Teenagers These Days
AN: So here's a cheesy story about the friendship of a certain Alfred and Anne. I can never think of any decent names. It can be considered a continuation of last week's entry set around 7-9 years later. I'd like to think that innocent friendships like this one still exist.
“Come on Annie, just one shot!”
Anne scowled at her best friend. “First of all, Al, you know how much I hate it when you call me that. Second, of all the things you can take a picture of, why does it have to be me?”
He put down his camera on her side table and gave her an equally upset pout. “Because, Annie, you promised to help me test out my new Polaroid.”
“I never promised such a thing. You’re the one who called me ten minutes ago rambling on about coming over to show me your ‘amazingly awesome’ camera,” she said, crossing her arms. “Now, if you want to take a picture, there’s a perfectly good wall right there. “
“You’re seriously asking me to take a picture of a wall?”
She looked back at the textbook she had been studying and decided not to reply.
He sighed and shook his head. “I know you’re big on keeping your reputation of being a boring killjoy, but-”
Alfred was interrupted by a pillow hitting his face. He slowly removed it and looked at her pointedly. “What was that for?”
“For being an idiot, that’s what.”
He raised his eyebrows.“You’re going to regret that, Kirkland.”
Before she realized what was happening, he picked up the pillow and threw it back at her. She didn’t catch it, and it knocked over the small pile of textbooks on her table. Anne looked at the textbooks on the floor and back at Alfred in shock. “You did not just do that.”
He smirked. “I think I just did.”
Wordlessly, Anne grabbed the pillow on the table and stood up. He armed himself with a pillow of his own. A massive pillow fight ensued before either could stop themselves. They whacked at each other with the pillows, their laughter filling the room.
A few minutes later, Anne collapsed, exhausted, on her carpeted floor. She still was smiling, in spite of herself. “I surrender,” she said, breathing heavily. “You win, you dolt.”
Alfred let himself fall backwards on her bed, arms raised up in victory. “Yes! She admits defeat!”
Then, before she could stop him or exchange her rare smile for her usual poker-face, he sat up, grabbed his camera and took the picture he had so wanted.
“Alfred!” she yelled, shielding her face from the camera all too late. He just smiled at her and waited for the picture to develop.
As soon as it did, Alfred quickly took it from the camera and took a long look at it. Anne stood up and sat beside him to see.
“My hair’s all over the place,” she said, “and my smile makes me look ridiculous.”
He shook his head. Alfred didn’t say it out loud but, to him, the happiness in Anne’s picture was beautiful and the smile on her face was what made the picture perfect.
“Come on Annie, just one shot!”
Anne scowled at her best friend. “First of all, Al, you know how much I hate it when you call me that. Second, of all the things you can take a picture of, why does it have to be me?”
He put down his camera on her side table and gave her an equally upset pout. “Because, Annie, you promised to help me test out my new Polaroid.”
“I never promised such a thing. You’re the one who called me ten minutes ago rambling on about coming over to show me your ‘amazingly awesome’ camera,” she said, crossing her arms. “Now, if you want to take a picture, there’s a perfectly good wall right there. “
“You’re seriously asking me to take a picture of a wall?”
She looked back at the textbook she had been studying and decided not to reply.
He sighed and shook his head. “I know you’re big on keeping your reputation of being a boring killjoy, but-”
Alfred was interrupted by a pillow hitting his face. He slowly removed it and looked at her pointedly. “What was that for?”
“For being an idiot, that’s what.”
He raised his eyebrows.“You’re going to regret that, Kirkland.”
Before she realized what was happening, he picked up the pillow and threw it back at her. She didn’t catch it, and it knocked over the small pile of textbooks on her table. Anne looked at the textbooks on the floor and back at Alfred in shock. “You did not just do that.”
He smirked. “I think I just did.”
Wordlessly, Anne grabbed the pillow on the table and stood up. He armed himself with a pillow of his own. A massive pillow fight ensued before either could stop themselves. They whacked at each other with the pillows, their laughter filling the room.
A few minutes later, Anne collapsed, exhausted, on her carpeted floor. She still was smiling, in spite of herself. “I surrender,” she said, breathing heavily. “You win, you dolt.”
Alfred let himself fall backwards on her bed, arms raised up in victory. “Yes! She admits defeat!”
Then, before she could stop him or exchange her rare smile for her usual poker-face, he sat up, grabbed his camera and took the picture he had so wanted.
“Alfred!” she yelled, shielding her face from the camera all too late. He just smiled at her and waited for the picture to develop.
As soon as it did, Alfred quickly took it from the camera and took a long look at it. Anne stood up and sat beside him to see.
“My hair’s all over the place,” she said, “and my smile makes me look ridiculous.”
He shook his head. Alfred didn’t say it out loud but, to him, the happiness in Anne’s picture was beautiful and the smile on her face was what made the picture perfect.