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 Posted: Fri Oct 27, 2006 2:29 pm
Hoookay. More it is. Success...With a Surrpise Ending In the end, my non-girlish side won out, and I chose not to wear anything obnoxiously colorful. I did, however, mess with my hair for all of fifteen minutes until I finally pulled it into a not-to-messy bun and picked out some earrings that weren't blindingly shiny. No makeup--not today, not ever. Somehow I had a feeling that wouldn't impress Evan at all. And then I wondered, for half a second, maybe, why I was trying to impress him at all. And then, the thought was gone. It didn't matter anyway. I tried my best to act as natural as possible, but it was hard; anything that could lift me from my after-school boredom was enough to activate every sugar-related energy source I had, and with a friend that I could relate to, no less...I was over the moon. Not to mention that he was a guy. And a very cute guy at that... Bad Kirby, I thought. No flirting, or you'll scare him away.But that didn't change the fact that he was still really cute. My sister picked us up, and since her car radio can--and does--play way over the safe decibel level, there was no chance for conversation. But she didn't stay at home, going off somewhere with her friends, so after tossing my backpack wherever I felt like it and calling to my mom that I was home, I turned on my own music (it wasn't as loud, though) and got to work on my chores. "Sorry," I apologized to Evan as I put dishes away, "this won't take long." "That's okay." I could barely hear him over the music drifting from my room. I gave him a tour, gesturing to the tooms in question with loaded hands, and then hurried off to finish with the domestic labor. I changed out of my uniform into a t-shirt and jeans, grabbing the navy skirt and sweater and stuffing them in the wash with all the other clothes, dumping in some soap and pressing the button. As I came back to the kitchen (immaculate, courtesy of me, of course,) I saw that my mom had started a (very awkward) conversation with Evan, and quickly rescued him. "Okay, that's all I had to do," I said cheerfully, ferretting around the kitchen for a snack. (My mother quietly backed out of the room, leaving us on our own, and I was grateful for it.) I pulled out everything I could find: bagels, chips, cream cheese, milk, ice cream, grapes. "Just take anything you want," I told him, tossing him a spoon. He was too off-guard from the sudden explosion of sugar and carbs to say anything. His expression made me laugh, though I don't think he heard me over the Hinder playing loudly from my room. Grabbing one of everything, I sat next to him and poured two glasses of milk for us both. "Don't worry," I said, laughing. "That's the normal people food, not the organic junk." He smiled--a nice smile, I thought--and we procrastinated for about half an hour before finally packing away the junk food (and grapes) and went outside to do our homework. It was a beautiful day, and I was glad; I loved the sun, and I could tell that Evan did too. The white clouds reflected in our tiny little pool, and the older of my two cats was basking in a pool of sunlight nearby. The younger cat, barely older than a kitten, stuck his head around the corner and came over to inspect the newcomer. "What's her name?" he asked me, stroking her silky fur. "Takkun," I answered, absorbed in my geometry. "Takkun?" "Short for Naota-kun. It's Japanese." "Cute." "Thanks." After a long time of battling my sugar-induced short attention span, I finished the worst of my homework, and took Evan, who was already done, on s tour of my backyard. It wasn't very big, but I had a lot of different flowers and even a tiny pond of fish, which all had very odd names, of course. Afterward, we sat on the swing, talking about nothing in particular. Curious, I asked him, "So, met anyone else yet?" "No," he replied, as if it was just another question, "just you." "Well, my friends count, don't they?" "I don't know. I haven't talked to them very much." Not at all, actually, I thought. "Oh, I get it," I teased. "You have a girlfriend, don't you?" "No." I wasn't sure, but he sounded almost annoyed. "Not anymore." "Oh..." Definitely not the answer I was expecting. "You broke up?" "No." "But then--" "I know what you mean," he cut across me, turning away. "She died." She what? Of course, I couldn't think of anything to say. Oh, my God...A few minutes of awkward silence later, Evan's ride honked a horn in the driveway, and I waved and disappeared inside as the car drove off. Then I went to the garage, hardly looking where I was going, and grabbed a soda from the fridge, lashing out viciously at the punching bag in the corner as I passed. THIS, my friends, is where it starts to get interesting.
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Posted: Fri Oct 27, 2006 3:42 pm
wait... Hinder, as in the band that does "Get Stoned"?
It's my theme song mrgreen
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Posted: Fri Oct 27, 2006 4:15 pm
I don't like that one as much as "Better Than Me" and "I don't wanna know"
But yes. mrgreen
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Posted: Fri Oct 27, 2006 6:45 pm
Dammit Dammit! I thought, denting a drumstick on the rim of my snare. Everyone within hearing range glared reproachfully at me. Evan wasn't here yet. I had left early after a very quiet lunch, cursing myself under my breath and kicking the wall viciously. "Dammit, dammit, dammit," I muttered aloud, picking a splinter out of my finger. "What's up with you, Kirby?" one of the Drumline guys asked me. "Men," I said venemously, lying just a little. After all, it was more my fault. They nodded and turned away; what else was new? I took out all my frustration on the drum, letting my thoughts wander back to the day before. Kirby, you are so insensitive, said my practical self. It was obviously something no one wanted to remember....and you drag it up. Waaaaaaay to go.
What if she didn't die, exactly? my paranoid self whined. What if he killed her?
Damn, my romantic side said regretfully. This is terrible.I told my practical self to shut up, kicked my paranoid self out of my mind, and heartily agreed with my romantic self as class began. Somehow, I had stumbled through the day, failing several subjects along the way and hardly talking to anyone. And I thought, vaguely, as I walked down the hall to my locker, that it was amazing that people had yet to notice... "Psst...Kirby!" A long-fingered hand grabbed my arm and pulled me into the girls' room. So much for no one noticing. "Whitney, what the hell?" "C'mere," she gestured, pulling me over to the mirrors. "Now spill. What's wrong with you today, girl?" I sighed. "What isn't?" She gave me a did-I-not-just-say-to-spill? kind of look, so I told her everything. Her reaction was much the same as mine. "His girlfriend what?" "Died," I said gloomily. "And now I bet he hates me..." "He doesn't hate you, Kirby..." she said consolingly, though she seemed troubled. "What do I do?" I whined. "I ruined everything!" "It's not your fault." She shook her head, amazed. "How could you have guessed something like that?" "But now he won't want to talk to me ever again..." "He talks?" "Whitney, not the time." "Okay, okay." She twisted a strand of her hair, thinking. "I don't know, chica. I don't think he hates you just for that...I wonder what happened?" she added as an afterthought. "Yeah, me too." "You've got to talk to him, Kirbette. That's the only thing to do." "Do I have to?" I could name a hundred other things I would rather have done at that moment. "Yes. I'll go with you, come on..." "Well, he's left by now." "Ah...right." I sighed. "I just want to go home. C'mon." We left the girls' room (salaaming to its utter holiness) and walked down the hall, heading for carpool. Whitney had a meeting, so I had to walk the last corridor alone. Or, perhaps not. "Kirby?" "Yeah?" I said, turning. And who should it be but Evan, of course. He took a breath, as if steeling himself. "Thanks for inviting me to your house," he began. "I had a great time." He's a good liar, I thought appraisingly. "Oh...really?" said my mouth, and I was surprised I had even managed that much. "Yeah. D'you want to do it again sometime?" The question caught me off guard, but I said automatically, "Sure..." "Okay." He flashed me a smile. "Well, I have to go...see you later." "'Bye." And I was left, astounded, in the hallway. Did he just ask you out? my romantic self said, waking with a jolt from its depressed sleep. No, he did not, the practical one said, ruining my fun in less than a second. He wants your help on homework, not a date with you.
But he's smarter than I am, I objected. He soooooo wants you, romantic Kirby sighed. Or, he wants to kill you, paranoid self popped in. Or he wants a chance to find out how to get another girl...I would not let this stand. I told you to leave, I muttered, disgruntled. The paranoid one annoyed me, because she was probably right. About the latter, anyway. However, when I made my feet move again, it was hard to keep from skipping with sheer joy.
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Posted: Sun Oct 29, 2006 12:48 pm
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Posted: Mon Oct 30, 2006 2:07 pm
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Posted: Mon Oct 30, 2006 5:07 pm
I will, I will. It's getting reaaaaaaaaaaaly good, now.
I decided to move it to Works, btw. ^^
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Posted: Mon Oct 30, 2006 6:05 pm
Victory The State Fair was always something to look forward to. It lasted for weeks, had tons of rides and the weirdest food imaginable, and was the one place where you could scream your head off and no one would notice. By the time I found out about it, via the long higher-ups-normal-people-parents-sister-me chain, it had been going on for about three days. And everyone in school seemed to know about it, and had obviously assumed that I knew too. But I didn't. I found out far too late, and my friends had already made plans to go and had picked a partner to go on every ride with them. So, of course, I was left all alone. But whatever karmic fate had planned this, it hadn't remembered Evan. We were speaking to each other, of course--he and I had become closer friends than even Whitney and me, my best friend since second grade. I thought that maybe it was a girl thing; we tend to be a little harder to get on with than guys. At least, so it would seem from my very liimited observations. So, one sunny afternoon at lunch, (second schedule, so no posse in sight,) I worked up the courage to ask: "Hey Evan, do you want to go to the Fair with me this Saturday?" Seeing the surprised look on his face, I added hastily, "Just as friends, you know, because everyone's going but they've all paired off, and everyone knows you need someone to ride everything with you." I was babbling like an idiot, but I don't think I cared at the moment. Or noticed, even. "Um, I don't know..." But I gave him my wide-eyed "pretty please?" stare, and he nodded and agreed. I smiled and picked right back up on the conversation, feeling very proud of myself all of a sudden. And soon, Saturday had arrived. I had told Evan to meet me there--everyone was going to gather at the front entrance. I waved him over as we bought wristbands and we followed the posse into the midst of the Fair. I had been going since I was little, but I still loved it; the glittering lights, the sounds of people laughing and yelling, the smells of cotton candy, lemonade, pork-on-a-stick... Okay, maybe not everything. The litter and the cigarette and barbeque smoke was a little much for Miss Environmentalist Kirby, but I ignored it. It's only once a year, right? Most of us were smart enough to skip out on the food before we rode the serious rides, but we debated over which to go on first; they all looked so fun all of a sudden. We split up at the Ring of Fire, with Chelsey, Whitney, Evan and me in the mile-long line and the rest of the posse promising to meet up with us later as they headed off to something much less badass. I shook my head, disappointed, and willed the line to move faster. Going upside-down is all well and good, but turning in circles--upside-down, and all--is a little much, and I found myself clutching the padded ceiling's supports as gravity betayed me. I had my eyes tightly shut, though I was enjoying the feeling of weightlessness, so I had no idea what Evan was doing until the ride stopped and he politely reached into the compartment and helped me out. By the ever-unruffled look about him, I guessed that he had done...nothing at all. He hadn't screamed his head off like Whitney and Chels had, anyway. Feeling sick, the two of them headed off somewhere completely different while I opted for the more fun, way more dangerous rides nearby. "Pansies," I muttered as Evan and I waited in line. "Is this okay with you, Evan?" I added. "Yeah, whatever." "Cool." The line moved faster than one might have thought, and soon we were heading into the Starship 2000, the ride to end all rides, and my favorite. There was a trick to it all, and I knew it, and as soon as we got moving I shouted directions to Evan over the loud, obnoxious music. The other people, save for a few, were clinging to the walls, alarmed by the speed, and I tested every few seconds, holding out my arm and feeling the resistance... "Okay, now!" I called, pushing myself up the wall--centrifugal force held me in place. Evan followed suit, looking confused, but soon, he got it. As we picked up more speed, the walls actually moved, sliding upwards in unison with an audible shiiiiiiiick. People screamed, but the music drowned them out, and I was glad--it was nothing to be scared about. As the ship moved faster and faster, we were all literally glued to the walls--the trick was now to defy force itself and move into a different position than lying frightened against the wall. With a huge effort, I pulled my torso off the wall and sat in a relaxed position-- sideways. The blood was rushing to my head, but I didn't care; I was feeling sick anyways. I made a gesture with diffficulty at Evan, and he followed suit, sitting cross-legged beside me on the wall. I laughed with the sheer pleasure of it all...my brain must have dissevered somewhere, but I wouldn't miss it until Monday. As the ride slowed, we moved back, and hopped off the ride, dizzy and walking like we were completely stoned. A few more intense rides later, and we gave up, going for some food in an attempt to reunite ourselves with the posse. We never did find them, though we didn't mind at all; we had tons of fun even waiting in line, talking, laughing, deciding where we would go and what to do next. I grabbed a lemonade from the nearest stand and we both got ice cream from the Baskin Robbins nearby, sharing a funnel cake as we sat and watched the crowd. It must have been the cigarette smoke giving me cancer and infecting my brain, or maybe I was still dizzy from the rides, or maybe I was just having fun, but I found it hard to remember that there was a world outside this noisy, busy place, and that I had a project due Monday or the PSAT in a week or so. All of that faded as I enjoyed the night, never once missing my friends or searching for soemthing to say. It was really easy, talking to Evan, and that surprised me. After we ate, we chose a few more tame rides that would not reawaken our food from the dead, (or digested,) and then we both decided, as it was getting late, that we had had enough for one year, and I called my dad and told him to pick me up at the front as we waited. Then I excused myself and slipped off, determined to fix my hair and such before I went home and longing for a breath of fresh and semi-quiet air. The bathrooms were in the arena, usually spotless but a little scrubby from the fair at the moment. I didn't care, splashing water on my face to clear my head and pulling my hair back from where it had fallen. As I messed with it, I took a long, scrutinizing glare to myself, thinking: I must not lose my head. I must not lose my head. I must not lose my head. For added measure, I clicked my heels together three times, but I didn't feel any different afterwards. Get a hold of yourself, Kirby. No crushing on the new kid, even if he is cute and sensitive and sweet....
Not helping, I told the seemingly combined personalities of romance and common sense. Sorry. But you like him.
Duh. I had always been honest with myself, (well, mostly,) and that's probably why I now had distinct multiple personalities. Don't let him know it, practical self said, if he likes you back, he should tell you. But I doubt it.
Stop ruining the fun, said wild, risky self--I had no idea when that one had popped up, but I liked her. Yeah, cut it out. I'm going back now, so shut up, all...however many of you there are. I brushed off my shirt and trotted briskly out of the girls' room, satisfied with my victory over...myself. "Back," I called to Evan, seeing him sitting up ahead. "What'd I miss?" He ignored me. "Evan?" I tapped him on the shoulder, curious, and when he turned to me I saw that he had earphones in his ears--an iPod, the last thing I was expecting. "Sorry," he apologized, tugging the earphones out. "What?" "Since when do you have an iPod?" I asked, curious. He shrugged. "For a while, I think. A couple of years, maybe." It wasn't so strange after all, I reconsidered. After all, he loved music like me, and if I could have had one I certainly would've. "what music do you have?" He gave it to me, and I inserted one of the earphones, listening to the shuffled classical, alternative, and really old music--stuff I liked, Beethoven mixed with Evanescence, Red Jumpsuit together with Say Anything, Schubert, and a lot of bands and composers I had never heard of. Over a thousand songs in all, impressive for my standards. I listened to some here and there, liking almost every single one of them. "That song you liked is on there," he said, and I half-heard him with my other ear. "The piano song." "What's it called?" "Etude...something." It didn't take me long at all to find it, and I listened, thinking that it would take one heck of a robot to play it as well as Evan could. And whoever the pianist was definitely didn't meet my expectations. I handed it back to him, thanking him, and mentioned, "I think you played it better than the recording, though." "Thanks," he muttered, turning away to put the Mini in his pocket. I smiled, shivering in the cold. He noticed, and gallantly took off his jacket and handed it to me. "You sure you don't mind?" "Nuh-uh, I don't care." I tugged the warm jacket over my shoulders, pulling it close to me; a light, spicy smell filled my nose from the inside, a smell I loved at once, and I guessed that was whatever cologne he was wearing. Funny, I hadn't noticed... It was getting harder than ever to get a hold of myself, and it took all my willpower not to give him a hug--at the very least--as my car drove up and I left, savoring each memory of the magical night.
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Posted: Mon Oct 30, 2006 9:30 pm
This is getting exciting!!! whee
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Posted: Tue Oct 31, 2006 7:35 pm
rolleyes
it got exciting two entries ago,....
but, thanks. it gets better, too.
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Posted: Tue Nov 07, 2006 7:43 am
Under a Mask of Darkness Halloween was coming up; the one time a year when you could run around in a costume and make a total a** out of yourself, and never remember any of it in the morning. Well, for me; I forget everything. I guess, to everyone in the world, Halloween meant candy. And lots of it. And who doesn't like a huge bag of candy as motivation all November? I wasn't one to complain, anyway. My friends and I planned this ages ahead--we were going to drift around Chelsey's neighborhood for a few hours, then go to Whitney's and watch scary movies until we were forced to go home. Pity it was a school night. I even had my costume planned out...but then I remembered that Evan might not have been invited. Oops. So what did I do? "Hey, Evan." I asked him, of course. "Yeah?" "All of our friends are getting together on Halloween night at Whitney's...you know, pilfering candy, watching scary movies and such. Wanna come?" "No," he answered at once. "I can't." "Ohh, why not?" Disappointed but curious was I. "I have to take my little sister trick-or-treating." He had a little sister? Wonders never ceased. "Well, she can come with us if you--" "No, she can't." Okay.... "Um, okay." And that conversation was pretty much over. I lacked the people skills to deal with this guy without making a fool out of myself. It was sad, but true. And yet, I still persisted in trying to be friends with him...Honestly, I needed some sense. "Hey Kirby..." Whitney poked me awake during English, very much against my will. "Wha-at?" I whined. "I'm trying to sleep..." "No sleeping, chicadee. What's up with you?" "New kid," I muttered, still attempting to fall asleep again. "Ooh, I get it. What's up? Something happen?" "No. But he pretty much denied me for the Halloween thing tonight." "Why?" "He said he had to take his little sister--I didn't even know he had a sister--and somehow, she couldn't tag along with us." "Doesn't talk about himself much, does he?" "Huh?" "Has he ever told you anything about himself without you asking?" "Um..." That was a weird question... "No, I don't think so." "Mysterious, huh?" "Yeah." "Wonder why?" I shrugged. "Well, if he can't come he can't come, Kirbette. But you're still coming, right?" "Sure," I replied. "Wouldn't miss it. And I'll bring The Grudge, all right?" "Sweet. You're on, Kirby-chan." And so, it was Halloween night. I finished my homework, threw on my costume, and dashed out of my house, in my favorite skateboarder outfit and carrying a skateboard I had stolen from Chelsey's little brother. (I didn't really steal it, you know.) We met at Whitney's, robbing candy from one of her many stashes and fixing our costumes while her parents took all the time they wanted to drink their coffee or whatever it is adults do. I was busy practicing a few tricks on the skateboard in the driveway when my phone rang, with a nice Asian-themed ringtone, suprising me so much that I missed the skateboard with my foot and knocked myself over. "Yeah?" I gasped into the speaker as I untangled my Converse's shoelace from the wheels. "Kirby?" A quiet voice reached me through the terrible connection. "Evan?" How the heck did he get my number? Strange... "Where's Whitney's house? i never got the address..." "Oh, so you're coming? What about your sister?" "She, uh...didn't want to go this year." "Oh, okay. Just drive down 24th, in between Major and Jefferson, and you'll see it. I'm in the front yard." "Okay, thanks." "Bye--" But he had already hung up. "You all right, Kirby?" Whitney called from her porch. "Yeah," I managed, "just a little freaked out." "Dream boy again?" "No, Evan." "Knew it." I ignored her, tying my shoes again and practicing the trick until I got it right. By the time I had mastered it, a little black Explorer had pulled up and Evan had joined us in the yard. "Hey," I waved, "what're you supposed to be?" He was just wearing normal clothes, something kind of like I was wearing, only his shirt probably wasn't fitted. (Oh, the wonders of American Eagle.) "Myself." I shrugged. "Whatever floats your boat. Hey Whitney, are your rentals ready yet?" "I'm poking 'em, Kirby, but it isn't working." With a sigh, I returned to the skateboard. I knew a few tricks, but none of them had names; I could turn on one wheel, could flip the skateboard up and land on it again, could jump fairly high, and best of all, I could actually move, which was more than any other girl I knew could do. However, I was a little clumsy; Evan wisely got out of the way to sit with my friends while I tried something new...and fell. Again. Such was life, though, right? Finally, we were ready to go--we all packed into one car, popped in a themed CD, (scary movie themes) and driving somewhere with tons of candy. I found myself squished between Derek (dressed in the traditional Scream mask) and Evan, skateboard between my knees, trying to avoid Derek's tricks without elbowing Evan in the face. It was diffucult, but somehow I managed it. "Where to first, guys?" Whitney asked us from the front seat. "My neighborhood," Chelsey called from the back. "Completely loaded." "Hey Whitney," I teased, "don't you have to be at least 75 pounds before you can sit up there?" She grinned at me. "Shh, don't tell," she whispered. And so we went out into the night, with an almost-full moon hidden in the city smog, and gathered more candy than we thought we coukld ever eat--we were wrong, of course. But before we went back to Whitney's, we stopped at an apparent "haunted house," which Chelsey swore was freakier than it looked. But you know, it really wasn't. Someone had converted their basement into a museum for plastic spiders, fake webbing, guys in Frankenstein masks, and dust. The onyl thing that made it remotely scary was the strobe lights, sudden appearance of duded with knives, and the darkness in the corners. I yawned, unamused, as they tried everything in their arsenal while my friends (the girls at least) screamed in surprise and laughed appreciatively. We left just before they closed it for the night, (what was with old people and going to bed at nine on Halloween?) and as we followed their directions to the storm door, all the lights turned off. The only source was the pale moonlight outside, obscured by dark shaped as one by one, my friends left. Bored, tagging behind, I was the last one out; but as soon as I reached up to pull myself out, the doors closed. "Hey, guys!" I shouted, left in utter darkness, "Open the doors, huh?" I pushed hard against them, but something was on top, blocking my way out of this dark, damp hellhole. Distantly, I heard familiar laughter-- "Derek!" I muttered a curse or two, kicking the wall in anger. "Open the damn door!" Silence. "Derek, this isn't funny!" I screamed, panicking. The so-called haunted house might not have been scary, but that was when there was some source of light nearby... Muffled voices, sounding annoyed, could be heard above me, and then the storm doors opened and a hand reached inside to help me out. "You okay, Kirby?" Evan's voice asked me. "Y-yeah," I managed, climbing out and immediately punching Derek hard in the chest. "Derek! You are so dead!" "Owwww..." "Let's just go," I muttered, shoving Derek vindictively and grabbing my skateboard, calming myself down by performing a few easy tricks before I exploded with fury. I wasn't supposed to be afraid of anything...but I hated the dark. In the end, we went back to Whitney's, laying out every scary movie she had and picking one; The Grudge. I have no idea why I owned it at all--I hated it. But just when I was about to stick my head under a pillow and sleep, finding no excuse to leave, I saw someone's silhuette quietly open the door. No one else noticed, absorbed in the Japan-based horror, and I took a quick head count; everyone was there except Evan. Of course. And no one really noticed when I followed him out, either. Whitney's neighborhood was small and out of the way, cute and quiet. I had lived a few streets away once, and I missed it--my house was now three streets over, but consequently on the busiest road in the city. Such was life. I shut the door silently behind me, enjoying the cool night air. "Hey, Evan." He jumped, obviously not noticing me there. "Oh, hey, Kirby." "What's up?" He shrugged. "I was just about to go home." "Why?" I asked, astonished. "Don't you want to watch The Grudge with everyone else?" "No." "Well, I don't either," I admitted, sitting beside him on the front steps. "But if we bug them long enough, we can make them change it..." "It's not that. I just want to go home, is all." "Why?" "I need to take care of my sister." "Oh." I didn't really get it, of course, but I let it go. "Where do you live?" I asked suddenly, curious. He shrugged. "Come on," I teased, "you've gotta know where you live, at least." "It's not my house," he said shortly. "It's my aunt's." "Oh." I understood, suddenly. "You're staying there 'cause it's closer to the school?" "Something like that." "Makes sense." But I still had a million questions. "Why did you move here at all?" He was silent for a long time, and I wondered what he was trying to hide. At last, he said, "Because this city's bigger than mine." "Okay..." Helloo? Earth to Kirby: Stop. Bugging. Him. For once, inner self number (what was this one again? 17? 18?) was right. I resolved to keep my mouth shut, playing with my necklace (just a medallion I had forgotten to take off earlier.) "Kirby?" Evan said suddenly. "Yeah?" Stop it, I told my mind as it shot out possibilities. "I don't think I've been very honest with you...I'm sorry." Um, okay...continue.But he didn't say anything else. Don't leave a girl hanging, I whined silently. Come on, you've got to be kidding me...Don't pressure him, nice, karmically-blessed self said placidly. Where the hell did you come from?
Doesn't matter. Be a good person, for once, and don't demand answers. He'll tell you sometime if he wants to.
Fine..."That's okay," I said, so cheerful that I sickened myself. "It doesn't matter." He shook his head. "No, it does." Behind us, we heard all of our friends let out the appropriate gasps and screams as, I guessed by the sound effects, the dead girl walking around without a jawbone turned around and stuck her tongue out at them. Charming. I shrugged, smiling. "It's not like I'm going to demand your life story, or something," I said warmly. "Everyone has secrets." "Yeah," he said quietly. The smile slid off my face at once; something was really bothering him. "But if you did want to tell me," I added slowly, "I'm here to listen." Inside, I guessed that the freaky Japanese kid had done something weird as everyone gasped and shouted again. And then it was quiet. I wished the undead kid would just get on with it--everyone knew the blonde girl was as good as dead. But, my thoughts were elsewhere. "Thanks," Evan said quietly. "So are you staying to watch movies, or what?" I asked him, glancing back inside. "No." "Okay." I nodded, wondering which of my skitzophrenic other selves had taken over now. "It's fine." He took out a phone--an older model, I noticed, but it still looked new--and dialed a number; a few rings later, a voice came on the line and said something. Evan replied with a "yeah, I'm in the front" and hung up. It was just about the shortest phone call I'd ever heard...could this be any weirder? "My aunt lives pretty close to you," he told me; it was the first completely random thing I'd ever heard him say. "Right down the street. It's that white house without a gate, do you know it?" "Yeah." "Without a gate" was a pretty distinguishing factor, as there were only two other houses besides mine who didn't have one. "How do you know my cell number?" I demanded suddenly. "Whitney told me. You don't mind, do you?" he asked, concerned. "No. Whitney knows my number?" That was strange, considering Whitney didn't even know her own. "Yeah. But anyway, stop by sometime, all right?" "Um, yeah..." Oh, frickin' sweet! my victorious inner self said--all ten thousand of them in unison. I heartily agreed. The little black Explorer pulled up, honking impatiently; Evan stood up, heading for the car, but stopped and turned back. "Bye, Kirby," he called, waving. "I had a great time!" I smiled and raised a hand as the car sped off. "Yeah," I said, far too late. "I did, too."
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Posted: Thu Nov 09, 2006 7:36 am
rather long, but cute, right?
I liked it. Do comment. heart
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Posted: Thu Nov 09, 2006 7:28 pm
HO no.
oh, nonononono./
I wrote this reaaaaaly good part.....it was so good...and it went awaaaaaaaaaaay*whines*
I shall have to rewrite it. Luckily, I can remember most of it.
......... gonk stupid internet.
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Posted: Thu Nov 09, 2006 8:10 pm
Can't wait until you add more, because this is a really good story so far! ^_^
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Posted: Thu Nov 09, 2006 8:38 pm
*sob* I did! The best part! but it went awaaaaaay!
*cries*
I'll retype it sometime...maybe.........
it really was a good part...
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