FINDING DREW (a novel)



(First posted on:

This is an excerpt from the Novel I’m Writing entitled Angels Fall: Finding Drew.
I’ve already told the concept of the story to somebody but unfortunately, he doesn’t like the plot. He says it’s too cheesy, like Twilighty-cheesy, but then again he’s a boy, er, a 27 year old man to be exact and I don’t think he’s the target market for my Novel. So anyway, please post comments about it, what you think about it, if you’d think it’ll be a hit or not and if you think teenage girls will like it (my target market, mainly).

Overview: It’s about a girl named Mandy who just lost her best friend Drew in a car accident the day of their highschool graduation. She goes to NYU for a start of her new life, college life, away from her home in San Francisco in the hopes to leave her past. Then she meets this guy named Sar. He’s mysterious (sort of) and there’s just something about him that draws Mandy to him.

EXCERPT: (IMPORTANT NOTE: I haven’t proofread it and yes, English is just my secondary language so I’m not so good in the grammar department either.)

The loss of a friend is like that of a limb; time may heal the anguish of the wound, but the loss cannot be repaired. by Robert Southey

College will be the start of my new life. Moving to New York will make all the difference. Some say that New York and San Francisco feel like worlds apart. My parents say it’ll be good for me. Away from the life I lived during the last semester of High School. Though in truth, I feel that the shadow of my past will forever be attached to my present.
I miss Drew. I miss him so much that my heart literally aches like it’s being cut out of its circulation. Like the air from my lungs is being drained. The only reason why my parents let me study here at NYU is because of him. Because they know I should forget him or at least the last parts of our life together. I lied to them and I know that they knew it. I lied of getting over him, that it doesn’t hurt anymore. How could I? Drew and I knew each other since third grade. He’s been my best friend ever since. He has supported me in everything I wanted in life. Even with my biggest infatuation with Michael, our High schools’ basketball team captain, up until after high school graduation.
I’m sorry Drew. I truly am. I hope you can still hear me. I hope you’re still here. By the way, I always knew you had a crush on me but you’re like a brother and a best friend all in one. Sorry I can’t return how you feel, sorry I can’t be more than a friend to you. Sorry for everything. But if only you’ll come back I’ll let myself love you more than jut a best friend. I miss you so much. It’s my fault and if I didn’t force you to drive me that night you would still be alive.
There are so many things I want to tell Drew. So many things I know I can never tell him face to face. I could never hear or see him again. Never have lunch, eat out, have movie marathons with him again. I could never lay my head on his shoulder ever again. Never mind how his family despises me now, I couldn’t care less. I just want Drew back. In fact I want to rewind everything up until the night he drove me to Michael’s party.
Michael had a graduation party at his parents’ home and for some weird reason he invited me although he didn’t really knew me. I was just the girl who would always come to his basketball game and be the loudest screamer in the crowd whenever he or his team would score a point.
I was grounded so I can’t drive my car nor get out of the house. I called Drew to pick me up. I sneaked out and there he was, outside already waiting for me by his Sentra. He refused to leave me at the party. I know we shouldn’t have drank. But the other car just came out of nowhere. The last thing I remembered were the flashing lights from the other car. When I opened my eyes, I was already at the hospital. I would never forget how the words escaped my mothers’ lips. “He’s dead. Drew is dead.” I was in shock for quite sometime before it sank in, before the tears burst, before my conscience hit me. It’s my fault. All mine.


My first lecture for the day was on Russia’s Architecture, Between Revolution and Socialist Realism by Professor Cohen. It was pretty big to take in all at once. “New place, new life” I whispered to myself as I walked out the halls. I felt the oddity of being able to stride from one class to another alone for the first time.
I was about to consult my piece of paper where I have jotted down my subjects where my next subject would be when I heard a familiar voice over my shoulder.
“Hey! I know you!”
I turned around to see who it was. No way is he here. He can’t be. I will never be able to leave my past behind.
“Michael?” I called out in disbelief.
“You’re um…” he shook his head, “Your name is…”
I waited for him to say my name but it appeared that he couldn’t remember.
“My name is Mandy.” I finished.
“Yeah! Mandy. Yeah, sorry about that.”
“That’s alright. I actually don’t expect anybody to know me here.” I smiled ruefully.
“Well, now you do!” he smiled back then his face creased to a frown “Hey, I’m sorry about your boyfriend.” He bowed down to my eye level “How are you keeping up?”
I remembered that my mom said most of my school mates who were at the party were asked to give statements to the police after the accident. That made the news of the tragedy bigger than it already was.
“He’s not my boyfriend.” I absentmindedly answered.
Michael’s eyes squinted. “What?”
“Drew is not my boyfriend, he’s my best friend.”
“Mmm. I’m sorry I thought…” He retorted.
“That’s alright. We…I get that a lot.” I wanted to change the subject “You’re not an Arts History or an Archaeology student are you?” I raised an eyebrow.
“I am actually.” He brushed his hand at the back of his light brown hair.
“Oh?” I was dumb founded. He’s the team captain of our high school basketball team and there was no indication back then that he would be interested in this sort of thing. This is such a paradox between the arts and sports.
“Are you alright?” he put his hand on my shoulder as if to bring me back from my thoughts.
“Erm…yeah. You just don’t look like the type to…” I glanced at the wall clock just above us, “I’m going to be late. I have to go, “Catch you later…”
I walked away, not waiting for his answer. Unlike before where I hang on his every word, his every movement and every turn, I no longer want to stand being with him for his presence only reminded me of Drew and my conscience.
As I trudged to my next class, I noticed Michael still walking behind me.
I turned to stare at him, “What?”
“What? I’m going that way.” He pointed to the same lecture hall where I was going to.
“Professor de Montebello?” I speculatively asked.
“Yeah.” He amusedly answer, “Communication of Artistic Creativity.”
How did this all happen? I know I used to like him, well I sort of still do but I left San Francisco to try to forget my past. The thing is, no matter how I liked him, he’ll remind me of the life I had with Drew. How I discreetly followed him across the high school campus, always towing my best friend with me.
This leaves me no choice. I sat with him in the lecture hall, probably ‘til the rest of the semester.
The rest of the week was inevitably slow. My first week of surviving New York, I spent the night in my dorm room. I decided to spend it brushing up with my vocabulary. I need it mainly now that I’ve applied for the NYU press. I want to get the features writer position like the one I had in high school but I don’t think I’ll get it. They said freshmen don’t usually get in as a writer that fast. Maybe I can start as an assistant of some sort or as a messenger? That will do I guess. While most of the college students especially the freshmen (including my room mate Lori) chose to spend their first weekend at the NYU freshmen welcoming party, I sat alone in my room, which I have to admit is rather boring. Being alone reminds me of Drew more so what the heck am I doing here? I don’t know either. I got up, put on my sweater, jeans and boots. I grabbed my coat by the door and head off to the party.
The music was loud as I entered the hallway of the party. There were students lounging outside. I reached for my cell phone in my pocket to look at the time, it’s only 9:35 PM but they looked intoxicated already. I’m not sure if it’s the loud music, the alcohol, drugs, the smokes or something else.
So this is what a college party looks like? It’s pretty wild, compared to high school. Not that I regularly go to high school parties, but still.

~ by TM on July 2, 2009.

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