Fountain Of Love | Teen Ink

Fountain Of Love

June 10, 2011
By Odessa_Sterling00 DIAMOND, No, Missouri
Odessa_Sterling00 DIAMOND, No, Missouri
87 articles 108 photos 966 comments

Favorite Quote:
All gave some, some gave all. -War Veterans headstone.


You said never sit on the wall of a fountain, or you would push me in. So I sat and looked up in your blue eyes. We were in 8th grade, and I didn’t believe you would really push me. So you leaned down till our eyes were level with each other.

“Well, well, well,” you said in a mocking voice of a teacher. Then your lips touched mine and I was frozen. When you pulled back, you put your hands on my shoulders and pushed me in.

I jumped up from the cold water and gasped, wiping water from my eyes. I was standing in the slightly green fountain, surrounded by pennies and nickels.

“Grab some money for me!” You called from where you stood laughing with your friends. I knew it was a joke, but my heart wanted to cry. I grabbed two handfuls and threw them at you and your friends with all my might. You guys yelped and danced around and I climbed out. My shirt was soaked through, my shorts as well. My hair was a mess. I looked down at myself and noticed my hands were shaking. From cold, or wanting to cry, I do not know.

I turned from you guys and marched away, around the fountain and to the gate out of the park.

“Hey, wait!” You ran towards me, calling my name. “Bree! Wait!” I couldn’t stop walking, because I could feel myself warming up and calming down.

“Bree!” You grabbed my wrist and somehow spun me around in one even movement.

“What?” I asked casually, as if I wasn’t soaking wet.

“I’m sorry,” his eyes were serious.

“For what?” I asked pulling my arm away from him calmly.

“For pushing you in the fountain. That was mean of me to do.” Your eyebrows furrowed down and you stared into my eyes.

“Oh yeah, ok.” I mumbled turning and leaving the park. I walked home, letting the hot summer sun dry my clothes and my hair.

I was back in the park the next day, sitting on the wall of the fountain again, looking around for you. I noticed you far away, walking from the other entrance to the park. Your hands were deep in your basket ball shorts pocket, your eyes on the ground. I like how your sun kissed caramel colored hair hung lazily across your forehead. I smiled and looked up in the trees, counting the birds I saw.

“Hey, Bree.” I looked down at you, and you were smiling shyly at me. None of your friends were around.

“I’m sorry about what I did yesterday,” you stood in front of me.

“I liked it,” I said smiling up at his blue eyes.

“You did?” Your eye brows furrowed down again.

“The first part,” I said biting my bottom lip. You tapped your chin like you were thinking hard, then raised your hand to sky, like a light bulb had popped into your head. Then you leaned down and pressed your lips to mine. I held the wall of the fountain so I would not fall in and kissed you back. You pulled me to my feet and wrapped your arms around me and I felt like I should do the same. When we stopped, you were grinning like a hobo who had won the lottery.

“Are you going to push me in now?” I asked stepping away from the fountain a little.

“No, I will never push you in again.” You said it like an overly excited guy who had quit smoking.

Now we are seniors. We were prom king and queen and we went to homecoming dance together. I was a cheer leading captain and you were star quarter back. We were cutest couple all four years at our high school, and we both got into the same colleges. I helped you study and you tried to teach me how to play football. I remember it like it was a dream. Funny, cause it was.


The author's comments:
A funny little love story with a twist in the very last sentence.

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This article has 1 comment.


on Aug. 27 2011 at 11:52 pm
Haley_Elizabeth GOLD, Wallingford, Vermont
12 articles 0 photos 90 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Embrace imperfection rather than hide your flaws."

It was really good, but I didn't like the ending. I could have dealt with it ending right before the last paragraph.