"Spencer!" her mother cried as she jumped back, startled by her daughters scream. "Oh my, Spencer! What was that for?!"
Spencer was breathing heavily, skill recovering from the scare. "My god mom! What are you doing here! you scared the hell outta me!"
Her mother smacked her on the shoulder. "Watch your language!" she scolded.
Spencer ignored her. "What are you doing?" she asked again.
Her mom folded her arms. "I came to ask you the same question. It's after midnight Spencer. I thought you were sleeping. But then you slammed your door, and-"
"I never slammed-" Spencer stopped. Her mom was looking past her. Spencer looked over her shoulder and followed her mother's line of vision. The envelope. She tensed up and quickly began closing the door. "Well, mom, I have school tomorrow and like you said it's really late so I should get to bed alright goodnight!" And this time she did slam the door, promptly locking it afterwards. She gave a big sigh, and then waited until she heard her confused mother walk away. Then she went back to the envelope. She lifted the flap and removed the letter, which was written on the same black paper, with the same crimson letters. However, these words were not scrawled across the page as her name had been on the envelope. Quite the opposite. The penmanship was impeccable, each letter ornate and each word considered with great detail. Spencer began to read.
Dear Spencer,
Moving is hard. I understand.
But I can make you feel very welcome here.
-V-
Spencer stared at the letter, re-reading it over and over. Was this supposed to be some strange new idea her mother had come up with to get her to accept the move? She flipped the letter over to examine the back but it was blank. Spencer lay down on her bed and re-read it a few more times. She began thinking about who could have given her this letter. She assumed that whoever delivered the letter also rapped on the door to wake her up. But who? As she pondered these things, her eyes began to close and soon she drifted off to sleep.
The forest was the perfect place for a game of “Hide and Seek”. Little Akara, only eight years old, had decided that she and her best friend, Ellemeire, would go play in the forest. Akara hid behind trees, in hollow logs, and in the forest caves. She was much better at the game then Ellemeire who only hid in one area, thinking she couldn’t be found. It was Akara’s turn to seek and she felt bad for Ellemeire, who was always found very quickly. So, she decided to search in another area for Ellemeire’s benefit.
As Akara searched, she saw something glitter under the fallen leaves. She walked over to the object and picked it up. It was a silver necklace. The pendant of the necklace was a heart with two diamond roses in it. “Oh! What a lovely necklace!” Akara said, smiling. Suddenly, she heard a sound to her right. She looked and saw a boy, no more than ten, dart behind a tree. Akara ran over to the tree, but the boy was gone. Akara grinned. Suddenly Ellemeire called to her, “Akara? Are you going to search for me or not?” Akara turned and saw Ellemeire standing near a tree a few feet away. Akara laughed. “What point is there in seeking you if you’ve made yourself known?” she asked. Ellemeire pondered this for a moment. She looked at Akara and they both giggled. “Akara! Ellemeire!” a voice called. It was Tamille, Akara’s governess. “Coming Tamille!” Akara answered. “Well hurry up dear!” Tamille yelled back, “Your father is having a banquet tonight and you are invited!”
Akara was the daughter of the king. Ellemeire was the daughter of one of the servants in the castle. They lived in the kingdom of Palmsmeria, a beautiful kingdom that bordered the countries of Ekaina, Jadastia, and Solatia. On the other side of Palmsmeria was the Altiam Sea, an ocean stretching for thousands of miles and was said to lead to strange, unknown lands.
Akara, when she turned seventeen, would become queen of Palmsmeria. If something were to happen Akara, her older sister, Harezel, would become queen. Though she was older, Harezel would not become queen before Akara. Their father thought that it was better for Akara to be queen. Harezel hated her father for this and was apathetic when he died leaving their mother to be queen until Akara’s reign. Harezel also hated Ellemeire. Ellemeire knew if Harezel became queen she would rule like a cruel dictator. There was something about Harezel that worried Ellemeire; something evil.
She wasn't sure how long she had slept, but it was dark when Spencer woke up. she sat up in bed and looked at her clock. 12:10 a.m. Spencer looked around. Hadn't there been something that woke her up? Her mom maybe? No, not at this hour. But, she had heard something. A knock. A knock on her door. Maybe...her mom was still up for some reason? Spencer crawled off the bed and went to the door; but, as she reached for the handle there was a knock. Spencer jumped back, startled. The knocking quickly subsided. "Mom...?" Spencer asked. There was no reply. Again, she reached for the handle, but hesitated just before grabbing it. She waited. There was no sound, save her own nervous heartbeat. Finally, Spencer clutched the handle. Again, nothing happened. She began slowly pushing her door open. the hallway was black. Spencer nervously stepped out of her room. As she did, something crinkled beneath her foot. She stifled a surprised cry and and stumbled back. then, after recovering she bent down and picked up the object. it was thin and papery with a rectangular shape. She guessed it was an envelope, but couldn't really tell in the dark. She turned, shut her door and flipped her light on. she furrowed her brow and for some reason, a terror twisted in her stomach. It was indeed an envelope. It was black and her name was scrawled across it in crimson ink. She flipped it over. It had a fat seal of the same crimson color, with an ornate "V" stamped on it.
Spencer stared at it, afraid to look inside. Something in her screamed not to. But, she ignored the feeling, and broke the seal. Suddenly, there was a loud bang from the hallway. It sounded as though someone had slammed the door to the attic. Spencer looked up. "The hell was that...?" she muttered and set the envelope on her bed. she walked to the door and opened it. Then she screamed.
"Mom, seriously, it's horrible! I hate it!" she moaned, flopping onto her bed.
"Spencer, please! you need a dress for the dance!" her mother snapped.
"I don't want to go to the dance! It's gonna be be dumb!" Spencer shot back.
"Spencer, we've been here three days, and I think that this dance would be a good chance to meet kids from school!"
"I don't want to meet kids from school. I didn't even want to move here!"
"don't start with that again," her mom sighed, laying the pink ruffly dress on the bed.
"I don't want to go," Spencer said again.
"You're going. but if you want you can pick up a dress. But if you don't have one by Saturday," her mother pointed at the ruffles, "you're wearing that."
Spencer stared at her a moment, with a bored look. "Fine," she finally muttered and rolled over. Her mother sighed and then left the room. Spencer didn't move. a quiet tear escaped her eye, so she closed them. Soon, she fell asleep, and while she was unconscious, her door cracked open. But it was not her mother who was checking up on her.
Oh darling, please. Please don't be sad. I don't want to see pain in your eyes. I know it's hard. Well, for you; but, think about it. You have your...uhm...lovely Cody and your brand new baby boy. That's the happy life you want. You don't want me.
And nor do I want you because, my once dear love, I have found another.
And he is in fact, my age. Well...ish. But you understand don't you? Our time has passed, the seasons have changed and the ice has melted beneath our skates. I have founded greener...younger...pastures and must pursue them. I hope you understand and I hope you will still remember me fondly.
And I really hope this doesn't throw off your game, because if it does I'm going to be extremely upset. We can't just blame defense for everything.
But truly, my dear...it's over.
Love Fondly,
Meagan
*disclaimer 2.0: i am very strange and....imaginative...and i really do not have a secret relationship with cam ward from which i am breaking up with him via blogger...that's just silly. :)
She held the glass firmly in her hand, concentrating on the bubbly liquid it held. Stupid, she thought, Why can't i just have a coke? That's what she had asked for, but her parents insisted on sparkling cider. "It seems more sophisticated dear," her mother had said. Every time her family had a party, which was at least once a week, she had to put on heirs and be a perfect debutant. What was a fun, engaging social event for her parents was a night of forcing laughter and faking smiles on her part. She sighed and made her way to the living room, where it seemed less people congregated. She hoped that made for less of a chance to be stuck in dull conversation with one of her father's business partners. She walked into the room as unassumingly as she could, praying she wouldn't draw attention to herself. And then she saw him. He stood across the room, cordially talking to another guest. He looked about nineteen. He was tall, dark-haired, and stunningly handsome. Every movement he made was fluid and every facial expression was charming. As she stared at him, his eyes suddenly met hers and for a moment, they were the only ones in the room. He looked back to the man with whom he had been conversing. Then she saw him excuse himself from the conversation and look back at her. Butterflies danced in her stomach as he made his way to her. He finally reached her, and smiled. "Hey," he said softly, and then extended his hand. "I'm Jason." She stared at him, fixated on his entrancing blue eyes. Then she shook herself, and took his hand. "Claire," she replied. Jason smiled again. "Enjoying yourself?" he asked. Claire looked around. "Uhm...you know...yeah," she mumbled. He laughed. "Are you bored too?" Claire rolled her eyes. "You have no idea." Jason suggested they get away from the boring executives and their wives and hang out by themselves. Claire happily agreed and she lead him out to the garden. They walked around together, Jason joking and Claire countering all his quick remarks. He was charming and she was charmed. But as they talked, Claire kept thinking to herself that a boy this amazing had to have a girlfriend. As their conversation began to turn more serious and they began to share about themselves with each other, Claire began to think, Please, don't be in love with some one else. He was just too perfect and she loved it. After a few hours of talking, Jason looked down at his watch. "Oh wow, I'm pretty sure the party ended an hour and a half ago. I think I better get going." He stood and so did Claire. She led him to the front door and stepped outside with him. She smiled a sort of sad smile, disappointed that he had to leave. "I had a great time tonight," she said quietly. He took her hand and kissed it. "I was enchanted to meet you," he replied. She smiled again. He smiled as well, and then turned to leaved. Claire went back inside to the living room, blushing all the way. Her parents were on the couch talking. Her mother looked up at her. "How was your evening?" she asked. Claire grinned. "Enchanting."
TUMBLR HAS BEEN DOWN FOR THREE HOURS AND THE WORLD IS COMING TO AN END!
I DON'T THINK I WAS EVEN THIS UPSET WHEN BARACK OBAMA BECAME PRESIDENT. OR EVEN WHEN THE HEALTH CARE BILL WAS PASSED! I'M FREAKING OUT RIGHT NOW!!!!! HENCE THE ALL CAPS!!!!!
.....calm....calm....i must be calm. but seriously, this is a travesty. i cannot function properly without my darling blog. and yes, i'm very aware that this is a blog as well; however, i am not always in the mood to write, so my emotions are not yet fully attached to this blog. but i am always in the mood to post pictures, songs, videos, short and sweet statements about whatever. i am just lost without that. no really, i am definitely more upset than anything about politics. humph. that just shows where my priorities lie.
but really i feel like i am the only one this is happening to. like, i think tumblr got together and decided to have a "no meagan day". so the tumblr people only disabled my tumblr, under the guise of "maintenance". psh. a likely story. they're probably having a tumblr party. without me.
although that's a little extreme....maybe i am a narcissist like haley said....but that was only cuz i find myself to be an adorable baby. but that's a different story.
i'm going to go click refresh on tumblr for the next three hours now. maybe it will work.
i was just informed that he almost chose to major in psychology. like, he started studying it and stuff.
so, so far what i have learned about the possible career paths my dad could have taken:
Doctor - and there were a million different kinds of doctors he might have been (but, he’s a general surgeon now…and apparently he’s the head of the heartburn center at rex hospital)
a professional athlete - the summer before he started medical school, he was offered to play on holland’s minor soccer (excuse me, FOOTBALL) team. he said that since he was awesome at punting, he could have come back to the U.S. and become a kicker for the NFL…what even?
a psychiatrist and all that jazz…
in my personal opinion, he could have been a politician….except that he isn’t very tactful…he says some pretty controversial things…hahahha…but he knows so much about politics and the economy…he could so do it.
a writer. dear Lord. he is one of the BEST writers i know. stupid doctor stuff, always taking up his time. he’s told me a bunch of his story ideas and their just like…adklfjaslkfjalskdfjlaksdjflasdkfj “mind blown that you are so epic”.
dkasjflksadjflkajdsflkasjdf.
and on top of that, he seems to know everything about anything.
although he describes himself as “a jack of all trades, master of none…except surgery”
oh my gosh.
why does no one believe me when i say he’s brilliant?
until of course they talk to him. then their like….whoa.
Hi! My name is Kevin and I’m a Koala. Let me tell you something: never leave your home. To fully understand this, let me tell you my story. One day I decided I was to good for the outback. Well that, and I was being black mailed by a blood thirsty dingo. Is it my fault that I was hungry and ate the president of the Kookaburras? There weren’t any eucalyptus trees around! Anyway, I left. I journeyed for a week and ended up in some six-year-old’s back yard. I was really tired. So, then this little girl found me. The next thing I knew I had a baby doll bottle in my face. I was not in the mood for fake milk, so I struggled against her. She, in the end, won. I stayed at the girl’s house for a few days and then they decided to take me to the Great Barrier Reef. By the way, “they” is referring to the kid’s parents. Don’t they know it ISN’T okay to keep a wild animal?! Well anyway, I ended up sitting on a beach in a “Build-A-Bear” bikini. The worst part about that? I’m a guy!!!!!!! There was only one way out of this. I had to escape! That night I was in the “Koala bonnet” as the little girl called it, and in my cradle. I’m not kidding. A cradle!!! I ripped off the stupid bonnet and climbed out of the cradle. I went out the window and didn’t stop until I got back home. When I did get back, I worked things out with the dingo and I apologized to the Kookaburras. I really hope you’ve learned what you need to from my story. Never leave home because you might get stuck wearing an itsy, bitsy, teeny, weenie, yellow, polka-dot, bikini.
Samuel’s gaze was fixed on the black ocean before him. It was like liquid obsidian. He was mesmerized as the foamy, white crests of the waves peaked and seemingly turned silver in the pale moonlight. Then, they would suddenly collapse into the dark water below as if they had given up on their efforts to grow. Samuel heaved a sigh as one of the waves crashed. What was he doing here? How had he fallen so far from the perfect path that had stretched before him his entire life? He had been like a wave. Rising, rising, rising to greatness. Then - CRASH!
Rock bottom.
Samuel shuddered. “Get outta my head,” he mumbled to the voice which ruled his subconscious - though apparently it had decided it would now rule his conscious too. It was a voice he knew well.
Rock bottom.
His father’s voice. The man who had taken such interest in his future. Sending him to the best schools. Getting him the most excellent tutors when he struggled in a subject, though that never happened much.
“You’re a bright kid, Sammy,” his father would tell him as he puffed his cigar.
“Really, dad?” Samuel would look up at his father with bright, adoring eyes.
“Damned straight,” his father replied, blowing out a thick ring of smoke.
Samuel scoffed at this memory. “Oh yeah, I’m bright alright. Bright enough to get myself into this mess.” He squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Why was he here?
Rock bottom, son. Don’t ever let me catch you there.
His father had told him this as he read an article in newspaper about a colleague of his who had lost everything he had through gambling, alcohol, etc. “‘Stress,’ Bart said. Ha! If he thought his job was stressful, try being the C.E.O. of this company!” Malcolm Blake had laughed at his former friend. Then he looked over at his son. “Sammy, that’s what happens when you can’t handle the business world. Or when you don’t take it seriously enough. Or when you can’t handle the dough that comes with it. Or whatever the hell else these shmucks come up to try to justify their failure. Point is, Sammy, they all hit rock bottom,” his father had looked at him sternly, “Rock bottom, son. Don’t ever let me catch you there.”
A small crab scuttled along the sand near him. Samuel stared at it then suddenly felt rage flash through him. With a yell, he gave the crab a hard kick and sent it flying.
“Samuel!” a mockingly stern voice said behind him, “You should know better than to kick innocent beach life.” Samuel stiffened and clenched his teeth. He turned and disdainfully surveyed the man before him.
He was a few inches shorter than Samuel, but then again, so is everyone when you’re 6”6. The man’s black hair was slicked back with an excessive amount of gel. He had dark eyes which had a conniving and almost evil shine in them. Samuel hated that look. He hated this man.
“Well, Samuel?” the man questioned jokingly in his deep, smooth voice, “Aren’t you going to greet me?”
Samuel only folded his arms and stared at the man with contempt.
The man’s playful mood diminished and he raised his eyebrow.
“Samuel,” his voice was stern, “I would think you would show me a bit of respect. After all, I can easily terminate your position with Black Stone.”
Samuel dropped his arms and clenched his fists. “Hello Marcus,” he spat.
Marcus smiled smugly. “That’s better then.”
Samuel thrust his hands into his pockets. Marco spoke again.
“Samuel, I’m glad you met me here. I-”
“You didn’t give me a choice,” Samuel interrupted.
Marcus gave him a warning look. Samuel only shrugged. Marcus continued.
“Your assignment has finally come in,” Marcus said, “Black Stone needs you now.”
Samuel looked up from the sand he had been kicking around with his foot. he raised an eyebrow. “You need me, eh?” he smiled.
Marcus did not seem to be amused. “‘Need’ is relative,” he replied.
“Where am I?” I wonder. I look around. I’m standing in a white room. There are bright fluorescent lights on the ceiling. There is no door on any of the walls. However, there is a large window which almost completely takes up one of the walls. The scene outside the window seems familiar. There is a wet highway, and cars zoom by. I can just barely see the tip of the highway’s shoulder beneath the window. As I watch this scene, I begin to understand what I’m seeing.
“Oh god,” I breathe, “No.”
Just as I say this, I see an all too familiar car. the scene begins to follow the car as if the room is moving with it. Inside the vehicle are two people. The passenger is a blond girl, who looks to be about 17. The driver is a boy, older than the girl, probably by a year or two, with the same blonde hair. The girl has a pained expression on her face. The boy keeps his eyes on the road ahead with a solemn stare. His lips are pressed together in a line.
I know them. I know them so, so well. Because the girl is me. And the boy…the boy is Cameron, my dead brother.
I suddenly throw myself against the window and begin screaming. I know what I am about to witness. I must stop it. However, the car’s occupants ignore me, completely unaware of my warning cries.
And then it happens.
Cameron’s stern expression suddenly twists into one of shock and panic. Suddenly, I hear a horn blaring and a girl’s scream. My scream. I squeeze my now tear filled eyes. I can’t bear to watch. I hear the collision, the crash of the cars, the crunch of metal, the screeching of brakes. It’s horrible.
Then, all is quiet. I slowly let my eyelids open. And then I scream. The new image out the window us more horrible than the noises I had just heard. It is an enlarged image of our car. The driver’s door gapes open and there is Cameron, slouched over the steering wheel, head hanging loosely on his shoulders. Blood trickles down the side of his face. But the worst are his eyes. They stare right at me. Void. Cloudy. Lifeless.
I sat bolt upright in my car with a shriek. I looked around, breathing heavily, nearly hyperventilating. I was in the Wal-Mart parking lot. The sky was a light grey, and the air around was misty. The storm had passed. It was morning. I pressed the heels of my hands to my temples and squeezed my eyes closed. I began to inhale deeply and my breathing slowed. My god, what a nightmare. I looked up, and then opened the visor mirror. I gave a disgusted gasp. I looked like hell. I began running my fingers through my tangled hair and smoothing it out. My eyeliner was smeared all over my face. It had run down my cheeks in tear stains. I wasn’t sure if those tears were from yesterday or the nightmare that had just awoken me, but judging from the moisture on my face I guessed it was the latter.
Suddenly, I became aware of the fact that I felt worse than I looked. I had a splitting headache and I felt as if I were going to vomit out every major organ in my body.
“Hangover,” I muttered unhappily to myself.
I looked over at the Wal-Mart building. A sign suggesting I come into the McDonald’s and try their new Frappe stared at me from one of the windows. I hated coffee. With a burning passion. But as the old wive’s tale went, coffee helps cure a hangover. So that’s why I got out of my car - with some difficulty considering that I almost collapsed onto the asphalt when I stood - and made my way into the store.
I’ve always loved the way the sky looks sometimes when it’s about to storm. You know, when the thick layer of clouds is so dark it’s almost black, but everything around doesn’t seem dark? It’s like a light grey, I guess. It was like that today, while I was driving. I knew I should probably go home soon. Especially because of the oncoming storm; because, you see, I had the roof of my convertible down. Yes, stupid idea on my part, but right now, rational thought wasn’t exactly top five on my list of major priorities right now. My mind was too crowded with irrational thoughts. Like, where the nearest cliff might be. Or how likely it would be that I would die if I drove off of it.
No, I thought to myself, that’s too much work to find.
My next thought was that maybe if I kicked up my speed to, oh say, 120 - since I was already going 90 - and then made the sharpest left I could manage, sending my car along with myself zooming onto the opposing side of the highway, how likely it would be that I could get into an accident. Yeah, that was a very high probability. And I was probably tipsy enough to actually follow through on it. I watched as my speedometer climbed to 100. My fingers twitched on the steering wheel. Oh, how desperately I wanted to veer left. Oh, how desperately. I knew these thoughts were being caused by all the alcohol I had snuck from my pantry. Maybe. I was bound to be in trouble when I got home. My parents had already called me about ten times. Doubtless, they had discovered that my bedroom now looked like an ABC liquor store. I was so screwed. Unless of course I didn’t come home. There was always that swerving idea.
But, then I realized that if I swerved at 120 miles an hour, there was bound to be some one who I would hit. And what if they died along with me? I would be the crazy drunk driver you hear about in all those lame driver’s ed classes. And what kind of pain would I put the family of that person through? I knew exactly what kind. The exact kind of pain I was feeling right now, regardless of my blood alcohol level. And I couldn’t be that person. I just couldn’t, because if I was, the family of that random stranger I killed would go through the same thing I did…
My eyes flutter open to the flashing of blue and red lights. What happened? I think to myself. I feel cold drizzle falling on my face. I’m lying down. I try to sit up, but something is strapping me down. I suddenly feel myself being lifted off the ground. “Hey! Hey! She’s coming to!” a voice yells, “Her vitals seem good too!” “Wh-what’s going on-” I try to ask the voice, but it comes out in an inaudible murmur. I recognize the whooshing sound of cars. I turn my head and see the highway. I suddenly remember. We were driving, he and I. Then he suddenly gasped and honked. And then there was a crash. And then there was blackness. Now I realize I’m being loaded into an ambulance. “She was stuck in there good wasn’t she? Miracle you got her out,” a new voice says. “Yeah, she seems alright though,” the first voice replies. Who was stuck? Who got out? Me? Was it me? It must be. That must be it. We were in a wreck, weren’t we? We- my heart suddenly skips a beat. Where is he? WHERE IS HE?!?! I start to struggle against my restraints. “Whoa now! Easy there, sugar! You’re alright! We’re taking you to the hospital. You’re gonna be just fine.” “Where is he?!” I cry, my voice now able to be heard. The men who I now know are paramedics suddenly look at each other uneasily. “Eh…don’t worry, hon. Everything’s gonna be okay.”
It wasn’t.
I stand above the hole in the ground. I am the last one left. Everyone else has begun to leave. He is being lowered into the ground. I can’t believe it. How did this happen? It was a drunk driver who had hit us. It was so wet and rainy that night. We spun out after the collision and flipped over into a ditch. The car was totaled, almost completely smashed. I had been wedged in between the dashboard and the crushed passenger door. They almost couldn’t get me out. But which one of us survived? Me. I came out almost unscathed after nearly being a permanent part of the car and Cameron? The airbag. The stupid thing that was supposed to protect him killed him. It ejected so fast. It flew out from the side and hit his head, snapping his neck. He died instantly. My brother. My wonderful, perfect, amazing, loving, caring, always there for me brother is dead. He died. And I lived. Why? Why did I live? I should have died. I’m nothing special. I’m the loser in the family. I’ve got all the crap and emotional baggage hanging on to me. Him? He was amazing. Got accepted into his dream college. Was always a lead in the school plays. Had the voice of a freaking angel. Played guitar, piano. Every girl wanted him. Had more friends than he knew what to do with, yet he was a great friend to all of them. He had everything going for him. And then suddenly, he’s gone, just like that. He’s gone, and I’m still here. He was the one I always leaned on. He was always there for me, his little sis. Even when I was being ridiculous. And now he’s gone. And I’m alone. I have no one anymore. And I don’t know how to survive. I stare at the dark mahogany coffin in the ground. “Please,” I whisper, icy tears stinging my cheeks, “please come back. Please, don’t leave me.”
It’s been three weeks since the funeral. He never came back. Not that I should have expected him too. But I had held out some stupid, irrational hope that he would. And this morning, it hit me. He was gone. Gone. Never coming. I no longer had anyone to talk to. Anyone to comfort me. Anyone to look forward to be with every day. No, I was completely alone. And the thought sent me off the deep end. So that’s why I skipped school without my parent’s knowing and, after downing as much alcohol as I found, hopped into my convertible and sped away. And drove. Just drove. Not going anywhere. And as I was seriously considering killing myself, knowing that once I got home I was done for, and if I tried to crash my car I’d probably kill some one, I got another though.
“Start over”
It was like a whisper in my mind.
“Start over”
“What?” I actually said out loud.
“Start over”
The words began to sink in. What if…what if instead of ending myself…what if I restarted? What if I never went back home? Could I really?
“Start over”
Yes, yes I could. And if it didn’t work, I could always come back right? Yes, of course! A sudden determination swelled inside of me. I knew exactly what I would do. I wouldn’t go back home. I’d drive as far as I could get on what gas my car had, which was a full tank, and then stop. And then, I’d figure out my new beginning. And I would forget the pain of my old life. And I’d be okay. Yes, yes, I’d start over. I slowed my car down to 85, and then remembered the fact that I was basically sloshed. Maybe, I should wait to start over. I got off on the next exit and pulled into a Wal-Mart parking lot. I put up the roof of my car, just as the first drops of rain started to fall. There was a roll of thunder as I leaned my seat back. I would sleep off my stupor and then…
“Start over”
I smiled to myself as I thought about this new idea. I drifted off to sleep peacefully, blissfully unaware of the storm that began to rage around me.
It happened. It finally happened. The dreadful event that I had been dreading for so long: the birth of Cam Ward's first child.
I didn't even know that stupid Cody was pregnant! And the terrible thing is, it must have happened in March...which was the month of casino night. The night I spent an hour and fifteen minute two feet away from him and he told me I was pretty. I was so certain that this was a sign of the lovely future we would one day share when he came to his senses and left Cody for me.
This is a travesty, throwing all my hopes and dreams off a cliff to plummet to their death. Now that he has a child, he is stuck with Cody forever, because I could never ruin a child's life. Dumb. This is dumb. I can't even think about it. My life is over.
*disclaimer: i do not in fact honestly believe that cam ward and i had a future...it's just a lovely fantasy first devised by a twelve year old, and perpetuated by a 17 year old
...and yet, my family has barely touched any form of decoration. The most we have done is bring down the giant singing dog from the attic, but that was partly by my own initiative, in order to terrify my dog, who is terrified of the fake canine barking, "Up on the Housetop".
And my dad said that all we would do the last two days of break is decorate. My mom promised to make me help her bring down decorations for an hour and all that was accomplished was bringing down the dog. I was promised the boiling of mulling spices to make our home smell like Christmas. But no. None of that happened. And as the amount of time left to have a Christmasy home wanes away, I have too much homework, or there's a choir concert this weekend, or my dad is on call, or my mom would rather watch hockey or this or that or a million other things preventing us from decorating. This happens....every freaking year. I believe that I will be forever scarred by the fact that each Christmas of my childhood lasted only about a week while the world around me celebrated so much longer. I don't even have anything for advent this year. Yes, I will be scarred. I am certain of this. I foresee much therapy in my future.
I do not have a problem. Well, maybe just a little one. But look, I mean, is it really my fault that I fell prey to the genius, captivating style in which Haley writes? No. No it isn't. Technically, you could blame my alleged addiction on her. After all, if it weren't for her skill I'm sure there would be no reason for worry...not that there's any now, despite what Haley says.
I'm just incredibly fond of her writing, and feel honored to pair my up beside hers in our roleplays. And yet, Haley does not seem to share the same fond feelings. Not that she doesn't enjoy our roleplaying, but she is more reluctant to continue each day, despite my begging. It is terribly unfortunate.
Every day after school, I come home, thrust open my laptop and boot up my email, hoping to discover what has happened in the current tale we are weaving. But alas, in the 50 emails held in my inbox, none are from Haley. Annoyed, i open AIM and decisively ask a question about homework, careful to conceal my ulterior motive for commencing the conversation. After some discussion about whatever we were supposed to read for APUSH, or what pages to do for Spanish, I nonchalantly ask, "So, could you reply to the roleplay?"
When I do this, Haley gives me a long explanation as to why she could not join me in the wondrous adventure that evening, complaining that she had too much homework or some lame excuse like that. I begin to feel desperate. "BUT HALEY!!!!!!!!!!" I type frantically, "IT'LL TAKE POINT FIVE SECONDS!!!!!!!! PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEE AKLSDFJASKLDFJKLASDFJASDKLFJLSJK!!!!!"
"...you know this makes me not want to roleplay with you," Haley replies.
I fall out of my chair and crumble to the floor in a quivering pool of unfulfilled dreams.
And yet, she says she can "live with the guilt." And then suggests therapy.
I do not need therapy. I need the magical language which spills from my best friends imagination, to make mine look less inadequate.
