Powers. And Crystals

This is the second short story that I intend to submit as a writing sample for my application at US colleges. I would be very delighted to receive your feedbacks. Thank you

POWERS. AND CRYSTALS.

1. Poor girl #1.
My name was Teresa. My face was nice, my height was 5 feet 8 inches, my weight was 115 pounds and the final statistic of this beauty-data was my model size in bust and waist and bottom measurement. With that streak of appearance, or flamboyance for sincere mockery, I, a hot-girl surfing the school yard like a big fish in a small pond, had just enrolled myself in the black list of public canards and infamy. However, who cares, since these bad mouths were not within the senses of my ears, and my personality was not subjected to those ill distortions either. The only actual agony that I found, ohm, if only I had not found it.

- Falling for you ever at first sight, my feeble heart dares not to reveal its illicit passion. It is such a coward to be a valid defeatist. And now knowing that you see a bit in me too, I truly think my share price has risen like NASDAQ Index!
- Hey girl, be a candid confessor. I have smelled much of stale odors from your flirty reputation (whistled). Us two? (sighed) A break up, at last…
- Shall I come over to see your Mom?

Blah blah blah. Thousands of headaches. Thousands of healing and splitting emotional pieces. There were times I definitely assumed that my heart had been broken into shards right in the middle of those unexpected relationships; it was as hollow as a cave and as unsavory as a most stinky plate. As if stresses facing a student in academic performance had suffocated her effort in fulfilling the responsibilities of a Student Government officer. And as if this two-layer burden were nothing in comparison to the power of a most-wanted sexy knot. Life tricks!

2. Poor boy #1.Long streets with long wind amid a long cluster of dust. Dark was whirling like an eddy whose centre was this meager silver Moon, the dimly illuminating crescent as curled as a link in the spiral, celestial chain. Beams of light mixed with clouds and sky in charm; all glimmered, all smoldered. So strange a deep night.

Here at the 11th-floor balcony of an apartment block, stood me and my wandering mood. Bending against the banister looking around, what I captured with my eyes wide and free were squares of light extruding from tiny windows, sweet in yellow like identical holes of a honeycomb. Neon spectrum faded in and out, so calm and so pale. In the movement of an ant parade, men made their way slowly at the bottom of the block abyss. My body was out of gravity. I had gone with the wind.

- Shall I come over to see your Mom?
Cutie's voice entreating on the line had ripped my pleasure off a very silent night. So amicably denied his request, I then transferred his number to the cell phone blacklist. Exhausted, though, I was so exhausted with that continuous shunning in such an unshunnable situation. He was my professor anyway!

Dark unfolded its wingspan to provide me with a shelter. Somewhere far away, Cutie was, too, among his darkness of perplexities and disappointments. Why, Cutie, why my handsomeness and fervor and wealth and internationally-recognized diploma were all crossed out like rubbish, why my icon idolized by the whole school girls did not leave a single impression on that one girl? The nickname Cutie did say something in itself, as I was cute and absolutely attractive. Hey, and I had my values absolutely accounted for nothing!

Rrreeeng! No sooner did I rush into my home phone than Mom had picked it up. Peering at me for seconds anticipating the reactions, Mom answered:
- Oh really… That is so nice of you. Uhm… What a pity we are just about to have some visitors. Leonardo's parents would like to come and talk about the future of our kids, you know.

Inhaling in depth, I then sighed. Dare to bet half of my face that it must be Cutie, the one so tenacious in his thought that a follower full of sincerity might manage to make me moved. The rest half, I laid on another bet of his probability to move any heart, except mine. To me, perseverance did not work. Still remembered the other day when Cutie appeared at the threshold of my apartment, flowers at hands and smiles on face; he was both glaringly hopeful and unwittingly desperate in my eyes. As soon as Mom detected my displeasure, she took the responsibility to confront this unexpected guest without asking the reason why. Amazingly, the main topic of their talk was Leonardo, my boyfriend studying in United Kingdom, and his request to send me over to his town Birmingham. At last, Cutie had guessed what it was to be understood
The next morning, Cutie called for my emergence at the Teacher Lounge. Apart from some piles of papers for our class' assignments, Cutie picked out several colorful hand-outs and pretended to be fair:
- Uhm, here are brochures of some colleges in UK, take and try. Leonardo's uni is among those stuffs as well…

Thanking him in acquiescence, I left that young professor standing still at the front door. Whether I was uneasy or pitiful for his abortive amour I did not know yet; as it was too delicate to tell the repentant feeling of an offer refusal from that one of sympathy and compassion. No one was to blame, Cutie was not to blame; I did not cry but let my eyes tainted with a thin layer of vapors. Let sorrow enshroud me, let mid-noon sunshine overwhelm me in dazzle, let the pathway full of shadow conceal me in heaping shades of plants and thoughts. Let me feel pity for this poor boy.
From then on, a graceful smile had always been the common greeting Cutie displayed every time we met. Trying to prove that he had taken the risk to face his erroneous past (to love me was an error?), he greeted me so loudly (professor greeted student so loudly?), asked something about my homework (was not it at his desk?), about "Leonardo's uni" (uhm, I got it). And once again, he displayed a graceful smile. I reciprocally executed some manners while could not help wondering: Had he ever regarded me as past?

3. Poor boy #2.
Trying so hard to forget Cutie, as he had tried even harder to forget me, I returned to the balcony. High and loose sitting on a tall stool, my torso reached out of the banister, my eye vision adhered to those glaring honeycombs, expanding construction sites, beaches of land and sand and fields. Earlier that night, before coming home I had wandered through the town; my mind, too, wandered through the way wishing that I would be caught by someone else. Someone who didn't love me.

Darren caught me eventually. Waved his hand like a leaf quivering in breeze when I was crossing his cream-stand, Darren tendered the menu. A bit amazing to know he had learnt my appetite by heart, I gobbled a double serving with no restraint, as harshly as a glutton devoured his plate to fill up an empty stomach. Amid the ambience of smoldering light, my cherry lips turned lustrous, soft and fragrant. Darren smiled gently:
- What a simple hot-girl!
- More than simple! - Spoke me with a brimful mouth - Just as…
- Just as you are simple by no means! The whole town, and even Mafia should have heard your name hovering over their ears - Beat the spoon against his cup to sound ckk, ckk, Darren displayed an impression of childish daunting - Hey girl, be a candid confessor. I have smelled much of stale odors from your flirty reputation!

Darren whistled along Rhythm of the Rain when waiting for me to finish the plate; he waited so patiently that I felt the justification for my "flirty reputation" was something could not be urged. Long ago, after unsuccessfully pursuing my heart, Darren had started an affair with my friend Linda. Now he was looking at me in a normal way. Please keep looking at me in that normal way.

The plate was clean, just some vestige of fresh cream much soft and white. Aroma of night blossoms diffused around so sweet that reflectively I made a knot, uhm, a sexy knot. Again smiled Darren:
- So how? Who?
- As usual, just Leonardo. He's coming home this summer, and who else could I play flirt with?
- Really? - Darren seemed to be taken aback - But Linda told me…

There Darren stopped, quite perplexingly. I gave out a long sigh to inhale a deep breath of warm scent, tasting a slight scratch inside. Linda? How could I approve to her that Darren not anymore fell for me?

Diverted the topic of our conversation to Linda, I was even more disappointed to see Darren shaking his head: "Us two? A break up, at last…" Just five minutes ago when I, in order to avoid any misjudgment, sent a message to Linda telling her I was chatting with Darren, she had recited a harangue on their non-stop blissfulness. For my sense of déjà vu, I tested:
- Uhm, in fact, Leonardo's passion is not as usual. There are times I glance at pictures of him and another girl, yes, she's very much prettier. Perhaps this time he comes home just to throw straight to my face words of splitting up…

Stalemate. In a second, Darren's eyes scintillated like flashes from a thunderstorm; he started to count how many tiny quibbles he argued with Linda and how they had helped to slain his feelings. Bleating as a decrepit goat, what ill words Linda had spoken of me, what she had done to prevent him from thinking of me, Darren sketched all out like a shopping mania seeking to draft a check list. Along with his indictment of an emotional dilemma, the cup was nearly cracked with ckk, ckk. My déjà vu was now clear enough that I had no reason to stay any longer. Let me feel pity for this poor boy.

4. Poor girl #2.
This time was not me, oh no, this was truly, very truly me. Half extended half distorted, my mouth remained gawking; I could neither gasp nor breathe to see on the screen, Hannah's blog of words and pictures gradually slid under my scroll. God prevented me from breaking into laughs, or bursting into tears, or tasting ashamed, or feeling entertained. How come I transformed into so gentle, so feeble "the little girl" Hannah had described me as? Now, should I go posting a comment, or call for the help of a hacker, or simply paste this link onto my own website? "The little girl was in blue, she sat still with this cherubic naiveté face, tired and devoid of satisfaction. Her brown eyes opened wide, her emotion frigid; she did not cast a glance but let her mute movement tell me the truth. I felt sympathized to her. I felt like approaching her, stroking her hair and touching her skinny shoulder to say, little girl, I know what you are thinking of. You are now wearing the image I wore four years ago, hurt and enchanted by a same boy. My boy."

Oh my Goddess! Did not Hannah assume that Vincent was the reason putting me in blue? Was not she was the one to go with him to the ball at last, even I was the first to receive his invitation? No. Her 4-years-and-19-days being with Vincent was her firm ground for a firm belief of love; now she clutched those 4 years and 19 days to comprise a belief that they were still in love together. Hannah, I was about to cry out loud that at that noon I had had tons of food, and my tired, devoid, frigid countenance was definitely the mute movement of a stomachache.
However, I did nothing. My justification would be a ghastly insult, for Hannah's thoughts were no malfeasances but matters of pities and sympathy. Nice thoughts though, she was not jealous with me, she was not blaming on Vincent, she simply reached out to taste her sense of benevolence. A treatment to emotional hurts, a way to enjoy my pains and throw at me pinches of forbearance, so great so fantastic were "pities and sympathy" that she could forget her own pains of being jilted, right Hannah?

Leonardo would be home in two days time, home with that another pretty girl. It perfectly matched with the end of I and Vincent's lovestroke; we departed on the day going out to buy something for Hannah and Leonardo. I was quite happy but Vincent, as a matter of fact, seemed to be more of reluctance. That reminded me of the time when I looked at him and laughed: "I feel something for you, so how? For no reason, I just feel it that way. Now what do you think, boy? " As Vincent gazed, his answer took such a long time to vent itself out:
- Falling for you ever at first sight, my feeble heart dares not to reveal its illicit passion. It is such a coward to be a valid defeatist. And now knowing that you see a bit in me too, I truly think my share price has risen like NASDAQ Index!

Sneered me, lifted a pendant and gave it to the shop keeper to have it wrapped. This gift, with my note dedicated to Hannah, was later captured and posted on her blog dedicated to "the little girl". In her photo, the filigree had been shot quite artistically, combinations of natural lights and reflections just mixed so well in harmony. The harmony of self-esteem and disloyalty.

Now to Leonardo, what should I give him then, a new album full of best wishes for a new love? Busy with considerations of wishes and albums, suddenly I shuddered, soil shrunk under my feet and the ceiling over my head just wheeled on. Thoughts of pities and sympathy outweighed disloyalty unexpectedly returned; they beat against my heart as violently, as fast and thick as nonstop footsteps in a wild tango. Bitter and numb. The truth was that I was jilted, ain't I? For seconds my breathes suspended, my whole body quivered on tenterhooks but Vincent, standing right next to me, did not notice. He had been in deep attraction to of Hannah's gift. Now tell me Cutie, Darren, Vincent and Leonardo, was I a reason for or a victim of disloyalty, was I to jilt or barely jilted? Who would ever love me if I were not a hot-girl, or if they came across a girl who was much hotter? I just didn't know. I just felt, from me, the power had left.

5. Powers. And Crystals.
Karl Heinz Grasser, the youngest-in-history Austrian Minister for Finance had married Fiona Swarovski, Swarovski Crystals heiress at his age of 36. This wedding was hailed with enormous obstacles and objections from not only politicians but also the masses; as previously they had gathered official information of Karl's engagement to Natalia Corrales-diez (a 28-year-old Economics post-graduate). Four years older than Karl, three times divorced and a mother of three children, Fiona sturdily stated she would do anything so that "no one could bereave me from my lifelong love", regardless to Karl's hardship in politics struggle.
When the power is in your hands, the pressure is on you. Every decision of you, no matter how simple it is, will be considered simple by no means. Reject a perfect apple in people's eyes to seek another in your own eyes, it is truly a risky bet that charges a lot: you win all, or lose all. Very risky, of course, but you would not be repentant, because this person will still love you even when there is no power left in your hands.
Powers. And Crystals.