Bee_babe

Chapter One
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“You’re insane,” Bentley tells me, shaking his head and smirking as I slurp my second chocolate milkshake- his buy. It’s my 15th birthday, the day I’ve been waiting for since, well, the day I turned fourteen, and he’s taken me out for ice cream. “You’re going to give yourself a head ache.” He scolds me. I laugh, but continue at the same pace. I offer him some, but he shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good.” He holds up a glass of coke and takes a sip.

Even though he’s only 17, only two years older than me, he looks so sophisticated, masculine, sexy. A drip of coke falls from the glass and lands on his soft cheek. I long to reach out and touch that cheek, brush away the drip, but that would be WAY out of line, I tell myself. Instead, he brushes it away himself with a napkin. I always have fantasies about doing something to him; kissing his soft lips, holding his strong, but gentle hand, run my fingers through his smooth, brown hair... but alas, all are fantasies.

This is part of the tradition. Every year, on my birthday, Bentley comes and picks me up,- before he got his license, it was on foot- takes me out to ice cream, scolds me that I’ll get a head ache on my second helping, and then takes me to any- I mean ANY- movie I want to see (when I was 8, he took me to the Care Bear movie). He’s always been the object of my affections, and I’ve always been his... little sister.

Anyway, like always, I’ve just finished my second chocolate ice cream, and we’re heading to the movie. Since the movie theater is right across the street, we decide to just walk. Suddenly, Bentley, the hotshot that he is, bursts out. “Hey, kid. I’ll race ya!” And runs across the street. A car barely misses him, honking its horn. He laughs, and motions me to follow. Without looking both ways, I bolt into the road. I realize too late that there is a car speeding right at me, and Bentley’s face turns from one of fun to one of terror. He races directly at me. Before I even have time to blink, I feel a hard object nail my side, and I’m thrown backward onto the side walk I was just standing on. I hear screeching tires, and look up. In my dizzy haze, I see a body laying motionless in the road where I had previously been standing. I run over to it, and turn it over. The car hadn’t even stopped. I see Bentley’s face in the dim street lamp-light. It’s expressionless, save for his eyes being open wide still.

“Bent...? Bentley...? Come on, Bent. Quit messin’ around! Wake up.” I tell him, shaking him. But he doesn’t. I close his eyes, and kiss the cheek I’ve been longing to kiss for so long, but it’s not quite like I’d pictured it. At last, my body shuts down, and I collapse onto Bentley’s lifeless form.

__________________
"It is better to have lived and loved than to never have lived at all."
-Some Dead Guy

jimmycracker

It set up real well. Everything was clear, simple, I was engaged. But I was disappointed at the last paragraph:

"“Bent...? Bentley...? Come on, Bent. Quit messin’ around! Wake up.” I tell him, shaking him. But he doesn’t. I close his eyes, and kiss the cheek I’ve been longing to kiss for so long, but it’s not quite like I’d pictured it. At last, my body shuts down, and I collapse onto Bentley’s lifeless form."

"I close his eyes". Do you mean "i close my eyes"? Didn't really understand that.
Also, there's not a lot of emotion in this: "I’ve been longing to kiss for so long, but it’s not quite like I’d pictured it." The 'quite' makes her response to his death (or whatever it is) sound casual and careless, like "oh, he got hit by a car. hum, how peculiar, i think ill kiss him on the cheek,".

And why does her body shut down? Is it cause she's knocked out from getting thrown out of the way?

Yeah, everything above the last paragraph was great.

Perad

she close's his eyes because he is dead and they are open. The way i read it, her body shut down because the guy she loved had just died.

I think you need to look at some of the commas.

With these 3 it just feels like you have 1 to many comma's in there.

I am pretty curious as to where you are taking this story... have you started on chapter 2 yet?

Bee_babe

Yeah, Perad is right. I'm still not intirely sure when to use commas, so I have that problem. But thanks for the feedback. And yes, chapter two is coming in about ten seconds.

__________________
"It is better to have lived and loved than to never have lived at all."
-Some Dead Guy

Bee_babe

Chapter Two:
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It’s the day of his funeral, and I’m supposed to give some big, moving speech, since I was his best friend. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time: what would he want at his funeral? Certainly not everyone weeping. He’d want it to be happy, to celebrate what life he had. And instead of wearing black, I encourage everyone to wear something he had liked on them- he had a favorite outfit on everyone.
Most of them show up like I asked them too, looking around to see if they were they only ones who fell for the stupid joke. But, seeing mostly everyone else dressed like them, they relax. I step out from behind the doors, the last one in after everyone’s passed the casket. I walk down the long aisle, and everyone turns to look at me. I’m wearing what Bent said was his favorite outfit of everyone else’s. It’s the dress I wore to his mom’s remarry, one of the happiest days of his life. I danced with him that day, I remember the smile, and the energy he had as we twirled around the dance floor. It’s a light blue, one that brings out my eyes well. It has three quarter sleeves that flow at the ends, a skirt that hugs all my curves and is thin at the bottom with slits up to my knees- just enough room to walk- and the top accents my upper body well.
I try not to let the staring faze me, but with all those stares, I feel suddenly small. Then, I remember that I’m not here for any of them- I’m here for Bent. I reach the podium, and hand the lady behind me a CD. “Number three.” I whisper. She nods, and disappears behind a hidden door in the back. I wait for the song to begin. “Scars” by Papa Roach plays softly behind me as I commence my speech. I close my eyes as I’m speaking, remembering what Bent’s face looked like, smiling that day, and keep that picture in my head. I can feel everyone’s heads bow in unison as they listen to me. “It’s hard for me to stand here in front of all of you today, and talk about Bentley without crying,” And even as I say it, I can feel the tears tickling the back of my eyes. But I persevere. “It’s even harder to verbalize everything that Bent was- and still is- in our hearts,” I pause, and open my eyes to the crowd. Even with their heads bowed, I can tell they’re all weeping- or trying not to. “Bent was the best friend I’ve ever had. I know I’m speaking for all of us when I say, ‘We miss you, Bent.’” SO much. I add silently. Then I choke. I try to regain my composure, but I can’t stand the fact that he’s really gone. He’s never coming back. I remember the last words I ever said to him- while he was able to hear them- “You’re an idiot.” I’d told him. He had just been showing off in his car on our dirt road when a dog had run in front of us, and we’d barely missed it.
I quickly run down the aisle, and out the doors. I don’t go home, I go to our secret spot, down by the river, where we’d spent so many summers together just lying in the grass, looking up at the sky. I sit under our tree. The one that had our initials on it and an inscription. We’d always hated our small town, and had promised each other that as soon as we turned 18, we’d leave. Bent’s day had been coming soon, before the accident. And because we’d made that promise, the tree read: B+T Escape. I guess Bent had escaped. Just, not the way either of us had hoped. I hug the tree, and sob for hours. Finally, at dusk, I fall asleep.

__________________
"It is better to have lived and loved than to never have lived at all."
-Some Dead Guy