Hey guys, for my language cl*censored* I had to write a story that was at least 1500 to 2000 words. "Maybe" is 2158 words! It could be about anything I want, so I made this story kinda based off my other story "Pictures of You". (the main girls name is different, and Jason is not in Pictures of You) And I did NOT write the first sentence, we had like these starting sentences things that we had to use and I hate the idea, but oh well....

My Tiny Tim body ached as I rounded the corner near the bookstore. Knives were piercing through my exploding lungs as puffs of white frost left my nose and mouth. “Deep slow breaths,” I told myself. This would eventually be worth it.(a/n did not write!!)

            Annabelle’s shift was over in fifteen minutes, and I automatically quickened my pace. Throwing my freezing blue-raspberry icy in a random garbage can on the corner of the sidewalk, a sudden wash of bitter coldness slithered down my back. And I knew it wasn’t the eighty-degree weather topped with a gentle ocean breeze. I had always *censored*umed that Annabelle would welcome me with open arms, laughing and telling me about the hundreds of guys she’s been out with, her crazy yet dedicated obsession with dance, and everything simple in her life, as she always has. But it suddenly hit me that a person could change over two years. And maybe Annabelle has, and maybe the mere sight of me could wash back a flood of memories fuller than the ocean of a past she didn’t want to relive. Maybe she would be secretly waiting for me to walk out like my dad had to my mom.

            I rudely cut through a group of elderly men, who seemed to be enjoying watching Jeopardy through the window of an old looking electric shop with a broken “Wlcme” sign hanging above the door. They glared at me through their squinted or gl*censored*es covered eyes, but eventually lost interest in me.

            Through the windows of “Marlington Book Store”, I caught a glimpse of Annabelle, smiling widely at a couple of young children who were excitedly checking out “Clifford the Big Red Dog”. I smiled at my old friend. She looked so different, yet the relief you feel when you’re in a crowded place and finally see someone familiar washed over me. Her used to be straight and black hair, was now a dyed blonde with bouncy curls hanging above her shoulders. Her crystal blue eyes, which reminded me all too well with my dad’s, still had the joy of a true dancer wrapped around them.

            “Knock, knock,” I said slowly, opening up the door and stepping towards the counter.

            Annabelle dropped the book and smiled genuinely at me. “Lexi!” she screamed, running over and wrapping her arms around me. I returned the hug, taking in the fresh scent of vanilla that always followed her around. “You’re here! In California! With me! Why?”

            I glanced over her shoulder to the children by the counter, who held their books proudly at their sides and watched us curiously. I leaned in closer to Annabelle and nodded my head towards them. “Can we,” I whispered as she glanced over at them, “talk alone?”

            She raised her eyebrows suspiciously. “Sure? Come with me. You have got a lot of explaining to do, missy.” She yelled loudly to nowhere in particular, “Andrew, take my shift!”

            A quiet “yeah” sounded as we headed on outside, to the peaceful and beautiful boardwalk of Marlington beach. The sun just began to set, and the orange swivels rested themselves on the water, swaying and riding themselves along with the soft waves. It looked so breathtaking; I unconsciously placed my hand over my chest to grab my camera, suddenly aware that for once in my life, I didn’t have it.

            Annabelle broke my train of thought when she suddenly spoke. “You said you wanted to talk, right?” She asked rhetorically, “Well talk.”

            I took in a deep breath, mentally preparing for telling her all the emotions that were bundled up inside of me in only a matter of time. I could have talked forever about my parents splitting, but Annabelle was not one to waste time. So instead of crawling into the story, I decided to just shoot for it, letting all organization and ordering go.

            “My dad left.” I told her.

            “What? Like, just walked out one night and never came back?” I knew she wasn’t making that up to be a real thing, but in all odds it was.

            “Yes,” I said sharply, and she widened her eyes in surprise. “My mom… her salon fell through the cracks. One night, I just woke up, hearing her screaming, and placed my head against the wall to listen to her and my dad talk. They were calm at first, but then suddenly things got worse. There was fighting and yelling and crying. Oh Annabelle!” I wrapped my arms around her neck and played with her pearl necklace. I recognized it; it was one that her mom had gotten for her when she was fourteen. Annabelle had loved it more than she had ever loved anything before, putting it around her fair neck the second she opened it up.

            Annabelle hugged me back. “What about Emma?” she asked, referring to my sweet and outgoing sister back home. The last time I had talked to her, not counting the goodbye note I left inside her closet, she was going out to a concert of some non-famous band I never heard of. She looked so happy, all dressed up in her black halter top and white skirt, dirty blonde hair pulled half back into soft waves. I wondered, just for a second, is Emma was home right now, reading over the letter I hid in her closet, underneath her jeans. I wondered if she was crying, or if she was mad at me, or if she woke up to find my mother screaming, “She’s gone!” I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter, that all I should worry about was myself. But the more I tried, the harder it was not to care. Literally

            I released Annabelle, but not her pearl necklace. “Emma will be fine,” I was trying to convince myself more than her. “She always has been. I’m the one who falls easily. But my mom is even worse.”

            Annabelle stepped back, looking at me like I was five-year-old child just working her way up to a punishment. “So what you’re telling me,” She said coldly, “Is that you left Emma in the dust, to fight for herself while you just ran away? That doesn’t seem right, Lexi, and you know it isn’t.”

            I stepped away from her. Annabelle, who had always been the spontaneous one, the girl who never thought about what she was doing, was scolding me. Me, the girl who constantly had to give her chocolate when her boyfriend broke up with her, or come and pick her up at two o’clock in the morning when she lost her car keys at some wild college party. “I couldn’t take it,” I yelled at her, “It wasn’t like I just ran away ‘cause I got afraid. I walked away because it was hurting me. I wasn’t making it any easier for Emma, and this helped her.”

            Annabelle cocked her head to the side, a sure sign that she didn’t believe me. “Leaving someone alone,” she talked to me like she was speaking some foreign language, like I could barely understand her. “Never helps.”

            I couldn’t take it, anymore. She was putting a weight on my shoulders, a weight that was too heavy for me to hold. So I turned around, and walked away just like I did to my mom. But I looked at Annabelle one last time, and yelled, “Oh, yeah, sure. Says the girl who left me all alone two years ago because she wanted to go to some dumb ballerina school. That kind of ruins your point, doesn’t it?” Before walking on and on, away from her, away from my past, and away from familiarity.

“That will be seventy-five dollars, miss.”

            “Seventy-five dollars,” I echoed to the store clerk. “For this digital camera? I only have seventy-two.”

            The store clerk, Jason, who looked to be in his low twenties, eyed me skeptically. “That’s okay,” he whispered, taking my money and handing me the camera, “it’ll be our little secret.”

            I bit my tongue to hide my giggle. “Thanks,” I said to him, and to myself I mumbled, “and I just spent every cent I had on a camera.”

            Jason heard me. “Every cent?” He sounded bewildered. “Why?”

            “It’s a long story.”

            He placed his chin on the counter. “I’ve got time.”

            “I don’t know…”

            “Come on,” he pressed, “You owe me.”

            So I told him; from my father walking out to my mother’s depression, to coming here in California, to my fight with Annabelle. I don’t know why I told a complete stranger about my personal life. Maybe it was because I didn’t know him and that there were no strings attached, that he couldn’t judge me because he didn’t know me, and that twenty-years from now, he would probably forget me completely. Jason listened, seeming intensely intrigued with my story, and paid attention throughout the entire thing.

 “…. And then I was just so mad,” I finished off, “and I realized I forgot my camera. And taking pictures, all my life, has always calmed me down, you know? It was like, when I looked through the lens, nothing else matters. Like if I want something, I can keep it within view, and if I don’t, leave it out. Do I sound insane?”

            Jason lifted his head up, and started flipping through a guitar catalogue. He didn’t even look at me when he spoke. “ No,” he answered simply, still staring at the different variety of guitars, “You sound like a photographer. And I know it must be weird for some random store clerk guy tell you what to do, but if I were you, I’d go and talk to this Annabelle girl.”

            “You would?”

            “Well yeah,” He flipped the page with one hand, the other arm crossed over the catalogue. “She was probably just worried about you. That’s what friends do. It sounds like, well, at least to me, that she really cares about you. But then again, what do I know?”

            There was a chime coming from the door and the same children from the bookstore were standing there. They were already reading their “Clifford The Big Red Dog” books while their mother patted their heads and searched through the tableware isle.

            “Hmm,” I considered what he said, “I guess you’re right. Thanks so much. Well, I better get going.” I started to walk towards the entrance but turned around for a moment and waved to him. “Bye, Jason.”

            He frowned. “How to do know my-” I nodded towards his nametag and he followed my gaze. “Oh, duh. What’s your name?”

            “Lexi.”

            “Lexi,” he repeated, like my name was something he heard in a dream a while back. “Well, that definitely screams photographer. Will we ever talk again?”

            I winked at him. “It depends if I’ll ever need a new camera again.”

            “Alright. See you later, Lexi!” I heard him yell as I opened up the door, chime, and walked out.

            The sand felt warm and squishy against my bare feet as I walked along the edges of the water, feeling the cool liquid reach my ankles every now and then. The wind was strong, yet it felt subtle, and my dark auburn hair would blow back behind my head constantly.

            There was a small, rocky headline in the distance, the waves crashing on the rocks, splatters of water misting over them every few seconds. I gripped my camera tighter in my hands, running up onto the boulders, the wind seeming even stronger. Droplets of water landed in my hair and clothes, and the sharp points of the rocks made my feet ache. But in that split second, I didn’t care. The sun was just finishing to set, less than a third of it visible above the horizon that separated myself from my family. And I knew, somewhere in my heart, that they where looking at the horizon too, maybe thinking about me, maybe not.

            And as I placed the lens over my right eye, I suddenly realized something. That maybe was not overrated; it was the truth about everything. Maybe you’ll fall in love, maybe you’ll go to jail, maybe you’ll make it through. But you just never know. Life can last as long as forever, or as short as tomorrow. There is just no guarantee about what the future can bring. So that’s why it’s so important, for everyone, to not always suspect that life is going to be as you pictured it. Surprises are everywhere, jumping out at you when you least expect it, and all you can do is open your arms to them. So as I held my camera in my hands, out onto the horizon, I was thinking about how maybe Annabelle will forgive me, maybe Emma would be okay, maybe my mother will toughen up. And I clicked to take a photo, freezing time for that exact instant, forgetting about everything, every maybe, and just focusing on now.

talk to the dinasour thing :)