Young Writers Society

1. A Rambling Introduction

I’m not a sentimental person. I squirm during romantic comedies of all sorts. They’re all just so stupid. Boy meets girl, girl falls hopelessly in love with boy (or vice versa), chaos ensues while he/she is trying to win the girl/boy, and eventually they end up together. Screw reason, screw other relationships, screw friendships and screw reality. This is love!

I guess I’m just cynical when it comes to these things. Maybe I take love for granted. Who knows? I certainly don’t. All I know is that, no matter how I try, I am a sap for a good love story. Good, mind you – not the corny stuff you find in theaters today.

Whenever I write, I always seem to have a central theme of love, or at least, the main character in a relationship. It drives me crazy. I want to write epics, like Tolkien or Lewis… what I end up writing is far more like Clare or Meyer than my idols. It’s not fair – and even when I try to write somewhere in the middle – like Rowling – I end up with a bi-polar mess, hopping from one emotion to the other with the change of a scene. It drives me crazy.

But how does this affect my life, you ask? Why does this conflicting view on love matter to the story? Nothing much. I merely wished to get my views in the open before I started to tell my tale. This way, you’ll understand things a little better. You see, this is a story of… I can’t believe I’m saying this… The first time I fell in love.

Hi. My name is Jacquelyn. At the start of my story, I was fifteen, and just beginning sophomore year.

Or… Was it sophomore year? Was it freshman? I can’t be sure. I never saw his face, the time I think I saw him, freshman year.

It was very dark as we exited the gym. My feet hurt – these heels were killing me, even though I took them off halfway through the dance. My two friends, Mary and Bianca, were walking out with me. I could smell the dusty air over the grass of the field; see the unlit high school building looming over the milling students.

My first Homecoming dance was over. I was tired, but happy. I had danced with the boy I liked. I was with my friends – I didn’t want to go home.

To stretch out the time we had before we had to leave, Bianca, Mary and I decided that we would go buy sodas. It sounds trivial, I know, but wait for it. We got our drinks, went to the counter, and… found that the man didn’t have any change. Our bills weren’t small enough. Can you imagine that? In this economy? But, out of nowhere steps a tall, mild-spoken young gentleman, who gallantly buys our drinks for us.

“Chivalry isn’t dead!” I proclaimed happily, after we had thanked him profusely and were walking away. “That was just so nice.”

I hope he heard me. I really do.

The best part? I have no idea who he was. I never saw his face; his hat cast a shadow. I wonder about that now. Who was this tall gentleman who so gallantly bought us drinks? No one in our grade was so thoughtful, and I didn’t know any of the upperclassmen.

But now, looking back, I can’t help but wonder if… Well, if that was the first time I saw him. Richard. Maybe it’s my imagination getting away with me, but… It would certainly be in character; he’s one of the most considerate people I know. Perhaps that’s why I, against my better judgment and my will, fell in love with him.