The Only Ace in a Deck of Cards

This is another romance story, but I like the twist at the end.  This one is so mysterious, and I have a feeling people will be upset with the ending…. 🙂

 

  1. Write a story about a character who is a wildcard — their behavior is unpredictable, even to their friends.

 

The Only Ace in a Deck of Cards

I am writing this at eleven o’clock at night, dear reader, and I hope that you can forgive me for pressing my sad tale onto you.  I hope that you somewhat enjoy this, but I can’t be sure. Then again, I may keep this journal entry to myself. It is a rather hard-to-tell and personal story.  Anyways, let me start from the beginning.

People tell me that I’m wild.  People tell me that I’m unpredictable, reckless, and that I act before I think.  And these are only the nicest things they tell me. I could tell you a bunch of different adjectives and phrases to describe me, but I’ll just go with my name – Sloane.

My life hasn’t been a fairy tale, and I expect that’s my fault.  My perfect parents both work perfect jobs, we lived in a perfect house on a perfect street, I went to a perfect high school with not-so-perfect classmates.  Don’t get me wrong, some of them could be perfectly (sorry I’m using that word so much) sweet, but a lot of them were just mean spirited right down to their not-so-funny bones.

I guess high school wasn’t the worst time of my life, at least compared to other people’s high school “nightmare”.  I was popular, but only because of my rich parents. Many of my “friends” were only my friends because they were jealous, curious about my life, or trying to make me give them money.

Despite my parents and other people’s obvious attraction to me, I could never be bothered by the exhaustion that popularity is.  I never dressed in the latest brands of clothing like Adidas, or Nike. I think that brands on clothing are tacky. People made fun of how I dressed, I think because they couldn’t understand it.  I can’t really explain it, except I dressed how I felt. Sometimes I dressed up punk, with spikes, ripped black leggings, and leather jackets, other times I went with a feminine dress. I dyed my hair a couple times; the first time brown and rose gold ombre, the second with fiery streaks.

When I finished high school, I went to college to become a first grade teacher.  My SAT score was fairly high, and I had always dreamed of working with younger children.  In high school, I volunteered at the local library, because I loved helping with the younger kids that the after-school program.  I have always said that first grade is the most critical age of every child. There is a huge difference between kindergartners and second graders.  First graders are old enough to understand and impress upon a child. I wanted to inspire a child, especially if they didn’t have a great upbringing. I knew, even then, that I wasn’t the best role model, but I wanted to try and help myself as well as those young children.

Right now, I am in my last year of college.  College is nothing like high school. In high school, you are required to look and act like everyone else or you’re dead meat.  In college, there isn’t as many rules, especially when it comes to clothing, and everyone is much more individual.

In my freshman year, I met so many amazing people.  In this group are Photine, Briony, and Rain. They are wild, like me, although they joke that I’m the biggest troublemaker out of them all.  A couple of them are more the quiet types, ones who listen more than speak. I’ve learned that they don’t say much unless they have something to say, and if they do say something, you better listen because you can bet your bottom and top dollar that it’ll be smart and valuable.  These two are Juniper and Eira.

But then I met the most amazing person, and I can thank them from the bottom of my heart for getting me through everything.  His name is Amias. Like I said, we met in our freshman year in college, and I can’t imagine life without him. I noticed him in several of our classes, and I couldn’t help but stare.  Even in high school, I knew that I had a type. I loved the cute nerds.

When I first saw him, I was going with a Bohemian vibe that day, feeling a little more humble for whatever reason.  I was wearing a white and embroidered peasant blouse with my favorite pair of jeans, and some flats with white feathers.  I saw him in his plain white t-shirt and jeans, which he rocked, by the way. I saw his messy hair, his beautiful green eyes, his dark-rimmed glasses, and I knew that I had to talk to him.  I was feeling very forward and confident that day, for which I’m grateful. Sometimes I feel very shy and antisocial, but thank goodness he hadn’t caught me on one of those days.

I walked right up to him the moment class ended.

“Hi,” I said.  “I’m Sloane. You’re in several of my classes.  What’s your name?”

At first, he just studied me for a moment, but he eventually said, “Amias Wilson.”

I nodded and was just about to ask if he’d walk with me to class, as I’d noticed that he was in my next class, but he interrupted me.

“Tomorrow, after school, would you like to stop by the coffee shop with me?” he asked.

I was surprised, as he had seemed like more of a shy type to me.  But I agreed, pleased he had asked me out before I had spoken more than twelve words to him.

The night before, I squealed over Amias with my roommate (Photine) and obsessed over what to wear.  Please don’t think I’m one of those girls who brings three changes of wardrobe every single day. I normally wear whatever I want.  But this was different. I decided on an army green (in honor of my father) cropped hoodie, my favorite pair of high-waisted distressed jeans, some blue circular sunglasses, and some trusty Chuck Taylor Converse shoes.  I put my long brown hair into some beach waves and called it good.

The next day, I could barely concentrate on my classes, as Amias was in most of them.  He didn’t seem to notice me, until the last class of the day, when he turned around and winked at me discreetly.  I blushed so hard I think my face literally caught on fire.

After class, I found him and he said that we were going to walk to the coffee shop.  I was somewhat surprised, but thankful that I chose Converse instead of some wedges.

The coffee shop itself was charming, and the coffee was amazing.  From the outside, you could almost not notice it was there, but I loved it.  On the inside, it had a sense of comfort. There was wooden and rustic, but at the same time modern, decor, vintage booths, flowers, and I loved it. I vowed that I would come back.

On the whole way there, Amias was quiet.  It wasn’t until we claimed a booth to ourselves that he opened up more to me.  He told me about his life, which was both exciting and terribly sad. His father raised him alone, as Amias’ mother had died of leukemia when he was five.  His father was a kind and quiet man, and raised Amias to love books and knowledge. He was bullied in elementary for being a “nerd” and for not having a mother.  He said that it messed with his head, making him socially anxious for the rest of his life. At this point in the conversation, my hands started shaking from anger, as I could only imagine how hard it must have been for him.  So he wouldn’t notice, I clutched my coffee cup, but something must have given me away. Probably the tears welling up in my eyes.

He put his hands (they were surprisingly soft, by the way) on mine.  I looked up into his blurry green eyes shamefully, upset that I was crying.  I was normally a strong and tough-skinned person but, for some reason, other people’s suffering hits a soft spot in my heart, possibly because of my mother.

Anyways, he looked into my eyes, and I didn’t see any judgement there, from what I could see, as everything was blurry.  But he told me that he’d never seen so much empathy from a stranger.  After I composed myself and ranted for a while about bullying, I looked at him and was sure I’d never seen another person like him.

After that episode, I told him a bit about my life, mostly about my family life and my dreams.  I didn’t, however, tell him about the incident that made my life so miserable. I vividly remember our conversation as we walked back to the dorm rooms under a now-dark sky.

“I’ve never met anyone like you, Sloane,” Amias said out of the blue.

I didn’t say anything for a moment. “I haven’t even dreamed of meeting someone as perfect as you, Amias.”

I still, to this day, have no idea how or why those words came from my mouth, but I know that they changed my life.

Amias stopped in his tracks, but I walked for a few more steps until I stopped and turned around.  Amias was staring at me with such an intense expression, I was mildly concerned. I was especially concerned when he crossed the distance between us in about three seconds.  He put his hands in my hair and kissed me.

My head was turning.  This was not my first kiss, although it was the first time I’d been kissed on a first date.  But strangely, I found myself not wanting to pull away; I found myself kissing him back!

Fast forwarding, Amias and I became a couple.  The more we dated, the more I wondered how did I get so lucky?  I’ve had enough friends to know that you don’t just find the right guy right away.  Every story they’ve told me at night, while eating chocolate, watching horror movies, and sobbing their eyes out hasn’t been good.  Sometimes they’ll be in this sad post-breakup stage for months on end. It’s horrible to watch from this point of view.

Amias was different.  I felt like I could tell him anything.  But, I did not tell him about the incident, because I was worried about what he might think about me.  Most of the girls I told you about earlier said pre-breakup and post-breakup that they couldn’t live without him.  Every time they said that, I would scoff in my head, believing that to be insane. But I finally realized that it was true.  And I hated that realization, as much as I loved Amias. I didn’t want to be crippled like those girls if he left me. So I tried not to get too attached, even though I loved him with all of my heart.

It seemed to me that I had a low chance of being left, because Amias seemed to be in love with me.  He would take forever to say goodbye after we had gone on a date, he gave me flowers on random days, and he would come over all of the time to curl up on the couch watching movies with me.  He told me he loved me all the time, and he really opened up about his childhood and his feelings.

I still don’t know what happened to us, but all of a sudden, it felt like he wasn’t even there anymore.  He didn’t take me out very much, he never came over, he was always so quiet when we finally went out together.  Because I am very forward sometimes, I confronted him about it, asking if he didn’t love me anymore. He denied it, saying that I was the best thing that ever happened to him.

Then it happened.

It was a normal day, I thought.  As I dressed up that day, I was worrying about Amias, and hoping that today was the day he’d come around.  I dressed up in a chic outfit; dark green jeans, a white with blue-green leaves, white cork wedges, and my hair in a half-up fishtail braid.  I had gone to class, excited to see Amias, but he wasn’t there. I thought maybe he had just been tardy, but I didn’t see him in any other classes.  During lunch, I called him, but his phone went straight to voicemail. When I went back to my dorm room, Photine told me that Amias had left to be an exchange student in Europe.

Dear reader, I cannot explain how awfully terrible this made my life.  I really thought that Amias and I were special. But, like all of my friends, it was too good to be true.  I almost could not force myself to remain at college. But, by sheer willpower (and unimaginable measures of help from my dear friends), I forced myself to try hard, and get my degree so I can teach.  Even now, in my last year of college, I just can’t force myself to tell the ending to my story. I didn’t even get to tell Amias my darkest secret from my dim past. I’ll carry that to my grave. Which, speaking of, is a long way off.  How disturbing.

Thank you so much for reading!!  I hope you liked this twisted love story.  I also hope you learned something from it.  In my experience, you can learn something from every book/story you read.

Yours in writing,

Adrienne Parker

Published by

Adrienne Parker

Hello! I'm a teenager who loves to read, write, and inspire. My dream is to write something that will inspire people all over the world. Thank you so much for reading and supporting me!!

One thought on “The Only Ace in a Deck of Cards”

  1. You are so talented!! I cannot believe how well this is written. I’m shocked that someone as young as you are could write something so beautiful. I honestly had tears, this is amazing. Thank you for sharing!!

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s