LoseHer

By Devon Browning

Intro

“Devon Browning.” said the old judge. I looked up at him. He raised his hand for me to stand up. I just stared at him for a moment, I wouldn’t react though. It was as if I were in no control of my body, so many things had happened, I just don’t believe they did. Was this how it was meant to be? Was this the present story of Romeo and Juliet? I guess not. My brain finally kicked in, and I snapped out of my daze. I stood there, fiddling with the side of my shirt. Nervous. What was going to happen? This was like a math problem that just can’t be solved. My arms hung limp by my sides, they were just like dead bodies hanging from trees. My knees felt like tons, so heavy, like I couldn’t stand. I open my mouth to saying something but the words just won’t come out. Was I mute? I could almost choke on everything I said, I bit the side of my lip, forcing myself not to cry. Of all the things that happened, they had to happen to me. Everything was silent, I could feel eyes, on my back, staring at me. I had two choices in my life, death, or life, love, or hate, friends, or family. Even the smallest things, like red, or blue. The judge would read the papers, and mumble things under his breath. Why did this happen to me? I focused on one thing, sitting on the judges desk...

Prologue

You know what I love? Being the best. I see people who think they can run fast, lift weights, and as soon as those two words come out of there mouths, “I can..” I’m immediately hooked. I know what you’re thinking, I love to be the best, and never lose. Well guess what? That’s a fear. People say they hate losing, but really, it’s the same thing as, I’m afraid to lose. What I don’t love is show-offs. Sometimes I can be a show-off, but someone who does it in front of me, and knows I hate it, will get me very pissed off. You can also say, that it’s very easy for me to get jealous. Have you ever a had a best friend when you were little, didn’t see them until middle school, and completely hated each other? Well meet Jack Bandazian.

I walked down the hall to my first grade classroom, to talk with Miss. Lacava, my home room teacher.

“Devon.” said a voice from my left. There she stood, with a boy my height, black hair, glasses, and a buttoned down shirt, standing with a man, and another woman, probably his parents. They were all tan, probably exchanged.

“Yeah?” I asked coming up to her.

“This is Jack.” her hand extended to him.

“Hey.” I said. He smirked a little.

“Well, he’s new here, and well, could you show him around our classroom?” she asked. I shrugged my shoulders.

“Sure.” I lead him to our classroom.

“These are the crayons, markers, scissors...” I was cut off

“Crayens?” he asked in an accent.

“Crayons.” I said correcting him

“Crayens?” he asked again.

“Cra-yons.”

“Crayons?” he said it right.

“Right.”

That day was fun, he became one of my best friends, but I was his only friend, but then I introduced him to Jake. We were all best friends, a trio you could say. They even came over around Christmas and decorated a sweater for me. But, Jack wasn’t the coolest kid, he was very smart, but he wasn’t an athletic kid, but it didn’t bother me. But then, then I moved to Ridgewood for a year, never got in touch. We moved back to Wyckoff, but went to a different school, still never got in touch, then came Middle School.

Sixth grade wasn’t all that bad, I met a great friend, she’s still my best friend now. Her name is Angelica. Now this gets complicated, our school is separated in to teams. For sixth grade there are teams 1, 2, and 3. For seventh grade the teams are 4, and 5. And for eighth grade, it’s teams 6, and 7. I was on team 3, and on team 1 there was this teacher, Mr. La Morte, he had brown eyes, brown hair, a bit taller then me, and a little chubby. People had him under the impression of being gay. On a ski trip in the winter, I figured out that I liked him (long story), he soon met me, and found out I liked him, although he didn’t care, we got to know each other very well. But there was a down side, I did do, and say a lot of stupid things that I regret now. But now I’m over them, and I have learned my lesson. When I got to sixth grade, it was amazing on how much Jack has changed. He was hot! But dumb as a doorknob. I didn’t like him though. He was muscular, and fast. We weren’t friends, and we still aren’t. And the thing is, is that he hangs out with Mr. La Morte a lot, and I get extremely jealous, and have the urge to show-off. And that’s only sixth grade, I have a whole other year of seventh grade ahead of me...

Chapter 1

I stared fixedly at the clock. Please, recess is just one step away. I started tapping my pencil impatiently. Until she finally told us we could go. I walked out the door, and waited for Angelica, who was walking out of the classroom.

“Hey.” She said tapping me on the shoulder.

“I probably got a bad grade on my language arts essay, she totally showed disgust in her face” she said.

“Don’t worry about it.” I said, walking down the stairs. We both went to our lockers and put our books away, and took out our money. We walked through the cafeteria, when she moved her hair in front of her face, she always does that when something’s wrong, it’s something I’ve learned over the years. I sniggered to see why she did it, and there he was Mr. La Morte standing by his door. I loved to show-off, especially around him. His room was in front of the door to the caff, I jumped up onto the bar, and did a pull up, after a couple more I jumped down and saw that his door was closed, and he was in his room.

It was October and the only thing that was on everyone’s mind wasn’t what costumes were the hottest, it was about candy and pranks. First off, Angelica and I, are not losers, and we are not The New Trend. We don’t follow, and we don’t lead. Just so you know who I deal with in my life, Angelica does have parents, and five brothers. I know what you are thinking, how does she live with five brothers? Well, she doesn’t, they don’t live with her, mostly because they are old enough to live on their own. The point is, we won’t be doing any pranks, as crazy as we are, there is one thing that stands in our path...parents. Speaking of parents...

I walked in the door.

Well, my father is an accountant, he’s British, and has a strong accent. He’s not a happy person, sometime’s he’s my twin, and sometimes I want to shoot him. Most of the time...I want to shoot him. My mother doesn’t work. She use to be an alcoholic, it was a scary time for me, but after AA meetings at night, she recovered. It’s not like she’s perfect, ‘cause she’s a smoker too, but she’s nice...and sometime’s too nice. My brother is Dan, Big Dan. Well, he’s huge. He’s the type of brother who pushes his siblings around, but at times, he’s always who I want to be around. And the last...my sister...Abigail. She’s African American, you could really say she’s my half sister. We never get along, and she drive’s everyone crazy because she thinks she can get whatever she wants.

I walked up the stairs and to my room. If you were to imagine my room, you would visualize a mini ESPN. In other words, I love sports.

Then comes me. I’m athletic, funny, serious, and not so bright. I get along with most people, but others are afraid of me, maybe because I’m rough, or they think I’m a lesbian, and no I am not. I just dress sporty, what’s wrong with that? I guess a lot of things, but I’ll change when I want to.

Next thing I knew, it was November, I loved November, for a couple reasons, one because I love the turkey, and two, because it was almost winter. Winter was my favorite time of the year, winter meant Christmas, snow, vacation, and Ski Club. But this winter, I could tell it wasn’t going to be my favorite...