Obsession

• Emily Diamond , Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2017

The girl was lonely. That was my first thought. The first of many to cross my mind, a fleeting image of curiosity. My second thought was something along the lines of, ‘Whoa, she’s gorgeous.’ But I couldn’t remember because I was too distracted trying to memorize the dangerous glint in her eyes as she took the bottle of tequila from the older boy. He looked to be around 25, and the look of hunger in his eyes when he snuck glances at the girl with the fiery red hair was sickening. She couldn’t have been older than 17, and the perverted thoughts that were no doubt roaming the older boys mind were long past the line of inappropriate.

The girl took a long chug from the bottle, her eyes closing and her mouth twisting into a scowl as she swallowed the sharp tasting liquid. She wiped her mouth on the back of her sleeve when she was done, passing the bottle back to the boy. I watched as she pulled a wad of cash from the back pocket of her faded jeans, tossing it to the floor in front of the boy as she rounded the corner, leaving the dark alleyway.

I hesitated. Should I follow her? I quickly discarded the reservations and crossed the road, watching for cars as I stumbled onto the cracked pathway. I pulled my jacket closer together, shoving my hands into the empty pockets to warm them. I flicked my head up, trying to move the loose blonde strands out of my face.

I spotted her entering the same ratty building I had seen her enter every day after school ended for the last two weeks. She quickly scanned the area, like she always did before going in, and I jumped into a nearby alley, hiding from her view. She hastily fumbled with the keys that were held tightly in her hands, trying to find the right one. She shoved it into the lock and pushed the door open, then slammed it fiercely.

I hummed a tune to myself, something I had heard her singing in the Music Room the other day when I had walked past.

The girl with the fiery red hair was consuming my thoughts, day in and day out. And she didn’t even know who I damned well was. I kicked a nearby trashcan, tugging on the ends of my hair like a madman. What am I doing?

I was going insane.

The first day I had seen her, she had come bursting through the doors of my English Classroom, 15 minutes late with a mad black eye and her blazing red hair flying in all directions. She was breathless, like she had just run all the way here from across town, and her battered army green saddle bag was flinging from side to side with books threatening to come tumbling out at any moment.

The teacher had glared at her, lecturing her on interruptions and punctuality before telling her to take a seat; the seat next to mine.
She did as she was told, flopping down next to me with a huff.

From that day on I was obsessed. I had to know who she was, why she was here.

I wanted to know everything I could about the girl with the flaming hair. And I would do whatever I had to to do so.