Watch tv or write my novel?
i can't really choose right now. actually i can. i think i'll watch tv
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
On the Cusp
Right now I am literaly on the cusp of National Novel Writing Month. There are seven minutes until November, and eight until I can start writing. This is reallly just to fill time.
Knowing how I put together a plot (all very last minute... I pulled most of it together about an hour and a half ago) I'm wondering just how many people were sitting in the same boat. I procrastinated all October, thinking I had all the time in the world and then yesterday and today my sisters and I were excited and freaking out.
"Oh my god, one more day," took up about a third of my speech today. Every other thing I said had something to do with nanowrimo. I'm just so fracking excited.
Writing.
Writing.
WRITING!!!!!
I'm not going to waste all of my writing right now (can you believe that I'm subconsciously freaking out - four times I almost replaced words with their homophones) so I'll bid you adieu.
Knowing how I put together a plot (all very last minute... I pulled most of it together about an hour and a half ago) I'm wondering just how many people were sitting in the same boat. I procrastinated all October, thinking I had all the time in the world and then yesterday and today my sisters and I were excited and freaking out.
"Oh my god, one more day," took up about a third of my speech today. Every other thing I said had something to do with nanowrimo. I'm just so fracking excited.
Writing.
Writing.
WRITING!!!!!
I'm not going to waste all of my writing right now (can you believe that I'm subconsciously freaking out - four times I almost replaced words with their homophones) so I'll bid you adieu.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
There is only a little over a week before National Novel Writing Month. I have finally come up with an idea that would be doable. That's not to say that Angels and Antidepressants wasn't doable, but just that for the life of me, I couldn't figure out anything to write in the middle of the novel, and without a middle and with only two scenes, there is a very low chance of me getting to fifty thousand words.
So, as I sit here and sigh, I have to say that for NaNoWriMo, I'm writing a teen fiction novel. Sigh. Sigh. I mostly don't want to because I don't read teen fiction and have found that stories aren't very good and are very cliched in most stories. Reading only the blurbs on backs of novels in Chapter's Teen Fiction section has told me that much.
Ok, I lied, I have read teen fiction, but honestly, it was like four books. One was really bad. One was better, but not to my taste. The other two were really good, but only because they weren't the usual "oh my god who am I going to take to prom, I dare you to remake the loser so that she'll get popular but along the way you'll fall in love and she'll find out it was a bet and you'll get in trouble but by the end of the hideous story she'll forgive you and love you" books. The first one, Olivia, sort of was. The second one, The Bitch Posse, wasn't at all like that, but I didn't really like it because I think my friend suggested it because the main character cut herself and she was trying to send me a not-so-subtle message. The last two, Dancing Naked and The Lovely Bones, were both awesome. But that's all I've read.
So now I can move on with a clean conscience.
Touer has suggested many many times to write what I know. I used to take that as I should write my life, but I had nothing to write about. My life was one of those whiny teen ficiton books and I knew I couldn't write it without it sounding like one. Then I figured out that it meant I shouldn't try to write about ancient evil coming to life during an archaeological dig goes awry, because I don't have enough firsthand knowledge to make it believeable.
Because being a teenager is all I know about at this point in my life, I should probably stick to teenager stories. That isn't a problem because other than Bitemarks (which is about vampires, and I am not a vampire) I have been writing what I know.
So this next story I'm writing for National Novel Writing Month is about a girl, Vanessa who has a shitty last year of school. She starts off optimistic and with a clean slate (living with her grandma, new year of school, mostly new friends, one less emotionally draining boyfriend). But things start to go wrong, as one would expect them to in a book. Christian, the popular boy that Alicia, her friend likes, likes Vanessa and not Alicia. Nick, Vanessa's ex boyfriend comes back to upgrade his marks and wants to get back together with Vanessa. Vanessa finds out she has a half brother that both her parents knew about but didn't tell her about. Her grandma tells Vanessa she has cancer. Yeah, a lot of junk happens, and more has to happen.
This kind of fiction is always chock full of ideas. That's probably why both of my sisters are writing teen fiction for their NaNoWriMo novels. Laura's writing about her life and Caitlyn and I came up with a good plot for her.
I just hope I don't come off sounding like a wanker.
So, as I sit here and sigh, I have to say that for NaNoWriMo, I'm writing a teen fiction novel. Sigh. Sigh. I mostly don't want to because I don't read teen fiction and have found that stories aren't very good and are very cliched in most stories. Reading only the blurbs on backs of novels in Chapter's Teen Fiction section has told me that much.
Ok, I lied, I have read teen fiction, but honestly, it was like four books. One was really bad. One was better, but not to my taste. The other two were really good, but only because they weren't the usual "oh my god who am I going to take to prom, I dare you to remake the loser so that she'll get popular but along the way you'll fall in love and she'll find out it was a bet and you'll get in trouble but by the end of the hideous story she'll forgive you and love you" books. The first one, Olivia, sort of was. The second one, The Bitch Posse, wasn't at all like that, but I didn't really like it because I think my friend suggested it because the main character cut herself and she was trying to send me a not-so-subtle message. The last two, Dancing Naked and The Lovely Bones, were both awesome. But that's all I've read.
So now I can move on with a clean conscience.
Touer has suggested many many times to write what I know. I used to take that as I should write my life, but I had nothing to write about. My life was one of those whiny teen ficiton books and I knew I couldn't write it without it sounding like one. Then I figured out that it meant I shouldn't try to write about ancient evil coming to life during an archaeological dig goes awry, because I don't have enough firsthand knowledge to make it believeable.
Because being a teenager is all I know about at this point in my life, I should probably stick to teenager stories. That isn't a problem because other than Bitemarks (which is about vampires, and I am not a vampire) I have been writing what I know.
So this next story I'm writing for National Novel Writing Month is about a girl, Vanessa who has a shitty last year of school. She starts off optimistic and with a clean slate (living with her grandma, new year of school, mostly new friends, one less emotionally draining boyfriend). But things start to go wrong, as one would expect them to in a book. Christian, the popular boy that Alicia, her friend likes, likes Vanessa and not Alicia. Nick, Vanessa's ex boyfriend comes back to upgrade his marks and wants to get back together with Vanessa. Vanessa finds out she has a half brother that both her parents knew about but didn't tell her about. Her grandma tells Vanessa she has cancer. Yeah, a lot of junk happens, and more has to happen.
This kind of fiction is always chock full of ideas. That's probably why both of my sisters are writing teen fiction for their NaNoWriMo novels. Laura's writing about her life and Caitlyn and I came up with a good plot for her.
I just hope I don't come off sounding like a wanker.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Bitemarks
I have successfully completed fifteen of fifty chapters of my vampire novel, Bitemarks. Thank you, thank you. I know I rock.
Anyways....
I am so happy. I want to keep writing but tomorrow (or should I say later today) I have to go to breakfast with my step grandparents because they're in from BC for the first time in a long time. Maybe the secret someone will be there.
God, I hope so.
Anyways....
I am so happy. I want to keep writing but tomorrow (or should I say later today) I have to go to breakfast with my step grandparents because they're in from BC for the first time in a long time. Maybe the secret someone will be there.
God, I hope so.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
A Little While Later
I'm not trying to make up for six or so months worth of neglect by posting every hour. I am, however, bored.
Caitlyn didn't wake up so I did a runthrough of my flashcards and found I know about half of them. That's not to bad for a few hours of cramming. It's not too good, though, as I have to write a test an hour from now and I'm blogging instead of cramming.
I wrote a little more of my novel in the works. I'm quite pleased with it and I know that even with the impending headaches that will accompany National Novel Writing Month, I will not forget about my 44 and a half thousand word baby while I follow the rules and start over new to meet the 50k word mark. It'll be in my thoughts and in my dreams.
I know I talk about writing a lot, and most people who know me are either sick of hearing about how much I want to be a writer or are sick of me saying that I'm writing a novel and I won't let them read it, but I want to talk about it some more.
I have always wanted a structured outline - preferably something I could just print off the internet and insert character names and little tidbits of my own thoughts here and there - that would be the ideal because it would be so very easy. I scoured the internet for more hours than I wrote, sometimes, just looking for this thing that would make my life a breeze and let the control freak inside my brain take control.
I'm a contradiciton, I believe.
Creative and organized.
Touer says he can't write with an outline, says it boxes him in and stifles his creativity. I am just way to OCD to write without knowing what's going to happen in the next scene. I think it's because I've always needed that comfort of knowing what will happen next.
Like in life: I am spontaneous with my friends, but with my life, I like to be certain. I only took this Pharmacy Tech thing so I'd have a real income while I scribbled away in a notebook of ideas during breaks and at nights. And now I am paying the consequences of having learning come easy to me.
In high school I rarely studied and got average-good grades. That was with no effort. Most things came naturally to me, like English and Biology. Now I have to study up to thirty drug names in the course of two-three days (usually this means cramming the day of or night before the test) and do tests where I should actually care what the outcome is. But here's the problem: I am missing the gene that causes stress.
At least for academics, that is.
I think my brother got what should have been spread out over the five of us. Out of all of us, he is the most stressed, takes his schoolwork the most serious and is, unfortunately, a little high strung. The rest of us are mostly laid back.
I have the chronic inability to care about things.
For instance, when I was in Europe, I didn't really oooo and ahhh at the things I saw. Tammy did and I feel a little responsible for taking away some of the awe factor with my "crankiness" (I like to blame it on being a teenager, but I know the problem runs much, much deeper). I didn't care about Big Ben or the Vatican or anything in Venice, to be honest. The only time in Europe that I actually enjoyed was time spent in Paris. That could possibly be because it is the make-up capital of the world.
But whatevs... I've got issues. I should see a therapist, but until then, this near anonymous blog will do.
Caitlyn didn't wake up so I did a runthrough of my flashcards and found I know about half of them. That's not to bad for a few hours of cramming. It's not too good, though, as I have to write a test an hour from now and I'm blogging instead of cramming.
I wrote a little more of my novel in the works. I'm quite pleased with it and I know that even with the impending headaches that will accompany National Novel Writing Month, I will not forget about my 44 and a half thousand word baby while I follow the rules and start over new to meet the 50k word mark. It'll be in my thoughts and in my dreams.
I know I talk about writing a lot, and most people who know me are either sick of hearing about how much I want to be a writer or are sick of me saying that I'm writing a novel and I won't let them read it, but I want to talk about it some more.
I have always wanted a structured outline - preferably something I could just print off the internet and insert character names and little tidbits of my own thoughts here and there - that would be the ideal because it would be so very easy. I scoured the internet for more hours than I wrote, sometimes, just looking for this thing that would make my life a breeze and let the control freak inside my brain take control.
I'm a contradiciton, I believe.
Creative and organized.
Touer says he can't write with an outline, says it boxes him in and stifles his creativity. I am just way to OCD to write without knowing what's going to happen in the next scene. I think it's because I've always needed that comfort of knowing what will happen next.
Like in life: I am spontaneous with my friends, but with my life, I like to be certain. I only took this Pharmacy Tech thing so I'd have a real income while I scribbled away in a notebook of ideas during breaks and at nights. And now I am paying the consequences of having learning come easy to me.
In high school I rarely studied and got average-good grades. That was with no effort. Most things came naturally to me, like English and Biology. Now I have to study up to thirty drug names in the course of two-three days (usually this means cramming the day of or night before the test) and do tests where I should actually care what the outcome is. But here's the problem: I am missing the gene that causes stress.
At least for academics, that is.
I think my brother got what should have been spread out over the five of us. Out of all of us, he is the most stressed, takes his schoolwork the most serious and is, unfortunately, a little high strung. The rest of us are mostly laid back.
I have the chronic inability to care about things.
For instance, when I was in Europe, I didn't really oooo and ahhh at the things I saw. Tammy did and I feel a little responsible for taking away some of the awe factor with my "crankiness" (I like to blame it on being a teenager, but I know the problem runs much, much deeper). I didn't care about Big Ben or the Vatican or anything in Venice, to be honest. The only time in Europe that I actually enjoyed was time spent in Paris. That could possibly be because it is the make-up capital of the world.
But whatevs... I've got issues. I should see a therapist, but until then, this near anonymous blog will do.
A Long Long Long Time
As the title may suggest, I have been away from this blog for a long time. Long enough to have forgotten my password. I had to go through a slough of red tape to get back to this point. I was so close to just starting a new blog.
Anyways...
I've gradutated.
I'm in college. Well, sort of. It's part time college - one night a week and all day Saturday - but part time so that my days are filled with what? Nothing, that's what.
Oh, actually, I'm sort of writing a novel. And it's not the one I was complaining about not being able to write but wanting so badly to write in the last couple posts. It's one I wasn't even thinking about writing until Life is Easy was written. That went down the crapper, though.
Whatever. Life moves on.
So my literary career is in the works... and my carreer as a Pharmacy Technician is as well. I hate studying, though, because I have to remember tons and tons of drug names. I pity people studying to become pharmacists because I only have to remember three things (generic name, classification and brand name) whereas a pharmacist student would have to remember things about each drug. I just wouldn't be able to do it.
I'm supposed to wake my sister up now so she can help me cram for my test in three hours.
Wish me luck.
I'll probably be back with the scoop of the day when I'm done school, but for now, I'm off!
Anyways...
I've gradutated.
I'm in college. Well, sort of. It's part time college - one night a week and all day Saturday - but part time so that my days are filled with what? Nothing, that's what.
Oh, actually, I'm sort of writing a novel. And it's not the one I was complaining about not being able to write but wanting so badly to write in the last couple posts. It's one I wasn't even thinking about writing until Life is Easy was written. That went down the crapper, though.
Whatever. Life moves on.
So my literary career is in the works... and my carreer as a Pharmacy Technician is as well. I hate studying, though, because I have to remember tons and tons of drug names. I pity people studying to become pharmacists because I only have to remember three things (generic name, classification and brand name) whereas a pharmacist student would have to remember things about each drug. I just wouldn't be able to do it.
I'm supposed to wake my sister up now so she can help me cram for my test in three hours.
Wish me luck.
I'll probably be back with the scoop of the day when I'm done school, but for now, I'm off!
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Almost Grad
It's almost grad. There are 16 days, in fact.
I have my dress, it was altered. I figured out what I'm doing with my hair and nails. I have had my shoes for a long time. I just need to buy a necklace, a bracelet or two and something to hold my hair together (I don't think a regular ponytail will be acceptable). Other than that all I have to do is wait until grad and not gain any weight. The woman altering my dress took it in a lot and now I have to work double time with the working out to fit into it nicely. And I think I will.
I am such a girl.
And I made fun of Amber so much for announcing how much weight she's lost. It's always "yesterday I lost half of a half of a pound" or "last week I lost a pound". I don't care. Call me when you've lost 30.
I am happy to say I have lost 30 pounds since last summer. I know it isn't that much to lose in 10 & 1/2 months, but just being able to keep it off is enough for me. YAY I ROCK! Today was the first day that someone other and my friend (or her family) noticed.
But now I am being an Amber, so I will stifle myself and go on with something else.
I know I said before that I really want to write, and I do, but I just can't. I know how I want the story to go, but for some reason I am unable to start it until I have it all planned out. Touer thinks that's a bad way to do it, that you should let your characters guide the story through their decisions. He says he has an ending in mind and that's all he needs. I need structure. An outline. If I have that, then I can write a certain number of pages per day because I know what to do with each scene.
I love writing and I hate it at the same time.
I'm only 18 and I want to be the best writer ever, though I know it won't ever happen. I read Zadie Smith's books and I'm in awe. I'm also slightly depressed that I will never be as good. I'm only about as good as the authors I make fun of, which I know is hypocritical, but I suck.
I'm so sad about that. I want to write.
I am writing now, actually to be perfectly frank, but this doesn't county.
On a lighter note, I got a tattoo on April 28th. It's a rose and it's on my neck.
I have my dress, it was altered. I figured out what I'm doing with my hair and nails. I have had my shoes for a long time. I just need to buy a necklace, a bracelet or two and something to hold my hair together (I don't think a regular ponytail will be acceptable). Other than that all I have to do is wait until grad and not gain any weight. The woman altering my dress took it in a lot and now I have to work double time with the working out to fit into it nicely. And I think I will.
I am such a girl.
And I made fun of Amber so much for announcing how much weight she's lost. It's always "yesterday I lost half of a half of a pound" or "last week I lost a pound". I don't care. Call me when you've lost 30.
I am happy to say I have lost 30 pounds since last summer. I know it isn't that much to lose in 10 & 1/2 months, but just being able to keep it off is enough for me. YAY I ROCK! Today was the first day that someone other and my friend (or her family) noticed.
But now I am being an Amber, so I will stifle myself and go on with something else.
I know I said before that I really want to write, and I do, but I just can't. I know how I want the story to go, but for some reason I am unable to start it until I have it all planned out. Touer thinks that's a bad way to do it, that you should let your characters guide the story through their decisions. He says he has an ending in mind and that's all he needs. I need structure. An outline. If I have that, then I can write a certain number of pages per day because I know what to do with each scene.
I love writing and I hate it at the same time.
I'm only 18 and I want to be the best writer ever, though I know it won't ever happen. I read Zadie Smith's books and I'm in awe. I'm also slightly depressed that I will never be as good. I'm only about as good as the authors I make fun of, which I know is hypocritical, but I suck.
I'm so sad about that. I want to write.
I am writing now, actually to be perfectly frank, but this doesn't county.
On a lighter note, I got a tattoo on April 28th. It's a rose and it's on my neck.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Writer's Block
I have been trying for days now to write the storyline out for my novella (LIE) and it has been unsuccessful. I have to come to grips with the fact that maybe, just maybe I have a small case of writer's block.
I have no desire to edit JF, but I want to write LIE because if I don't write it soon, I don't know if I'll be able to accurately portray the main character. Mostly because I'm 18 now and the character is 18, but I am sure I'll start to forget what it was like to be 16 and 17 and the brief moments in the story when the main character is 12.
I want to write.
I wrote on my fiction blog. I know that will do nothing to stop this writer's block, but at least I'm writing. That's the way to keep the juices flowing, right? RIGHT?
Anyways...
I still haven't bought a lottery ticket and it's almost been two weeks since I was 18. Good news though, I got my ID and had a chance to use it on the weekend. I bought a bottle of vodka and a bottle of Captain Morgan's. Don't worry, it wasn't all for me. It was in part to bootleg for my younger siblings (who have already been drunk, so I'm not the bad influence. Besides, if I didn't get anything, my father or step mother probably would have anyway, and this was a way to stifle my slight agoraphobia.
Ooo, by the way my cousin got married on Saturday, so congrats Alex and way to go Eddie, welcome to the family. If I remember, the next time I'm in Sherwood Park, I'll upload the pictures we took on the digital camera. They probably won't be of Alex and Eddie, but they'll be of me and my sisters and brother in nice clothes. That's good enough, I think.
I have no desire to edit JF, but I want to write LIE because if I don't write it soon, I don't know if I'll be able to accurately portray the main character. Mostly because I'm 18 now and the character is 18, but I am sure I'll start to forget what it was like to be 16 and 17 and the brief moments in the story when the main character is 12.
I want to write.
I wrote on my fiction blog. I know that will do nothing to stop this writer's block, but at least I'm writing. That's the way to keep the juices flowing, right? RIGHT?
Anyways...
I still haven't bought a lottery ticket and it's almost been two weeks since I was 18. Good news though, I got my ID and had a chance to use it on the weekend. I bought a bottle of vodka and a bottle of Captain Morgan's. Don't worry, it wasn't all for me. It was in part to bootleg for my younger siblings (who have already been drunk, so I'm not the bad influence. Besides, if I didn't get anything, my father or step mother probably would have anyway, and this was a way to stifle my slight agoraphobia.
Ooo, by the way my cousin got married on Saturday, so congrats Alex and way to go Eddie, welcome to the family. If I remember, the next time I'm in Sherwood Park, I'll upload the pictures we took on the digital camera. They probably won't be of Alex and Eddie, but they'll be of me and my sisters and brother in nice clothes. That's good enough, I think.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
My Birthday; The Weekend
I realize it's been a while. I would be lying if I said that I was busy because I am never busy. I have no life. I just haven't gotten around to doing it, and not that writing on the blog is a chore, but I never seem to be near the computer and I never seem to want to write.
But now I do. So whoopee for anyone passing by this blog.
Anyways, a week ago I turned 18. HOORAY. Yeah, big whoop.
My ID is still in the mail and only one of my friends is 18 (and she has a baby so she's not exactly available to drink whenever she wants). It was not a big thing. I didn't have a party (that's in a couple weeks, and there IS a reason) and I didn't get any presents. I'm becoming an adult (though technically I've been a woman for six years now - ladies, you know what I mean).
There was a sense of loss on my birthday. For the entirety of my life, I had been under this blanket of childhood and if I did something wrong, I rarely had to face the consequences. Of course, just because I turned 18 doesn't mean I'm suddenly mature. That's been coming for a long time now. It sucks, being mature. I still have a ways to go.
Now about the weekend.
On Thursday, my mom and Derek offered to buy me some alcohol. I asked Laura (ha ha, oh Laura) and she suggested Kahlua. I thought I shouldn't ask for any of the hard liquor I've had so as to avoid suspicion, and I had heard that Kahlua was good. Turns out I don't like it. Turns out I can handle the taste of Royal Reserve (that's right, I said it) better than Kahlua. But I'm not here to slander.
On Friday, my mom bought a bottle of vodka and I was satisfied. That night, after 9 shots (from a shot glass that my 14 year old sister bought me in Mexico) I was drunk. It felt so weird, being drunk in front of my mother. Every other time I had had alcohol and she was in the vicinity, I had played it cool (and was believable if that sounds believable). But then again, I thought it was weird when Derek offered Touer a beer when they were watching football. Hmmm. Maybe I'm a prude.
Sunday was Easter and Laura and I made a fantastic dinner. It was sort of stressful at the beginning when I spilled the water the potatoes were soaking in all over the floor. Laura spilled the second pot of potato water. Then as the potatoes were cooking, they boiled over (though many, many years of being in the kitchen through holidays had taught me to expect something like it - it happened every time - I had not anticipated it. Perhaps I had thought it wouldn't happen to me.) and the stove was covered with water. This was, of course, just as we had to take the ham out of the oven.
But all in all, the dinner was good.
The turkey was moist.
The ham was scrumptious.
The potatoes - oh lord those potatoes - were fantastic.
I'm running out of synonyms off the top of my head. You get the picture.
I also saw "The Prestige" which was another one of those really really really really cause-you-to-repeat-a-word-so-many-times-you-just-wanna-barf kind of good movies. Tristan and Isolde. Lucky number Sleven.
So many good movies.
But I really like the smart ones with good acting, ones that are aesthetically pleasing (set and actors) and have a good story line. That's one thing I hate to see happen to good actors/great sets/etc. It's embarrassing as a fan of the written word that people can pump out crap and it does well. I hate it. I hate it.
But I love the movies above. They are awesome and they also make me sad. This is mostly because when I watch a movie like Lucky Number Sleven (not so much the other two since I don't really know about magic or the middle ages) and the story is so fracking good I know that I would never have been able to think of something anywhere close to it, let alone write something that good.
I know I just bashed bad writers, but I think I'm mediocre, so long live the mediocre writers. If you didn't have them, how would you be able to tell which are the really good writers? **Ahem**Zadie Smith**Ahem**
But now I do. So whoopee for anyone passing by this blog.
Anyways, a week ago I turned 18. HOORAY. Yeah, big whoop.
My ID is still in the mail and only one of my friends is 18 (and she has a baby so she's not exactly available to drink whenever she wants). It was not a big thing. I didn't have a party (that's in a couple weeks, and there IS a reason) and I didn't get any presents. I'm becoming an adult (though technically I've been a woman for six years now - ladies, you know what I mean).
There was a sense of loss on my birthday. For the entirety of my life, I had been under this blanket of childhood and if I did something wrong, I rarely had to face the consequences. Of course, just because I turned 18 doesn't mean I'm suddenly mature. That's been coming for a long time now. It sucks, being mature. I still have a ways to go.
Now about the weekend.
On Thursday, my mom and Derek offered to buy me some alcohol. I asked Laura (ha ha, oh Laura) and she suggested Kahlua. I thought I shouldn't ask for any of the hard liquor I've had so as to avoid suspicion, and I had heard that Kahlua was good. Turns out I don't like it. Turns out I can handle the taste of Royal Reserve (that's right, I said it) better than Kahlua. But I'm not here to slander.
On Friday, my mom bought a bottle of vodka and I was satisfied. That night, after 9 shots (from a shot glass that my 14 year old sister bought me in Mexico) I was drunk. It felt so weird, being drunk in front of my mother. Every other time I had had alcohol and she was in the vicinity, I had played it cool (and was believable if that sounds believable). But then again, I thought it was weird when Derek offered Touer a beer when they were watching football. Hmmm. Maybe I'm a prude.
Sunday was Easter and Laura and I made a fantastic dinner. It was sort of stressful at the beginning when I spilled the water the potatoes were soaking in all over the floor. Laura spilled the second pot of potato water. Then as the potatoes were cooking, they boiled over (though many, many years of being in the kitchen through holidays had taught me to expect something like it - it happened every time - I had not anticipated it. Perhaps I had thought it wouldn't happen to me.) and the stove was covered with water. This was, of course, just as we had to take the ham out of the oven.
But all in all, the dinner was good.
The turkey was moist.
The ham was scrumptious.
The potatoes - oh lord those potatoes - were fantastic.
I'm running out of synonyms off the top of my head. You get the picture.
I also saw "The Prestige" which was another one of those really really really really cause-you-to-repeat-a-word-so-many-times-you-just-wanna-barf kind of good movies. Tristan and Isolde. Lucky number Sleven.
So many good movies.
But I really like the smart ones with good acting, ones that are aesthetically pleasing (set and actors) and have a good story line. That's one thing I hate to see happen to good actors/great sets/etc. It's embarrassing as a fan of the written word that people can pump out crap and it does well. I hate it. I hate it.
But I love the movies above. They are awesome and they also make me sad. This is mostly because when I watch a movie like Lucky Number Sleven (not so much the other two since I don't really know about magic or the middle ages) and the story is so fracking good I know that I would never have been able to think of something anywhere close to it, let alone write something that good.
I know I just bashed bad writers, but I think I'm mediocre, so long live the mediocre writers. If you didn't have them, how would you be able to tell which are the really good writers? **Ahem**Zadie Smith**Ahem**
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Home Sick
I'm not homesick, as you may think, but home from school sick with the "idontwannagottochurchwithmyschool" pox. I don't like going to church with my school. I hate not being able to sit beside my friends. I hate that people talk and don't respect anything there. I hate taking the bus there and back, so I am playing hooky.
This is the second full day of school I missed in this semester, which is better than in grade nine or ten where I missed ten days per semester. It could just be that I am in grade 12 now and need to be at school for my classes in order to pass them. Maybe.... Probably.
So I am racking my brain trying to think of how to put together my story (right now the working title is either Life is Easy or Beachcombers - the first would be because the main character's sister is a "beautiful person" who has things easy, and the second title would be because the main character's cousin wants her cousins to help her scour the beach to look for seashells that she makes jewelery -- and her living -- from. Since I recently found out that The Beachcombers was a show {Gimme a break, I'm only 17! How could I possibly have known that?} I think I like Life is Easy.) and I'm having a real fun time. Yeah right. By the way, I know the stuff in brackets could have been its own sentence and probably shouldn't have gone on that long in brackets, but whatever. Get over it.
Anyways, I have a lot of ideas. It started off as just a teenage girl's whining about how the boy she likes doesn't like her back, but I think I've turned it into more. It has turned into an obsession story really, how Rachel is obsessed with Owen, and Leah is obsessed with fulfilling every minute want, and that kind of stuff. Rachel likes Owen. Leah likes boys. Carlee is innocent. Sabrina wants Elliot to propose but his family has a problem with her. Jerome and Rachel can't look at each other now that they've had sex. It's really a fun story in a kind of depressing way, especially the way it ends. Ooo, I don't know why, but in every story I write, someone has to die.
In the very first story I wrote (which I can't remember the name of), Donna's family was murdered.
In Waking Evil, Stephanie dies three times (sacrifice, sacrifice again, and finally exhaustion from being evil).
In Beautiful Blue, nobody died, but Kim's spirit and her trust for Catalan died.
In Distorted, the main character killed her family and boyfriend, then Salem killed the doctor that raped her.
In The Clone, Leigh died of a heart attack in her car.
In Just Flowers, Jen committed suicide.
But I guess the death wasn't always the inciting incident, so my stories are all different! Yay! In Life is Easy, Carlee is going to die. Sorry kids, but that is just how it is. I think I'm just at that point where the only way I know how to end a story is with someone dieing. That's not a bad thing, I guess, since death is the ultimate end. No coming back (except in Stephanie Raye's case, she was special though, brought back to life by her sort-of-boyfriend and father) from death.
So speaking of homesick (ha ha ha, I know I did it again!) I remember last week I was really homesick. Before I went to John's house where I saw my brother, I was feeling really sad and wanted to see someone I was related to, preferably in the form of one of my siblings. It is weird being one of five children because I tend to feel really sad sometimes, mostly after just spending a weekend or a holiday with them (Christmas was a bitch, I was surrounded by 8-10 people every waking hour for 4 days, then in Sherwood Park, I was around my sisters all day for the last week and a half. When I came back to Veg where there was only my grandma and uncle, neither of which I really talk to or hang out with, I was so almost culture shocked. Maybe it was social shock.). But yeah, anyways, after Kass dropped KC and I off and started on back to his home, I really wanted to hang out with him or Laura or Caitlyn. I hate feeling homesick, mostly because it's the closest thing to depression I've felt in a while. There was always that feeling in my gut that told me, "You're all alone, you're all alone."
Good news though. After I get home from Europe (YAYAYAYAY I am acutally going!) Caitlyn and I are sharing a room again, as long as Touer's staying with us. He's taking her room and she has to stay with me. We shared a room before and it was fun, so this'll be fun too. Hopefully. And what's even better is that when I live there for college, I will get to see my sisters every day! Yay!
So now more about Europe. I actually get to go. It seems like it's mostly going to be in Italy, which is cool, but I was kind of hoping for it to be in Ireland or England. But oh well. Maybe next time.
Laura, Caitlyn and I decided that when we all have enough money, we're going on a trip to Ireland. That's not for a long time, though seeing as I don't make nearly enough money to go anywhere out of province for longer than a week.
That was designated our "Sister's trip." One of the many things we plan on doing as sisters. Tattoos, trips, and whatever else.
Heh heh heh....
I'm going to Europe.
This is the second full day of school I missed in this semester, which is better than in grade nine or ten where I missed ten days per semester. It could just be that I am in grade 12 now and need to be at school for my classes in order to pass them. Maybe.... Probably.
So I am racking my brain trying to think of how to put together my story (right now the working title is either Life is Easy or Beachcombers - the first would be because the main character's sister is a "beautiful person" who has things easy, and the second title would be because the main character's cousin wants her cousins to help her scour the beach to look for seashells that she makes jewelery -- and her living -- from. Since I recently found out that The Beachcombers was a show {Gimme a break, I'm only 17! How could I possibly have known that?} I think I like Life is Easy.) and I'm having a real fun time. Yeah right. By the way, I know the stuff in brackets could have been its own sentence and probably shouldn't have gone on that long in brackets, but whatever. Get over it.
Anyways, I have a lot of ideas. It started off as just a teenage girl's whining about how the boy she likes doesn't like her back, but I think I've turned it into more. It has turned into an obsession story really, how Rachel is obsessed with Owen, and Leah is obsessed with fulfilling every minute want, and that kind of stuff. Rachel likes Owen. Leah likes boys. Carlee is innocent. Sabrina wants Elliot to propose but his family has a problem with her. Jerome and Rachel can't look at each other now that they've had sex. It's really a fun story in a kind of depressing way, especially the way it ends. Ooo, I don't know why, but in every story I write, someone has to die.
In the very first story I wrote (which I can't remember the name of), Donna's family was murdered.
In Waking Evil, Stephanie dies three times (sacrifice, sacrifice again, and finally exhaustion from being evil).
In Beautiful Blue, nobody died, but Kim's spirit and her trust for Catalan died.
In Distorted, the main character killed her family and boyfriend, then Salem killed the doctor that raped her.
In The Clone, Leigh died of a heart attack in her car.
In Just Flowers, Jen committed suicide.
But I guess the death wasn't always the inciting incident, so my stories are all different! Yay! In Life is Easy, Carlee is going to die. Sorry kids, but that is just how it is. I think I'm just at that point where the only way I know how to end a story is with someone dieing. That's not a bad thing, I guess, since death is the ultimate end. No coming back (except in Stephanie Raye's case, she was special though, brought back to life by her sort-of-boyfriend and father) from death.
So speaking of homesick (ha ha ha, I know I did it again!) I remember last week I was really homesick. Before I went to John's house where I saw my brother, I was feeling really sad and wanted to see someone I was related to, preferably in the form of one of my siblings. It is weird being one of five children because I tend to feel really sad sometimes, mostly after just spending a weekend or a holiday with them (Christmas was a bitch, I was surrounded by 8-10 people every waking hour for 4 days, then in Sherwood Park, I was around my sisters all day for the last week and a half. When I came back to Veg where there was only my grandma and uncle, neither of which I really talk to or hang out with, I was so almost culture shocked. Maybe it was social shock.). But yeah, anyways, after Kass dropped KC and I off and started on back to his home, I really wanted to hang out with him or Laura or Caitlyn. I hate feeling homesick, mostly because it's the closest thing to depression I've felt in a while. There was always that feeling in my gut that told me, "You're all alone, you're all alone."
Good news though. After I get home from Europe (YAYAYAYAY I am acutally going!) Caitlyn and I are sharing a room again, as long as Touer's staying with us. He's taking her room and she has to stay with me. We shared a room before and it was fun, so this'll be fun too. Hopefully. And what's even better is that when I live there for college, I will get to see my sisters every day! Yay!
So now more about Europe. I actually get to go. It seems like it's mostly going to be in Italy, which is cool, but I was kind of hoping for it to be in Ireland or England. But oh well. Maybe next time.
Laura, Caitlyn and I decided that when we all have enough money, we're going on a trip to Ireland. That's not for a long time, though seeing as I don't make nearly enough money to go anywhere out of province for longer than a week.
That was designated our "Sister's trip." One of the many things we plan on doing as sisters. Tattoos, trips, and whatever else.
Heh heh heh....
I'm going to Europe.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Your Heart is an Empty Room
I don't know why I put the title as a Death Cab song when I'm listening to Muse, but whatever. So the weekend was fun. Kass turned 17 and I got drunk. I met Kass' friend Colin (which makes me have a whole new view towards people named Colin - Janelle's Colin is kind of a whiner) who Caitlyn has a crush on.
I got to plan where I wanted to go in Europe this summer. It is looking like Italy. I kind of wanted to go to Ireland, and I told Tammy this, but she had her heart set on Italy. Since I'm not paying for any of it, I guess it's fair that she gets to choose. I have to tell her what I want to do in Italy. I have some work to do.
So spring break is in four days. My grandma is going to Saskatchewan for two and a half weeks, and I'm pretty much alone (I don't really count Michael, he doesn't really come down from the attic anyways). Laura and Caitlyn have both said they wanted to come down from Sherwood Park and stay here (Laura to see her friends and Caitlyn just to hang out here I guess) for a couple days. I'm planning to have a party, but I have to play it on the sly. Grama said she didn't want any drinking (sorry, but that's gonna happen whether or not she wants it to), drugs (as if any of us would anyways) or sex (I wouldn't want to be around anyone who's having sex... AHEM SUSAN AND CHRIS) in the lame way that adults do. I just have to find a way to trick Michael into not coming downstairs while we're all drinking.
Good news : I am getting over my cold. I figure it'll be a couple more days and I'll be healthy again. My throat is fixed. It's just the runny nose and coughing that are still bothering me. Being around all that smoke at John's house didn't help either, but I'll get over it. Oh my, and my no tobacco pledge! Kidding, I didn't smoke anything, so secondhand smoke doesn't count, does it? Nah.
More good news: I am very quickly coming up with storylines for my second novel. I know, I know, I haven't finished the first one completely, but there are many deciding factors. I have to be in Sherwood Park (and I know I won't be there for at least a week and a half), I have to print 109 pages (paper and ink become a problem here) and that's pretty much all. After I have it printed out, I think I can manage to revise and edit it, add all the new scenes I've been talking about and so on. I will make a timeline for myself to follow (for planning and then writing). Actually the writing is pretty easy. Once it's all separated into scenes, I just write one scene a day until it's finished. At least that's how I did JF and that was done in under two months. Of course, I did take a six month break between writing it and rewriting it. Oh well. That's just how I fly.
I will have to catch up on my homework during spring break. That blows. But whatever.
I got to plan where I wanted to go in Europe this summer. It is looking like Italy. I kind of wanted to go to Ireland, and I told Tammy this, but she had her heart set on Italy. Since I'm not paying for any of it, I guess it's fair that she gets to choose. I have to tell her what I want to do in Italy. I have some work to do.
So spring break is in four days. My grandma is going to Saskatchewan for two and a half weeks, and I'm pretty much alone (I don't really count Michael, he doesn't really come down from the attic anyways). Laura and Caitlyn have both said they wanted to come down from Sherwood Park and stay here (Laura to see her friends and Caitlyn just to hang out here I guess) for a couple days. I'm planning to have a party, but I have to play it on the sly. Grama said she didn't want any drinking (sorry, but that's gonna happen whether or not she wants it to), drugs (as if any of us would anyways) or sex (I wouldn't want to be around anyone who's having sex... AHEM SUSAN AND CHRIS) in the lame way that adults do. I just have to find a way to trick Michael into not coming downstairs while we're all drinking.
Good news : I am getting over my cold. I figure it'll be a couple more days and I'll be healthy again. My throat is fixed. It's just the runny nose and coughing that are still bothering me. Being around all that smoke at John's house didn't help either, but I'll get over it. Oh my, and my no tobacco pledge! Kidding, I didn't smoke anything, so secondhand smoke doesn't count, does it? Nah.
More good news: I am very quickly coming up with storylines for my second novel. I know, I know, I haven't finished the first one completely, but there are many deciding factors. I have to be in Sherwood Park (and I know I won't be there for at least a week and a half), I have to print 109 pages (paper and ink become a problem here) and that's pretty much all. After I have it printed out, I think I can manage to revise and edit it, add all the new scenes I've been talking about and so on. I will make a timeline for myself to follow (for planning and then writing). Actually the writing is pretty easy. Once it's all separated into scenes, I just write one scene a day until it's finished. At least that's how I did JF and that was done in under two months. Of course, I did take a six month break between writing it and rewriting it. Oh well. That's just how I fly.
I will have to catch up on my homework during spring break. That blows. But whatever.
Thursday, March 8, 2007
My Life as a Teenage Melodrama
I've decided to give up my story with no story line. I missed yesterday's writing and have fallen too far behind (yes even at this point). There wasn't any love in it, I wasn't psyched. I have to be psyched to write something I want to continue. I guess I didn't care and that's why I'm giving up so quickly. Plus the story was going nowhere.
On the upside I'm going to (probably, most likely) start planning my second novella type story, My Life as a Teenage Melodrama. This is merely the working title, and I don't read teen fiction so I don't know if there are any other books with the same title, though the story line will probably be somewhat the same as many teen fiction books. Hey, I've been taught to write what I know (though I don't always, especially with the second short story I wrote called Distorted, which was about a girl who killed her family and ended up in a mental hospital) and all I know, all I've experienced these 17 years and 11 months and 8 days is adolescence. What I can remember has taken place in my teenage years and as lame as it is, some of the things that have happened to me (mixed with my own imagination and the things I would want to say in situations I didn't say them in) could make for a mildly interesting story.
So anyways, the brief synopsis:
R (don't have any name yet, but the letter represents the name of the person I'm modeling the character after) and C have a friendship break up with K and the whole bitchy world of teenage girl revenge takes place. I hope it'll be more interesting than it sounds, but I am kind of psyched about this story. I couldn't sleep last night because I was thinking of things to write. Heh heh heh. I'll do that tonight or this weekend or something.
On the upside I'm going to (probably, most likely) start planning my second novella type story, My Life as a Teenage Melodrama. This is merely the working title, and I don't read teen fiction so I don't know if there are any other books with the same title, though the story line will probably be somewhat the same as many teen fiction books. Hey, I've been taught to write what I know (though I don't always, especially with the second short story I wrote called Distorted, which was about a girl who killed her family and ended up in a mental hospital) and all I know, all I've experienced these 17 years and 11 months and 8 days is adolescence. What I can remember has taken place in my teenage years and as lame as it is, some of the things that have happened to me (mixed with my own imagination and the things I would want to say in situations I didn't say them in) could make for a mildly interesting story.
So anyways, the brief synopsis:
R (don't have any name yet, but the letter represents the name of the person I'm modeling the character after) and C have a friendship break up with K and the whole bitchy world of teenage girl revenge takes place. I hope it'll be more interesting than it sounds, but I am kind of psyched about this story. I couldn't sleep last night because I was thinking of things to write. Heh heh heh. I'll do that tonight or this weekend or something.
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
My Pathetic Social Essay
I finished my essay, and boy do I suck. I think I am better at writing essays for English because at least that way there is no facts to remember or feel stupid for stumbling over or getting wrong. I hate social studies. I wish I was taking only English courses, but high school just ain't like that. And next year I am taking all science related courses. Humph!
Oh well, here is my sad attempt at a social essay.
Topic: To what extent should governments be formed through competition among political parties?
Running a nation is, by no means, a small task, nor is the decision of who should be ruling. The question of what system of leadership should be put into practice is one that many established nations have already answered. If the country in question is Canada or the United States, the answer would be democracy. If the country in question is Sweden, the answer would be socialism. If, however, a country is revamping the government, or even just starting out as a new, perhaps independent nation, it must find an answer. It has worked well in the past that democratic governments, that is to say, governments that are formed fully through competition among political parties, have faired well.
Everybody wants to have their opinion heard, and with a government with competing political parties, there is a better chance that more people will have their wants realized. A "majority rules" mentality is simple, true, but it has the interest of society (or at least the majority of society) in mind. For over a century, Canada has been the exemplar of working democracy. Rights and freedoms of Canadians have been protected over the years, and Canada has proven to be a nation capable of doing many great things. These great things are in part because of the government, a government that the people chose.
Having choice of government and freedoms in suffrage is not only good for people because it allows them to pick the candidate they feel will best represent them, but also because they feel as though they are part of the system, that they have a place in the nation and in the political process. Being given a leader, whether elected by a group of "higher ups" or someone self-elected, has shown to be a poor way to run a government in the past. Take for example, Nazi Germany. Hitler, through propaganda, scapegoating and scheming, was able to rise to power and rule the country, as well as a few others, as a dictator. That lasted just over a decade, which compared to the long standing life of democracy in North America, is nothing.
Democracy has flaws, as does every political system. It is naive and impossible to believe that every person can be completely satisfied with their government. The truth is that many people, sometimes the majority of people do not get exactly what they want, but some aspects of what they want are fulfilled. Having a choice in voting is good for people. Just as in gambling, there is a chance, if everything goes right, that you will win - that the political party you voted for will now become the government - and there is a chance you won't. Compared to a dictatorship or totalitarian government, democracy looks pretty good.
With many political parties to choose from, there is a better chance of people openly accepting the government. Democracy is the prime example of people choosing a leader. It is not every day you hear someone say, "I wish we lived under a dictatorship."
Oh well, here is my sad attempt at a social essay.
Democracy: An Example of Choice in the Political System
Topic: To what extent should governments be formed through competition among political parties?
Running a nation is, by no means, a small task, nor is the decision of who should be ruling. The question of what system of leadership should be put into practice is one that many established nations have already answered. If the country in question is Canada or the United States, the answer would be democracy. If the country in question is Sweden, the answer would be socialism. If, however, a country is revamping the government, or even just starting out as a new, perhaps independent nation, it must find an answer. It has worked well in the past that democratic governments, that is to say, governments that are formed fully through competition among political parties, have faired well.
Everybody wants to have their opinion heard, and with a government with competing political parties, there is a better chance that more people will have their wants realized. A "majority rules" mentality is simple, true, but it has the interest of society (or at least the majority of society) in mind. For over a century, Canada has been the exemplar of working democracy. Rights and freedoms of Canadians have been protected over the years, and Canada has proven to be a nation capable of doing many great things. These great things are in part because of the government, a government that the people chose.
Having choice of government and freedoms in suffrage is not only good for people because it allows them to pick the candidate they feel will best represent them, but also because they feel as though they are part of the system, that they have a place in the nation and in the political process. Being given a leader, whether elected by a group of "higher ups" or someone self-elected, has shown to be a poor way to run a government in the past. Take for example, Nazi Germany. Hitler, through propaganda, scapegoating and scheming, was able to rise to power and rule the country, as well as a few others, as a dictator. That lasted just over a decade, which compared to the long standing life of democracy in North America, is nothing.
Democracy has flaws, as does every political system. It is naive and impossible to believe that every person can be completely satisfied with their government. The truth is that many people, sometimes the majority of people do not get exactly what they want, but some aspects of what they want are fulfilled. Having a choice in voting is good for people. Just as in gambling, there is a chance, if everything goes right, that you will win - that the political party you voted for will now become the government - and there is a chance you won't. Compared to a dictatorship or totalitarian government, democracy looks pretty good.
With many political parties to choose from, there is a better chance of people openly accepting the government. Democracy is the prime example of people choosing a leader. It is not every day you hear someone say, "I wish we lived under a dictatorship."
An Hour's Work, New Novel 1.0
No title yet, just a little writing. I got a couple of ideas while I was writing (I guess that's how it works when you don't use an outline) and I hope they take me somewhere. I wrote for an hour, as the title of this entry may suggest and have no idea how many words. I don't have a word count on this computer (I'm forced to use Word Pad instead of the preferred Microsoft Word only because it isn't on this computer) and I'm not going to count each word individually. It's not the word count that counts for this, just that I write a lot and every day. So here it is.
Warning, this sucks so far, but whatever.
1.0
Amanda sat in the kitchen, the back door open to the cold of winter outside. The heater was working overtime but she didn't care. Leo was gone, that was all that mattered. He was all that mattered.
Two years ago, when he had asked, she had turned him down, explaining she had better things in life to do than to be married to a gossip magazine's photographer. He was good, she remembered. Both with photos and with her.
"It's not like he's dead, Amanda. Stop acting like he died. He lives three houses down. Just go see him," Rylee urged. She stood to close the door. "And stop leaving the door open. The pipes are gonna burst."
"You didn't know how bad it was, Rylee. I told him I didn't love him. If you'd seen the look on his face, you'd be just as sad."
"Wait a minute. You broke up with him?"
Amanda nodded solemnly.
"Then what the hell are you moping for?"
"I don't know. A week ago it seemed like a good idea - the only idea. I guess I just didn't know how much I needed him."
Rylee sighed. "Well you really messed up didn't you?"
"I guess."
"I don't know what you can do, I really don't. Maybe ask him to get back together with you. Would that work?" Rylee offered.
"No, he'd never take me. I rejected him twice. The first time he bounced back pretty well-"
"You mean when you said you wouldn't marry him?"
"Yes," Amanda growled. "But when we met up again at Christmas, he seemed so happy to see me. It was like it was meant to be."
"But you're the one who broke up with him."
"I'm aware."
"So you're just going to wait around until he comes crawling back? Or are you just waiting for Christmas or another national holiday to 'accidentally' bump into him at the grocery store?"
Amanda didn't answer. She watched a tiny fruit fly walking the perimeter of her cereal bowl.
"Sorry. That was harsh. But you need to move on."
"It's only been a week."
"Time's not gonna go any faster when you're sad. Here, help me with these boxes. I need to get them to my mom's house before she leaves."
Watching her friend leave for the garage, Amanda dressed herself in proper outerwear complete with mittens and a toque. She picked up a box and followed the deep impressions in the now to the open door of the garage. She found Rylee leaning in the trunk, moving things here and there to make room for the last box.
Rylee, seeing her friend's condition, knew she couldn't leave her alone. She invited her up to her parents' house for the night (as it would be dark before she got back if she chose to drive back, but both knew she wouldn't) and Amanda accepted with no expression.
"So what's in all the boxes?" Amanda asked, turning to face the objects she inquired about.
"Just some things my mom asked me to make. Doilies and mittens and scarves. My mom and dad go to craft fairs all over the province trying to sell off my handiwork. There are a couple of places that actually buy."
"So you spent, what, all winter making things for people to wear in the winter, but as soon as the first spring thaw comes, you sell them?"
"No, not usually. It just happened like that this year. Last year I worked all summer and fall to make a thousand scarves and pairs of gloves - do you believe it, a thousand! - and they sold pretty fast. This year I was busy all summer. Remember?"
"Yes, I remember you and your summer romance in Europe."
"You say that like it's so bad."
"Well you didn't even invite me," Amanda said sulkily.
Her friend smiled. "I can't help it if they only took one person. You put your name in there more times than I did."
"Not that it did anything. As far as I know, you seduced the Dean to let you go."
"I don't think the dean had any say in who got to go on the summer exchange program. Besides, I'm sure he had more important things to do."
"Sure, sure. Lie all you want. Everyone knows what happened," Amanda said, smiling.
As their laughter subsided, Rylee acknowledged her friend's new state. "See, things get better."
They drove on for an hour, until the sun had started its long descent into the horizon.
The town of Willows was old, as were many of the inhabitants. The entire place reeked of something long forgotten and Amanda loved it. She had grown up in the city where drugs flowed as easily as water from the dirty pipes of her shower. She loved this old place and everything in it.
Willows was the place that the McKinneys lived. Rylee's parents, Darius and Helena had lived there with their only daughter for eighteen years, and before Rylee was born, they had lived there six more. The home they had built was strong, a foundation upon which, Helena hoped, there would be more little McKinneys (if Rylee would keep her name, if Rylee ever got married).
When Rylee's car arrived, her mother was standing on the porch. She quickly put out a cigarette where the hand rail and the porch beam met, where other cigarette butts had met their end. She waved to her daughter and her daughter waved back.
"So you finally get to meet my folks. Nervous?" Rylee asked, unbuckling.
True, the two had been friends for nearly five years, but Darius and Helena had only heard about this girl 'Amanda'. Amanda had seen pictures and felt as though she knew them, had grown up with them.
"You must be Amanda," Helena said, taking her hand. Amanda could smell the smoke on her but it was pleasant. It suited her.
"I am."
"Oh, is that Rylee?" a male voice called from inside the house. They could hear him walking to the door, his black rubber boots stomping as he moved. "Hey, it is! And who is this?"
"I'm Amanda."
"Oh, the infamous Amanda."
She smiled, trying to hide that she was uncomfortable. Seeing this, Rylee stepped in.
"Why don't you guys come help me get these boxes in. Oh, is it alright if Amanda stays the night here? I thought it'd be cool for you all to finally meet."
"Sure, sure. Of course it is." Darius took his daughter's friend by the elbow and led her to the house. "I'll show you Rylee's room. I guess now it's the spare bedroom now."
Up the stairs (impressive, wide, family stairs) and down the hall to the right past pictures of stern faced men and strong faced women. Black and white photos of women sitting, holding their children while their husbands stood behind them lined the walls. It was as if every picture was the same, and Amanda made a note to come back out while everyone else was sleeping to look at them.
"So you don't have anything better to do than stay with an old couple on a Friday night?"
"Yeah. I guess. My social life is kind of messed up right now."
"Hmmm. I might know a few people. Maybe you and Rylee would like to go to the bar and meet up with some of her friends from high school. A lot of them still live in town."
"That sounds cool."
"Great."
Rylee entered. "I hope he's not boring you."
"No, actually," Amanda said, surprised. Maybe this was exactly what she needed. "Your dad-"
"Please, call me Darius," Darius interrupted.
"Okay," Amanda started slowly, hesitant to call somebody's parent by their first name. "Darius was saying there was a bar around here. Maybe some of your friends are still around. I think it'd be pretty cool to meet the people you grew up with."
Rylee's smile faded. "I don't think so. I have a lot of work to do."
Amanda furrowed her brow. "Why not?"
"You're welcome to go on your own, I just have a lot to do. I have to sort all the scarves and mittens into pairs and sets, and there's even more to do after that. I just don't have the time," she said, leaving.
Amanda looked at Darius who looked back. "What's with her?"
"I don't know," she answered.
An hour later, when all the boxes had been carried in and Rylee had been sorting for a while, Amanda felt it was the right time to bring up getting out of the house again.
"Hey, you hungry?" she asked her friend who had been consumed by a pile of crocheted hats and matching gloves.
"Yeah, kind of."
"Let's go get something to eat then."
"Can't we just make something?"
Amanda knelt next to her. She thumbed one of Rylee's scarves and asked, "Why don't you want to see any of your friends?"
"I'm gonna start supper," she answered, alluding the question.
"Please, tell me."
"No. There isn't a reason, so there's nothing to tell."
Rylee exited to the kitchen, leaving Amanda in a room filled with boxes and knitwear.
Warning, this sucks so far, but whatever.
1.0
Amanda sat in the kitchen, the back door open to the cold of winter outside. The heater was working overtime but she didn't care. Leo was gone, that was all that mattered. He was all that mattered.
Two years ago, when he had asked, she had turned him down, explaining she had better things in life to do than to be married to a gossip magazine's photographer. He was good, she remembered. Both with photos and with her.
"It's not like he's dead, Amanda. Stop acting like he died. He lives three houses down. Just go see him," Rylee urged. She stood to close the door. "And stop leaving the door open. The pipes are gonna burst."
"You didn't know how bad it was, Rylee. I told him I didn't love him. If you'd seen the look on his face, you'd be just as sad."
"Wait a minute. You broke up with him?"
Amanda nodded solemnly.
"Then what the hell are you moping for?"
"I don't know. A week ago it seemed like a good idea - the only idea. I guess I just didn't know how much I needed him."
Rylee sighed. "Well you really messed up didn't you?"
"I guess."
"I don't know what you can do, I really don't. Maybe ask him to get back together with you. Would that work?" Rylee offered.
"No, he'd never take me. I rejected him twice. The first time he bounced back pretty well-"
"You mean when you said you wouldn't marry him?"
"Yes," Amanda growled. "But when we met up again at Christmas, he seemed so happy to see me. It was like it was meant to be."
"But you're the one who broke up with him."
"I'm aware."
"So you're just going to wait around until he comes crawling back? Or are you just waiting for Christmas or another national holiday to 'accidentally' bump into him at the grocery store?"
Amanda didn't answer. She watched a tiny fruit fly walking the perimeter of her cereal bowl.
"Sorry. That was harsh. But you need to move on."
"It's only been a week."
"Time's not gonna go any faster when you're sad. Here, help me with these boxes. I need to get them to my mom's house before she leaves."
Watching her friend leave for the garage, Amanda dressed herself in proper outerwear complete with mittens and a toque. She picked up a box and followed the deep impressions in the now to the open door of the garage. She found Rylee leaning in the trunk, moving things here and there to make room for the last box.
Rylee, seeing her friend's condition, knew she couldn't leave her alone. She invited her up to her parents' house for the night (as it would be dark before she got back if she chose to drive back, but both knew she wouldn't) and Amanda accepted with no expression.
"So what's in all the boxes?" Amanda asked, turning to face the objects she inquired about.
"Just some things my mom asked me to make. Doilies and mittens and scarves. My mom and dad go to craft fairs all over the province trying to sell off my handiwork. There are a couple of places that actually buy."
"So you spent, what, all winter making things for people to wear in the winter, but as soon as the first spring thaw comes, you sell them?"
"No, not usually. It just happened like that this year. Last year I worked all summer and fall to make a thousand scarves and pairs of gloves - do you believe it, a thousand! - and they sold pretty fast. This year I was busy all summer. Remember?"
"Yes, I remember you and your summer romance in Europe."
"You say that like it's so bad."
"Well you didn't even invite me," Amanda said sulkily.
Her friend smiled. "I can't help it if they only took one person. You put your name in there more times than I did."
"Not that it did anything. As far as I know, you seduced the Dean to let you go."
"I don't think the dean had any say in who got to go on the summer exchange program. Besides, I'm sure he had more important things to do."
"Sure, sure. Lie all you want. Everyone knows what happened," Amanda said, smiling.
As their laughter subsided, Rylee acknowledged her friend's new state. "See, things get better."
They drove on for an hour, until the sun had started its long descent into the horizon.
The town of Willows was old, as were many of the inhabitants. The entire place reeked of something long forgotten and Amanda loved it. She had grown up in the city where drugs flowed as easily as water from the dirty pipes of her shower. She loved this old place and everything in it.
Willows was the place that the McKinneys lived. Rylee's parents, Darius and Helena had lived there with their only daughter for eighteen years, and before Rylee was born, they had lived there six more. The home they had built was strong, a foundation upon which, Helena hoped, there would be more little McKinneys (if Rylee would keep her name, if Rylee ever got married).
When Rylee's car arrived, her mother was standing on the porch. She quickly put out a cigarette where the hand rail and the porch beam met, where other cigarette butts had met their end. She waved to her daughter and her daughter waved back.
"So you finally get to meet my folks. Nervous?" Rylee asked, unbuckling.
True, the two had been friends for nearly five years, but Darius and Helena had only heard about this girl 'Amanda'. Amanda had seen pictures and felt as though she knew them, had grown up with them.
"You must be Amanda," Helena said, taking her hand. Amanda could smell the smoke on her but it was pleasant. It suited her.
"I am."
"Oh, is that Rylee?" a male voice called from inside the house. They could hear him walking to the door, his black rubber boots stomping as he moved. "Hey, it is! And who is this?"
"I'm Amanda."
"Oh, the infamous Amanda."
She smiled, trying to hide that she was uncomfortable. Seeing this, Rylee stepped in.
"Why don't you guys come help me get these boxes in. Oh, is it alright if Amanda stays the night here? I thought it'd be cool for you all to finally meet."
"Sure, sure. Of course it is." Darius took his daughter's friend by the elbow and led her to the house. "I'll show you Rylee's room. I guess now it's the spare bedroom now."
Up the stairs (impressive, wide, family stairs) and down the hall to the right past pictures of stern faced men and strong faced women. Black and white photos of women sitting, holding their children while their husbands stood behind them lined the walls. It was as if every picture was the same, and Amanda made a note to come back out while everyone else was sleeping to look at them.
"So you don't have anything better to do than stay with an old couple on a Friday night?"
"Yeah. I guess. My social life is kind of messed up right now."
"Hmmm. I might know a few people. Maybe you and Rylee would like to go to the bar and meet up with some of her friends from high school. A lot of them still live in town."
"That sounds cool."
"Great."
Rylee entered. "I hope he's not boring you."
"No, actually," Amanda said, surprised. Maybe this was exactly what she needed. "Your dad-"
"Please, call me Darius," Darius interrupted.
"Okay," Amanda started slowly, hesitant to call somebody's parent by their first name. "Darius was saying there was a bar around here. Maybe some of your friends are still around. I think it'd be pretty cool to meet the people you grew up with."
Rylee's smile faded. "I don't think so. I have a lot of work to do."
Amanda furrowed her brow. "Why not?"
"You're welcome to go on your own, I just have a lot to do. I have to sort all the scarves and mittens into pairs and sets, and there's even more to do after that. I just don't have the time," she said, leaving.
Amanda looked at Darius who looked back. "What's with her?"
"I don't know," she answered.
An hour later, when all the boxes had been carried in and Rylee had been sorting for a while, Amanda felt it was the right time to bring up getting out of the house again.
"Hey, you hungry?" she asked her friend who had been consumed by a pile of crocheted hats and matching gloves.
"Yeah, kind of."
"Let's go get something to eat then."
"Can't we just make something?"
Amanda knelt next to her. She thumbed one of Rylee's scarves and asked, "Why don't you want to see any of your friends?"
"I'm gonna start supper," she answered, alluding the question.
"Please, tell me."
"No. There isn't a reason, so there's nothing to tell."
Rylee exited to the kitchen, leaving Amanda in a room filled with boxes and knitwear.
My New Novel
Since I've finished the write up of JF, I have had a lot of extra time, most of which I spend watching TV. As much as I love TV, and we all know I do, I feel it a waste of time to spend days (if I count up all the hours I spend watching TV in a week, it can work out to be something like a day and a half) watching television. I know I could be outside with the fresh air and birdies, but if you don't live in central Alberta, then you don't know it is cold and snowy with interludes of warm snaps that end up melting the snow but freezing it all back overnight.
I have decided to write.
No, not my next novel, for I wish to plan that one, plan it until I have nothing left. I want it to be better because it is closer to my actual life than JF, though I love JF just the same. I'm going to do a condensed version of National Novel Writing Month. From today until March 22 (the day before spring break) I will do my best to write, as they say, quantity rather than quality. But moreover, I hope to write something coherent, even if dull or melodramatic or fantastical.
Who knows what will happen? JF started out as a test novel and now it is the first novel length story I've ever written, even if it can only be counted as a Sweet Valley High length novel. I'm so happy!
I have decided to write.
No, not my next novel, for I wish to plan that one, plan it until I have nothing left. I want it to be better because it is closer to my actual life than JF, though I love JF just the same. I'm going to do a condensed version of National Novel Writing Month. From today until March 22 (the day before spring break) I will do my best to write, as they say, quantity rather than quality. But moreover, I hope to write something coherent, even if dull or melodramatic or fantastical.
Who knows what will happen? JF started out as a test novel and now it is the first novel length story I've ever written, even if it can only be counted as a Sweet Valley High length novel. I'm so happy!
Sunday, March 4, 2007
Don't Wake Me, I Plan on Sleeping In
I tried to study for Bio, but I just can't handle that much information all at once. This is my break (approximately an hour) and then I'll study until I go to sleep. Yipes!
Anyways, good weekend.
Susan, Hayden and KC came over. Susan, KC and I got drunk off shots of Royal Reserve and pineapple flavoured Malibu mixed with pineapple slurpees. I slept on the floor and it was uncomfortable. I didn't do my laundry.
I've thought about planning my second novel. I remember planning the first one was hard, but I had a book to help me through the process. I think this time I'm gonna fly solo. Maybe after this week of tests I'll do some on the weekend. Probably not though... I might just be playing the Sims 2 (once I get the Seasons expansion pack) the whole time. Lordie, I'm a loser.
Ah well... people still love me.
I'll get on with life.
Anyways, good weekend.
Susan, Hayden and KC came over. Susan, KC and I got drunk off shots of Royal Reserve and pineapple flavoured Malibu mixed with pineapple slurpees. I slept on the floor and it was uncomfortable. I didn't do my laundry.
I've thought about planning my second novel. I remember planning the first one was hard, but I had a book to help me through the process. I think this time I'm gonna fly solo. Maybe after this week of tests I'll do some on the weekend. Probably not though... I might just be playing the Sims 2 (once I get the Seasons expansion pack) the whole time. Lordie, I'm a loser.
Ah well... people still love me.
I'll get on with life.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
When I See You, I Really See You Upside Down
My password is twenty-two letters long. It gets annoying after a while when I want to sign in quickly and write a brief post and have to type forever to get my password in. Just jokes, I don't really mind it and if I did, I wouldn't be able to complain, seeing as I made the password to begin with.
So really, I have nothing to write.
I am done with the JF until I go home in a couple weeks. I should take some time off anyways as not seeing it for a while can help me be a little more objective when re-rewriting.
This weekend is a crucial one. If I have a secret drinking party with my friends, then I might fail all the tests I have next week. On the other hand, who cares?
Heh heh heh.
So really, I have nothing to write.
I am done with the JF until I go home in a couple weeks. I should take some time off anyways as not seeing it for a while can help me be a little more objective when re-rewriting.
This weekend is a crucial one. If I have a secret drinking party with my friends, then I might fail all the tests I have next week. On the other hand, who cares?
Heh heh heh.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Hello, I'm Neurotic
That's my story everyone. I'm done the type up (I've decided this is a type up instead of a second draft) of the first draft. Once I print it all, I can start editing it and adding more stuff. I know I say this all every time, but I am just so effing excited! YAY I'm one step closer to my dream! Hooray!
Celebration: this weekend, party with my buds.
Will do.
Celebration: this weekend, party with my buds.
Will do.
Just Flowers Chapter 16 & 17
Chapter 16
Will finished his shower and walked out of the humid bathroom. Bryn avoided him, waiting in the doorway of her bedroom. Once she was sure he was gone, she could focus.
I'm gonna make him wish he never touched her. She wiped an arc of steam from the mirror and breathed slowly. This was it.
She undressed and showered, scrubbing her skin pink, cleansing herself of all inhibitions. What she was about to do was for Jen, but it would be dangerous. If everyone acted as she supposed they would, Bryn figured that all the pieces would fall just as she wanted them.
The primping began. She blow dried her hair, then curled it and pulled it back with bobby pins and an oversized hair clip. She put on eyeshadow that sparkled when she moved her eyes, and liner to make them look bigger. She finished with a sheer lip gloss and deemed herself pretty damn good looking.
As she entered the bedroom, she noticed Ellie getting ready too. She smoothed the material of her dress over her stomach and hips.
"Looks nice," Bryn said, smiling apologetically.
"I don't care what you think."
"Fine."
"You're still going with Connor, right? I don't want Lucas to feel sorry for you and ask you to dance."
"I told you I don't even like him."
"Again, lies."
"You must be pretty insecure with yourself."
"Screw you."
"No, I'm serious. If you can't believe your boyfriend isn't cheating on you, you've got issues." Bryn could see her sister's cheeks burn.
"You're hair looks like shit by the way," Ellie said, pushing past her as she stormed to the bathroom.
Bryn closed the door, dropped the towel and clothed herself in the dress she had been waiting to wear all year.
"Why am I wasting it on Connor? Why can't I be going with someone like... Will?"
"Knock, knock," Will said, pushing the door open to peek his head in. "Hey."
"Oh, hey."
"You look nice."
"Thanks."
"Beautiful actually."
"Okay, um, what did you want?"
"Oh, right. Well I'm heading out now, so I just came to say goodbye... again."
Bryn was drawn to him. "Will you be back for Christmas break?"
"Won't you be at college somewhere?"
"I'm coming home for Christmas."
"I dunno."
"Okay."
"I'll call."
"You don't have to."
"No, really." He pushed his hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. "Got a pen?"
"Will, you don't have-"
"Can you just let me do this?" he snapped, taking the pencil she held in her hand. "Now, here's the number where I'll be staying. And the address. Call. Or write. Or don't. It's up to you now," he continued, softening his tone. "So.. I'll hear from you maybe. If not, I'll know you're happy somewhere."
He handed Bryn the paper and leaned in, kissing the corner of her mouth, then turned and walked away.
Bryn's instinct was to follow him, to kiss him like she meant it, because she knew she would mean it, but she remained where she was, knowing there were bigger things she had to do.
She heard the front door close and his car drive away. She went back to her room and sat on the bed, clutching Jen's notebook in her arms. She didn't notice her sister come in.
"What's with that fucking notebook anyways? Is it your diary?"
Bryn forgot the words as quickly as she heard them and continued to stare at nothing.
Ellie walked toward her. "Seriously. What's your problem."
"Leave me alone Ellie," she said, morose.
"Why should I do what you say? You didn't stop with Lucas-"
"I never did anything!" Bryn screamed, looking at her now enraged sister. "Lucas and I were never even within close enough distance of each other to kiss or anything else. Why don't you just believe me?"
"What about that night you and mom had that fight and you spent the night with Will? He said you kissed him then."
Damn.
"He's lying," Bryn answered automatically.
"I think you're lying."
"I can't believe we keep having this fight, Ellie. I mean, shit! I've said the same thing like a hundred times and you keep insisting I'm the one to blame."
"Gimme that then," Ellie said, nodding at the notebook
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because it's not yours."
"Or is it because it's your journal and you wrote about Lucas in there?"
"That's ridiculous." Bryn said, but before she could finish 'ridiculous,' Ellie had snatched it from her hands and jumped away.
"Fuck you Ellie, give it back!"
"After I find the point about you and Lucas." Ellie jumped and dodged to avoid her sister as she whipped each page out of the way of the next, looking for her boyfriend's name.
Bryn managed to get a hold of the book and held on tight. "Let go!" she yelled.
"You let go!"
"It's my fucking book!"
"Yeah, that you wrote-"
The sound of paper ripping froze the two girls and for a moment, nobody moved, reviewing what had happened. Ellie's face turned particularly nasty and she had three or four of the handwritten pages.
"Keep 'em," she said in the most horrid way possible, and tore the sheets in half and in half again.
Bryn watched, absolutely horrified as, like snowflakes, the pieces sprinkled to the ground. She dropped the book and punched her sister square in the nose, screaming, "That was Jen's book you fucking bitch!"
Ellie fell backwards, nose bleeding as Bryn dropped her offense and dove for the shreds of precious paper she'd kept sacred all this time.
Ellie was crying, and as their mother entered the room yelling ("What's going on?"), Ellie coughed up some blood that had dripped into the back of her throat.
"What the hell did you do?"
Bryn was in a daze. The others in the room became fuzzy and sounds became dull and as much as she felt like crying, she couldn't. She heaved, wanting to throw up, but fell forward onto the floor as her sister screamed about her nose being broken.
On the couch forty minutes later, Bryn woke up. Above her, she could see her mother, Connor and Lucas.
"She's awake, thank God," Angelica said, getting up.
"Too bad," Ellie replied from the kitchen, a face cloth damp with blood and water pressed to her nose.
"You can take that off your face, Ellie. Your nose stopped bleeding ten minutes ago."
"Do you think we can still go to the dance, Mrs. Halleson?" Lucas asked intrepidly, looking sharply from Ellie to Bryn.
"I don't know. I'm not sure either of my daughters really deserve to go." Angelica paced the length of the couch.
"We got all dressed up, Mom. It's not fair," Ellie whined.
Her mother cocked her head in thought. "What do you suppose I do, Ellie?"
"Make Bryn stay home. I didn't even do anything!"
"Liar," Bryn said, sitting up slowly. She pushed the heels of her palms into her temples. Her entire head pulsed.
"I don't care who started it. From what I saw, both of you deserve to be punished."
"But I have to go," Bryn said abruptly. Her mother looked at her. "I mean... this is the last big dance before I graduate."
"What about prom?" Ellie mumbled to herself.
"That's actually after prom, Ellie," Lucas chimed. The look she returned was red hot. He backed off.
Angelica tapped her foot. "I've decided to let you go-"
Everyone but Bryn cheered.
"But," Angelica continued, "you both have to be home by eleven. Tomorrow we can sort out the punishments for you two."
"Eleven?" Ellie asked. "How 'bout midnight?"
"How about ten thirty?"
"But the really good songs don't get played until after midnight."
"Ten."
"What? No!"
"You want to keep talking, you're gonna owe me time. Now go before I change my mind."
Ellie and Lucas left first, though she had to wash her face again to clean the blood off and redo her makeup. Bryn and Connor followed.
"So other than the sister beating and passing out, how was your day?" Connor asked, turning to her from time to time as they drove to the school
"Will left."
"I never really liked him. I mean, he never approved of me. Almost got Jen to break up with me once."
"Oh."
"Yeah. But that was a long time ago."
"I know."
The dance had started and the student parking was almost full. Lucas found a spot near the doors (by fluke of course, a girl was sick with food allergies and had to be rushed to the hospital and the people who took her left a vacant spot) and Connor parked in the place farthest from Lucas.\
Shit. I wonder if Lucas knows where we parked.
"Come on," Conner said, opening the door, holding out his hand. He pulled her arm and she cried out in pain. He immediately tended to her. "What, what's wrong?"
Bryn took her hand back and held it. "My hand. It's the one I... hit Ellie with. It still kinda hurts."
"Oh, sorry."
"Let's just get in there."
The gym was packed and the air was hot from everyone's constant breathing. Connor led her to the center of the dance floor and pulled her close, moving their bodies in sync with each other. Bryn held back a gag as his hand slipped down her back to the top of her bottom. She kept a close eye on the clock on the west facing wall and finally it came upon a quarter to nine.
They were slow dancing to a song Bryn hadn't heard of and she brought her lips in close to his ear and whispered, "Wanna get some air?"
Connor nodded and followed her out to the parking lot.
"Some party, huh?" he stated rather than asked.
"Do you have your car keys?"
Connor's eyes lit up, surprised. "Yeah."
"Let's go."
They sat down in the car, both staring forward, quietly, timidly. It was easy to pretend to seduce him with tons of bodies around her, even out in the open, but it was something about being closed in a car - the car - with him that made her shiver.
"Why were you and Ellie fighting anyways?"
"Some girl thing."
"What kind?" he persisted, taking the opportunity to show his sleuthlike abilities. He inched closer disguising it as readjusting himself.
"The kind where one is insanely jealous of the other."
"Oh-kay."
"Connor, there's something I've been wanting to ask you about, but I just never found the right time."
"Okay, shoot."
"Did you even love Jen at all?"
"Why do you ask?"
"I guess I just wanted to know."
"Because she was your best friend?"
"That... and also because she told me something before she died."
Connor tensed at her words but tried to remain aloof. "Like what?"
"She told me that you tried something with her. Is that true?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You must know something."
"I can't honestly say that I do."
"I think you do," she said, looking at him knowingly.
He read her face clearly, but kept with his plea of innocence. "No, God no. I wouldn't do anything she didn't want. I loved her."
"But were you in love?"
"That's hard to say."
"Why so? I should think it would be easy to distinguish whether or not you were in love."
"I guess maybe then. You know how I feel about teenage love."
"But you said you love me."
"Yeah"
"Are you in love with me?"
"I think so."
"So you'll treat me like you did Jen?"
"What're you getting at?"
"If you were in love with her why did you hurt her?"
"Wha-what do you mean?" he asked, swallowing hard.
"You fucked her."
"Shut up."
"You raped her."
"Stop it."
"You got her pregnant and didn't think twice about it, didn't you?"
"No!"
"Didn't you?" she screamed.
"NO!"
"Liar!"
"Fine! You wanna know? I'll tell you. We did have sex but she wanted it too."
"Why was she crying? Why did she fight back?"
"How do you know?"
"That's what people do when they're being raped!"
"Stop fucking saying that!" Connor yelled, hitting his hands on the dash. He was falling right into her trap. But time was running out. It was almost already ten to nine and he hadn't attacked her yet. She needed something big.
"She killed herself because of you, you know."
"No she didn't."
"Yes she did. She took one pill for every minute she thought about killing herself when she was with you." Bryn's throat was dry and as she spoke, and every word stuck in it. She watched Connor brewing over the what she had just said, watched his grip tighten on the steering wheel. His jaw locked.
Bingo.
"It's true," she whispered, close to his ear, but as quickly as she had spoken, she was cut off. Connor held onto her throat with one hand and pushed her back into the seat. He switched hands so his right could undo his belt.
"You wanna fuckin' know what happened that night?"
Bryn gasped, clawing as best she could at his arm and face. She jerked violently back and forth as Connor grabbed a hold of her hand and bent the fingers back.
She reeled in pain and in falling to the side, hit Connor's uncovered eye.
I can't go through with this, not if it means being raped. I have to get out.
Bryn slid backwards to the door and fumbled to unlock it. Just as it seemed as if she had it, Connor grabbed her legs and pulled them around himself. He pushed her shoulders down and looked her in the face.
"She tried to fight back too, you were right."
He smacked his face into hers, kissing her hard. She moved her head back and forth but he held a suction on her mouth that she could not remove. Her first instinct was to spit.
Connor recoiled disgusted and sat up, then spit back in her face. He grabbed her wrists, moving her left hand to join the right and with his free hand, ripped the side of her dress open.
"Get off of me!" Bryn screamed, thrashing , noticing from the corner of her eye the clock which read 9:00. it relieved her, but as nobody came automatically to her rescue, she pursued her first effort to get the hell out of the car.
Connor slapped her, moving up high on his knees to do so. Saving the shock for later, Bryn acted in the moment. She brought her leg up quickly and slammed her foot as hard as she could between his legs.
As if having pressed a release button, Bryn's arms were free and she slid again to the door and pulled on the lock.
Connor's door jerked open and a set of hands reached in and pulled him out by his hair and an arm. Bryn got out of the car and peered over it as many things made their way into her vision.
First there was Ellie running down the parking lot, the bottom of her dress in her hands. She was yelling Lucas' name and looked confused as hell when she got to them.
The second was Lucas kicking something on the ground, and as she made her way around the car, she saw that the something was Connor. He was curled in the fetal position, still holding his groin.
Bryn caught her breath and held Lucas' shoulder to stop him.
"Bryn what the hell happened?" Ellie cried.
"Connor attacked me," she answered, pulling together the side of her dress.
Lucas shook his head and handed her his jacket. She put it on, watching him pacing angrily in front of them. Connor groaned from the ground.
"I'll kill him. I'll fucking kill him."
"No, Lucas. Calm down for a minute," Bryn said, again touching his shoulder.
"Don't tell me you love this clown!" he retorted.
"No. But he has to pay for it. He did this to Jen, but actually did it. I got lucky."
"Lucky? You were almost... No, I don't even want to think about this."
"Ellie, call the police," Bryn said, starting to shake. She felt her neck where Connor had held.
Ellie pulled out her cell and complied with her sister's request. Bryn moved close to Lucas and he hugged her.
"You were late, Lucas," she whispered, happy, safe.
"I couldn't get away from Ellie. Every time I went for punch or to the bathroom she thought I was sneaking out to see you."
"Thank you."
Lucas kissed her forehead and let her go. He stood over Connor.
"They'll be here soon," Ellie reported. She dialled a number and moved away from them to another car and talked for a minute or so.
Bryn wiped the spit from her face, as in the moment, she hadn't thought to.
Ellie appeared by her side and stuck the phone in her face. "It's mom."
Bryn took it. "Hey mom," she said, tearing up.
"Bryn, it's Will."
"Will?"
"Are you alright? He didn't touch you did he?"
"No. I managed to fight him off. Lucas got a few punches in too."
"I wish I was there to help you."
"It's okay."
"I love you."
"I love you too."
A patrol car pulled up and a policeman jumped out of the car.
"I have to go, the cops are here."
They disconnected.
The next morning, Bryn woke up to a far away conversation from the kitchen. Angelica, Ellie and Danny Currant were definitely there. The door squeaked open enough for a head to peek through. "Are you awake?" Ellie's voice cooed.
"Yeah." Bryn sat up, pushing the hair back from her face. Her sister came in and kneeled at her side.
"I'm sorry, Bryn."
"Don't be."
"No, I really am. I should've trusted you."
"I actually asked Lucas to meet me there."
"I know. He told me."
"You're not mad?"
"I should've realized before that no matter what guys come into my lief, you're here for good."
"You hate me don't you?"
"I did at first. But even though Lucas is a good guy, he isn't worth losing a sister over. Plus it's pretty hard to be mad at you after what happened."
"True."
"And sorry for ripping Jen's book. If I'd known, I wouldn't have been such a bitch."
"It's in the past."
Though Ellie smiled, Bryn could tell she had been crying.
"Are the cops here again?"
"Yeah," she answered sounding guilty. "They want to talk to you a little more about what happened."
"Okay."
"Ellie stood up and waled to the door. "I could tell them you need a little time to get changed," she offered.
"Thanks."
She opened the door and left it open for the next visitor as she left.
"Are you okay?" Will asked.
"You came back," she said, her heart beating fast.
"I know. Are you okay, though?"
"My throat hurts a little, but otherwise I'm fine."
"I'm so sorry for going. I was just really mad."
Bryn looked confusedly at him. "You didn't seem that mad."
"I didn't want to hurt you anymore than I have."
"You didn't hurt me that bad, Will. I'll be fine." She smiled.
"I have something for you." He looked through a backpack at the door. "I should've given it to you before, but I was just really upset. I didn't understand why it was addressed to you and not me." He stood and held a folded piece of paper out to her.
"What is it?"
"A suicide note."
She looked at him with weary eyes. "When did you find this?" Holding it in her hands, she saw the end to her struggle.
"When I was packing her things. It was in one of her drawers and I read it and couldn't understand why not me. Why it wasn't addressed to me."
Bryn unfolded it and read the few lines. She cried, taking in the words that Jen had wrote. She stood and wrapped her arms around Will.
"She's okay now," she whispered through her tears, and as the two of them stood in their embrace, dark clouds clapped together overhead and it rained.
Chapter 17
<|><|><|>
The last day Jen was alive was nothing like she thought it might be. All the times she had been asked "What would you do if you had one day to live?" she had given the typical answer.
"I would take a walk on the beach. I would watch the sunset. I would tell everyone I loved that I loved them."
Never once did she say, "I would go to school, then come home and watch TV." But that's what she did.
As the sunlight dimmed and night approached, Jen found herself in her bedroom staring at a bottle of pills.
One more day, she argued, to make a lasting impression. To tell off all the fuckers who got on my nerves.
"Nah, Bryn would know something's up and make an excuse to stay over."
Okay then, skip school tomorrow and do something exciting.
"There's nothing really to do."
Hitch hike to the city.
"I'm just finding a reason not to do this. But there are-"
She stopped talking and grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen. She started writing.
"Dear Bryn,
You've always been my friend but this was inevitable. For so long now I've wanted to tell you so many things, but I'm afraid of what you'd think of me. I thought that maybe you'd think I was weak or stupid, I don't know. I love you and I want you to know you were the reason I kept from doing this for so long. But now there is no way out and i can't be here anymore. Don't forget me, but life is meant for living, so keep living. Remember everything because when you hit this point, all you'll have is your memories. I really don't mean to hurt you, but in saving myself, there are casualties. There's not enough to anchor me anymore. Bye."
She read the last word and felt it too insignificant to use, too understated. It looked foreign and out of place.
Jen left it though, getting on with what she felt she had to do. Pouring the entire contents of the bottle into her hand, she looked at what was to take her to somewhere she could be happy. She took them one by one until her hand was empty, then laid down to bed, singing.
"If you fall will you get up
Stuck in a dream will you wake up
and if you fell in love would you hold onto it."
Will finished his shower and walked out of the humid bathroom. Bryn avoided him, waiting in the doorway of her bedroom. Once she was sure he was gone, she could focus.
I'm gonna make him wish he never touched her. She wiped an arc of steam from the mirror and breathed slowly. This was it.
She undressed and showered, scrubbing her skin pink, cleansing herself of all inhibitions. What she was about to do was for Jen, but it would be dangerous. If everyone acted as she supposed they would, Bryn figured that all the pieces would fall just as she wanted them.
The primping began. She blow dried her hair, then curled it and pulled it back with bobby pins and an oversized hair clip. She put on eyeshadow that sparkled when she moved her eyes, and liner to make them look bigger. She finished with a sheer lip gloss and deemed herself pretty damn good looking.
As she entered the bedroom, she noticed Ellie getting ready too. She smoothed the material of her dress over her stomach and hips.
"Looks nice," Bryn said, smiling apologetically.
"I don't care what you think."
"Fine."
"You're still going with Connor, right? I don't want Lucas to feel sorry for you and ask you to dance."
"I told you I don't even like him."
"Again, lies."
"You must be pretty insecure with yourself."
"Screw you."
"No, I'm serious. If you can't believe your boyfriend isn't cheating on you, you've got issues." Bryn could see her sister's cheeks burn.
"You're hair looks like shit by the way," Ellie said, pushing past her as she stormed to the bathroom.
Bryn closed the door, dropped the towel and clothed herself in the dress she had been waiting to wear all year.
"Why am I wasting it on Connor? Why can't I be going with someone like... Will?"
"Knock, knock," Will said, pushing the door open to peek his head in. "Hey."
"Oh, hey."
"You look nice."
"Thanks."
"Beautiful actually."
"Okay, um, what did you want?"
"Oh, right. Well I'm heading out now, so I just came to say goodbye... again."
Bryn was drawn to him. "Will you be back for Christmas break?"
"Won't you be at college somewhere?"
"I'm coming home for Christmas."
"I dunno."
"Okay."
"I'll call."
"You don't have to."
"No, really." He pushed his hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. "Got a pen?"
"Will, you don't have-"
"Can you just let me do this?" he snapped, taking the pencil she held in her hand. "Now, here's the number where I'll be staying. And the address. Call. Or write. Or don't. It's up to you now," he continued, softening his tone. "So.. I'll hear from you maybe. If not, I'll know you're happy somewhere."
He handed Bryn the paper and leaned in, kissing the corner of her mouth, then turned and walked away.
Bryn's instinct was to follow him, to kiss him like she meant it, because she knew she would mean it, but she remained where she was, knowing there were bigger things she had to do.
She heard the front door close and his car drive away. She went back to her room and sat on the bed, clutching Jen's notebook in her arms. She didn't notice her sister come in.
"What's with that fucking notebook anyways? Is it your diary?"
Bryn forgot the words as quickly as she heard them and continued to stare at nothing.
Ellie walked toward her. "Seriously. What's your problem."
"Leave me alone Ellie," she said, morose.
"Why should I do what you say? You didn't stop with Lucas-"
"I never did anything!" Bryn screamed, looking at her now enraged sister. "Lucas and I were never even within close enough distance of each other to kiss or anything else. Why don't you just believe me?"
"What about that night you and mom had that fight and you spent the night with Will? He said you kissed him then."
Damn.
"He's lying," Bryn answered automatically.
"I think you're lying."
"I can't believe we keep having this fight, Ellie. I mean, shit! I've said the same thing like a hundred times and you keep insisting I'm the one to blame."
"Gimme that then," Ellie said, nodding at the notebook
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because it's not yours."
"Or is it because it's your journal and you wrote about Lucas in there?"
"That's ridiculous." Bryn said, but before she could finish 'ridiculous,' Ellie had snatched it from her hands and jumped away.
"Fuck you Ellie, give it back!"
"After I find the point about you and Lucas." Ellie jumped and dodged to avoid her sister as she whipped each page out of the way of the next, looking for her boyfriend's name.
Bryn managed to get a hold of the book and held on tight. "Let go!" she yelled.
"You let go!"
"It's my fucking book!"
"Yeah, that you wrote-"
The sound of paper ripping froze the two girls and for a moment, nobody moved, reviewing what had happened. Ellie's face turned particularly nasty and she had three or four of the handwritten pages.
"Keep 'em," she said in the most horrid way possible, and tore the sheets in half and in half again.
Bryn watched, absolutely horrified as, like snowflakes, the pieces sprinkled to the ground. She dropped the book and punched her sister square in the nose, screaming, "That was Jen's book you fucking bitch!"
Ellie fell backwards, nose bleeding as Bryn dropped her offense and dove for the shreds of precious paper she'd kept sacred all this time.
Ellie was crying, and as their mother entered the room yelling ("What's going on?"), Ellie coughed up some blood that had dripped into the back of her throat.
"What the hell did you do?"
Bryn was in a daze. The others in the room became fuzzy and sounds became dull and as much as she felt like crying, she couldn't. She heaved, wanting to throw up, but fell forward onto the floor as her sister screamed about her nose being broken.
On the couch forty minutes later, Bryn woke up. Above her, she could see her mother, Connor and Lucas.
"She's awake, thank God," Angelica said, getting up.
"Too bad," Ellie replied from the kitchen, a face cloth damp with blood and water pressed to her nose.
"You can take that off your face, Ellie. Your nose stopped bleeding ten minutes ago."
"Do you think we can still go to the dance, Mrs. Halleson?" Lucas asked intrepidly, looking sharply from Ellie to Bryn.
"I don't know. I'm not sure either of my daughters really deserve to go." Angelica paced the length of the couch.
"We got all dressed up, Mom. It's not fair," Ellie whined.
Her mother cocked her head in thought. "What do you suppose I do, Ellie?"
"Make Bryn stay home. I didn't even do anything!"
"Liar," Bryn said, sitting up slowly. She pushed the heels of her palms into her temples. Her entire head pulsed.
"I don't care who started it. From what I saw, both of you deserve to be punished."
"But I have to go," Bryn said abruptly. Her mother looked at her. "I mean... this is the last big dance before I graduate."
"What about prom?" Ellie mumbled to herself.
"That's actually after prom, Ellie," Lucas chimed. The look she returned was red hot. He backed off.
Angelica tapped her foot. "I've decided to let you go-"
Everyone but Bryn cheered.
"But," Angelica continued, "you both have to be home by eleven. Tomorrow we can sort out the punishments for you two."
"Eleven?" Ellie asked. "How 'bout midnight?"
"How about ten thirty?"
"But the really good songs don't get played until after midnight."
"Ten."
"What? No!"
"You want to keep talking, you're gonna owe me time. Now go before I change my mind."
Ellie and Lucas left first, though she had to wash her face again to clean the blood off and redo her makeup. Bryn and Connor followed.
"So other than the sister beating and passing out, how was your day?" Connor asked, turning to her from time to time as they drove to the school
"Will left."
"I never really liked him. I mean, he never approved of me. Almost got Jen to break up with me once."
"Oh."
"Yeah. But that was a long time ago."
"I know."
The dance had started and the student parking was almost full. Lucas found a spot near the doors (by fluke of course, a girl was sick with food allergies and had to be rushed to the hospital and the people who took her left a vacant spot) and Connor parked in the place farthest from Lucas.\
Shit. I wonder if Lucas knows where we parked.
"Come on," Conner said, opening the door, holding out his hand. He pulled her arm and she cried out in pain. He immediately tended to her. "What, what's wrong?"
Bryn took her hand back and held it. "My hand. It's the one I... hit Ellie with. It still kinda hurts."
"Oh, sorry."
"Let's just get in there."
The gym was packed and the air was hot from everyone's constant breathing. Connor led her to the center of the dance floor and pulled her close, moving their bodies in sync with each other. Bryn held back a gag as his hand slipped down her back to the top of her bottom. She kept a close eye on the clock on the west facing wall and finally it came upon a quarter to nine.
They were slow dancing to a song Bryn hadn't heard of and she brought her lips in close to his ear and whispered, "Wanna get some air?"
Connor nodded and followed her out to the parking lot.
"Some party, huh?" he stated rather than asked.
"Do you have your car keys?"
Connor's eyes lit up, surprised. "Yeah."
"Let's go."
They sat down in the car, both staring forward, quietly, timidly. It was easy to pretend to seduce him with tons of bodies around her, even out in the open, but it was something about being closed in a car - the car - with him that made her shiver.
"Why were you and Ellie fighting anyways?"
"Some girl thing."
"What kind?" he persisted, taking the opportunity to show his sleuthlike abilities. He inched closer disguising it as readjusting himself.
"The kind where one is insanely jealous of the other."
"Oh-kay."
"Connor, there's something I've been wanting to ask you about, but I just never found the right time."
"Okay, shoot."
"Did you even love Jen at all?"
"Why do you ask?"
"I guess I just wanted to know."
"Because she was your best friend?"
"That... and also because she told me something before she died."
Connor tensed at her words but tried to remain aloof. "Like what?"
"She told me that you tried something with her. Is that true?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You must know something."
"I can't honestly say that I do."
"I think you do," she said, looking at him knowingly.
He read her face clearly, but kept with his plea of innocence. "No, God no. I wouldn't do anything she didn't want. I loved her."
"But were you in love?"
"That's hard to say."
"Why so? I should think it would be easy to distinguish whether or not you were in love."
"I guess maybe then. You know how I feel about teenage love."
"But you said you love me."
"Yeah"
"Are you in love with me?"
"I think so."
"So you'll treat me like you did Jen?"
"What're you getting at?"
"If you were in love with her why did you hurt her?"
"Wha-what do you mean?" he asked, swallowing hard.
"You fucked her."
"Shut up."
"You raped her."
"Stop it."
"You got her pregnant and didn't think twice about it, didn't you?"
"No!"
"Didn't you?" she screamed.
"NO!"
"Liar!"
"Fine! You wanna know? I'll tell you. We did have sex but she wanted it too."
"Why was she crying? Why did she fight back?"
"How do you know?"
"That's what people do when they're being raped!"
"Stop fucking saying that!" Connor yelled, hitting his hands on the dash. He was falling right into her trap. But time was running out. It was almost already ten to nine and he hadn't attacked her yet. She needed something big.
"She killed herself because of you, you know."
"No she didn't."
"Yes she did. She took one pill for every minute she thought about killing herself when she was with you." Bryn's throat was dry and as she spoke, and every word stuck in it. She watched Connor brewing over the what she had just said, watched his grip tighten on the steering wheel. His jaw locked.
Bingo.
"It's true," she whispered, close to his ear, but as quickly as she had spoken, she was cut off. Connor held onto her throat with one hand and pushed her back into the seat. He switched hands so his right could undo his belt.
"You wanna fuckin' know what happened that night?"
Bryn gasped, clawing as best she could at his arm and face. She jerked violently back and forth as Connor grabbed a hold of her hand and bent the fingers back.
She reeled in pain and in falling to the side, hit Connor's uncovered eye.
I can't go through with this, not if it means being raped. I have to get out.
Bryn slid backwards to the door and fumbled to unlock it. Just as it seemed as if she had it, Connor grabbed her legs and pulled them around himself. He pushed her shoulders down and looked her in the face.
"She tried to fight back too, you were right."
He smacked his face into hers, kissing her hard. She moved her head back and forth but he held a suction on her mouth that she could not remove. Her first instinct was to spit.
Connor recoiled disgusted and sat up, then spit back in her face. He grabbed her wrists, moving her left hand to join the right and with his free hand, ripped the side of her dress open.
"Get off of me!" Bryn screamed, thrashing , noticing from the corner of her eye the clock which read 9:00. it relieved her, but as nobody came automatically to her rescue, she pursued her first effort to get the hell out of the car.
Connor slapped her, moving up high on his knees to do so. Saving the shock for later, Bryn acted in the moment. She brought her leg up quickly and slammed her foot as hard as she could between his legs.
As if having pressed a release button, Bryn's arms were free and she slid again to the door and pulled on the lock.
Connor's door jerked open and a set of hands reached in and pulled him out by his hair and an arm. Bryn got out of the car and peered over it as many things made their way into her vision.
First there was Ellie running down the parking lot, the bottom of her dress in her hands. She was yelling Lucas' name and looked confused as hell when she got to them.
The second was Lucas kicking something on the ground, and as she made her way around the car, she saw that the something was Connor. He was curled in the fetal position, still holding his groin.
Bryn caught her breath and held Lucas' shoulder to stop him.
"Bryn what the hell happened?" Ellie cried.
"Connor attacked me," she answered, pulling together the side of her dress.
Lucas shook his head and handed her his jacket. She put it on, watching him pacing angrily in front of them. Connor groaned from the ground.
"I'll kill him. I'll fucking kill him."
"No, Lucas. Calm down for a minute," Bryn said, again touching his shoulder.
"Don't tell me you love this clown!" he retorted.
"No. But he has to pay for it. He did this to Jen, but actually did it. I got lucky."
"Lucky? You were almost... No, I don't even want to think about this."
"Ellie, call the police," Bryn said, starting to shake. She felt her neck where Connor had held.
Ellie pulled out her cell and complied with her sister's request. Bryn moved close to Lucas and he hugged her.
"You were late, Lucas," she whispered, happy, safe.
"I couldn't get away from Ellie. Every time I went for punch or to the bathroom she thought I was sneaking out to see you."
"Thank you."
Lucas kissed her forehead and let her go. He stood over Connor.
"They'll be here soon," Ellie reported. She dialled a number and moved away from them to another car and talked for a minute or so.
Bryn wiped the spit from her face, as in the moment, she hadn't thought to.
Ellie appeared by her side and stuck the phone in her face. "It's mom."
Bryn took it. "Hey mom," she said, tearing up.
"Bryn, it's Will."
"Will?"
"Are you alright? He didn't touch you did he?"
"No. I managed to fight him off. Lucas got a few punches in too."
"I wish I was there to help you."
"It's okay."
"I love you."
"I love you too."
A patrol car pulled up and a policeman jumped out of the car.
"I have to go, the cops are here."
They disconnected.
The next morning, Bryn woke up to a far away conversation from the kitchen. Angelica, Ellie and Danny Currant were definitely there. The door squeaked open enough for a head to peek through. "Are you awake?" Ellie's voice cooed.
"Yeah." Bryn sat up, pushing the hair back from her face. Her sister came in and kneeled at her side.
"I'm sorry, Bryn."
"Don't be."
"No, I really am. I should've trusted you."
"I actually asked Lucas to meet me there."
"I know. He told me."
"You're not mad?"
"I should've realized before that no matter what guys come into my lief, you're here for good."
"You hate me don't you?"
"I did at first. But even though Lucas is a good guy, he isn't worth losing a sister over. Plus it's pretty hard to be mad at you after what happened."
"True."
"And sorry for ripping Jen's book. If I'd known, I wouldn't have been such a bitch."
"It's in the past."
Though Ellie smiled, Bryn could tell she had been crying.
"Are the cops here again?"
"Yeah," she answered sounding guilty. "They want to talk to you a little more about what happened."
"Okay."
"Ellie stood up and waled to the door. "I could tell them you need a little time to get changed," she offered.
"Thanks."
She opened the door and left it open for the next visitor as she left.
"Are you okay?" Will asked.
"You came back," she said, her heart beating fast.
"I know. Are you okay, though?"
"My throat hurts a little, but otherwise I'm fine."
"I'm so sorry for going. I was just really mad."
Bryn looked confusedly at him. "You didn't seem that mad."
"I didn't want to hurt you anymore than I have."
"You didn't hurt me that bad, Will. I'll be fine." She smiled.
"I have something for you." He looked through a backpack at the door. "I should've given it to you before, but I was just really upset. I didn't understand why it was addressed to you and not me." He stood and held a folded piece of paper out to her.
"What is it?"
"A suicide note."
She looked at him with weary eyes. "When did you find this?" Holding it in her hands, she saw the end to her struggle.
"When I was packing her things. It was in one of her drawers and I read it and couldn't understand why not me. Why it wasn't addressed to me."
Bryn unfolded it and read the few lines. She cried, taking in the words that Jen had wrote. She stood and wrapped her arms around Will.
"She's okay now," she whispered through her tears, and as the two of them stood in their embrace, dark clouds clapped together overhead and it rained.
Chapter 17
<|><|><|>
The last day Jen was alive was nothing like she thought it might be. All the times she had been asked "What would you do if you had one day to live?" she had given the typical answer.
"I would take a walk on the beach. I would watch the sunset. I would tell everyone I loved that I loved them."
Never once did she say, "I would go to school, then come home and watch TV." But that's what she did.
As the sunlight dimmed and night approached, Jen found herself in her bedroom staring at a bottle of pills.
One more day, she argued, to make a lasting impression. To tell off all the fuckers who got on my nerves.
"Nah, Bryn would know something's up and make an excuse to stay over."
Okay then, skip school tomorrow and do something exciting.
"There's nothing really to do."
Hitch hike to the city.
"I'm just finding a reason not to do this. But there are-"
She stopped talking and grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen. She started writing.
"Dear Bryn,
You've always been my friend but this was inevitable. For so long now I've wanted to tell you so many things, but I'm afraid of what you'd think of me. I thought that maybe you'd think I was weak or stupid, I don't know. I love you and I want you to know you were the reason I kept from doing this for so long. But now there is no way out and i can't be here anymore. Don't forget me, but life is meant for living, so keep living. Remember everything because when you hit this point, all you'll have is your memories. I really don't mean to hurt you, but in saving myself, there are casualties. There's not enough to anchor me anymore. Bye."
She read the last word and felt it too insignificant to use, too understated. It looked foreign and out of place.
Jen left it though, getting on with what she felt she had to do. Pouring the entire contents of the bottle into her hand, she looked at what was to take her to somewhere she could be happy. She took them one by one until her hand was empty, then laid down to bed, singing.
"If you fall will you get up
Stuck in a dream will you wake up
and if you fell in love would you hold onto it."
Monday, February 26, 2007
And Now I've Travelled Across the Ocean
So I am very close to being done my novella type-up. I am figuring that there is still a lot left to do, including many new parts and merciless revision of what I have already written.
In other news, KC was sick today and I was alone most classes. It was actually okay. I got to show off my new fake lip ring which I'm passing off as a real one. For some reason I felt kind of safe. Maybe it's the ring and the hair. Who knows.
I can't wait until the weekend if I go home this weekend. I want to scare my mother. I wonder what she'll say. Probably be pissed. I know Laura'll be pretty mad since she's not allowed to have anything pierced until she turns eighteen (or for a year, I can't remember which).
The stupid cat Whitey is trying to get me to pet her, but I'm not going to. I hate you, Whitey, just so ya know. HATE. Dumb cat.
I'm feeling pretty good, considering yesterday my legs hurt so very much from walking around West Ed yesterday all day. I took two Tylenol and that helped with the pain (which wasn't really a hurting pain but a dull annoying pain) but I had to actually take them, which as we all remember is something I don't like doing since my major setback in the mental coping with my problems department. I think it is the outer coating (which tastes really weird by the way) that makes me sick, which would make sense seeing as I tasted it while knocking them back and barfing them up. It is one of those things that you don't forget, and I find it funny that I haven't forgotten the taste of the suicide pills.
In other news, KC was sick today and I was alone most classes. It was actually okay. I got to show off my new fake lip ring which I'm passing off as a real one. For some reason I felt kind of safe. Maybe it's the ring and the hair. Who knows.
I can't wait until the weekend if I go home this weekend. I want to scare my mother. I wonder what she'll say. Probably be pissed. I know Laura'll be pretty mad since she's not allowed to have anything pierced until she turns eighteen (or for a year, I can't remember which).
The stupid cat Whitey is trying to get me to pet her, but I'm not going to. I hate you, Whitey, just so ya know. HATE. Dumb cat.
I'm feeling pretty good, considering yesterday my legs hurt so very much from walking around West Ed yesterday all day. I took two Tylenol and that helped with the pain (which wasn't really a hurting pain but a dull annoying pain) but I had to actually take them, which as we all remember is something I don't like doing since my major setback in the mental coping with my problems department. I think it is the outer coating (which tastes really weird by the way) that makes me sick, which would make sense seeing as I tasted it while knocking them back and barfing them up. It is one of those things that you don't forget, and I find it funny that I haven't forgotten the taste of the suicide pills.
Just Flowers Chapter 15
Bryn finished reading and almost dropped the book from her hands.
"Jesus Christ," she whispered. "He raped her?"
She flipped back to reread and make certain she had come to the right understanding.
"Then he pushed me down and did it. I couldn't believe what was going on until it was too late to actually stop it. I want him to die so much. I think I might do it. I can't wait for him to try something like he said he would so I can fucking ruin him right there. FUCK!!!! I don't believe that I'm one of those girls. The dumb bitches who aren't smart enough to know when their boyfriend's a skeeze. Dammit! Fuck fuck fuck. I can't believe I fell for it, all "Oh I love you Jen, you're beautiful. Here's fucking necklace because I love you so much." It was all just a fucking excuse to stick his goddamn tongue down my throat. SHIT. I should've seen it all coming. God, why am I so STUPID?!!!"
Bryn put the book down and left for the bathroom. She was a bit nauseous and tears were making their way to freedom. She heaved a few times over the toilet, then actually threw up.
When she rose, here eyes were damp with tears and her ears were ringing. She flushed the toilet then splashed cold water onto her face.
"Asshole. Goddamn him!" she yelled.
Her mother's head peeked through the open door. "You okay?"
"Yeah, uh, I think I'm just a little sick."
"Do you think you'll be able to make it to the dance tomorrow?"
"Uh, I don't-" She stopped as a splinter of an idea lodged itself into her mind. "I'll probably be better by then."
"Good."
Bryn went back to her room to her closet and touched the silky dress she picked out to wear. She ran her hand down the fluted skirt and tried to figure out how her plan would work.
"We'd go. Yes. Definitely. Then he'd- yes. Probably anyways. And then- perfect. I'd catch him and then he wouldn't be able to deny anything. But I'm gonna need some help. Hmmm. But who?" She tapped her chin with her index finger as she thought. Once the person came to mind, she exclaimed, "Aha!" then laughed at herself for doing so. "Yeah. Everything's gonna work out just perfectly if I play it right."
Bryn imagined many scenarios, all ending with Connor's condemnation. She set the book aside on her desk, carefully as if it were to delicate to treat merely as a book, and got into bed. She laid there for a long time before being coaxed to sleep by two very heavy eyelids.
"It's all for you Jen," she murmured as she drifted off to dreamland.
The next morning, after a long night of tossing, turning and wondering whether or not to just get up and stay up, Bryn hit the snooze on her alarm clock and rolled back over for another ten minutes of sleep. When the dreaded sound made itself heard a second time, she got up for good and went to the bathroom to brush her teeth.
Angelica had been cooking downstairs, pancakes with bacon and the option for eggs the only way she knew how to make them: scrambled. Bryn took a few strips of bacon from the plate and pushed two slices of bread into the toaster. "Morning," she offered, leaning on the counter as she waited for her breakfast.
"I noticed Will's sleeping on the couch."
"He got kicked out."
"I know. His father called."
"Did you tell him Will was here?"
Angelica picked up the spatula and flipped a pancake. "Yes."
"Why?"
"What was I supposed to do, Bryn? Lie? I'm not a child. I have nothing to hide."
Her daughter exhaled loudly, picking her toast from the toaster and assembling a sandwich with the bacon. "You could've lied. Did you ever think that maybe he had a reason for leaving?"
"Fine. You win. I've given up fighting with you."
Bryn rolled her eyes and took a bite of her sandwich.
"Is this still about before, Mom, 'cause I already told you why I was mad. Now it just seems like you're trying to start a confrontation."
"If I am I don't mean to. I just want us to be like we were when your dad was alive."
"I don't know if that'll happen."
They were silent. Ellie came in. Making as much noise as she could without talking, she pulled a plate from the cupboard, slamming it on the counter, put three pancakes, a handful of bacon and a pile of eggs on it and took a fork from the cutlery drawer. She sat down at the table and shovelled the food in.
"Something wrong?" Bryn asked, watching her fold bacon and eggs into a pancake and eat it.
"It's your fault," Ellie answered, blowing chewed pancake and egg particles past her plate. "All your fault."
"How is this my fault?"
Ellie looked at her mother. Angelica raised her eyebrows and put her hands up as to say she knew nothing. Ellie jutted her head out asking her without actually asking her to leave. She picked up her coffee and left.
I'm alone with the beast.
"You," Ellie, whispered loudly, "made Lucas break up with me. He said I was too jealous. What does that even mean? I'm not even jealous. I'm pissed the hell off. But definitely not jealous."
Bryn sighed. "I didn't tell Lucas to do anything. If he broke up with you I had no part in it."
"Now I don't even get to go to the spring formal. I went on and on about it at school that I was the only person in grade eleven who was going and now I don't even get to go. Thanks a fuckin' lot." She picked up her plate and stomped to their room.
Bryn finished her breakfast trying and easily succeeding in leaving her sister's troubles out of her mind. There were things to be done.
She picked up the phone in the living room but before dialling, she held the receiver up to her ear and listened for a moment to the tone. It was comforting, somehow, and she breathed slowly as the words she was about to speak swam through her mind. She dialled the number.
"Hello?"
"Oh hi. Can I please speak to Lucas?"
"Hold on."
Bryn could hear the woman call her son from her end.
"Ellie?" he answered to anxiously.
"Uh, no. It's Bryn."
"Bryn? What, uh, what's up?"
"I wanted to talk to you. It's really important."
"Is this about Ellie, because she said she would say some things about me that weren't true."
"Not now. I have to tell you something. And ask you something too, I guess."
"Okay," he said cautiously.
"You're still going to the dance," she said, looking over her shoulder, suddenly paranoid.
"I don't think so, I mean after Ellie broke up with me I kinda feel crappy. I don't think a dance would help me out at all."
"What if I said I wanted to meet you there?"
She heard him hold his breath from the other side. "Why?"
"I know I don't deserve it, but I just... want a chance to... show you how I feel. I just want to meet you okay?"
"So you want to go with me?"
"Not exactly. I'm still kind of going with Connor. I just want to meet you there. There's a good reason, and I know you'd be happier if you did."
Lucas didn't answer.
"Hello?" she called into the phone.
"Yeah, sorry. I'm surprised, is all. I really don't get women."
"That's the beauty of it."
He laughed. "Okay, so we'll meet at the dance, but who am I going with?"
"That's another thing. I think you should get back with Ellie."
"What?"
"I know it sounds really strange, but I know it'll make her happy. And me. It'll make me happy too."
"But you just said-"
"Just trust me. Ellie's upstairs, so you can talk to her in a sec, but please, Lucas will you do this for me?"
He breathed, considering it and finally agreed.
"So meet me at Connor's car at nine sharp? And I just want you to know I was scared too. I still am."
She could hear Lucas' smile in his voice. "Good to know I'm not alone."
"I'll get Ellie."
Once the two had connected on the phone, Bryn let them have their privacy. She knew Ellie and knew Lucas' power of persuasion. He would go to the dance and Ellie would stop eating. All would be restored.
Sitting in the dark on the love seat adjacent to the couch where Will slept, Bryn felt her stomach jump to her throat.
What I'm about to do could either right a wrong... or fuck me up for the rest of my life.
As she was about to leave, Will stirred on the couch.
"Good morning," he said, wiping the sleep from his eyes.
"How'd you sleep?"
"Oh now all of the sudden you care about my well being," he teased.
"I could've shaved your eyebrows off while you slept but I chose not to. I think that shows incredible maturity."
"Who was that on the phone?"
"My... aunt."
"I thought I heard you say 'Lucas.'"
"You were listening?"
"You were talking loud."
"Why'd you ask then, weirdo?"
"I dunno. I just wanted you to admit that 'you were scared.'" Scared of what exactly?"
The death penalty when you go missing."
"And that's my cue to stop."
They looked at one another for a moment, then Will broke the quiet. "I should take a shower. I wanna be nice and clean before I get on the bus."
"Bus to where?"
"Calgary."
"You're going back already?"
"It's been a long time. Anyways, school's starting again eventually and I have to get a job and make some money."
"For?"
"Living. Eating. My dad's not paying for anything but tuition this year. Or until I talk to my mother at least. But that'll probably be a long time from now, so..."
"Hmmm."
"Right." He stood and started towards the bathroom.
"Will?"
"Yeah."
"I love you too."
"I know."
They smiled awkwardly then Bryn looked to the floor, her heart breaking. She moved to him, lip trembling, ready to cry, holding back as best she could.
"I just wanted you to know, you know. Before you go back and meet another girl and forget how you loved me."
"I won't forget."
"I was really disappointed when things didn't work out, Will, and now I know why."
"It's hard the first time and every other time after. You just have to-"
"No, it's not that. Well not all that. Just, whenever I look at you, it almost feels like I'm looking at a part of Jen. When you smile, it's like she's smiling and when you laugh it's like she's laughing too. I guess we were doomed from the start, huh, with a mentality like that. And when you said you weren't in love with me, I was broken-"
"Bryn," he sighed.
"No, let me finish. I need to say it. When you said it, I was broken, but I was relieved. I wanted so much for it to work out that I would have my piece of Jen. It's not the notebook or pictures that were enough. You were real. A tangible memory. I think I used you, Will, to try to evoke some memories to keep her alive. But I do love you. I loved the time we were with one another, and I love you."
"I really don't know what to say."
"Then let's just leave it with goodbye."
"Goodbye." He leaned in, and just as everything she had said hit her, Will kissed her cheek and lingered a moment.
She looked at him one more time. She would remember him, she knew. Forever and ever.
They parted, Will to the shower, Bryn to her room.
As she closed the door, Bryn could hear the rumbling pipes as water started through them to the shower head. She sat on her bed, both full and empty, happy and sad.
<|><|><|>
May 15
Connor had just called and Jen had answered without checking the call display. The moment she heard his voice, she hung up.
Her heart was beating so fast she was afraid she might pass out. She pushed the hair out of her face and picked up the phone to call Bryn.
Angelica answered.
"Sorry Jen, Bryn's not here."
"Oh, okay."
"You know, we miss you around here. We hardly see you anymore."
"I know. It sucks."
Pause.
"Well, I'll tell Bryn you called."
"Thank you."
"See you then. Maybe you and your dad would like to come over for dinner sometime this week?"
"I'll bring it up."
"Goodbye."
Jen twisted her face in the mirror and tapped the phone against her knee.
"Cellphone, maybe," she said. She dialled.
One ring. Two. Three. Voice mail.
"Where the hell are you Bryn?" Jen asked the room, dropping the phone back in its spot. She walked around her room, then on a whim, decided to take a walk.
Why does the world seem so happy when I'm so miserable?
She tightened her jacket around her body as a gust of wind blew in her direction.
Why do I even bother?
Jen touched her stomach and bit her lip nervously in response.
Up ahead, a teenage girl was walking in Jen's direction. Jen moved to the right side of the sidewalk, turning herself away. She felt the girl could see what happened; as if Connor had left a mark on her spirit that others could see.
She began to tear up.
"Jen?"
She looked up. "Oh, hey. I tried calling you but your mom said you were out."
Bryn scoffed. "I'm surprised she was oriented enough to know the phone was ringing."
"Sounded sober to me."
"Doubt it. Anyways... what did you call about?"
"Oh, I-" It was harder than she thought it would be to tell someone. It was a lot harder to tell her best friend.
"Sorry, but I'm just on my way home. I know I sound like such a bitch right now but I just have to be home near my bed. I fucking hate Chris."
"Okay." The disappointment in Jen's voice was masked by momentary relief.
"Did I tell you what the asshole said to me?"
"No."
"He said we need some space. As if he's gonna break up with me, right? Do you believe that bullshit?"
"No."
Bryn kept talking, having forgotten that she wanted to be at home. They walked the opposite way Jen had come and soon they were in front of her house.
"Do you have a minute?" Jen asked, interrupting. There was a tinge of urgency in her voice, undetected by her friend.
"I kinda feel like crap. I think I'm gonna go to bed."
Jen lowered her head and cleaned her finger nails with the teeth of the zipper on her jacket. "Okay."
"Well if it's really important, can you just tell me now? Quickly?"
"It's not the kind of thing that comes out quickly. It's kinda big."
"Well then tomorrow at school. Look, I gotta go. My head's killing me."
"Fine."
"Bye."
"Yeah."
Jen watched as Bryn walked away guiltless. Why did she want to leave so fast? What the hell can possibly be more important than her best friend? God, why does everything have to be so hard? If I would have just broken up with him when I wanted to, I wouldn't have this problem.
"Or this one," Jen said to herself, again touching the bump of her stomach that had lately become more noticeable.
She sighed.
"What am I going to do?"
<|><|><|>
"Jesus Christ," she whispered. "He raped her?"
She flipped back to reread and make certain she had come to the right understanding.
"Then he pushed me down and did it. I couldn't believe what was going on until it was too late to actually stop it. I want him to die so much. I think I might do it. I can't wait for him to try something like he said he would so I can fucking ruin him right there. FUCK!!!! I don't believe that I'm one of those girls. The dumb bitches who aren't smart enough to know when their boyfriend's a skeeze. Dammit! Fuck fuck fuck. I can't believe I fell for it, all "Oh I love you Jen, you're beautiful. Here's fucking necklace because I love you so much." It was all just a fucking excuse to stick his goddamn tongue down my throat. SHIT. I should've seen it all coming. God, why am I so STUPID?!!!"
Bryn put the book down and left for the bathroom. She was a bit nauseous and tears were making their way to freedom. She heaved a few times over the toilet, then actually threw up.
When she rose, here eyes were damp with tears and her ears were ringing. She flushed the toilet then splashed cold water onto her face.
"Asshole. Goddamn him!" she yelled.
Her mother's head peeked through the open door. "You okay?"
"Yeah, uh, I think I'm just a little sick."
"Do you think you'll be able to make it to the dance tomorrow?"
"Uh, I don't-" She stopped as a splinter of an idea lodged itself into her mind. "I'll probably be better by then."
"Good."
Bryn went back to her room to her closet and touched the silky dress she picked out to wear. She ran her hand down the fluted skirt and tried to figure out how her plan would work.
"We'd go. Yes. Definitely. Then he'd- yes. Probably anyways. And then- perfect. I'd catch him and then he wouldn't be able to deny anything. But I'm gonna need some help. Hmmm. But who?" She tapped her chin with her index finger as she thought. Once the person came to mind, she exclaimed, "Aha!" then laughed at herself for doing so. "Yeah. Everything's gonna work out just perfectly if I play it right."
Bryn imagined many scenarios, all ending with Connor's condemnation. She set the book aside on her desk, carefully as if it were to delicate to treat merely as a book, and got into bed. She laid there for a long time before being coaxed to sleep by two very heavy eyelids.
"It's all for you Jen," she murmured as she drifted off to dreamland.
The next morning, after a long night of tossing, turning and wondering whether or not to just get up and stay up, Bryn hit the snooze on her alarm clock and rolled back over for another ten minutes of sleep. When the dreaded sound made itself heard a second time, she got up for good and went to the bathroom to brush her teeth.
Angelica had been cooking downstairs, pancakes with bacon and the option for eggs the only way she knew how to make them: scrambled. Bryn took a few strips of bacon from the plate and pushed two slices of bread into the toaster. "Morning," she offered, leaning on the counter as she waited for her breakfast.
"I noticed Will's sleeping on the couch."
"He got kicked out."
"I know. His father called."
"Did you tell him Will was here?"
Angelica picked up the spatula and flipped a pancake. "Yes."
"Why?"
"What was I supposed to do, Bryn? Lie? I'm not a child. I have nothing to hide."
Her daughter exhaled loudly, picking her toast from the toaster and assembling a sandwich with the bacon. "You could've lied. Did you ever think that maybe he had a reason for leaving?"
"Fine. You win. I've given up fighting with you."
Bryn rolled her eyes and took a bite of her sandwich.
"Is this still about before, Mom, 'cause I already told you why I was mad. Now it just seems like you're trying to start a confrontation."
"If I am I don't mean to. I just want us to be like we were when your dad was alive."
"I don't know if that'll happen."
They were silent. Ellie came in. Making as much noise as she could without talking, she pulled a plate from the cupboard, slamming it on the counter, put three pancakes, a handful of bacon and a pile of eggs on it and took a fork from the cutlery drawer. She sat down at the table and shovelled the food in.
"Something wrong?" Bryn asked, watching her fold bacon and eggs into a pancake and eat it.
"It's your fault," Ellie answered, blowing chewed pancake and egg particles past her plate. "All your fault."
"How is this my fault?"
Ellie looked at her mother. Angelica raised her eyebrows and put her hands up as to say she knew nothing. Ellie jutted her head out asking her without actually asking her to leave. She picked up her coffee and left.
I'm alone with the beast.
"You," Ellie, whispered loudly, "made Lucas break up with me. He said I was too jealous. What does that even mean? I'm not even jealous. I'm pissed the hell off. But definitely not jealous."
Bryn sighed. "I didn't tell Lucas to do anything. If he broke up with you I had no part in it."
"Now I don't even get to go to the spring formal. I went on and on about it at school that I was the only person in grade eleven who was going and now I don't even get to go. Thanks a fuckin' lot." She picked up her plate and stomped to their room.
Bryn finished her breakfast trying and easily succeeding in leaving her sister's troubles out of her mind. There were things to be done.
She picked up the phone in the living room but before dialling, she held the receiver up to her ear and listened for a moment to the tone. It was comforting, somehow, and she breathed slowly as the words she was about to speak swam through her mind. She dialled the number.
"Hello?"
"Oh hi. Can I please speak to Lucas?"
"Hold on."
Bryn could hear the woman call her son from her end.
"Ellie?" he answered to anxiously.
"Uh, no. It's Bryn."
"Bryn? What, uh, what's up?"
"I wanted to talk to you. It's really important."
"Is this about Ellie, because she said she would say some things about me that weren't true."
"Not now. I have to tell you something. And ask you something too, I guess."
"Okay," he said cautiously.
"You're still going to the dance," she said, looking over her shoulder, suddenly paranoid.
"I don't think so, I mean after Ellie broke up with me I kinda feel crappy. I don't think a dance would help me out at all."
"What if I said I wanted to meet you there?"
She heard him hold his breath from the other side. "Why?"
"I know I don't deserve it, but I just... want a chance to... show you how I feel. I just want to meet you okay?"
"So you want to go with me?"
"Not exactly. I'm still kind of going with Connor. I just want to meet you there. There's a good reason, and I know you'd be happier if you did."
Lucas didn't answer.
"Hello?" she called into the phone.
"Yeah, sorry. I'm surprised, is all. I really don't get women."
"That's the beauty of it."
He laughed. "Okay, so we'll meet at the dance, but who am I going with?"
"That's another thing. I think you should get back with Ellie."
"What?"
"I know it sounds really strange, but I know it'll make her happy. And me. It'll make me happy too."
"But you just said-"
"Just trust me. Ellie's upstairs, so you can talk to her in a sec, but please, Lucas will you do this for me?"
He breathed, considering it and finally agreed.
"So meet me at Connor's car at nine sharp? And I just want you to know I was scared too. I still am."
She could hear Lucas' smile in his voice. "Good to know I'm not alone."
"I'll get Ellie."
Once the two had connected on the phone, Bryn let them have their privacy. She knew Ellie and knew Lucas' power of persuasion. He would go to the dance and Ellie would stop eating. All would be restored.
Sitting in the dark on the love seat adjacent to the couch where Will slept, Bryn felt her stomach jump to her throat.
What I'm about to do could either right a wrong... or fuck me up for the rest of my life.
As she was about to leave, Will stirred on the couch.
"Good morning," he said, wiping the sleep from his eyes.
"How'd you sleep?"
"Oh now all of the sudden you care about my well being," he teased.
"I could've shaved your eyebrows off while you slept but I chose not to. I think that shows incredible maturity."
"Who was that on the phone?"
"My... aunt."
"I thought I heard you say 'Lucas.'"
"You were listening?"
"You were talking loud."
"Why'd you ask then, weirdo?"
"I dunno. I just wanted you to admit that 'you were scared.'" Scared of what exactly?"
The death penalty when you go missing."
"And that's my cue to stop."
They looked at one another for a moment, then Will broke the quiet. "I should take a shower. I wanna be nice and clean before I get on the bus."
"Bus to where?"
"Calgary."
"You're going back already?"
"It's been a long time. Anyways, school's starting again eventually and I have to get a job and make some money."
"For?"
"Living. Eating. My dad's not paying for anything but tuition this year. Or until I talk to my mother at least. But that'll probably be a long time from now, so..."
"Hmmm."
"Right." He stood and started towards the bathroom.
"Will?"
"Yeah."
"I love you too."
"I know."
They smiled awkwardly then Bryn looked to the floor, her heart breaking. She moved to him, lip trembling, ready to cry, holding back as best she could.
"I just wanted you to know, you know. Before you go back and meet another girl and forget how you loved me."
"I won't forget."
"I was really disappointed when things didn't work out, Will, and now I know why."
"It's hard the first time and every other time after. You just have to-"
"No, it's not that. Well not all that. Just, whenever I look at you, it almost feels like I'm looking at a part of Jen. When you smile, it's like she's smiling and when you laugh it's like she's laughing too. I guess we were doomed from the start, huh, with a mentality like that. And when you said you weren't in love with me, I was broken-"
"Bryn," he sighed.
"No, let me finish. I need to say it. When you said it, I was broken, but I was relieved. I wanted so much for it to work out that I would have my piece of Jen. It's not the notebook or pictures that were enough. You were real. A tangible memory. I think I used you, Will, to try to evoke some memories to keep her alive. But I do love you. I loved the time we were with one another, and I love you."
"I really don't know what to say."
"Then let's just leave it with goodbye."
"Goodbye." He leaned in, and just as everything she had said hit her, Will kissed her cheek and lingered a moment.
She looked at him one more time. She would remember him, she knew. Forever and ever.
They parted, Will to the shower, Bryn to her room.
As she closed the door, Bryn could hear the rumbling pipes as water started through them to the shower head. She sat on her bed, both full and empty, happy and sad.
<|><|><|>
May 15
Connor had just called and Jen had answered without checking the call display. The moment she heard his voice, she hung up.
Her heart was beating so fast she was afraid she might pass out. She pushed the hair out of her face and picked up the phone to call Bryn.
Angelica answered.
"Sorry Jen, Bryn's not here."
"Oh, okay."
"You know, we miss you around here. We hardly see you anymore."
"I know. It sucks."
Pause.
"Well, I'll tell Bryn you called."
"Thank you."
"See you then. Maybe you and your dad would like to come over for dinner sometime this week?"
"I'll bring it up."
"Goodbye."
Jen twisted her face in the mirror and tapped the phone against her knee.
"Cellphone, maybe," she said. She dialled.
One ring. Two. Three. Voice mail.
"Where the hell are you Bryn?" Jen asked the room, dropping the phone back in its spot. She walked around her room, then on a whim, decided to take a walk.
Why does the world seem so happy when I'm so miserable?
She tightened her jacket around her body as a gust of wind blew in her direction.
Why do I even bother?
Jen touched her stomach and bit her lip nervously in response.
Up ahead, a teenage girl was walking in Jen's direction. Jen moved to the right side of the sidewalk, turning herself away. She felt the girl could see what happened; as if Connor had left a mark on her spirit that others could see.
She began to tear up.
"Jen?"
She looked up. "Oh, hey. I tried calling you but your mom said you were out."
Bryn scoffed. "I'm surprised she was oriented enough to know the phone was ringing."
"Sounded sober to me."
"Doubt it. Anyways... what did you call about?"
"Oh, I-" It was harder than she thought it would be to tell someone. It was a lot harder to tell her best friend.
"Sorry, but I'm just on my way home. I know I sound like such a bitch right now but I just have to be home near my bed. I fucking hate Chris."
"Okay." The disappointment in Jen's voice was masked by momentary relief.
"Did I tell you what the asshole said to me?"
"No."
"He said we need some space. As if he's gonna break up with me, right? Do you believe that bullshit?"
"No."
Bryn kept talking, having forgotten that she wanted to be at home. They walked the opposite way Jen had come and soon they were in front of her house.
"Do you have a minute?" Jen asked, interrupting. There was a tinge of urgency in her voice, undetected by her friend.
"I kinda feel like crap. I think I'm gonna go to bed."
Jen lowered her head and cleaned her finger nails with the teeth of the zipper on her jacket. "Okay."
"Well if it's really important, can you just tell me now? Quickly?"
"It's not the kind of thing that comes out quickly. It's kinda big."
"Well then tomorrow at school. Look, I gotta go. My head's killing me."
"Fine."
"Bye."
"Yeah."
Jen watched as Bryn walked away guiltless. Why did she want to leave so fast? What the hell can possibly be more important than her best friend? God, why does everything have to be so hard? If I would have just broken up with him when I wanted to, I wouldn't have this problem.
"Or this one," Jen said to herself, again touching the bump of her stomach that had lately become more noticeable.
She sighed.
"What am I going to do?"
<|><|><|>
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Just Flowers Chapter 14
<|><|><|>
March 13
"Where are we going Connor?" Jen asked, knowing the answer.
"I thought we could visit our place."
"I want you to take me home. I'm not feeling very good."
Connor turned to her. "Not everything is about you. Plus I have to show you something."
"I've already seen the flowers, Connor. Thank you for the necklace, I love it, but I really feel sick. Take me home."
"What's your problem?"
"I wanna fucking go home!" she yelled.
"Shit, Jen, calm down. I'll take you home in a minute."
Jen looked at him. She was exhausted. She was sick. Her fever had spiked, she could feel every part of her burn. The air was clammy and hard to breathe. Tears started to pool on the rims of her eyelids.
"Don't do that. You can't get out of everything by crying," he said, taking the keys from the ignition.
"Take me home," Jen whispered. She could feel something bad coming her way, but she was too far in now, too deep into it all to claw her way out.
Connor unbuckled and slid to put his arm around her.
"I thought we could park for a while."
"Does it make a difference to you at all that I feel like shit? Or do you just not care?"
"Come on, just for a little while."
"No, take me-"
Connor put his hand over her mouth and her heart began to race.
"Just let it happen," he said through gritted teeth, pushing her head to the window with one hand and unbuckling her with the other. he took his hand off her mouth and moved it over her body to her jeans and started unzipping them.
"Connor, don't," Jen said in disbelief.
She was crying now and Connor had unzipped her pants and pulled them to her ankles.
"Jen, just go with the flow," he replied, kneeling above her, undoing his own pants.
It occurred to her than she hadn't tried to physically stop him, so just as he put his hands on the elastic waistband of her panties, she grabbed his hand and sat up. Looking him square in the eye, she said, "Stop it now."
He made a disgusted face at this and pushed her so she hit the seat. Her heat banged the door and a blast of pain exploded from the back of her skull. Connor, now angry, ripped her panties down the side and slid into her as she cried out. Jen was frozen for a moment by shock, but then started making her plea for freedom.
She slapped his face a handful of times before he started to fight back. He punched her in the shoulder, making sure to keep clear of the face, but disregarded this self imposed rule when she scratched him. One closed hand fist to the jaw was enough for her to give up. Once she had quit defending herself, Connor continued to assault her.
Jen felt like vomiting. She was crying so hard now she thought she actually might. Her whole body shook and her heart rate was uneven. At one point near the end, she looked into her assailant's eyes and saw something in them she hadn't seen in a long time.
Connor was the one to look away first and it was all over as quickly as it had started. He got off her and left the car as Jen did her best to get a hold on the situation.
She pulled on her pants and sat up on the seat. Pulling the sun visor down, she looked at her reflection. She was dead. Her eyes were dead and her jaw was swollen.
Swallowing nervously as Connor came back in the car, Jen watched him. He started the engine and they were soon back in town.
"Why?" Jen asked after two or three failed attempts to speak.
Connor said nothing.
"I wanna know."
He was silent, staring forward.
"Why couldn't you just respect me Connor? Do I mean nothing to you?" she cried, fed up with his unwillingness to answer. "CONNOR!"
Jen pulled on the steering wheel, swerving them right and almost into a fire hydrant. Connor made a face as if he had sucked a lemon, but still refused to answer.
"FUCK!" she screamed, winding up and carrying through a punch to his jaw. He slammed the breaks, sending Jen's forehead to the window and his own to the steering whee.
Jen sat back, carefully touching the spot she hit. As she pulled her hand away, she noticed blood and immediately went for the door. Connor saw this and hit the lock button on his side and continued driving.
"I wanna get out here. Let me out," Jen said, thinking that she would like more than anything to hit him again.
"You can't."
"What he fuck do you know?"
"You could get hurt."
"I think you did a good job of that already. I'll be fine."
"No."
"Let me out."
"No! You asked me to drive you home and I'm going to."
"'Cause you always keep you promises right?" Jen mocked.
"Yes."
"Like when you said you respected my decisions to not fuck you?"
Connor looked away and turned down the street.
"You better not tell anyone."
"Good luck asshole. I'm telling my dad the second I get home, then after he kicks the shit outta you, I'm telling my brother and he'll kick whatever shit's left in you out again."
"You better fuckin' not."
"Why, scared?"
"You think they'll believe you? You honestly believe that anyone will think you didn't want it?"
"You think I wanted you to rape me?"
"Oh, I didn't rape you, darling. We made a consensual decision to lose out virginities to each other just like in the movies. And it was sweet and romantic and we went to the place I first said I love you and that's the story everyone will hear."
"That's shit."
"But that's what everyone will hear first. No one will think anything else happened."
"You asshole."
"Sticks and stones, baby."
"Was this the plan all along? To string me along until just before I dump your ass then hold me down and rape me for the fun of it? Or was it impulsive because you knew that next year I'd be moving forward with my life and you would be stuck as a bag-boy for Extra Foods."
"I never meant it," Connor said with a smirk on his face.
"Too late."
"No, when I said I loved you. I didn't mean it."
"I don't care. We're through anyways."
"I heard someone say you were easy so I figured I'd get an effortless lay then dump you."
Jen tried to hide that the words stung.
"But after two dates and nothing, I decided I'd wait. I could do with a few weeks of role playing if it meant that you'd put out. Then after a year, I thought about dumping you, then wondered if I could have my cake and eat it too. You know Kelly Braun? Fucked her. Lilly too. And Bryn."
"Liar."
"Don't believe me? Ask any one of 'em. They weren't as frigid as you."
"You're a goddamn liar!"
"Mmmm. Bryn was the best though. You could hear her moan for miles."
"Stop it!"
"The way she said my name, too. Oh god. The shit she let me do. Wild, that one."
"You're lying! Bryn would never fuck you!"
"She would. And she did. Again and again and again."
"Shut up shut up! You're too much of a pussy to even tell the truth! Why are you bringing her into it?"
"Here's where you get out," Connor said, unlocking the door.
Jen got out and just before she slammed the door, Connor leaned over and said, "Make sure to clean up that cut."
After the door closed, Jen ran to the front door and heard Connor yell something else, but let his words fall from her mind. All she wanted was a hot shower and to call Bryn.
More than anything, she needed a sense of normalcy. She needed something to show her that everything would be okay. Jen turned the door knob and entered the house, trying very hard to keep her composure.
<|><|><|>
March 13
"Where are we going Connor?" Jen asked, knowing the answer.
"I thought we could visit our place."
"I want you to take me home. I'm not feeling very good."
Connor turned to her. "Not everything is about you. Plus I have to show you something."
"I've already seen the flowers, Connor. Thank you for the necklace, I love it, but I really feel sick. Take me home."
"What's your problem?"
"I wanna fucking go home!" she yelled.
"Shit, Jen, calm down. I'll take you home in a minute."
Jen looked at him. She was exhausted. She was sick. Her fever had spiked, she could feel every part of her burn. The air was clammy and hard to breathe. Tears started to pool on the rims of her eyelids.
"Don't do that. You can't get out of everything by crying," he said, taking the keys from the ignition.
"Take me home," Jen whispered. She could feel something bad coming her way, but she was too far in now, too deep into it all to claw her way out.
Connor unbuckled and slid to put his arm around her.
"I thought we could park for a while."
"Does it make a difference to you at all that I feel like shit? Or do you just not care?"
"Come on, just for a little while."
"No, take me-"
Connor put his hand over her mouth and her heart began to race.
"Just let it happen," he said through gritted teeth, pushing her head to the window with one hand and unbuckling her with the other. he took his hand off her mouth and moved it over her body to her jeans and started unzipping them.
"Connor, don't," Jen said in disbelief.
She was crying now and Connor had unzipped her pants and pulled them to her ankles.
"Jen, just go with the flow," he replied, kneeling above her, undoing his own pants.
It occurred to her than she hadn't tried to physically stop him, so just as he put his hands on the elastic waistband of her panties, she grabbed his hand and sat up. Looking him square in the eye, she said, "Stop it now."
He made a disgusted face at this and pushed her so she hit the seat. Her heat banged the door and a blast of pain exploded from the back of her skull. Connor, now angry, ripped her panties down the side and slid into her as she cried out. Jen was frozen for a moment by shock, but then started making her plea for freedom.
She slapped his face a handful of times before he started to fight back. He punched her in the shoulder, making sure to keep clear of the face, but disregarded this self imposed rule when she scratched him. One closed hand fist to the jaw was enough for her to give up. Once she had quit defending herself, Connor continued to assault her.
Jen felt like vomiting. She was crying so hard now she thought she actually might. Her whole body shook and her heart rate was uneven. At one point near the end, she looked into her assailant's eyes and saw something in them she hadn't seen in a long time.
Connor was the one to look away first and it was all over as quickly as it had started. He got off her and left the car as Jen did her best to get a hold on the situation.
She pulled on her pants and sat up on the seat. Pulling the sun visor down, she looked at her reflection. She was dead. Her eyes were dead and her jaw was swollen.
Swallowing nervously as Connor came back in the car, Jen watched him. He started the engine and they were soon back in town.
"Why?" Jen asked after two or three failed attempts to speak.
Connor said nothing.
"I wanna know."
He was silent, staring forward.
"Why couldn't you just respect me Connor? Do I mean nothing to you?" she cried, fed up with his unwillingness to answer. "CONNOR!"
Jen pulled on the steering wheel, swerving them right and almost into a fire hydrant. Connor made a face as if he had sucked a lemon, but still refused to answer.
"FUCK!" she screamed, winding up and carrying through a punch to his jaw. He slammed the breaks, sending Jen's forehead to the window and his own to the steering whee.
Jen sat back, carefully touching the spot she hit. As she pulled her hand away, she noticed blood and immediately went for the door. Connor saw this and hit the lock button on his side and continued driving.
"I wanna get out here. Let me out," Jen said, thinking that she would like more than anything to hit him again.
"You can't."
"What he fuck do you know?"
"You could get hurt."
"I think you did a good job of that already. I'll be fine."
"No."
"Let me out."
"No! You asked me to drive you home and I'm going to."
"'Cause you always keep you promises right?" Jen mocked.
"Yes."
"Like when you said you respected my decisions to not fuck you?"
Connor looked away and turned down the street.
"You better not tell anyone."
"Good luck asshole. I'm telling my dad the second I get home, then after he kicks the shit outta you, I'm telling my brother and he'll kick whatever shit's left in you out again."
"You better fuckin' not."
"Why, scared?"
"You think they'll believe you? You honestly believe that anyone will think you didn't want it?"
"You think I wanted you to rape me?"
"Oh, I didn't rape you, darling. We made a consensual decision to lose out virginities to each other just like in the movies. And it was sweet and romantic and we went to the place I first said I love you and that's the story everyone will hear."
"That's shit."
"But that's what everyone will hear first. No one will think anything else happened."
"You asshole."
"Sticks and stones, baby."
"Was this the plan all along? To string me along until just before I dump your ass then hold me down and rape me for the fun of it? Or was it impulsive because you knew that next year I'd be moving forward with my life and you would be stuck as a bag-boy for Extra Foods."
"I never meant it," Connor said with a smirk on his face.
"Too late."
"No, when I said I loved you. I didn't mean it."
"I don't care. We're through anyways."
"I heard someone say you were easy so I figured I'd get an effortless lay then dump you."
Jen tried to hide that the words stung.
"But after two dates and nothing, I decided I'd wait. I could do with a few weeks of role playing if it meant that you'd put out. Then after a year, I thought about dumping you, then wondered if I could have my cake and eat it too. You know Kelly Braun? Fucked her. Lilly too. And Bryn."
"Liar."
"Don't believe me? Ask any one of 'em. They weren't as frigid as you."
"You're a goddamn liar!"
"Mmmm. Bryn was the best though. You could hear her moan for miles."
"Stop it!"
"The way she said my name, too. Oh god. The shit she let me do. Wild, that one."
"You're lying! Bryn would never fuck you!"
"She would. And she did. Again and again and again."
"Shut up shut up! You're too much of a pussy to even tell the truth! Why are you bringing her into it?"
"Here's where you get out," Connor said, unlocking the door.
Jen got out and just before she slammed the door, Connor leaned over and said, "Make sure to clean up that cut."
After the door closed, Jen ran to the front door and heard Connor yell something else, but let his words fall from her mind. All she wanted was a hot shower and to call Bryn.
More than anything, she needed a sense of normalcy. She needed something to show her that everything would be okay. Jen turned the door knob and entered the house, trying very hard to keep her composure.
<|><|><|>
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