Observing

CREATIVE WRITING ASSIGNMENT – 9/11/07                    

         The late afternoon sun poured from the sky like a bucket of molten gold. It seeped through the new, green leaves and fell in dappled patterns on the brick walls of the library. A row of lampposts stood sentinel, black on green, throwing long, wavering shadows on the grass.
         A young man leaned casually against a towering oak tree. His red T-shirt stood out in sharp contrast against the yellow sun and green leaves, but his navy blue backpack blended with the earth. His deep brown eyes rested on the bag; he contemplated all the books inside, clamoring to be studied. It only took him a second to make his decision. He unzipped the front pocket and pulled out a black iPod nano. Music. Artists. 3 Days Grace. He tipped back his head and let the electric guitars swallow him up.
         He was jerked from his reverie by the arrival of a clump of girls. The one in front, with the bubblegum-pink hair and lime green dress, he recognized all too well. He shifted against the tree, angling his shoulders and tossing the pink-haired girl an exaggerated wink. Her slim face turned the same color as her hair and she made a rude gesture at the boy, but she walked away with her friends looking rather pleased.
         The boy was grinning widely. His slightly crooked, pearly white teeth glinted in the dying sun. He went back to his iPod: 3 Days Grace. Artists. Seal. Kiss From a Rose filled his ears. The statue of Jonathan Harvard smiled serenely at the boy, and in the speckled sunlight his golden foot glittered and his eye seemed to wink.
         A lanky boy with shoulder-length black hair careened out of the library. He shook the boy leaning against the tree out of his doze. The black-haired boy was painfully excited. He gestured wildly in every direction, at the trees, the statue of John Harvard, the wrought iron gate at the other side of the green. He ruffled his friend’s already untidy brown hair, yelling enthusiastically. An incredulous expression crossed the boy’s tanned face. He seized his black-haired comrade by the hood of his Red Sox sweatshirt and hauled him into the library, leaving his backpack and iPod forgotten on the ground.
         Shadows slid over them. The sun had sunk below the tiled rooftops, leaving the statue alone to smile knowingly out at the dark, deserted yard.