Kim’s Story: Part 2

Kim’s stomach did a somersault, churning up all of the butterflies inside, He remembers me after four years?! Kim rolled her eyes at herself, but it seems Connor picked up on it.
“Have I got the wrong person?” He asked, almost disappointed, “Sorry, I could’ve sworn we used to sing together in year 8 Geography.” He turned to walk away and the cat finally gave Kimberley her tongue back.
“I can’t believe you remember me!” She blurted, bashfully, “I mean- Hey, um… Sorry, I just couldn’t be sure it was you.” Lies, Kim thought to herself. But Connor had changed, he was less of a boy, more a man. His shoulders had broadened and it was obvious he worked out. But his eyes were the same: playful and rebellious.
Connor must have caught her checking him out, because he chuckled, blushing slightly. Kimberley may as well have turned into tomato, she went bright red.
“You’ve changed too, Kimbo.” Connor said, laughing as Kimberley grimaced at her childhood nickname.
“Thanks, I think.”
“It was definitely a compliment,” Connor explained, blushing once again.
Woah, hold up, Connor Campbell just complimented me. Kimberley’s internal dialogue was taking over again. “I could give you a few compliments too, Mr. Campbell.” Kim thought aloud.
“You know you actually said that?” Connor asked, his grin practically splitting his face in two.
“I do now, sorry,” Kim’s cheeks flushing with colour, while she tried to keep her cool.
“You sure do blush a lot, Kimbo.” Connor stated, somewhat mockingly.
“It’s a disease,” Kim said, trying to be witty. And failing.
Connor took a step closer, so close that Kimberley could feel his breath on her forehead, He must have grown.
“Infect me,” were Connor’s only words.
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KIm’s Strory: Part 1

This is the start of a fictional story based on a good friend of mine. She’ll probably hate me for this but hey… 

She turned on her heel, looking back at the shallow lake behind her. It was a dark shade of aqua, so very dark that on first glance, one would think it was black.
However, this wasn’t her first glance. Kimberley had lived in this town, of around 200,000 people, for her entire life and she knew this area like the back of her hand. But better.
Kim looked up, suddenly alert. The action caused her unruly hair to take an even more unusual shape. She searched the scene, with her eyes, wondering what had startled her.
At that moment a motorcycle roared past, and the rider, donning dark jeans, a leather jacket and a black helmet, shouted something seemingly inaudible.
He shouted once again, and his voice, carried by the wind, swiftly reached Kimberley. “How’s life as a ginger?” His voice spoke, or perhaps screamed depending on opinion.
“It’s not ginger,” Kim replied, easily aggravated, “It’s strawberry blond!” A hint of playfulness completed her tone.
The bike, a Harley Davidson it seems, came to a sharp halt. In one swift manoeuvre, he had turned the bike and it was speeding towards Kim.
Any normal seventeen year old would be terrified, but Kim knew better and stayed exactly still, watching, waiting. As the rider disembarked off his vehicle, removing his helmet and taking the key from the ignition, Kimberley was taken aback by his good looks, though if you asked her she would refuse to admit such a thing.
“Hey, I don’t know if you recognise me, I’m Connor Campbell,” he introduced himself with a half smile adorning his lips, “We used to be in Geography class together. Kimberley, right?”

Bertie Moos

I’ve been friends with Moos for a couple of years now, and over that time I’ve come to realise that her friendship is very important to me. I’ve learnt a lot from her, and she from me. And though we don’t agree on everything, (1D is better than Olly Murs) we always find a way around it.
She’s funny, loud and silly. And won’t let anyone judge her because she is her own person and no one can change that.

King Julian

I’ve known this wonderfully paranoid and beauteously charismatic person, since I was a mere two years of age. I gained lots of memories with her, and for that I thank her.
KJ and I played Peter Pan together at the age of four. I hit her over the head with a plastic frying pan, and she threw up all over the table, then making me start projectile vomiting on her. She forgave me. I think.
She gets her fabulous nickname from a rare birthmark, that graces the side of her face. It is the shape of Africa. It even has a small Madagascar on it, and what with her stunning musicality she was soon connected to her namesake, the dancing lemur king.
She love donuts, and drawing moustaches. She’s brilliant at running, but needs to practice her cello more often.

Pencils

Pencils, a friend of two years, is tall, with short ginger hair. She lives with her iPod – it’s like she couldn’t live without it. She is a very musical person.
She lives by a strange philosophy;

If you’re optimistic you are always disappointed, so be pessimistic, that way you’re either right or pleasantly surprised.

which, true though it may be, can be quite depressing. But she isn’t always depressing- Pencils is also a truly funny person, in her own sarcastic way. Sarcasm really cheers me up. No seriously.
The thing is I’m not sure why she is such a brilliant friend, but she is. Pencils is brilliant at art and she could quote Supernatural word for word. She listens when she wants to and then gives her input. She’s great the way she is and nobody should change that.

PS She earned her name in ikea, the home of the free pencil.

Mango (the one with tusks)

Mango. A wonderful listener. She’s often mistaken as unsociable, but really she’s just quiet. Until she grabs a clarinet. Or saxophone. She truly is the spirit of jazz. She’s great at music and archery – Mango is good at running, rounders, hockey.
The next girl was more quiet, her “tusks” swaying slightly in the gentle breeze. that’s how I first described her in My Friends and I. With her big brown eyes her hair matches perfectly; a lightish brown colour, mostly straight/wavy. With tusks.
Mango has the habit of tucking to pieces of her hair behind her ears. The curve around giving her, what all of her friends call, “tusks”.
Mangoes great to hang around, and, though she can be pessimistic, she can easily lift the mood. She’s the metaphorical knife cutting right through the tension.