Lol, I've been working on this one too! Here's a little more.


Inside was the guitar she had looked at everyday on the way home from school. She had told
her dad about it, the wonderful black Fender Stratocaster she had wanted for so long. She sat
and stared at the guitar, touching its clean, black surface. She ran her fingers along the strings,
and a tear hit the shiny silver pic guard. She wiped her eyes, closed the case and let the tears
roll down her cheeks.
Noah pulled up 15 minutes later. Hilary didn’t get off the bench, she just sat there and
let him come to her. She was still stricken with panic, hate, and everything in between. Her own
mother, her flesh and blood, had stranded her in a parking lot.
Noah ran up and kissed her on the forehead and asked her if she was alright.
“I’m alright, considering the circumstances.” she said, trying to lighten the mood.
“You can stay at my house, okay? I can’t believe your mom...” he began, but Hilary
stopped him.
“Please, Noh, don’t talk about her. I don’t want to dwell on this anymore.” she said.
She closed her eyes and Noah grabbed her hand and held it tightly.
“Everything will be okay. If your mom comes back, she will never get a hold of you.
She can’t treat you this way. There has to be something we can do about this.” he said, already
scheming up a huge plan so her mother would lose custody of her.
“Noah, please. Stop talking about it. I don’t want to think about it anymore. Let’s just
get out of here. That crazy storeowner is going to call the cops on me I have been sitting here so
long.” Hilary said, laughing. Noah just looked at her, then grabbed her bag and the case.
“Please, let me carry that one.” she said, taking it out of his hand. “It’s really special.”
Noah led her to the car and threw her bag in the backseat. Within a half an hour they
were back home and Noah was making her something to eat.