son,” in between gasps of air and bursts of laughter and chuckling.
Off to my left I saw Kate descend the stairs, now accompanied by a bright blue purse. Apparently, her father noticed too. “Hun? You expect me to allow you to go on a date? With him?” He asked; his demeanor suddenly very serious.
“Why yes, daddy! I do!” She replied immediately, and was, like me not but a minute ago, shocked to see her father bust up laughing.
“It’s perfectly alright, you two,” he said, and handed us each forty dollars. “Here, have some fun,” he finishes as he puts his wallet away.
“Thank you mister O’Neill,” I replied, as Kate hugs him.
“Thanks daddy,” she said sweetly and joined me at the door.
“Are you ready to go?” I asked Kate as I opened the door. I stepped out in the cold of the dusk as she followed behind me, closing and locking her door behind her.
“As I ever will be,” she replied, her arm around my waist.

After finishing the movie, Kate and I head out of the theater, thoroughly impressed. “That was a great movie,” I say as I take her hand in mine.
“It was,” I hear her reply. “But I don’t think we got to see quite all of it,” she said blushing.
I couldn’t help but chuckle at that.
“Oh, Kate; I cannot help but marvel at your quick wit, your humor, your-” and I paused, not quite sure of how I would maneuver this “- beautiful face, the way your hair frames it so beautifully, your brilliant eyes…” I trailed off as I leant my face down to hers, our lips less than an inch apart. Slowly, ever slowly I tilted my head and leaned into hers, so that we kissed. It was soft, slow, and gentle. Surely, and eventually, it progressed to something more urgent, more passionate. It must have, considering it essentially lasted throughout the entire ride home and even up to Kate’s bedroom. There, I finally broke off, and allowed myself out of the house; but not without a final goodbye hug to Kate.

Oh, by the way: It is clearly a work in progress.