Mandy: I stood, slowly taking in everything around me. The red postbox, the group of old ladies walking down the path, the band of teen vandals swearing and drinking in the shadows... And then... I saw him !! He was standing right accross the street from me, leaning over the bus timetable; I knew it off by heart, after all I had travelled on various buses throughout my childhood. He was tall and muscly. With a wisp of light blond, slightly curly blonde hair flouncing into his dark brown eyes.His eyes looked as if they held a mystery in them, so dark and rich with emotion. He was wearing an orange shirt and low-slung, navy blue jeans. In other words he WAS Mr.Handsome. Finally, he extracted his eyes of the post and looked toward me. I practically died, immediately I felt my cheeks redden to a highly unusual colour.This happened to me everytime when I was em barassed, people at school even called me Beetroot , I hated that. Slowly, I saw a smile cross his face. I sucked my breath in, what was he smiling about? Certainly not me. I was just a girl, probably a good few years younger than him anyway. He must have been about fifteen. I had long,wavy carrot-coloured hair (how ugly is that?) and freckles sprinkled all over my skin. He unclenched his clasped hand and gave me a little wave ...