The senior class project night is the longest thing I've been through.
We were only on the first half of the last names and it's already been two hours. I can't really blame time because our senior class has about three hundred people in it. We take up most of the population in our town and, really, well it kind of sucks.
I haven't even went up yet for my project and I'm already sweating.
A lot of time passed, project after project, I kind of tuned in on one of them when they sang the historical marks of our country from the 1900's up to the 2000's. Then they called me up. I really thought it was going to be normal until I walked back stage.
There she was. In the flesh, Ivy Winston, the amazing Ivy Winston. She was wearing a white shirt which I couldn't read because she has her back turned away from me, tight black jeans that were rolled up just the way she likes it, and red converse with the laces untied, like always.
She turned around revealing what the shirt said on the front. It was a Nirvana t-shirt with the band's signature smiley face with x marks for eyes. She smiled at me and started laughing, running her fingers through her hair. She was about to say something but I stopped her right then and there.
I kissed her.
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the suicide project
Teen Fictionsu·i·cide; ˈso͞oiˌsīd/ [noun] 1. the action of killing oneself intentionally. 2. intentionally kill oneself. a story of a senior high school student faking her own death to reach out to other students. © 2014 by pariahs. All Rights Reserved cover...
