Reality For Real March 26, 2009

Last night i was watching the Bachelor episode i had TiVo-ed. That’s when Matt came over. He said his girlfriend had just dumped him. He said his girlfriend had felt unloved. He said he hadn’t seen it coming. I had. Everyone had. That is, everyone who saw her with Austin. But i didn’t tell Matt that. I couldn’t really talk. I mean, his now-ex girlfriend is my roommate. Not that I like her. I don’t. She was totally wrong for him. He was totally above her. Of course, I have to say that. Because he’s my best guy-friend. Actually, he’s my only guy-friend. Seems most guys won’t just be friends with you if your boyfriend is the quarterback. I thought that stuff ended with high school. It doesn’t.

But back to the guy-friend thing. Matt was my best friend from sophomore year in high school to sophomore year now. I think my boyfriend once threatened him. But Matt just laughed. That’s how he always is. But it’s kinda stupid to laugh at a quarterback. So I had to tell my boyfriend Matt was gay. And since he doesn’t really hang out with Matt’s crowd, he bought it. Funny how easy it was. I actually see Matt way more than said boyfriend. And, come to think of it, said boyfriend has plenty of girl friends. He always did have a double standard.

So, the reality show night. I was totally just watching the T.V. And Matt was sitting there, ragging on the ex when he suddenly shut up. I glanced over at the sudden silence and he was just staring off, mouth half-opened. I asked what his deal was and then he just looked at me and laughed. He always laughs, remember?

“I didn’t even love her.” He said, as if it was the epiphany of the year. But I’d so known that. It was a duh moment for me. I mean, him and her was like me and BF. It just…happened. And it didn’t matter. That’s when I put The Bachelor on mute. And I stared at him.

“I don’t love him.” I said. He smiled slyly. “Duh.” he said. Then I laughed.

“I just wasted a year.”

“And I wasted five.” he interjected, still sly.

“What?” I argued, “you were only with her for a few months!”

He just shrugged, leaning forward, obviously eager to get to a point. “Why were we such idiots, do you think?”

I shrugged, turning the volume back up. Conversations about my boyfriend always bored me. But, i guess, by that time he wasn’t really my boyfriend. Because of my not loving and not caring and all. Still, like I wanted to analyze my own stupidity when the Bachelor was handing out his final rose. Matt understood. Sort of. He leaned back on the couch, slouching to level himself with me. He always was tall. Massive torso. But he never ever slouched. So of course I glanced at him, wondering what he was up to. But he seemed pretty intent on The Bachelor as well. It was only after the commercial break that I realized he’d inched closer. Weird. I mean, he isn’t exactly the touchy type. Which, to me was one of the deciding factors in his recent break-up since the ex was very, very touchy. So I asked if he was cold. He laughed. But then the Bachelor was up and the first girl was getting out of the limo and I was so invested in the decision that my eyes were glued to the T.V and nothing else.

The girl was my favorite. Probably because she was a lot like me. Petite. Blonde. A little cynical but still sweet. Attitude with a little bit of shyness. I’d been rooting for her since the first night when she called the bachelor out on a stupid thing he’d said. And now I was watching the finale. They were perfect for each other. Like The Notebook couple. Totally get in each other’s faces but so perfectly romantic and complete opposite. And what does he do??? He lets her go! For some green-eyed brunette who laughs like a cow. And, no, cows DO NOT laugh. I got so angry! I leapt from the couch and screamed, kneeling up by the T.V. and cursing the day the Bachelor ever got accepted to be on national television.

Matt laughed at me. Which is NOT smart to do when I’m emotionally involved in a T.V. show. i turned on him. But he just knelt next to me, allowing me to be angry for a while before he interrupted.

“Didn’t you once say I was like him?”

Yes, I had. The second week it was on. They were almost clones. Except his eyes weren’t as blue as Matt’s. But that did not seem the best time to bring up a likeness. Especially since I wanted to destroy the one on T.V. Maybe i’d settle with the twin. But Matt didn’t seem scared. He just laughed again. “And aren’t you like her?”

“YES! And he just let her go! They were perfect and he was her SOULMATE and he just made her WALK AWAY!!! It was like the best couple in the universe and–BAM–now, it’s nothing. They were perfect and….”

I stopped. Because I realized–everything. The way he looked at me when he said he hadn’t loved the ex. The way he looked when I said I didn’t love my BF. The way he said Five Years–the time we’d known each other. The way he inched closer. The way he smiled. The way he was crawling closer to me. The way I was in his arms now. The way he pushed my hair out of my eyes. The way his thumb slid across my stressed brow, softening my scowl. And now I couldn’t breathe. The Bachelor was proposing behind me to the wrong girl . But I didn’t care. My eyes were locked on Matt’s. Which were laughing. Yes, eyes DO laugh. At least his do.

“Why was he such an idiot, do you think?” His voice was a whisper, surprising.

“Maybe he just didn’t realize what was right in front of him. And they just let it go because they couldn’t see….”

My last words melted away, hazy and unimportant. He was inching closer, his hand around my neck, warm, sure. He kissed me. I kissed him. Time stopped. Everything stopped. Except him and me. That was enough. I didn’t even care what happened on The Bachelor. Because it was happening to me–my own reality. Crazy how things work out, isn’t it?

Broken Promises June 28, 2008

My foot started cramping as the minutes passed. It was tucked under my legs as I lounged on the couch, wishing everything away. He sat next to me; the piles of papers and books falling from his lap. It was near midnight. And that was when I sighed. We’d been there—same position—for over five hours. And I learned, like, nothing. At all.

“I hate English. Can we please call it quits? Please, I’m begging you.” I asked tiredly.

He laughed softly, stretching his back across the arm rest. “Lauren! You mean, you don’t find this fun?”

I rolled my eyes, “Oh yeah. No, Josh, sorry. Guess I don’t have the brain capacity of you cuz all this was in one ear and out the other.”

“Yeah, well, I guess if we don’t know it now, we’ll never know it. Might as well sleep.”

“Hallelujah.” I whispered, letting a relieved smile slide onto my face. But I didn’t move; I was too tired. I just closed my eyes and leaned my head back.

“So…should I go?”

He looked over at me awkwardly and I laughed.

“Sorry, I’m just tired.”

He nodded, biting his lip. “Ya, the drooling on the couch sorta gave that away.”

I hit him, laughing.

“Funny. At least I don’t keep looking at the kitchen as if I’m gonna die if I don’t get food this second.”

He chuckled. “That noticeable?”

I nodded, standing slowly and falling into a stretch. “Do you want something to eat?”

He stood, “Not to impose…but yes.”

I smiled, nudging him. “It’s fine. My mom would die if you left here hungry. She totally loves you.”

“Ah, yes. The only one in this house who does.”

“Well, can you really blame my dad? I mean, your family moves in, he goes over to say hi and you sick your bulldog on him.”

I could hardly say it without laughing. Josh just blushed.

“I seriously thought he was gonna kill me! He’s huge and he was practically charging at me. It was…instinctual.”

I just laughed, opening some cabinets and looking for any sort of munchies.

“But is he the only one? Who hates me, I mean?”

I glanced over at him, my forehead crinkling. “Well, there’s Balderdash. But he hates everyone.”

“Oh yes, the dog.” He said with a twinkle. His eyes always twinkled—even when he was mad.

“But is that it?” He continued, keeping his eyes on me, “Do you hate me like your dad…or do you love me—like your mom?”

I blushed, turning quickly away.

“Not in a weird way or anything.” he added quickly. “Just curious.”

I chuckled nervously. “Always curious, huh?”

He didn’t laugh. In fact, he didn’t do anything but look at me; his eyes twinkling. I didn’t know why.

We stood for a moment; him just staring, and me, blushing.

“So, what’s on the menu?” he asked finally, slipping onto one of the barstools.

I stuttered, confused and…flustered. “Well, we have peanut butter and…peanut butter.”

He laughed, “Okay then. I’m good with that. As long as it’s chunky.”

I gasped, “Of course! Only real peanut butter.”

“Isn’t that a bit of an oxymoron?”

I scowled, “No more English, kay? And you’re the one who asked for it.”

“I know, I know. I was just…quoting something. I’m surprised you don’t remember. …Sara’s pool party.”

I stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Duh! That little five year old after the food fight. He told your mom that he had oxymoron goo all over him. How could I forget? It was you who got the peanut butter out, huh? And you pretty much threw it all over him when he said he didn’t like it cuz you can’t have chunky butter.” I laughed, digging my spoon into the peanut butter. Sara was his little sister; we had been baby-sitting.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling, “You swore you’d never forget.”

I rolled my eyes, “Well that was nearly three years ago. We were like, what, fifteen. Hey—that was the same day your swimsuit flew off as you jumped from the diving board!”

He groaned, blushing under my laugh. “That, however, you swore you’d never mention.”

“Right.” I laughed. “Well, what good are promises if you can’t break them.”

“Ooo! deep!” he laughed, licking his spoon clean. “Sure your parents appreciate that theory.”

I nodded. And it went strangely quiet. Both of us were focused on swallowing.

“So,” josh said after a moment, “What are more promises we can or have broken?”

I thought for a moment. “How ‘bout how you promised me you’d pay me back for those concert tickets.”

“Oh!” he groaned, “Low blow, Lauren! Geez! well, what about you? You promised me you’d never kiss Jake. And—boom—first date, he got you.”

I gasped, “Man, josh. You are ruthless. Besides, I told you, he’s the one who kissed me. I nearly killed myself after. Pity date gone horribly wrong, remember.”

He just laughed, his eyes twinkling like mad. “Yes, well, I still think it’s funny.”

“Besides, why did it matter so much to you? You pretty much made me write in my own blood that I wouldn’t kiss him.”

He didn’t respond, just quickly thrust his spoon in his mouth. I watched him for a moment, surprised by his silence. He was never quiet; and never without a comeback.

“Well what about ones we still have to break?” he asked, avoiding my eyes. He put the spoon down, pushing the jar of peanut butter away.

I looked at him, surprised at how he totally avoiding what I’d said. but he just waited for me to respond.

“Well, we promised we would pass this test.”

He laughed, “Good one. Totally positive, too.”

I rolled my eyes. “What about you? You’ve got a promise you’re dying to break?”

He looked down, and then straight at me. It took me back; surprised me. And I found I couldn’t breathe. That’s when I realized just how close we were. Our knees were touching under the counter; his hand just by mine on the counter. I could almost smell the peanut butter on his breath.

“How ‘bout when I promised I’d never kiss a girl I didn’t absolutely love?”

I stared at him, suddenly nervous. Especially since he leaned closer.

“Well, who you got in mind, cowboy?” I asked, trying desperately to laugh. But he ignored me.

“Or, how we’d just be friends?”

Suddenly his face was hardly an inch away from mine; his eyes were sparkling again. I still couldn’t breathe. My eyes even closed. And his voice turned to a whisper. A spine tingling, total breathtaking whisper.

“How do those sound?”

I swallowed, my eyes still closed. “Good.” I whispered, losing all control as he sunk closer.

I could feel him—it was the only sense that was working. I could feel his hand slip gently around my neck, pulling me closer. I felt his thumb slowly graze my cheek, his other hand reaching my other one. I could feel his breath dance across my face. I felt my heart stop; I felt myself shiver. And then he kissed me. And I felt that.

It was as if the whole world started to twinkle and I finally felt at home. Everything seemed to be right; everything was as it should be. It was as if, in that tiny moment, years of being friends finally made sense. It was all for that single kiss. That one, beautiful tirade of broken promises. And all I could do was smile. But it was enough, because he still kissed me.

Collision May 12, 2008

Collision; there are two sorts of it—one more popular than the other. There’s the violent, painful one—the reason it’s so misunderstood. The collision where car meets person, where flame meets oxygen, where rams butt heads. But then there’s a good sort of collision. Imagine life without fireworks or cannonball dives. Those are collisions. Or there’s the magic that comes with the splitting sound of a bat meeting a baseball. There is the collision of oil and potato’s—nothing like some French fries to make you smile. But people don’t think of that as a collision—people pray to never taste collision. I was one of those. For a while.

I was a bachelor; 37 years and still aging. I can’t say I was suave or debonair. Because I wasn’t. I lived in my bachelor pad, I began to bald and wrinkle and grow width-wise. And for the most part, I was okay with it. Or at least used to it. I was an orphan—I had already seen a lot of the bad sort of collision. I was a twin; he had died at seven. But that’s another story in itself; I won’t go there. My parents collided with a semi when I was seventeen. My mom had just unbuckled her seatbelt to get a drink I had refused to—I had been mad at them. The last words I spoke to them—right before the collision—were “You guys can never understand—you don’t even have a life”. I can remember my dad cursing right before, telling me to shut up. And the semi had spun into oncoming traffic and our car had flipped; colliding with a barrier. I can still remember the sound my mom’s neck had made when it collided with the hood. I got a bit bitter, but eventually got over it. Well, came to accept it. I even went to church for a while, but I don’t think I was ever the same. And maybe that’s a good thing. In any case, I was alone and I was fine with that.

I had never been part of the in-crowd. As a young adult, I was attractive. But I was a geek. And that was a turn off to most. I’d get those flirting eyes from girls but as soon as they saw the pen in the pocket, they just started laughing and pointing. But that didn’t really matter to me; I didn’t like any of them. But I don’t really remember why; I can’t figure out why I don’t mind being reclusive or why I never bothered to date or…anything. I mean, I wasn’t one of those super geniuses—I didn’t start my own company or make billions. But, on the other hand, I also wasn’t working at some video game store or selling sci-fi books. I was comfortable, but I wasn’t living. And a collision made me see that—a good one…though it started out a little rough.

It was grocery time and I went to the store, going in for nothing more than green beans and chicken. I went to get a cart, bent down to pick up a piece of trash and suddenly I was lying on the ground, a cart slowly stopping by my head. I heard a curse and then I sort of zoned out—but not completely. A brunette kneeled down, freaking out and asking if everything was fine. She mumbled on about how she hadn’t seen me. Finally I sat up, blinking and looking around. The woman—she couldn’t have been more than thirty—touched my head, feeling the slow drip of blood. By now a small crowd had gathered. I stood, rather drunkenly, asking what had happened. The crowd eyed the woman angrily as she supported me, my arm draped around her neck. She just patted my back, telling me I was fine—she called me sweetie and kissed my cheek, leading me towards a bench. I was really confused and tried to walk away, but I was still seeing stars. She sat me down and told me, which, to her, was synonymous with honey or sweetie, to wait a second. Finally the crowd started to go and I just touched my head gently. She came running back with paper towels and a cop. I don’t think she meant for the latter to follow her because she swore under her breath as she sat next to me, seeing him coming closer.

“Good morning, officer!” she said, a smile tying at her lips. I was really confused. “This was just an awful accident!” she claimed, laughing lightly and touching my cheek again. “My husband here, he tripped right as I pushed my cart back into the…cart thing.” A nervous laugh and then she looked at me, her eyes pleading softly. I could almost see her whisper please, begging me to play along. I just nodded, my head starting to pound. Though I might have confused it with my heart; that was going wild too. Especially as she wrapped her arm around mine.

The officer stared at us, almost bored. “Well, as long as everything’s fine….”

The woman just laughed, pressing the towels to my head again. “It’s just fine…embarrassing, really.” That laugh was starting to get annoying. Luckily, as soon as the cop turned, she stopped. She handed the towels to me, looking nervously for her groceries and asking again if I was all right. I nodded warily and she started to leave. But I grabbed her arm again.

“Wait—what was that?”

“Listen,” she said, her eyes no longer laughing, “I really am sorry but I’ve gotta get going. Do you want money? Did you know someone here—your wife can yell at me later; but I really have to go now!”

“Wife?” I asked, my head starting to scream, “No, uh—no. What; why did you—”

And then I feinted, but not before I heard her curse. She did that a lot.

When I woke up, I was in a car and just as confused as ever. The woman was still by me, her hands pounding nervously on her wheel. I blinked quickly, nearly freaking out. She just looked at me, and whispered “finally”.

“Where do you live—I’ll drop you off.”

I shook my head, saying I would rather just walk. She laughed, a more bitter one than at the store. “Yeah right. I’d probably get arrested if I let you just walk off. Getting you out of the store was hard enough. Just tell me where you live—I promise I won’t stalk you. You’re not really my type.” She smiled at her own joke. I didn’t.

“Who are you?” I asked, not arguing but still scared for my life.

“My name’s Carline. Who are you?”

“Supposedly I’m your husband or your sweetie or something—something I wasn’t aware of before this morning.” She smiled, but it wasn’t a joke.

“Sorry about that, I didn’t want to deal with that crowd or you. I needed to get somewhere. Now, even that is doubtful. Now where do you live?”

“Carline, was it? I guess you’re not from here because you chose the worst street to drive down at this time. And my car—where is my car?”

Suddenly she looked scared. “You drove?” she whispered.

“Yes I drove! I’m not that old; I can still drive!”

“That’s not what I meant…. I just, I wasn’t thinking, okay? Can everyone just calm down?” But she was the only one screaming. I stared, now officially scared she’d rip my throat out or murder me on the highway. So I told her my street address and she cursed again.

“You’ve got to be kidding. Of course—why not? I mean, why would I think this day could be any good?”

I remaindered silent, she didn’t mind. She just went on.

“My boyfriend lives in that building. No, sorry, that would be my ex. The jerk slept with some blonde bimbo who can’t be more than twelve years old—on my birthday. Which was yesterday, which he forgot. And so I go to tell him off and—boom—some chick in a hooker outfit was making out with him. Oh, I told him off then. He almost called the cops, I got so loud. What is it with me and attracting crap?”

I’m not sure if it was a rhetorical question, but I wouldn’t dare answer it. I just stared at her, realizing I was indeed stuck in the twilight zone. I had never been so uncomfortable in my life. But she kept going.

“Does the traffic ever stop?” she screamed, slamming her fists on the horn and getting flipped off multiple times. “My life is some sort of hell-hole right now and what do I do? I go and knock some senior on his butt and now have to drive him to my ex’s place! There is no good in today.”

“Senior?” I scoffed, “I might be old, but not that old! And how can you be talking—your ex couldn’t have strayed that far from where he started! What are you; thirteen?”

She stared at me, a sharp laugh falling. “Oh, so the man has an attitude? No, I am very much not thirteen. I guess it just comes off that way, cuz the only guys I can get aren’t past puberty! What about you? You go for the younger chicks too?”

I rolled my eyes, “No, trust me.”

She sighed, looking back into the frozen traffic. “So what’s your name again?”

“Richard.”

She snorted and I scowled. “What is it now?”

“Nothing—I just can’t believe you’re not a senior with that name. I hope you gave your parents crap about that one.”

I actually laughed, only because it was true. And I had.

“So, Richard, what’s your story?”

“Excuse me?”

“Come on—this is going to take forever and I just told you my entire life! It’s the least you can do; I am driving you home.”

“Only because you threw a cart at my head and kidnapped me!”

She rolled her eyes, “Oh, come on! Real mature thought process. I mean, I would not kidnap you—what a waste of energy.”

I smiled, still not believing I was stuck here. She threw herself on the horn again, oblivious to the curses thrown back at her. “Okay, shy guy, I’ll make this easy for you. Where were you born?”

I sighed, already tired of this game. “Here. I’ve lived here all my life.”

She looked at me, her green eyes dazzling with unbelief. “Holy freak. How can you even stand that? I’ve been everywhere. Can’t stick in one place for more than a year or two. Don’t you wanna see something else? Please tell me you do not live with your parents.”

I shook my head, “They died when I was a kid.”

“Well, okay then. That works.” She didn’t get all depressed or sympathetic. Most people do. But she just smiled and moved on.

“’Kay, how ‘bout work.”

I stuttered for a moment. “Oh, grow up! I’m swear I’m not going to stalk you, steal your identity, none of that. I’m just really bored.”

So I told her. I had a cubicle job at a big company uptown. She found that more disturbing than my hometown history. She started lecturing me on how no one should have to work like that. That a box was so confining, that I should quit and move to Tahiti or something. Then she turned on the radio—really loud. And really not classical.

She laughed at my face, saying I was worse than her dad. But she turned it down. A little.

“Well, it’s my turn. Carline—did you choose that or were your parents just on drugs when you were born.”

“Well, duh. You obviously know little about giving birth—the shot was the first thing my mom got. But no, actually, I chose the name. It’s my middle name—my parent’s let me choose it for my sixteenth birthday. My real name…that, you will never know.”

I stared, suddenly entranced by the way her smile made her eyes crinkle. But I was more intrigued by her name. “I have to know now! You can’t just build me up for such a cut-off, that’s not fair.”

She laughed, “Life’s not fair—didn’t your parents ever tell you that?”

“Dead; remember?” That wasn’t a sullen statement, just fact. Strangely enough, I was comfortable talking about it with her.

“ah, yes.” She smiled, “well, then I guess you’ll have to hear it from me.”

“You’re not old enough to be my mom.”

She scoffed, the laugh falling loudly and dryly. “Isn’t that the truth?”

I smiled, sitting straighter and touching my head gingerly. It still stung, but the blood was dry.

She glanced at me. “So, Mr. Richard of the cubicle and most pathetic life ever, what is it you like to do. And it better be interesting, cuz so far your life is anything but.”

My smile stopped and I started to think about my life; what I did for fun. There was really nothing. I’d never even gone bowling or ever played a sport. My dad had had a useless arm and had never thrown me a ball because of it. My mom hadn’t had time to put me in any classes or teams. All I had were my books, but I didn’t even really like those. When I was at home, I would eat or shower or read a little or watch some T.V. But there was nothing I would really call a hobby. And you know, I had never really thought about it before.

I told her this and her jaw just dropped. “What?” she nearly screamed, “You’ve never been bowling? What do you do here? I mean, you have to live here your whole life and you don’t even have a way to spend it? Richard, it is official, you are pathetic—way worse than my dad.”

“Is that an insult?” I laughed. But she didn’t.

“Yeah. A major one! My dad is the lamest guy ever. That is, he was, until you came along.”

I stared down, trying to smile, but finding it hard to. It was like my life was nothing and I just realized it. I realized that I hadn’t even been living, I had just been breathing.

“Oh, don’t go all depressive on me! You know what, no, we are going bowling.”

And suddenly she pushed her way through two lanes and took the exit. I didn’t even know where we were. But I was scared. She just mumbled under her breath about how pathetic I was. Then she pulled into the first bowling alley we saw and demanded me to get out. She mad me pay, saying she bet I made more than her and I needed it; she didn’t. So I paid for a lane, put on those awful shoes and picked up a ball. It was heavy. She just rolled her eyes, saying that if I couldn’t pick up a bowling ball, I might as well call myself a senior and get the discount.

Then she bowled, getting an easy ‘spare’. I went up, almost nervous. So she came over, stood by me and told me to just swing. That everyone is born knowing how to throw a ball. So I threw it and knocked them all down. I cheered, knowing that was good. She just looked at me, her eyes strangely jealous yet humored at the same time.

“Are you sure you’ve never played before?”

I just laughed, meandering back and sitting lazily. And, for the first time in a long time, I really, truly smiled. And it felt good.

Playing that game I realized just how much girls could talk. She just went on and on—about anything and everything. Which was understandable, since she seemed to know everything. She had been to every continent—except Antarctica—at least once. Had a boyfriend in each. She told me everything about her love life, how even in high school she could only get the scum. I mentioned she was rather pretty so it was understandable. She asked, with a laugh, what that’s supposed to mean. I told her guys were only brave enough to go for someone if it was a shallow sort of thing; they didn’t have to put anything into it yet they could get everything they wanted out of it. And most shallow guys only cared for the gorgeous girl.

She stared at me for a moment. I asked her why and she just shook her head, knocking another pin down and then sitting by me. “It’s just…weird. You could be my dad, but you’re still…young.”

I scoffed, almost embarrassed by it all. “I could not be your dad—I’m not that old.”

“Okay, but you’re like, what, pushing forty?”

“And you’re, what, pushing twenty?”

She laughed; a short, humored laugh that made me smile. “You wish. Let’s just say I’m pushing thirty.”

“And you’re not married.” I said; it wasn’t a question. And I quickly bowled before she answered.

“No. I’ve never really felt the need. I’ve tasted too much of life to just throw it away and settle.”

She blushed as I laughed, “What?”

“Nothing; it’s just, the way I’ve heard it, family is life.”

She rolled her eyes, standing to bowl but still talking, “No. Not in my eyes—you don’t know my family. I watched my mom and dad divorce, get married, and divorce again. I don’t think I’m the family type. But, Mr. Richard, what’s your excuse? First wife leave you for another man?”

“No. Never been married. I guess I just…never really looked for it. I don’t really…date. Besides, the only girls who go for me are twice divorced with three kids or absolutely drunk.”

Her laugh broke across the room as I went up to bowl. I got a gutter ball. “Huh? So, ‘sweetie’, which one do I fall in to?” It was a joke, but I didn’t laugh. I just bowled and willed my heart to slow down. Suddenly she was standing by me, offering a high-five as I got a spare. “We live in a weird world, huh? Nothing really goes like it should.”

“And how is that?” I asked, staring into her eyes. They seemed to darken, but they still looked beautiful.

“I mean, we’re good people; we’re nice—nice looking—and everything. So why aren’t we settled or at least…pro’s at this love thing? People look at me and think it’s my fault life won’t work out for me. Like all those people who saw me push the cart at you; I get those looks every day someone finds out I didn’t go to church, or every week that a ring remains off the finger. You know, it makes me sick. Life’s not all fairy-tales, but people—even ones stuck in crap—think it is. And they get mad when I don’t reach it. Life is just life, you know. It’s not like I need these…judgements to realize I’m missing out on something. But is it my entire fault? Like, really?”

She was no longer bowling. She was just sitting, holding her soda and looking through me. I slowly sat next to her, a sort of relief flooding over me—I wasn’t the only one. It was a sort of connection; we both had different stories, but the same results.

“Yes, I know what that’s like. But still, you can’t be disappointed in your life. You’ve tasted things most people only dream of. You even said you don’t want to settle.”

She looked over at me, her eyes mischievous. This is when I found out how confusing girls can be. “Yeah but, I can’t say I really meant it. I mean…there’s always been that pull for something more. I just don’t wanna admit it. Cuz life can be a total bag of manure sometimes, you know?”

I slowly started to nod my head, then started to shake it. I really was confused. She laughed, her solemn look finally shed.

“I get that a lot.” She smiled at me, her knees pulled up under her chin. She truly was beautiful. And it was then I knew what it felt like to have your heart collide with your chest. I knew what it was like to have emotions crash with your thoughts.

I wanted nothing but to get the chance to hold Carline—a woman I had known for less than twenty four hours; a woman who was probably ten years my junior; a woman who looked at me as a father figure; a woman who’d just broken up with a boyfriend. And then I was mad. Mad at me, at her, at the day. I wasn’t supposed to be here. It was grocery day. I was supposed to be home, starting dinner and thinking about work. I probably would have turned on the T.V. and then picked up some random book. I would have gone to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, looking for grey hairs. Instead, I was out bowling with a beautiful girl who had previously given me a concussion. And, in the few hours I’d known her, my world had been flipped upside down. I didn’t want to go back to breathing—I found I liked living.

I stood up, took a bowling ball, and threw it into the lane, getting to hear the solid sound of the ball colliding with all ten pins. She was by me again, a sort of stunned yet humored expression across her face.

“Thanks, Richard. But just because you happen to be an absolute pro at this game, doesn’t mean I want you to bowl for me.”

I blushed, keeping my eyes away from her face, desperate to remain a man. I knew exactly what she’d do if I fell to my impulses—I would probably do the same if I were her. So I sat back down without a word. And she followed.

She ordered a pizza, saying she was absolutely starved. I told hr I was quite the cook. She laughed and said it was nothing she hadn’t heard before—that guys always used that line to get her to come over but it would always turn out to be take-out. I assured her I was totally serious and she just winked, saying she’d have to come over sometime and see. But then she told me the different types of food she had tasted. Said caviar was vile, but she’d eat roasted squid any day. I told her that was disgusting. She laughed. As the pizza came, she went on about her Italian adventures. How true Italian pizza was nothing like the American version. I told her about pizza my mom used to make; with macaroni and cheese, canned tomatoes and peppers. She thought that sounded worse than anything. But it’s actually pretty good. She said I’d have to make it for her sometime.

The mood went somber. Both of us seemed nervous to speak. She finally rolled her eyes. “Yes, I said it. Geez. It’s not like we have to get married! I just want to try a mac and cheese pizza—is that such a crime?”

I laughed, nearly choking on my food as her face reddened. She smiled too, saying I was such a kid—that she’d baby-sat more mature boys than me. I just smiled, quickly asking where she lived now—if she had reached the two year limit.

She smiled, staring at me for a second too long to be comfortable. “Yeah, actually. I lived by my boyfriend for almost a year. Too long. I actually have a ticket to Austin, Texas—tomorrow morning.”

“Texas?” I said, trying desperately to hold myself together. She looked down.

“Uh-huh. I got a job.”

“What do you even do?” My voice cracked and she laughed—another one of those mesmerizing laughs.

“Anything and everything. This is a graphic designer position.”

“How do you even live like this? All this moving and going and stuff?” It could have been nosey, but she didn’t care.

“When you really want something, you go for it.” Her glance lingered—I’m sure she noticed mine too. “And, since I can’t seem to decide what I want, I go for a lot.”

I just nodded. That’s when a worker came over and told us they were closing—it was eleven o’clock. We were both surprised. Carline quickly asked how much that would cost. The guy just shrugged, saying it had been a slow day and we’d gotten through with just one payment—no biggie. So we quickly left, thanking them and leaving a quick tip. Not to mention half a pizza. But I don’t think they really wanted that.

We got in her car and started off; it was silent. But not awkward. We just both seemed to be thinking. All I could think of was the day—her laugh and how random everything had. How absolutely abnormal it was to me, but how it felt just like it should. I thought about how, when she smiled, a wrinkle would appear just by her left eye. Her bangs, just growing out, always managed to slip from behind her ear and slide onto her face. There was the way her foot swiveled when she stood still for too long. Or how she cheered when she hit a strike. And her eyes—just how green they were. And I thought about what she had said; how her philosophy on life was so different than mine. How…opposite she was from me, but how much I longed to be her. “When you really want something, you go for it.”

I looked at her, my mouth suddenly dry. She was humming along to the music, her head bobbing as her hands set the beat on the wheel. She seemed oblivious to me. But then she smiled.

“What you looking at so intently; you have some radio station you’re dying to hear—maybe the classical channel? Or some talk shows?”

It wasn’t rude and I smiled, quickly saying no and looking out the window. The traffic was gone and the night was dark.

“So, where’s it gonna be? Your house or your car?”

“Excuse me?” I said, shocked and almost scared. No matter how much my heart pounded when I was by her, that still seemed a little too…quick. Not to mention wrong—in a lot of ways.

She looked at me and then burst into laughter—a loud, totally happy laugh. “I mean, where do you want to be dropped off! Man, Rich, somebody’s mind is in the gutter!”

I smiled, blushing horribly and mumbling about how I was just thinking and that it had come out wrong. I told her my car would probably be best, and closest. She mentioned something about how that also meant she couldn’t stalk me. But I was only half listening. She had called me rich. Nobody had ever called me Rich before—nobody had ever called me anything but Richard. But I liked it.

Too soon, we were at the grocery store. It was easy enough to find my car; it was one of the last there. She laughed when she saw it; calling me a total geek. But it wasn’t rude. It was just Carline, and I was starting to like that. She parked, and I didn’t know what to do. Part of me wanted to say so much and the other just wanted to hide. Finally she smiled, and said it had been fun—way more fun than hanging out with her dad. I laughed, thanking her. The doors were still locked, but I didn’t want to tell her.

“Can-can I have your number?” I asked, quickly adding the fact that I needed to arrange a time to make mac and cheese pizza. She smiled, not even blushing or fidgeting. She just gave it to me and then unlocked the doors, almost as if she had been waiting. Then I got out and started to my car. But she called me back.

“Rich,” she said, leaning her head towards my opened door, “sorry ‘bout that…collision…with the grocery cart.”

“Don’t be,” I smiled, “I’m not.”

She smiled too, sort of biting her lip and then sitting back. But she popped back out again.

“Oh, and rich, you really don’t look forty. You’re cuter than my ex boyfriend…not that that’s saying much.” She laughed at her joke, giving me a double honk and yelling something about ‘sweetie’ as she drove off. I just laughed, getting in my car and willing myself to remember how to breathe. I didn’t dare turn on the car; I felt drunk. I just watched her pull out and get back on the freeway. It hurt; watching her go. All I could think of was what she had said—how you should go for the things you want. But everything I’d ever known told me it was ridiculous; that it could never and would never work out. So I just drove back to my apartment and went to bed. And, for the first time in my life, I didn’t brush my teeth. And it felt strangely good.

But I woke up with a headache; a huge, pulsing headache. And at first I thought it had all been a dream. But the taste of pizza still hung on my breath and my phone was lying on the counter, her number still in it. I reached for it, wanting to call. That’s when I remembered she was leaving—to Texas. I went in the bathroom and, after getting ready, just stared at myself, but not because of the threat of grey hairs. Rather because I felt like, if she went, living would leave to. It was as if my entire life was built up into that yesterday. As if all I had to live for was about to get on a plane and leave—live a life she wanted. And it was then when I realized just how desperation could change a man.

I pulled my phone and called her, needing to tell her—everything. But I got her voicemail. “Hey, this is Carline. I’m probably too busy living to answer; sorry. But I guess you can leave a message—“ a laugh, “and maybe I’ll get back to you…if you’re in range.”

So I did something more desperate. I grabbed my keys, jumped in my car and sped off to the airport. I didn’t even know when she was leaving. But I knew I had to find out. I laid on my horn, willing the traffic to disappear. For the first time, I was flipped off. But I didn’t care. I kept calling, willing her to answer, though I had no idea what she’d say. Probably file a restraining order.

It took me an hour to get to the airport and then I had no idea what to do.

I went up to the desk, asking if they could tell me what flight Carline was getting on. They said they could not, especially if I didn’t have a last name. I wanted to swear, but instead I just begged. I told them my life relied on this girl; that I had to find her. They didn’t buy it. Told me to move on—from the ticket booth and the girl. So I walked away, my eyes pathetically filling with tears. More because my head was killing me than anything, but still. I was crying. I just fell on a seat, letting my head fall between my knees. The incessant clatter of heels on tiles taunted me. Children seemed to scream just as they passed me. Adults would yell at spouses or children top hurry up or slow down—right by ear. The whole world seemed to be out to get me; my head was a circus and I couldn’t focus. But suddenly, I felt a hand on my head.

“Here sweetie, let me help you.”

I choked; the voice was too sweet—too perfect. It was as if all my hopes and dreams were in that voice and I didn’t dare look. But I did. My tears were still dripping down my cheek and my head was still pounding. But a sort of peace came over it when I heard her laugh. And then I saw those eyes. She was kneeling on the ground before me, her pencil skirt just touching the floor. Her hair was swept back in a ponytail and she smiled sadly at me.

“What’s a matter—someone would think little rich had his money taken by the playground bully.” Her laugh collided with her own joke and I smiled, letting her hands grasp my head.

“You did this to me.”

“Well, that’s real romantic.” She said, still on the ground.

“No, I mean my headache. It’s been pounding since you tried to kill me with a grocery cart.”

She sighed, a sort of laugh lacing it. “Now that is even less romantic.”

I laughed, but suddenly I went serious. “Carline—“

“It’s Jemima.” She whispered, a coy smile playing at her lip. And I laughed. Right then, I knew I could do what I had to. So I did.

Jemima Carline, I have to tell you something. Because right now, I just can’t breathe.”

She just nodded, her eyes wide and innocent.

“You have totally changed me. I was a senior till you ran me over and kidnapped me and…all that. I woke up and—I just can’t live without you. I know this sounds ridiculous. I hardly know you. I could be a crazy rapist drug banger…and visa versa. But I want to try. I wanna try. To Live, to settle. And I want to try it with you. I—I’ve never done this before, but if what I’m feeling isn’t love, I don’t need love. Cuz this is good enough. You, carline, have stolen my heart—within hours of knowing it. You taught me to go for what I want and I want you.”

She didn’t laugh, she didn’t cry, but she smiled. And it was beautiful. She stood slowly, her hands slipping into mine. “Well, rich, looks like we have something in common.”

And then she sat on my lap, looked into my eyes and laughed. And then we kissed. And that was the greatest collision I have ever felt. It was the greatest collision I had ever tasted. The world seemed to spin and it was just her and me. For a moment we parted and she whispered in my ear, “I hope you know that go for it stuff was crap—I made it up, just to get this.” Then she kissed me again. I could almost feel her laugh. We were soon absorbed and passion collided with humor, chance collided with reason, we collided with each other. And even as the call for final borders to Austin rang out, we still remained. My head still pound, but not as hard as my heart.

My crash course in collision taught me two things: there are two sorts of collision. One, considered bad. Two, absolutely delicious. But, isn’t it interesting; one can lead to another and both share a same sort of consequence. They both leave you breathless—simply and completely breathless. And that is why I pray for them; every day. Because, if you let them, they always remind you to live. Always.

Good Morning, Sunshine – prt. 6 April 12, 2008

It was Tuesday when he finally called—right as I was about to leave with Annie for the bus. He asked if I wanted a ride. I said I’d pay for one. He laughed.

So it was five minutes after Annie left that he pulled up. In a Mercedes Cabriolet. I almost died. That is a ridiculously hot car. He laughed as I stared, asked if I really thought only New Yorkers were rich. I just sat in that car and smiled. I told him most people didn’t have actual cars—not that we really saw or used. I was used to limo’s more than I was Lamborghinis. And I told him I guess I had taken him for a mini-van kind of family. That made him laugh. Turns out his dad is a partner at a law firm and they live down here for his mom—she didn’t want to leave the suburbs. But that didn’t mean she wanted to be a suburbia statistic.

I guess he was scared I would think of him as a spoiled brat because he told me that his parents didn’t just hand the wealth to them—they had to earn it. He said the car was for getting accepted to Cornell but that they were gonna sell it after he left. I told him that was cool, but I didn’t really feel the need for an explanation—it was a beautiful car and I have been handed everything in my life, so why would I judge him on his wealth. That was slightly awkward I must admit, but he just smiled. That’s when we pulled up to the school, but before I could get out he asked if I wanted to ditch. He laughed when he saw my face, said maybe that was a bit suburbia but, hey, live a little. And it was just math with Annie—and Jenny. So I said yes; call me wicked.

In my entire life, I never missed a day of school just to miss school. I’ve missed for parties, trips and sickness but never just to cut class. It was exciting; rebellious. People might think rich snobs are always rebellious, but they’re not. They don’t have time to be. There’s always shopping, travelling, partying—every thing that keeps you from disrespecting your parents. After all, they do the same thing. Some manage to get into things there parents wouldn’t necessarily condone, but they don’t spend enough time at home to condemn it. And ditching class would hardly be one of those things. It really was so suburbia. But it was fun. Really fun.

We drove to some movie theater with the top down. That wasn’t so fun at first. All I could think about was my hair. I had curled it. He seemed to notice my discomfort cuz he told me not to worry–I still looked beautiful. No guy had ever told me that before. Well, my dad had. And I’d been whistled at people have told me I’m hot–mostly the older perves at the bars in NYC. But never had any guy told me I was beautiful. It was…sweet. Surprisingly so. I mean, I didn’t need someone to tell me that–I knew it. Not like in a snotty way, I just knew it. But still, I probably blushed. And he laughed.

Then we went to the theatre. We had to pretend to be older cuz there was a sign talking about teens not being let in during school hours–guess this was the hot spot to go to when ditching. But that wasn’t hard for me. Most Manhattan preps could get into any bar or club they wanted without even having to use a fake I.D. I didn’t really have to do anything anyway. When they saw us pull up in the mercedes, all ideas of us being teens were thrown out the window. Only in suburbia.

We saw some stupid show trying to be shoved into every genre out there. It was romance, comedy, horror, action, drama all rolled into a huge, sloppy mess. But it was funny, not on purpose. And I didn’t really care. We had the theater to ourselves–very gross theater, I might add–so we talked a lot more than we watched. Then we headed back to the school. We got there just as lunch started. That was more awkward than I had imagined; waling in with him. It was like everyone saw and everyone stopped what they were doing to watch us. I swear everyone had known we had ditched and they just stared. Jason was the only one who didn’t really notice. He just walked down the hall, totally oblivious, and talking to me. He kind of laughed about it though. But when I walked past Annie our conversation stopped. She jumped on me and started talking really fast–and loud–about where I had been. It was then she saw Jason standing with a smile behind me and she kind of backed off. But she didn’t walk away. So jason smiled and said it had been fun; sorry if he totally ruined my education. I rolled my eyes and brushed my hand through my tangled curls as he walked off with a wave.

As soon as he was out of hearing distance, Annie attacked me with questions. All the other girls were pretty curious too. I just told her he had given me a ride. She scoffed and said he must be the slowest driver in america if that’s all we did. I just laughed and said I had to go talk to some teachers. I really didn’t. And Annie knew that. She told me the classes I’d missed didn’t even care. Except for math, no one really takes roll. Plus, she said, I’m such a new student–and super quiet–no one really notices me one way or the other. I kind of stared at her–it seemed a little harsh, but she hadn’t meant it to be. She just laughed and told me to sit down. I looked around and everyone still seemed to be watching me. I told hr I had to go to the bathroom. But she was determined. So she followed me there. And she finally got it out of me. She sat on the disgusting counter as I tried to calm my hair and listened. She thought it was adorbale.

“You’re so gonna get together–did he kiss you?”

I stared at her, half amused, half annoyed. I never knew people could be so nosey. Maybe it was because all my girlfriends in New York took eachother’s boyfriends so they couldn’t ever talk about it like this. Relationships weren’t serious in my world. It was all non-commital or materialistic. But Annie expected my life to be a movie style fairy-tale.

I told I most definitely had not been kissed.

“Well, don’t you want him to kiss you?”

I laughed, “What if I want to kiss him? Why does he have to kiss me?”

Her eyes totally sparked and she smiled, “So you do wanna kiss him?”

I scoffed, “You’re really nosey for not knowing me.”

She roller her eyes and got off the counter, “Whatever, I know you. Doesn’t take years to figure you out.”

It could have been rude, but I knew she hadn’t meant it to be. So I just smiled.

“We’re totally friends, Brooke. So deal. Now–do you wanna kiss him or not?”

I kind of zoned the last part out. All I could think of was her saying we were friends. It sparked the thought that no one had ever told me that before–not so…honestly anyway. It was weird. And yet comfortable. Cuz I agreed.

She nudged me, “Well? Do you?”

I blushed. That was awkward. “I-I don’t know!”

She rolled her eyes, but they still twinkled, “You so do. Don’t even deny it. I don’t think you’d let your hair out for just anyone. You are so crushing on him. And he totally loves you.”

I spun to face her. I tried to kind of wiggle my way out of it all. But I couldn’t. She was right–about my hair at least. I never did that. My hair was my crown and I never let anyone mess with it. Ever. I remember once I couldn’t find my conditioner and my maid gave me some grocery-store kind. I threw a fit and screamed that I wouldn’t go to school without using my conditioner. So I made her run to my salon and buy some more. Pathetic, huh? But that had just been me. I loved my hair. I think I’d rather give up all my clothes than shave my head! And staring in that mirror at the blown out curls made me realize that I didn’t care. Well, I cared. But I wouldn’t not do it again. I was fine having the frizzy hair for the rest of the day–it had so been worth it. And he had called me beautiful anyway.

Annie took my silence as an answer and she smiled and jumped back on the counter. “You’re so jealous-making.”

I smiled, “Whatever, Annie. You’re pretty too.”

“Yeah, but you’re barbie-doll HOT. It’s like totally unfair. Every girl here wants to kill you and every guy wants to totally own you.” Then she laughed. “Too bad you’re already taken.”

I aksed her what she meant just as the bell rang.

“Come on–walking in with Jason, like, two hours late is totally screaming ‘taken–don’t mess!’ And that is making some guys totally sad.”

“I’m not some guys property.” I complained as we walked out the room.

“Yeah, well, every guy is willing to be yours and you’ve so chosen the best option.”

Then she laughed and pulled me up the stairs towards our class. I don’t remember a single thing that was said–in any of the remaining classes. All I could think about was my hair. About not caring, mostly. It was a weird, new feeling for me. And Annie’s laughing eyes always glancing over didn’t really help. But you know what? I didn’t even care. I was, as Annie would say, totally taken. And that was a new experience for me. But I so liked it.

Good Morning, Sunshine – prt. 5 April 7, 2008

Do you realize how weird mondays are? But whatever. I woke up, put on something hot–as usual–and then left with Annie to the bus. She is a very…energetic person in the morning. Doesn’t even need coffee. She was talking and laughing with the guys as we waited for a bus. I just scowled and picked at my nails. I was in desperate need of a manicure.

Then the bus came. And I sat down across from Annie, still ignoring her chatter. The bus was about to pull off when–boom!–some guy thrusts his hand in and yells “Stop!”

It was Jason. I really wouldn’t have noticed except he was suddenly sitting next to me, laughing about how embarassing that had been. I just smiled, still totally confused as to why. Why, a lot of things actually. Why was he on the bus–never seen him before; why didn’t he get on with his brother; why was he now sitting with me; and why was everyone looking at me–and him–like we were aliens. Their eyes were all wide and I swear it went silent. But Jason didn’t notice, he just started talking. It actually kind of hurt my ear–the loud words biting almost. I like my quiet.

“Man, I haven’t been on a bus all year!” He looked around, “Now I know why.”

Suddenly Todd was by us, smacking his brother across the shoulder. “I can’t believe you.”

I didn’t know what to do, so I just smiled and looked away. But Jason wasn’t done. He told his brother–and me, sort of–that his car had died on the driveway so he had raced to the bus stop and finally caught it at my stop. Wierd. Todd just rolled his eyes. Jason then mentioned the project and how we hadn’t gotten anything done. I nodded and started talking–not happily, but I was talking–about it and what we should do. Todd got bored and leaned back into his seat, pulling his iPod out. So it was Jason and me. And then Jason started laughing about how wierd this was; being on the bus. I told him he had no idea. That started him talking about me. A subject which, surprisingly, I’m not so comfortable with. I might like being hot, but I don’t like having to talk under the spotlight.

He asked about new York, but not nosily. He mentioned having been there once–how everything was bigger and the Hot Dogs were overated. I told him I’d never had one. he thought that was funny. I told him they were made for the tourists, not the New Yorkers. At least not my kind of New Yorkers. He smiled. And then we were at school.

He stood and let me sort of swing out in front of him. Annie was smiling at me again, not even waiting till we were off the bus to make faces. Of course, once we were off, we were seperated again. Jason sort of grabbed me and pulled me aside for a second. He said maybe we should go get some lunch and talk about the project since it seems impossible to concentrate in class. He asked for my number. I don’t know if I was surprised or not, but I gave it to him. Then he walked off, sort of waving and smiling with a “See you later”. I smiled. And it was a real smile.

Then I was surrounded by Annie and a pack of gossip-starving girls. they all started talking at once–all of it about Jason. Finally Annie sort of took over, her eyes serious and shocked.

“He has never been on a bus…since the accident.”

I laughed–that whisper was too much not to. i told her to stop acting like she was on some soap opera. Then some girl started talking.

“No–serious. His girlfriend; last summer was on a bus to D-world with her family. And the bus driver–”

“He totally fell asleep!” another interluded, “And the bus rammed into the barrier.”

“She was the only one who died.”

“Well, there is this total brain-dead geezer who got paralyzed–but he’s still alive.”

Annie just looked at me, boring deep into me, “He has never been on the bus and he has never talked to another girl like…he did.”

I didn’t know what to say. or do. Part of me wanted to laugh. It all seemed so random. I just bent and straightened out my shoes strap. The other girls started to walk away, though I knew they were still whispering about it. Annie waited for me, but she didn’t say anything. She just sort of smiled. I was left to my own thoughts, which were going crazy. Him texting me halfway through first didn’t help. He said he wanted to make sure it was my real number. Yeah, right. But I couldn’t think of a comeback–sassy, un-caffeinated me and all–so I just sent him a smile. He smiled back, said he was glad I hadn’t blown him off. That’s when I pretended my teacher was passing out a quiz and I had to stop. Which was weird. I never used to lie to get rid of boys–I would just tell them like it was or they would be the liars to get rid of me. But all I could think of was his laugh and that seemed to calm the monster within. I know–crazy.

My heart was crazy till lunch. I had never gone to the bathroom to check the mirrors so much. I didn’t know what I expected, but I knew what happened wasn’t even an idea.

Jason called me as I sat trying to be all cool with Annie. She kept glancing at me with a sort of smile–she had heard what jason had said off the bus. I tried hard not to look in those eyes in fear of smiling back. Anyway, he called and asked where I was; said lunch was totally necessary. I laughed; I wasn’t really a phone call person. I liked text. It was easier. But jason made that call easy–I didn’t say a word. Except bye. Then he was by my side. He smiled at the other girls and then asked if I was ready. I just smiled and told him a girl didn’t need an hour to prepare to get in a car. That’s when he reminded me there was no car. I looked at him and asked if he was joking. That made him blush. It was…cute.

He sort of shuffled his feet and said his mom was one of those lunch-packers. Said he knew it was pathetic, but the project, after all, called for it. Right. The project. I just nodded my head, getting a bit uncomfortable. Then Todd was on us.

He grabbed his brother around the neck and asked if he was trying to ditch him. I almost wished Jason would say yes. But Jason just laughed and pushed him off, telling Todd that it never seems to work, so why try. Then Todd sort of straddled the two of us and asked what was on the menu. By now we were out in the Florida sunshine and the gleaming grass seemed to taunt my designer jeans.

I remained silent as Todd made a joke about how pathetic Jason was being. But then Jason pulled a blanket from behind a tree. Todd laughed and asked how long he’d been planning this. jason just through it at Todd’s face and told him we couldn’t very well sit on the grass; at least the one’s who have any sort of fashion priorities. he winked at me as Todd rolled his eyes. I just smiled, not sure how I felt about sitting on an old blanket. But I did, and the sunshine seemed a bit brighter as Jason pulled tupperware after tupperware from his backpack.

“Geez, Jason. Did you pay a caterer?” Todd asked, leaning deeply into his arms. they were pretty tough. But jason lust laughed.

“Just cuz mom loves me more.”

“Yeah–you wish. I’m the charming one.”

I don’t think I meant to, but I sort of snickered. Todd sort of gaped at me, but Jason laughed outloud and sat next to me.

“Now that–” he said, touching my arm, “that was truth.” Then he held out his hand for a high five. I kind of looked at it. I don’t do high-five’s. But I gave him one. That made Todd laugh.

“You can’t expect Blaire–I mean, Brooke–to appreciate the power of a five.”

I just rolled my eyes at the snideness. It was nothing compared to things that came to mind. But I held them back. I’m not sure why.

Jason sort of chuckled, looking at me with a twinkle and saying, “I think I’d rather under-appreciate a five and be her than be you–period.”

That’s when I laughed. Jason smiled and Todd fell silent. Then the food was passed around. It was deli sandwiches and chocolate chip cookies. Neither of which had ever really been a hit in my life, but I fell in love right there. Those cookies were better than any Panna Cotta cooked up by my chef. They were…simply delicious. Jason was glad I ate so many. Todd said he was surprised I had any, must totally be so un-cool in NYC–think of the calories. Freak.

Jason apologized for his brother. I just smiled and said it was okay, I was used to wannabe’s taking bad about NY–only way to feel good about themselves. Sorry, Jason.

“Oh! Smack down!” Jason laughed, holding his hand out again. This time I smashed it–or whatever you call it. Then lunch was over. And we hadn’t said a word about the project. Todd kind of walked carelessly off, leaving me with Jason. I didn’t mind.

“So, did my mom live up to your chef?” He asked, folding the balnket with a smile.

“How did you know….” Then I laughed. “You know, not all New Yorkers have chef’s. You shouldn;’t just presume.”

He laughed, “Where’s the fun in that. Besides, there’s a type. Us un-New yorkers have to learn to see it. That’s why you’re featured in so many movies.”

“Is that so? Todd said something like that too…. Less nicely, though.” I smiled at him, slowing down for him to put the balnket away. He was hot; bending down, I mean. Not that I saw anything. He just was.

“Yeah–he can be like that. Sorry.”

I just smiled, suddenly not caring to get to class or even out of the sun. “I guess we’ll never get this project done.”

He laughed, holding the door open. “Yeah, guess not. To tell you the truth, I don’t really care. I mean, I’ve been accepted to college and a missing assignment won’t stop that.”

“Yeah–where to?”

“Cornell College–well, the Weill Cornell Medical College. Up in New York.”

“Wow. That’s impessive. What are you going into?”

He looked at me, slightly uncomfortable, but still willing to answer. “Surgery. …personal reasons, I guess.”

I just nodded, not daring push further. And I already knew anyway. “That’s really cool–really hard to get into. Will you be rooming with your brother?” I teased and he laughed.

“No! Todd doesn’t even know what he wants.”

Then we were to the stairs and the final bell rang. “Sorry; you’re late.” he didn’t look that sorry.

“Like I care–missing pottery isn’t the end of the world.”

He smiled, “I never took you for a pottery kind of girl.”

“I never took you for a medical kind of man.”

“What–you don’t think I could pull off scrubs nicely?”

I smiled, “Well….” Then I started to walk off, not really wanting to make a grand entrance into pottery.

“Brooke–can I call you? Later, I mean.”

I smiled, almost blushing. But I didn’t. I took another step up the stairs, not really sure what to say. I didn’t have to say anything. He just smiled. “I mean, for the project, of course.”

I laughed, turning and looking at him. “Yeah–as long as it is on this project. I mean, I might die if I don’t get it done.”

He laughed, his smile seeping into his chocolate eyes. “Well, we don’t want that, do we?” Then he left, sort of laughing as he walked away. I could have melted. But I didn’t. I just stood on those steps, staring off into nothingness and trying to ignore the goosebumps spreading across my arms. I’d never been so loathe to wear my Vicente Villarin halter–I’m sure I was totally sweating. No, I never sweat. I got close though.

When i finally got to class, Annie asked for details. I gave them…most of them. I don’t know how she kept from screaming when i told her he asked if he could call. I swear her face almost exploded. That made me laugh. Actually, I laughed a lot that day.

And when I got on the bus, I smiled more. He didn’t sit by me; he sat by Jenny. Which was actually really funny to watch. He would try to talk to me–or anyone else, really–but then she’d be all over him talking about how good it was to see him and how it must be totally hard. Jason got uncomfortable at that, but I just smiled. And then I had to get off and Annie wouldn’t stop talking about it. It being him looking at me and smiling at me and him going to call me. Any other day, I would have been so annoyed at her. But I couldn’t stop smiling. maybe it’s cuz I’d never liked a guy before. But I didn’t even know if I liked him or not. He was just so hot. And his smile–oh, his smile!

He didn’t call though. I wasn’t hit with a wave of fear or worry. Except for the crazy whirls my heart made whenever I got a text, i didn’t really notice. And dinner was amusing enough for me not to care. Annie thought it was so adorable, she told Cadence and Cadence wouldn’t leave me alone. She teased me over frozen green beans. And I laughed! And then I went to bed and let my head sink into that so-not-goose-feather pillow and I fell asleep, still smiling.

Good Morning, Sunshine – prt. 4 April 4, 2008

That first week was strange. I don’t know how to explain it. It was like I finally realized I was really stuck here. I finally caught on to the fact that daddy would never come save me. He wasn’t coming back–all he had left me was a fortune I couldn’t use and a sentence to this suburbia prison. And that in itself was weird.

Every morning I’d wake up to the sound of Cadence humming show tunes or spanish love songs and I’d think “That’s my mom.” And every day I had to get out of bed and get ready to go to school. A public school. Where the hottest topic was the next school dance and who you wanted to take. In New York, my school didn’t have dances. but that was because we didn’t need them. We threw our own parties. And whoever put on the most lavish was queen or king of the school–at least till the next one. You needed to stand out. You needed to catch the whole cities attention. i’d been to parties where multiple bands came to preform–from big names to struggling rockers from across the world. There were masquerades, semi-formals, bar hopping–everything. One time, there was a runway set up through the room with a constant flow of professional models showcasing real designers. but that wasn’t even the main event. The girl’s party favors were a free designer item–of our choice. From gowns, to perfumes, whoever got back first, got the best pick. Right off the model and tailored right there if neccessary. And the models would still go on out; their cover dwindling as eager hands delved for something. The guys didn’t mind that part. I’d been to parties where we could dance by actors, actresses, musicians–famous people. So hearing about the next $15 dollar dance wasn’t all that exciting. But it was in Florida. Girls talked and talked about the gowns they were getting–the cinderella catastrophe’s of tulle and cheap satin all spewing out like a giant fairy-tale. I didn’t share my opinion on those.

Then there were the girls. Who all seemed oddly friendly–mot of them for real, too. It was like I’d stepped into teenage stepford–everyone was perfect. Well, no. They had their flaws–like make-p and clothing items. And nosiness-every day someone would be up in my face asking where I got my outfit. But they were all sweet; at least the one’s Annie introduced me too. I could see wannabe hints of my old friends in some of the people around the school. There were the bimbo’s and then the too-cool-for-you. I was used to those; it was the niceness that threw me off.

And every day I’d come home and cadence would wonder how my day had been–she was always there. I don;t think she ever stepped out of that house. I don’t know what she did in it. Definitely not cleaning. It was never clean. But she was always there, and she’d always listen–well, be willing to at least. I never really gave her the chance–as if were the closest of mother-daughter. And dinner, though it wasn’t always happy and perfect, it was always happening. Like clockwork. We’d be summoned to the table where cadence would offer a quick grace and then we’d dig in. Even if Annie and her got in fights–which actually happeend a few times–there was always dinner. And by the end of it, they were all smiles.

Annie was never intrusive. She was actually the least curious of anyone I’d met in Florida. She would compliment my clothes, but would never ask where I got them or–worse–if she could try them on. And she didn’t ask about my dad. Neither did Cadence. In fact, I don’t think I ever heard them mention it.

But the strangest of all? I was getting comfortable with it. I didn’t cringe when I got on the bus. Well, not as much. I actually learned to smile at people. But it was hard to smile when Jenny was near. She wouldn’t leave me alone. That was annoying. And a lot of the guys started talking to me. That was uncomfortable. Cuz they thought they were all that and could easily get me to drool all over them. But I wasn’t tempted–half of them were hard to look at.

Anyway, I started to find it normal to come home to Cadence’s warm smile. I found it normal to see the different sorts of clicks hanging out in different, dirty halls. I was getting used to the constant silly chatter that didn’t interest me at all. Homework wasn’t an issue–I knew everything. That left me with nothing to do but read, talk to Cadence or Annie or text girls who now considered me a friend. I didn’t care as much about my fashion magazines–though I always bought the newest ones. And I didn’t care when my NY friends sent me their newest purchase. And I started to find I was…moving on. I was starting to not miss my dad. Hardly two weeks had gone by since he died and I was already moving on! I craved starbucks more than I craved my dad. And, surprisingly or not, that made me feel awful. Well, its not like I was suddenly free or just forgetting him. It was just I’d gone my whole life without him constantly there–saturday was the one constant–and so, now that he wasn’t, I didn’t really know what to miss. And when I called Melanie, it wasn’t as easy as I thought to make jokes about where I was. When she brought up Cadence or where I was, I’d try and move around it. Because something in me didn’t want to talk bad about them. I craved my Manhattan–I even cried when we watched You’ve Got Mail on night. Cadence and Annie cried to, but for different reasons. But that didn’t mean I could hate on these people; even when Melanie told me she missed me so much. Her calls didn’t last over five minutes though–she always had to take another or get to a meeting or something. And through the days of structured comfort, I realized if I had been able to stay with melanie, I would have been alone. As usual. But I couldn’t figure out if I liked that idea.

Yet, even though I started to get comfortable, I still remained troubled by where I was. I wasn’t used to the snowless ground or the warm air. I couldn’t wrap my head around the smallness of everything and yet the hugeness of other things. The school was huge; sprawled across the land like a prison. In New York everything was tall; I’d never seen a school like that. And the endless streets of houses with parked mini-vans and screaming babies were huge. But the crowds and traffic were nothing; the shopping and food choices were worse. It was very…quiet. And, in that first week only two things really happened that are worth mentioning. Besides those, life was simple. Loud, yes. But in a simple, average sort of way. There were these mom-daughter fights that I’d never seen before. Mostly because most of my friends from manhattan didn’t know their mom let alone talk to them enough to get mad at them. And it all seemed movie-life perfect in suburbia. Well, not perfect. Normal. Kids played on the street and dads mowed lawns. People would walk just to walk and parents would go grocery shopping. I’d never seen that side of life before and it was…wierd.

The day after the first day of school, Cadence had to pick Annie up to take her directly to her piano lessons and I gladly took a ride with them–so much better than the bus. But it turns out, in suburbia, when you drop a kid off somewhere you don’t go home until that kid is in the car again. So we were running errands for, like, ten minutes before she headed back to get her. The piano lessons had been in this “downtown” so there was a bit of traffic. It stressed cadence out, but I thought it was steady enough to be better than bad. She asked me how I could stand New York traffic. I smiled politely. I don’t do small talk. But I told her you got used to it and that this wasn’t even bad. That led her down memory lane and she started telling me about her life in New York.

I’d never ever known anything about my mom, so this was interesting, though slightly awkward. Mostly because it included my dad. She told me how they’d met at the Columbia and fallen in love. They both been affluent yet she always wanted more than just money–she wanted love and family. When her parents died and she didn’t shed a tear, that strengthened her want. So she was happy to find out she was with child. This is where it got really awkward. Cuz, hello, she was saying how she loved me and then up and left like three months later. She didn’t seem to recognize my tenseness, she just went on as if she was enjoying it. And I listened. She said it was weird when she found out–not for her, but for my dad. he went all psycho saying he wasn’t ready to raise a kid and how his business was taking control of his life. When Cadence mentioned moving out of the city, things started getting stressed. That’s when she started to think maybe it wouldn’t be such a good idea; having me. But she still did and that started to drive them apart. Especially with dad’s new position in the company. And after she had me, things were just totally down the drain. She looked at me and said that she wished she could blame it all on my dad, but she new she couldn’t. They both had given up trying. And when “Mr. Affair”, as she called him, came into the picture, life just flipped. She turned from the one thing she wanted and ran to the side she’d been hiding from just to not feel the pain and worry. That’s when she left. She couldn’t look at me when she told me. And I could feel hot tears running down my cheek, but I didn’t try and wipe them away. i just watched her. I watched and I wondered why she would just abandon me. Especially if Dad really didn’t want me. She said she couldn’t explain it; she said a day never went by where she didn’t feel guilty. She said her life had been ruined since she had–not that Annie was a problem, just that none of her dreams could work out. She told me she had this fear of commitment–she had failed a child, how could she keep a relationship? and that that had really ruined her second marriage to the lawyer. She said when she had found out about dad she just sat on her bed and cried. And then she called me and after that she just cried and cried. That’s when I asked her if she’d just taken me in to ease her guilt. She sort of started, rushing to say no. I don’t know if I believe her. I wanted to.

She went on and said that she had felt a sort of obligation, but that really it just came down to wanting to know the girl she had started out loving so much. She wanted to have another chance at caring for the one thing she had wanted in the first place. Then she told me I looked so much like my dad. That’s when I wiped my tears. I didn’t want to talk about him–that just made it real and scary. Just living as if nothing had happened except I moved was easier than really admitting he was super gone–not just out of town or something. Cadence seemed to get that, cuz she didn’t mention his death or anything. She just smiled at me and then turned back to the traffic, falling on her horn like a madwoman. I never knew a mood could change so quickly. It was still awkward, but she seemed to have move on and it was just me left with my thoughts. I never knew I could think so much. usually I was just doing something or planning something or ignoring everything. i never really let my thoughts run. But I did here. Maybe that’s just a side affect of the laid-backness of suburbia life. There’s no rush of the city hurrying you on. Its just you and there’s no point in ignoring it. I remember Cadence told me later that she never knew a teen could not text or be off the phone constantly; it seemed so abnormal for a teen now. She said it as a joke, but I guess it’s true. I didn’t really do anything like I used to. Well, I still loved my Chanel and Prada, but I was a lot more…calm. I don’t know if that’s the right word. I still had major attitude, but it was like I didn’t have anyone to unleash it on so I was quiet and just watching. I was learning to sort of breathe–which was actually a lot more bearable to do in Florida than it had ever been in New York City.

Then there was English. The teacher, who I decided was a witch who needed to learn how to apply make-up, assigned these impossibly boring, busy-work group projects on a friday. And I ended up with Todd and this guy named Jason. It was surprisingly bearable that first day. Mostly because Jason took over. In fact, the only thing Todd had time to say was, “Brooke–totally my next guess.” I just rolled my eyes and let Jason take charge. he was a nioce looking guy with hazelnut eyes and dark hair to match. He even had the superman chin and glasses that made him so preppy. he was smart too. Which was refreshing cuz I was starting to discover a lot of stupid people filled the school. But he smiled and introduced himself, said he had heard about me. I just rolled my eyes as Todd found it funny to mention my attitude. His exact words, I think, were, “Careful–she bites.” and Jason responded with a laugh, whispering un-quietly that “Todd has an ego that constantly needs feeding.” That’s when I found out the guys were twins! Twins! I know, right? Totally not identical, but they were twins. Weird. And we had to work together. Mostly the hours was spent with the two cracking jokes at each other. Which should have been weird, but it was actually pretty funny. i smiled, though the look I got from Todd when I did such was slightly annoying and I wanted to slap him. But I didn’t. I just went on and eventually we got each other’s numbers to actually do the project later. Jason just apologized about his brother’s unruliness with a wink. I just smiled and waved a quick goodbye, not sure how I felt about the whole thing at all.

That friday night was spent watching You’ve Got Mail with Annie and Cadence cuz Annie hadn’t finished her chores so she couldn’t have friends over. So suburbia. And I ended up going to bed at midnight. A first for me–New York nights had always been crazy. But I was tired and it had been a weird week. Everything was weird. So I went to bed. And, ya know, I was actually growing used to those itchy sheets.

Good Morning, Sunshine – prt. 3 April 3, 2008

Those two days passed in a blur. An awful blur, but still a blur. There was homemade french fries on one night and canned spaghetti sauce on the other. I had to actually put some of my clothes in drawers since there wasn’t enough room in the closet. Annie offered to let me put some in her room, but I chose not to. I don’t know, the thought of my Marc Jacobs and Ralph Lauren hanging next to her garage-sale style made me cringe. So I folded them. Rolled them, actually. I couldn’t very well have creases–the gods of design would strike me down with lightning.

I found out that Annie wasn’t the spawn of the massuese. She was the love child of Cadence and a small-time lawyer who had recently divorced Cadence after four years of marriage–they’d been on and off all of Annie’s life. He took his son–from another marriage–and left Annie with Cadence. Annie had taken the kids room and left me with her old one. They had been nice enough to get me new sheets, but they still itched like crazy. And the sticky heat wouldn’t leave me alone.

A day didn’t go by when Annie wouldn’t bound in to talk about my clothes. She also told me her life story which was so boring I couldn’t really folow. Her most exciting adventure had been the Texas Alamo–yeah, way life changing. She said she went with her school choir last year. She tried to tell me how school would go–she was there when I registered. I have never been so disgusted in my life. I’d seen plenty of druggies and dirty alleys in my life, but nothing prepared me for that school. I can’t believe they call it a school! It was vile. Dark and just as hot as the outside air. The hallways were musky and even the janitors seemed to have given up trying to keep it clean. I had to get some counselor–she doubled as the swim coach and hardly knew two plus two. I didn’t like her. But I got my classes chosen. I was already way above Florida graduating conditions, so really it was just for the diploma that I went. And Annie made sure I had almost every class with her. Except for History and English. Those were seperated by grades and those were the classes I weren’t scared of. Not the case with the other ones. I had to take some sort of pottery class. Annie said it was “the funnest thing ever invented!” and then there was some sort of P.E. class. Back home I played tennis and went skiing in the alps; dad had gotten me excused from the actual class setting. But now there was no way around it. I was stuck. Stuck in the wierd world of public school.

That first day was…strange, to say the least. I woke up at five, took a horribly cold shower–Cadence was doing laundry–and then got ready. I wore one of my Betsey Johnson mini dress’ paired with my favorite leggings and her heels. I was all ready; I even ate some yogurt–I refrained from the pancakes which looked more like charred hockey pucks. Then Annie said “We’re gonna miss the bus!”

Whoa–hold up. A bus? A yellow, dirty, loud schoolbus? I might have never been on one before, but that was because of careful planning on my part. There had been no point in my life where that was a dream of mine. But Annie just grabbed a pancake and rushed out the door, telling me to hurry up. I was ready to cry. You don’t ask a girl in heels–not to mention, designer–to hurry. Cadence just smiled at me.

“Welcome to our world.” she said, as if that would brighten my day and make me smile. It didn’t. But she ushered me out the door and yelled at Annie to be safe. Annie just waved her hand, stopping only to tell me to run. But I didn’t. And it was good cuz it turned out we weren’t alte. I got there just in time–the bus was a street away. Annie was panting beside some boy. She energetically introduced us–his name was Tom.

“New York City, huh?” I nodded. He looked me over with a smile, pushing his so-not-hot glasses up his nose, “I used to live there–for about a year. In queens.”

I forced a smile across my face, but quickly took it off when Annie took the attention away from me. She was blabbering about how horrible school was and how vacation was too short. Yeah, as if she knew; mine had been three days and that was spent at my fathers funeral and finding out I was being sent to this…place. I didn’t say anything though. I just got on the bus and made sure I held my vomit in. It was just as nasty as I imagined. People were eating–everywhere. It was like I had walked onto a moving McDonald’s. And that bus moved; it threw me into a seat as it jolted forward. I’m sure an annoyed grunt fell from my mouth because I had fallen into an occupied seat. Some guy looked at me, a real smile pushed across his face.

“Well, hello there! You must be Annie’s…sister.”

“Half sister. And my mom told me not to talk to strangers.” I said with an innocent smirk. I had to quickly look away to keep from falling into his humored, bright-blue eyes. He just laughed.

“Yeah, well, you already did so might as well not stop. I’m Todd.”

I brushed off my legs, trying hard to stay balanced while touching as little seat as possible. “I must have missed where that info became valuable.”

“Wow–somebody’s got attitude. You might wanna put that away at school or you’ll get yourself in trouble with some…people.”

I just rolled my eyes, looking up at Annie who was too busy talking with a bunch of people to see my discomfort. “I’m from NY–pretty sure I know how to stay out of trouble.”

“Hmm. Except, now, you don’t have your body guard.”

I stared at him, totally annoyed. “Cute. Your soccer mom teach you that one?”

He stared at me, looking almost bored, “Nah–picked it up from the five seconds I’ve known you.”

“‘Kay, clarification: We don’t know each other. You don’t even know my name.”

“I bet I can guess it. Upper New Yorker’s are all the same.”

“Well, let me stop you right there. I’m not from upper New York–there’s a difference between Upper New York and Upper NYC or Manhattan that you people just get so confused about! And, uh, pretty sure you don’t even know me–you guessing my name doesn’t even prove it.”

“It’s Avery–or Blaire.”

I just shook my head, tired already of the day. Stupid, stupid people.

“Sorry, you’re right I don’t know you.” I looked at him, wondering where he was going with this. “But I think it’s fair to say you fit perfectly into the spoiled manhattan brat stereoptype–so perfectly, in fact, you are probably where the movies, the plays, the writers get all their idea’s. You’ve got the clothes, the attitude, the money–”

I laughed without humor, “Right, well, that’s way cute, Todd. But this is my I-don’t-care-face. Get used to it, cuz I’m sure it will be here every time I see you.”

Then I stood up, completely (and surprisingly) relieved to see the school before me. Annie came over to me, smiling as Todd stood next to me. I just asked her what was next on this wonderful adventure. Todd said a quick, sarcastic goodbye and I just wiggled my fingers, wishing I could light his smirk on fire or something.

Annie just started gushing in whispered tones as we got off the bus. “I can’t believe you even got to sit by him! That’s todd. He is, like, the hottest guy at our school.”

I glanced back, wishing I could say something about that being pathetic–he wasn’t that hot. But he was. In a jockey-slash-punk sort of way. Totally not prep like all the guys I had known. So I just rolled my eyes, telling her his attitude totally butchered that point. She laughed and pulled me inside, saying I so did not understand guys.

We were going to Math and she seemed oddly excited. I just smiled, trying to ignore the catcalls directed from the dark halls and groups of guys who thought they were so cool. I got some glares from girls too, but I didn’t care as much about that. I was used to those.

We were the first in the classroom and Annie seemed happy about that. She flew to the back and threw her bag on another desk to save it for a friend. I quickly sat next to her, praying to be able to get used to the seats. She just blabbered happily about how easy this class was and how much fun it wold be. She only stopped when a beached-blonde walked into the room with a squeal. The girl ran and fell into the seat next to me; annie just whispered an “I’m sorry” and watched half-humored.

“OMG! Totally Betsey!” Love the shoes–totally TMTH!” I could hardly follow. My friends had never really been into the text lingo–at least not speaking it. This girl wouldn’t stop. She actually touched my dress. Wierd. “I totally love Betsey”–as if they were best friends–”She is, like, the greatest fashion designer of our time. Like way beyond….whoever. I would so have one of her dresses, but my mom thinks its too expensive–totally pathetic, I know. But ya–it’s like gorgeous. You’re gorgeous! Goodness, everything is just so gorgeous!” Then she laughed; a sort of horse-on-helium laugh. It was scary. I just smiled uncomfortably. And that made her laugh again.

“Whoa–so sorry–you totally don’t know who I am, huh? Well I know you. See Cadence and my mom are, like, best friends and she told me all about you. That’s totally horrible; about your dad, you know. My names Jenny. But I so need to come over some time and see your wardrobe. maybe I can even borrow something! Well; when we’re friends.” She smiled, and I just turned away, wondering what on earth her mother was feeding her.

Annie quickly pulled me into a conversation with her friend who had appeared during the blonde’s rampage. Her name was Emily and she had a natural shade of brown. It was refreshing. She smiled gently and whispered a feel-sorry apology about Jenny. I just smiled and shrunk into my seat. It was going to be a long day. And it was. I got through the classes okay–Annie mostly made sure of that. I would shrink into the back and just wish the hours to speed by. But I was never alone–there was always some girl coming up with a smile. It seemed everyone in the school knew about me–not my name usually, but just the reasons for my sudden appearance and my likes and dislikes. I even had one girl come up and ask me if I knew Louis Vuitton. That was awkward–he’s been dead for, what, 100 years? Yeah, when I told her, that face was priceless. Jessy had another class with me and thought that made us “Total BFF’s”. But I’d so rather have her again than who ended up in my English class. It was Todd. I rolled my eyes when he waved at me. I could feel all the girls spin around to look at me, but I didn’t care. I just hoped he’d leave me alone. He did. He was a front hugger and I liked the back, so we steered clear during that class.

Lunch was interesting. Loud, highly uncomfortable, but interesting. Annie sat with, like, a million super-loud girls who all laughed and talked about anything and everything. Prom, boys, the holidays, me–which led to New York–jobs and school. It was hard to follow and I actually smiled a few times. Though it took me some time to actually sit on the floor with them. That’s right, they sat on the floor. And they wanted me to join them. I don’t think anyone realized just what I was wearing. It was only when Jessy waved wildly from across the hall that I sunk to there level. Anything was better then her laugh.

I can tell you I have never been through such a long day. School in NY had been boring sometimes, but there was always something relatively interesting to keep one entertained. Plus there wasn’t the stench of underbathed boys and warm seats to worry about. Not to mention the cheeto’s and oreo’s that were thrown around like sparkling water. So as soon as that bell rang I was out the door and on the bus. Annie sat next to me an I very purposefully ignored Todd. Annie found that funny. I didn’t. And I didn’t listen when Cadence asked how it had been–who did she think she was? I went and took my dress off, trying desperately hard not to cry. I really wanted too, though the day hadn’t been that bad. Maybe that was the problem. It had seemed to normal and comfortable. No. It had not been comfortable…but it hadn’t been horror-flick material. I had survived–spot free, mind you; my dress was fine. But I realized I wasn’t totally pissed about everything. I was already accepting it–all of it. Cadence and I hadn’t even gotten in a fight. And Annie was nicer than anyone at my old school. None of whom had texted me since I left. Maybe that’s what hurt. Or maybe I just thought this was a vacation that would end; that, soon, I’d go home to dad and my suite where I could sleep in my closet if I wanted. That I’d be back to french delicacies and satin curtains. Or I’d get to wake up hundreds of feet high and have real breakfast in bed and then going shopping down wherever. But it wasn’t going to happen. And I knew that. And it made me want to cry. Six months. Six months in suburbia with hyperactive strangers, friendly neighbors and public high school. I didn’t even know what I’d do. It was that day that I realized just how long six months would be. The day had already felt like a year and I was in no mood to wake up and do it again. I was done. So I curled up with my 100-thread-count pillow and tears actually fell. Bitter, hot, steaming tears. They hurt. I could feel my phone buzzing on my night stand, but I let it ring. I heard Melanie’s voice start her message and that hurt.

“Hey girl,” her tired voice laughed, “It’s Mel, just checking on you. You haven’t called and I’m sure you’re dying. Hope you’re getting your Starbuck’s! Uh, call me back sometime.”

I laughed bitterly. Nope; no starbucks for the last three days. There wasn’t a single one nearby. My coffee choices were cadence’s creation, the local fast-food wannabe or sneaking into the teachers lounge. None of which sounded worthy of replacing starbucks. And that made me cry more! Plus my feet hurt; I’d never known a school could have so much stairs. And suddenly I was mad at my dad; mad that I was stuck here with a “relative” and not back home with Melanie. I wondered what those stiffs would do if I just up and left; went back home to melanie. I bet I could get away with it. but I wasn’t gonna try; I was too tired. So I just cried.

Good Morning, Sunshine – prt. 2 April 1, 2008

“Listen–as soon as you turn eighteen I’ll be there; not a second late. I promise.”

“You’re always late, Mel.”

She smiled sadly, looking at me as we drove to the airport. I just stared off into the heart of manhattan, ready to die right there. I didn’t want to leave. Six months. In Florida.

“Yeah, well, not this time. Besides, it’s not always my fault.”

As if to illustrate her point, she started yelling at the driver about the fact I was going to miss my plane if he didn’t hurry things up. That sounded like an okay thing to me but I didn’t say anything; just held my starbucks Mocha Frappuccino Blended Coffee and wished I was heading anywhere else. But I wasn’t. Cadence had called every day the last week to make sure I was all set and everything was going as planned; as if I had a choice. She bought the tickets for me; said they were waiting at the airport under my name. I told her I could totally take care of myself; i could even get my jet to come down. She thought that was funny at first. When she realized i was dead serious, she just said no–she wanted to get me here. So there I was, traveling through New York City traffic towards an airport where I actually had to wait in line. All so i could go live with my “mom” down in “Sunshine” Florida. I’m sure the sun was no different there than here, but Cadence made a huge deal about it. I couldn’t really argue; florida was like the only place I’d never been. I had never been to Disney world. Well, I went to Euro Disney last year for my french tour; it wasn’t all that exciting. I much preferred the Paris Fashion Week; I bought a Dior gown and coat. I was wearing the coat that day–I remember. It was a gorgeous trench. But I never had worn the gown. And I highly doubt I’d find a place to wear it in Florida; but I packed it anything. I didn’t leave anything behind. Every perfume bottle, shoe, blouse, pair of jeans, slacks, stockings and piece of jemwelry was coming with me. i made sure of it.

The apartment had been cleared out like no one had ever lived there before. Melanie had found some sort of storage space for it–the safest, most guarded one available. She wouldn’t let me take the paintings and sculptures dad had goteen me through the years; said they’d be here when I came back. but not in my home. It surprised me how fast the memories were packed. They didn’t even haunt the empty halls. I guess it was because most of my memories with dad were made elsewhere. We never really were home. But home was still home–and now I was leaving it all behind. Every high rise, every street corner. they were all staying and I was going.

I remember the day before I had burst into tears as I zipped my final case shut. There was at least five of them. Melanie had them shipped down that night so I wouldn’t have to worry about them all at the airport. I just hoped they’d be there in time. Cadence had this odd idea that I wanted to be going down there; as if I had planned this trip all on my own. every phone call was filled with high-pitched reassurance that it would be the greatest thing–we’d have so much fun. She said even at school I’d have fun. Seemed I did have to finish school and my Ivy-League-inspired private school didn’t have a second in Florida. Shocker. So I’d go to school with Cadence’s other daughter. Yeah. She had another; I had to bite my tongue to keep from asking if it was the masseuses’. She was sixteen and her name was Annie. I didn’t know anyone named Annie. It sounded so…broadway.

When I got to the airport, Melanie had to get to another meeting. So, after a quick kiss on the cheek and a hurried hug, she shoved my Burberry bag in my hands and whispered “good luck” and “text me if you absolutely die”. And then I was alone. And I had to go with the sea of people to the customer service desk. That was a new experience. When I finally got up there, I asked for my tickets only to discover they were coach. I didn’t do coach. I told the lady that and she just looked at me, then moved on to the next customer. I asked for an upgrade but she said there were no available seats. I told her that was bull and she told me she’d call security. So I left.

I got on that plane and shoved myself between some wannabe gangster and dying grandma The kid just kept eyeing me and my tightly-clad legs. I finally asked if he had a problem. He said no, he liked the spicy girls. I just rolled my eyes, put on my designer shades–I think they were my Gucci–and pretended he wasn’t there. It was a long flight. I wish it was longer. Too soon I was off and heading towards my florida exile. I had to switch at the Miami terminal to head to some middle-of-no-where town where the closest airport was thirty miles from my new “home”. That was a distance that made the difference between a prison and a claustrophobic psycho’s ward. It seemed I was heading for the latter. There were only five other people on the plane with me. The flight attendants were in tight blue polyester and looked like they doubled as a Hooters bar waitress. And they played some unheard of hip-hop music (it should remain that way). But it wasn’t till we landed and I squeezed out of that coach-only airplane that I realized exactly how awful it was going to be. The air was warm. And it was wet; I could feel it press against my body. But I could stand that; that was bearable. It was seeing my new “family” that made me want to run. They held a sign, as if they’d mistake me with the rotting men getting off with me. It was an older woman who looked like she’d been frightened of growing old her whole life but had finally given in. Her face echoed of old plastic surgery. The girl next to her was cute enough. Sort of a Wendy’s “it” girl, if there is such a thing. She had red hair and freckles. To give her some credit though, it wasn’t pulled into pigtails. It was held back with a forest green that matched her pants. Well, gauchos–nice, spandexy gaucho’s. As soon as they saw me, they dropped the sign and just stared. I finally walked down to them and pulled off my sunglasses. It suddenly seemed rather hot.

Finally the older woman looked at me, “Brooke?”

I looked around, pulling my burberry back up my arm, and pretended to double check. “Looks like it.”

They thought that was funny. Then she pulled me in my arms and hugged me–really hugged me. I never really got hugs; dad even knew I wasn’t a hug person. She was whispering a whole bunch of stuff in my ear till I finally pushed her away. Then the other girl was in front of me.

“I’m Annie and you are absolutely gorgeous! I never guessed you’d be so pretty–not that I had reason not to. but….Oh, I love your jacket.”

I looked at her, trying to decide if I should stare at the hair or the bright green eyes or the pants. I decided to just put my glasses back on. “Thanks.” I said, “It’s a coat.”

cadence then asked if I had anything else; I said my baggage had been sent down. She laughed and said that’s good to know cuz she wasn’t sure if all that had been mine or if the whole plane had accidentally rerouted their luggage carrier. I didn’t find it that funny.

But I finally got in the car–which cadence actually drove–and Annie felt like she had to sit in the back with me.

“Cool bag. I have one like it. I got it at target for, like twenty bucks. is that real? Mom said NY has all these great street deals for copy’s.”

I could feel my face melt into a despising glare, but I didn’t care. Accusing me of street-corner copies was about as low as you can get. i quickly pointed out the label. She said she’d never heard of it–was it some store? i didn’t bother explaining further, just held it closer.

Other than that it was a silent ride, Annie seemed to catch on real quick that I didn’t rally care for her chatter. And Cadence was too busy watching the endless, deserted road to make conversation. I was fine with that. And I just kept praying that I’d be living in some sort of oasis in this strange, strange part of the world. When we turned down an average suburbia road, I knew I was far from having that prayer answered. there was grass all around. All the houses looked the same and each had their own mailbox. Toys were strewn across the lawn and cheesy christmas decorations still plagued the lawns. We pulled up to own of the more average ones–at least it didn’t have any toys–and I watched as the garage door went up.

I was scared to get out; I kept thinking maybe I was lost. But as Annie opened the door and told me to slide on out–the other door was broken–I knew it was too real. And Cadence pushing the door open and watching nervously as I walked in made it all more real. Annie kind of stumbled in after me, pushing her shoes under a bench and quickly telling me I didn’t have to. Good. Because there was no way I was taking off my wedges to put my feet on that floor.

“Uh,” cadence said, watching as I looked around, “We’re kind of…humble. Not so worried about a clean house as we are about family, right?” She tried to laugh and I slowly pulled my glasses off and pushed them in my bag. The living room was connected to the kitchen and there was no dining room. The TV sat on the floor and was still on. The couch looked like it had seen better days and the windows had plastic blinds on them. A loud air conditioner blew behind me and Annie waited by the stairs, hardly registering my discomfort.

“Your room is by mine; you’re lucky dad and Travis moved out last year, otherwise we’d have to get rid of some of your clothes.”

“What?” I asked a bit loudly.

She just laughed and said it was a joke. Some joke. Then she said she’d show me. So I followed her and I could hear Cadence sigh deeply behind me as I creaked up those stairs. When she opened my new room’s door, I almost ran out screaming. I swear it was smaller than my bathroom had been. It’s walls were a horrid fuschia and the awful paisley bedspread matching with an addition of orange and white would even make martha Stewart gag. The only thin that kept me going in were my five suitcases stacked against a wall. Those clothes needed out. Though I was loathe to place them where I was. A small window took precedence on the farthest wall and a pathetic closet filled the other one. It was about two feet deep. I could hear children laughing outside which was foreign to my ears. I was used to honking, sirens and whistles.

Annie just smiled at me, standing awkwardly in the door. I looked at her.

“Well,” she said, slightly picking up on my angry stare, “I’ll leave you to get settled. Mom said I shouldn’t bother you too much–we do after all have school together in two days. We’re still on Winter break!”

The suffocating heat made it impossible for my brain to register that statement. I just collapsed onto the stiff bed with a whine as soon as my door shut. I dropped my bag to the floor, suddenly not caring about the probable dust mites. I just let my hair fall out of its tight ponytail and stared at the ceiling.

“Well, we’re not in kansas. Though we’re probably close.” I whispered to no one. This was going to be a long six months. Very long.

Good Morning, Sunshine March 31, 2008

I was born in upper manhattan; I was one of those private school snobs who had not only a car but a driver and whose school lunch was catered by a five star bistro. It was the high life and I enjoyed it. I loved the parties, the designer closets; I could even deal with fake friends–as long as I was the hottest. Life was good. I had a whole suite to myself–my father lived a floor down. He was single; mom had ran off with some private masseuse after I was born, or so the story goes. I didn’t really ever care. If I could buy a dress just for kicks, not worry about credit cards or school and have a maid who doubled as a medi/pedi genius, I was good. But, just to clarify, I wasn’t the snobbiest of the snobs. I actually called my dad, dad. I smiled at strangers and recognized the existence of my cook and maid. I was actually one of the strangest of my friends. And acquaintances. Dad and I were even close. Every saturday he wasn’t out of the country, we’d have breakfast together. I remember once he was in California and had a jet sent over for me. He never missed it as long as we were in the US of A. And it was fun; sometimes even inexpensive. We didn’t have to go to the classiest restaurant or the finest of the fine. I could deal with Denny’s if it was with my dad. I really did love him. I didn’t have a boyfriend because none of them could measure up to him. He was fine with that; said boyfriends were overrated. Life was good for me and I was happy with every bit of it. Then the accident happened.

I can still remember my dad’s secretaries voice over the phone. It was quiet. And Melanie was never quiet. It was at school and the first time I didn’t answer. But by the second call I knew it was important. And I answered. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t; maybe then he would have been at home waiting for me. But I answered. And Melanie said there had been in an accident in Rome; a car accident. I remember asking if he was okay; if I could talk to him. That’s when she started crying. “He didn’t make it.” was all she said. That’s when I dropped the phone and slid down the wall. That was the first time in my perfect life I’d ever really cried. It hurt. And I soon discovered it wouldn’t be the last of the pain or even the least.

Somehow I got home and I just sat on my bed, completely stunned and suddenly alone. There was no one who cared. When friends texted asking where I was and I told them, the messages would stop. Well, one kid asked if I could still make it to a party. I didn’t answer. Instead I threw my phone against the door, curled up in a ball, and cried. That week passed in a blur; the funeral plans were arranged by Melanie, my school excused me thanks to Melanie and it was melanie who left me be. I could take are of myself. I didn’t eat and I hardly slept, but I could have if I wanted. It just hurt too much. It was that saturday that killed. I woke to the preset alarm only to remember breakfast would not be happening; the funeral had been yesterday. He was gone; he was buried and gone. That was the day I had to go over the will. So I actually got dressed and answered the door. melanie was there with two other dull looking people. It was silent as they pulled out papers and Melanie just sat beside me, holding my hand.

The money was all left to me; I got the company shares and the private jet. All the personal items belonged to me; everyhting was given to me. Except my house. That’s when confusion really set in. The hotel would not accept a suite to be paid for by a minor, even if I could afford it.

“What? Are you friggin kidding me?” I asked, totally annoyed. This was my house–I had lived here my whole life. Melanie tried to shush me and the two stiffs fidgeted uncomfortably.

“No–No, I assure you we hardly…kid. Uh, yes, it says right here-the home is not yours; it could not be placed int he will for your age.”

“I’ll be eighteen in june! That’s six months from now! I pretty much live on my own anyway!”

They once again stared at me, their eyes wide and cheeks flushed. “That may be true,” they mumbled, “But until then; until you become an adult, I’m afraid legal requirements make it impossible to live alone. You need an adult–”

“That will be me.” Melanie said, wrapping her arm around me. I always did like Melanie. But the stiffs just shook their head.

“No-no, sorry Ms. That’s not what it say here. A guardian was named in this instance and, unless you are a Miss Jamie Varsden–”

“That’s impossible.” i said, really getting annoyed. “That was my grandmother. She died almost ten years ago.”

“Are you sure?” one of them finally mumbled, searching through their papers as if for proof. I just nodded my head, ready to pummel one of them.

“Right. Well, then, by legal law, if a guardian is unnamed or unfit to take guardianship as is the case, it seems, here, we fall to the next relative.”

I just scoffed, my head rubbing my temples. Melanie just leaed closer, as angry as I. She was the closest family I had.

“Listen–that may be the usual case, but Brooke doesn’t have any family; I am the closest thing and we were so sure she would stay with me.”

“No–no; It specifies right here, written by the father’s hand, she is to stay with a family member.”

Melanie and I were both shocked. “When was this written?” she asked incredulously.

“Uh…twelve years ago. To this very day, in fact.”

“Whatever–he didn’t know me then! Obviously the wants have changed. He even told me once that–”

“Now, let me explain something to you both. I am just here to make sure a man’s legal wishes and obligations are fulfilled. This is what he wrote, signed and agreed to! If he wished to changed it, he very well could have. Now this is what there is, and there is no changing it! By law, this is how it must lay out. Is there a family member? An aunt, uncle…mother.”

I looked at Melanie helplessly. “He was an only child, I don’t think anyone’s alive on his side. And….”

Melanie sighed, placing her hands on her lap and staring at the two others. “There is no family, there is no ties. It would then, legally, fall to some other person to care for her for these next six months. A voluteer, maybe. And that, I assure you, will be me. I’m the closest emotional tie she has!”

The man looked at her, “If there were no ther possible family ties, that would be the case. But surely he wouldn’t place such specific requirements if he was just relying on a grandmother. Is there someone on the mother’s side?”

Melanie was now past aggravation. “She doesn’t know her mother! her mother walked out on her and its highly doubtful she’d accept her into her selfish life now! Brooke had n one but her father and me; now, just me!”

“No–if there is a mother we will have to summon her and see if he agrees.

“But she won’t! We don’t even know where she lives or what her position is like. She could be living in alaska with some pack of starving children! She is hardly fit to care for Brooke!”

I just stared, completely in shock at what was happening. My mother? I didn’t think so. father would never be that cruel to mean for it to happen this way. Melanie was right.

“Don’t I get a say in any of this?” The two men looked at me, as if surprised to realize I was present. And they both answered with a quick no.

“If the mother says No, you will certainly be more apt to receive custody.” Melanie sat back down. “But if she agrees, the child must live with the mother.”

“What?” we both screamed. I didn’t know where that was, but I knew it wasn’t Manhattan. “You have got to be kidding me.”

They seemed tired of that question because they just rolled their eyes, snapped their cases shut and said they’d be in touch. Melanie just sat with me, as surprised as I.

“This will be alright; your mother ill obviously say no–she couldn’t handle it if she wanted. You’ll stay with me, you’ll see. We can even stay here if you’d like.”

‘Isn’t that like way above you non-existent pay grade?”

She smiled, “Well, you’d be paying. You know you have enough. God, I never knew he had so much!”

I laughed and fell onto her lap. “Yeah-I’d so rather pay the bills than go meet mom. What’s her name anyway?”

“It’s Cadence; Cadence Manes.”

“How awful–I hope I never ever have to say that. Way worse than Melanie.”

She just laughed. But I cried. I never knew I could not want a mom so much.

Melanie stayed as long as she could–which was about half an hour–then she had to run to a job interview. That left me in a house which was no longer my house, filled with things that it would no longer be filled with and memories that would not leave me be. Deep down inside I knew I was about to be taken away; it was bound to happen. I don’t think even my mother would have the guts to say no to a practically orphaned child. She must feel guilty or something; something would make her desperate enough to say yes and I’d be taken far, far away. I could feel it. I just didn’t realize how far it really would be.

The call came the next wednesday. melanie had ordered me some food, but had had to run out again. But I answered and a timid voice was on the other line. She asked if Brooke was there. I said this was her. The woman just gasped and I could feel her get all emotional on the other line. “You sound so grown-up.” she whispered. That’s when I knew it was her. I said, “Well it has been what, nearly eighteen years since you left? I hope I sound a bit different.” I was surprisingly angry. I’d never really cared about my mom, but i guess something in side me cared enough to want to scream.

It was silent on the other line for a few seconds. then, “I am sorry. I never meant–”

“Save it.” i said, but I didn’t hang up. When she realized that, she continued, “I heard about your dad. And the will. Quite a surprise, huh?”

“You mean my dad dying or the will?” I spit it out, her voice making me more and more angry. She didn’t answer.

“But, uh, I guess you’ll be coming and living with me. Down here.” Suddenly I wasn’t mad; i was scared.

“Where is that?” I whispered, my heart beating madly.

“Oh–you’ll love it! Florida!”

My heart nearly stopped. “What?” I asked, never realizing it could be so far.

“Florida, you know, the sunshine state.”

Holy help-me’s filled my mind, soul and prayers. I suddenly wanted to crawl in a hole and die. It seemed like that was where I was heading anyway. Florida! Kill me, please.

– to be continued –

Kitchen Frenzy March 14, 2008

The kitchen was my lover.

I could hardly leave it. Even when I wasn’t cooking, I always was near it. My parents had even remodeled the sitting room into my bedroom as a 16th birthday present. Probably cuz they didn’t mind my love for the warm yellow walls covered in cabinets and counters. Every dinner they reminded me of that and how glad they were not to have to hire a cook. I guess we were wealthy in that way.

My dad worked as a stockbroker in California. We owned a beach house in Malibu. Very nice, and very modern. It was one of those houses you see in magazines. Square, glass and huge. A big change from where I was born.

My dad used to work in an auto shop in Montana. He said mom was his inspiration to change. Having me made him want to give me an easy life; a better life than he had. So he started researching and decided to go back to school and become what he is today. We’re a tight-knit family thanks to the unbelievable flip we went through. But we are also very grateful for our wealth and all the perks it has given us. The kitchen is one of those perks. It would make Martha Stewart jealous.

Mom said it was the size of our apartment in Montana. I think that’s an understatement. It nearly takes up half of the downstairs. The back wall was made up entirely of glass, overlooking the ocean and our “for looks” pool. Well, I guess if I wanted I could swim in it, but the kitchen was enough for me.

I should probably introduce myself. Like you probably guessed, I am easily distracted. My name is Annie Aver and I’m just plain average.

Maybe it was because of my name that I was so…average. Or maybe, in a sea of Californian babes, little Annie from Montana just didn’t cut it. Well, no, that wasn’t true. I knew a lot of people. Most of which, though, just were friends with me for my pool, house and connections my dad had. I only had two close friends. But I could live with that as long as I had my kitchen. I could live with anything as long as I could disappear into the kitchen and create warmth. Don’t worry; I’m not obsessed. I do have a life outside the honey-suckle halls. I just love the kitchen. A lot. And my two friends, Stephanie and Dallin, were fine with that. They seemed more than happy to come over Friday nights for my pizza and fries and watch a movie on my plasma screen in my monstrous room. But I knew our friendship was deeper than that. We all shared the average-ness factor in some way or other.

Stephanie was a bookworm and cared less about the sun and surf than I did. Plus she didn’t have a beach house or a rich father. That made her the outcast at our ritzy high school. Dallin, on the other hand, was rich and defiantly handsome. I could hardly walk down a street with him without some girls staring at me with eyes full of envy. And he could have had a ticket to the highlife of our school. Get all the girls and all the right friends. But he was…different. He wasn’t into sports, the media or anything. Yet he wasn’t a go-with-the-flow kinda guy. He was smart. A nerd I guess you could say. But even that wouldn’t have stopped him; what, with his looks and everything. But he chose to hang out with people like Steph and me so that made him not-so-popular.

But none of us minded; being outcasts, I mean. We liked just being ourselves and not becoming bags of brainless bimbo crap as Dallin liked to put it. Yet now I wonder if we would have come together if we had seen where it would get us. I wonder if we could have avoided this if we had only known. Today I’m left to question things we’d done and wondering–well, I’ll just let you see.