A Positive Out Of A Negative, a General fanfic

I swear, I had the strangest dream last night. It’s the exact plot of this story, except it was me who wrote the essay, and my BGF (best guy friend) who died. It was so weird, but it seemed like the PERFECT story, so I decided to write it. All names and places have been changed to protect the identities of the people in my dream. And no, my BGF and I don’t do this. He teases me though…and he’s a LOT taller than me (taller than my 5’9” mom…he’s gunna be like 6’6” or something when he’s all grown up), faster than me (hello, he’s on the track team), and probably stronger than me (I’m weak…and he’s getting muscles…hey, he’s fourteen and a half). So we don’t shove each other. He just likes to piss me off sometimes…and trust me, he’s good at it. If he is reading this: Sara says: Fair and PENTAGON. He’ll know what I mean…my revenge for being such an idiot that day we were playing soccer in gym class. Oh, and this never happened. It is FICTION. Just making sure…

Claimer…of Calamity: I own this . It is a strange figuration of my imagination, so blame my dream for creating the idea and my fingers for typing at 40 wpm if you hate it. Yes, flame me if you must. I need to learn to tolerate constructive criticism.

It was a warm, sunny day in June, one of those days that seem too perfect to be true. It was those days that attract bad luck like moths to a flame, intending to flip the perfect days around.

Two teens, both fourteen, were playing around in the sidewalk of the nearby middle school on this perfect day.

The girl, a short blond with red glasses, struggled to stay on her feet, obviously out powered out by her male friend. “No fair…” she hissed playfully, attempting to push him away, “You’re stronger.”

The boy, a tall brunette, smiled cockily, knowing that he had one this one won. “So you admit it, Willa.” He teased, flashing the struggling blond his trademark smile.

Willa snorted. “Sam, I’m not admitting defeat, I’m acknowledging that I have a disadvantage.” She corrected, increasing the pressure she was putting on him.

He laughed. He was laughing at her. She hated when people did that to her. “Sam, you are pushing it.” She clenched her teeth, pushing a bit harder, trying to calm her rising temper.

Sam grinned. “What, am I getting on your nerves, Willow? Am I being a jackass again?” he teased, enjoying how he could get her worked up like this. She’s so hot when she’s pissed.

“That’s it. You are going down.” She threatened as she pushed him with all her strength, expecting him to get off of her.

Fate didn’t have that in plan. Instead of simply pushing him back, it caused him to fall over and off the curb and head first onto the blacktop.

Willa immediately regretted that. Damn that temper of hers… “Oh my, what have I done?” she cried in alarm as Sam slowly attempted to raise himself from the ground.

“My head…” he groaned, clutching his bleeding head as he started to get up. Willa reached her hand out to help him up, but hit something yellow instead. As if in slow motion, she turned her head to see Sam flying through the arm, and land painfully on the pavement.

“Shit!” she screamed as she ran as fast as her short legs could take her to her seriously injured friend. She reached him after what seemed like years, then dropped to her knees by his bloody body.

“Is he okay?” the bus driver asked in alarm, who had rushed to Willa’s side.

Willa merely shook her head, not wanting to speak to the woman. “I’m going to call 911.” The driver informed the girl, and whipped out her cell phone.

Meanwhile, Willa was devoting all of her attention to Sam. “I…I’m so sorry.” She whispered as tears fell down her face. Using most of his limited strength, Sam lifted a shaky, bloody hand to wipe her tears away.

“Don’t cry…” he quivered, trying to calm his best friend down. He didn’t want to worry her, even though it was inevitable.

Willa shook her head again, her tears falling from her cheeks onto his blood covered face.

Sam gulped. He was going to finally tell her what he had been trying to tell her since he realized he had a huge crush on her December of sixth grade. It was now or never.

“Willa…I love you…good bye.” He whispered before closing his eyes.

Dead. Samuel Victor Sanders was dead, and right before her very eyes. She turned around to see the ambulance had arrived. One minute too late.

That was a lot shorter than I thought it was going to be, but I really needed to post this today. I just knew that if I didn’t now, I wouldn’t ever. I know myself too well.

Luv,