swag school

“I wish I had done worse in high school”. Now how many times do you hear a person say that? Sure, everyone always says that they wish they had done better in school, but its very rare to see a person say they wish they had done worse. Well, my name in David Chesterfield and I can honestly sit here and tell you that I wish I had done worse.

Throughout my entire childhood, my parents always held this expectation that I was going to grow up and become a doctor just like my father and his father before him. I never really had a say in it. It was just imprinted in my mind at an early age that I was going to be a doctor. I went through school, took all the AP classes, and received first in my graduating class for GPA. Everything was going perfectly, or so I thought. I enrolled at Tufts University in the fall after I graduated and studied the medical practice. My parents were so happy that I was doing what they had always wanted me to do. But thats the thing, it was what they wanted me to do. I always had an interest in drawing. Whenever I didn't have my head in a book or was sitting in a lecture, I was drawing. I would come up with these abstract portraits of people and places that I had never seen before and bring them to life on a piece of paper. My teachers always used to tell me that I had a wide imagination and should see where my drawings could take me. But I was far too busy worrying about all my other classes to take my drawings seriously. Besides, my parents wouldn't have anything to do with me being an artist anyway, so it was a dumb idea. Or so I though.

During my first semester of freshman year I shared a dorm with this kid Kyle from Michigan. We were both pre-med and became good friends relatively quickly. One night we were both trying to study for our mid term when I accidentally took out the wrong notebook. The one I had taken out had all of my drawings and doodles inside of it. Kyle saw the notebook and asked if he could look through it. I thought little of it and handed him my notebook. He sat there and flipped through the pages, closely analyzing some of the drawings. He put the notebook back down on the table and just stared at me for a moment. “You really drew all of those? There amazing”. He said as I looked back at him in a somewhat puzzled manor. “ My dad owns an art studio out in Lancing, I bet he would love to have some of your art presented there. “ I told him that that was a crazy idea and all the drawings were just doodles I did to waste some time while I was bored in class(even though thats a false statement). Kyle then began to explain to me that people would potentially pay lots of money just to own one of my drawings. I still thought he was crazy, but I figured I had nothing to loose. So he sent his father one of my drawings.

About 2 weeks later I received a phone call from Kyle's dad. He too was in aw over my drawing and asked me if there was any way I could fly out to Lancing to meet with him about some potential business. I asked him what days would work best for him and he said that weekend would be the best. So I agreed to go out and see him. The only problem was that my parents would kill me if they found out I wasn't studying all weekend, let alone flying to Michigan to meet about drawing pictures. So I made up a little lie about how there was a convention on the brain and how it works out in Michigan and how our class was going down to take part in it. And somehow by the grace of god they believed it. I had Kyle go with me so the tension would be a little bit less since its his dad and all. We arrived at Kyle's house, or should I say mansion. I have never seen a house that big in my entire life. I think Kyle noticed that I was in shock because as we pulled up his mile long driveway he turned to me and said” just one of the perks of being a successful artist”.When we got to the front door his father was standing there waiting to greet us. He first gave Kyle a hug and asked him how things have been. Then he turned to me and with a huge smile on his face he said” and you must be David”. “ Yes sir thats me” I said nervously, trying not to sound like some stupid redneck from New Hampshire. “Well David its a pleasure to meet you”.

this is the first couple paragraphs from my short story. is it a good opening? how could i make it better?