Poem...time...

© 2010

Lovely, Lazy, Hot, and Not part 27

Thomas

Thursday, as it turns out, is my favorite day of the week. Nobody understand this.

Thursday? Why Thursday? What about Friday and Saturday, or even Sunday? Well, Saturdays

in this part of the country are more boring than Mondays in other parts of the country. Friday

is a school day. What's so great about Friday? Except that it's the day before Saturday, which,

as I mentioned, isn't a good thing in this area. And Sundays. Well. Sunday is the day before

Monday. Sunday is the end of the weekend, even if the rest of the weekend isn't that great. So,

the conclusion of this is that Thursdays are my favorite day of the week. On Thursdays, my

English teacher puts on one of her many movies from her Romance collection: Titanic, Pride

and Prejudice, Phantom of the Opera, etc. I'm not exactly a big fan of those particular movies

or any of her romance movies, but it beats doing work. My French teacher, a shriveled up little

old woman who knows less French than me, celebrates "Free Doughnut Thursdays" and

literally brings in enough doughnuts for her entire class every Thursday. So that's nice.

I sit down alone at lunch and look out straight ahead of me as I eat, observing all the

different groups- the Spirit Horses, sitting together on two benches because they're just too

too cool for tables, the actual popular people, split up between the quad, where they stand

scattered around talking loudly and throwing things, and the tables closest to the quad, sitting

on the tables and also talking loudly and throwing things. Then I look over at the other tables-

the weird nerd kids who literally seem to have some kind of inner force that lures them

together, the loner kids whose only friends are each other, a few strays sitting alone or with one

or two other people, and then all the other grades- the seniors break up into cliques also, but

all of their groups, no matter how unpopular, stay closest to the cafeteria-the area that might as

well have big letters painted across it reading "SENIORS ONLY". The sophomores and freshies

break up into cliques too, but they just kind of scatter everywhere and mix in with the other

grades, so they seem like they're less stick-to-the-clique based. They're not. Then I look over at

the table closest to the classrooms and farthest from everything, where only the true loners sit,

and spot Venice sitting at her usual table. Only now, someone is sitting with her. Russel. I raise

an eyebrow, surprised by this. Venice usually sits by herself on purpose, not attempting to talk

to other people, simply sitting down and pulling out a book, homework, or her sketchpad, and

keeping to herself. But now she's sitting across from Russel, laughing and throwing lettuce

leaves at him from her salad. He's laughing too, and as he turns to escape the blow of the

lettuce, I catch his eyes and he smiles and winks at me before turning back to face Venice.

What's that about?

"Hey, Thomas. Saw you gettin' jealous at lunch," Russel says as he walks up behind me in

our next class. He smirks and I raise en eyebrow. "Huh?" He laughs, "Oh, come on, don't try to

hide it. I know you were trying to check Venice out and were interrupted by my intruding." He

chuckles, "Sorry for the interference." I gape at him, "I wasn't checking her out! I was just

looking at all the different tables..." He raises an eyebrow at me at me and grins mischeviously.

"I was people-watching," I insist. He sits back in his seat and crosses his arms over his head,

"People-watching. Right. At the place that you go everyday, full of people you've seen everyday

since kindergarden."

"That's not true!" I protest, "There's a lot of people I met much more recently than that! And I

don't know any of the freshman." He waves this off, "Ah, fresh-meat don't count. Who would

want to observe them?"

"Whatever. Think what you like."

"'K." I glare at him and he laughs and looks up at the front of the classroom.

© 2010

:P

Well, no, I don't think this is going to become a regular thing...

Well, I missed 11:11 tonight. Bummer. Now I have to wait another twenty-three hours and... currently, 44 minutes, until I can make a wish again.

Or, at least, an 11: 11 wish.

Not much happened today... well, I mean, actually, a lot of stuff happened today, but not much that would interest non-existent people. (They're the hardest kind to impress.) What happens if you miss New Year's? Do you just not make a resolution?

Person #1: Hey, what was your new year's resolution?

Person #2: Oh, I didn't make one.

Person #1: What? Don't you want to help improve the planet by improving yourself?

Person #2: Well, yea, I'd love to, but I missed New Year's.

Person #1: Oh. Ok then.

Hm...that would be a great excuse for not doing things. "Hey, I thought you were going to set a goal to go to the gym more this year!"

"Oh, I was, but I missed New Year's."

"Oh. Right. Cool." Yea, I'm definitely gonna save that one.

Now it's time to move onto a new subject: teenagers.

Teenage girls all say that boys are impossible to figure out.

Teenage boys all say that girls are impossible to figure out.

Ok, well, here's something to ponder: THEY'RE GOING THROUGH PUBERTY. OF COURSE THEY'RE IMPOSSIBLE TO FIGURE OUT. You ever tried to get a girl to make photocopies when she's being hormonal? It ain't a pretty sight.

Of course, I wouldn't know. I've never done it. I'm just saying, it probably wouldn't be a pretty sight.

So, I re-read Pride and Prejudice recently, and now I'm reading Sense and Sensibility. As I read, I'm paying close attention to the language used so that I can use similar language in Visitors and Owners, my story that takes place in a time close to the life of Jane Austen. (Jane Austen is my hero, by the way.) If you've ever read Jane Austen, or anything else from that time period, you've probably noticed that the word "an" is used incorrectly a lot, (well, I mean, it was probably correct at the time, but it's incorrect now.) I payed close attention to this and noticed that most of the incorrectly-placed "ans" (...) are before words that start with the letter "h". So, here's my theory: Jane Austen was English. As in England, for those of you who are stupid. English people usually don't say the "h" in a word when they're talking. So they say something such as, "I hate hugs they make me too hot when I wear hats." Except they say, "I 'ate 'ugs they make me too 'ot when I wear 'ats." (They also say 'mum', but that's beside the point.) So anyway, the rule for the word "an" is that you put it before words with a vowel sound. For example, you have to use the word "an" before the word "hour", but not before the word "opossum", because though the word hour starts with a consonant, the pronunciation does not, and though the word opossum starts with a vowel, the pronunciation does not. So my theory is this: "an" was used before words that have vowel sounds to British people. I'm probably totally completely wrong and there's most likely a much more sophisticated and obvious reason why "ans" were placed so strangely, but I like my theory anyway, so I'm just gonna go ahead and keep thinking it. (Actually, maybe it's Australian people who don't pronunciate "h's"... whatever. Wait, why does pronunciate have a little red line underneath it while I'm typing it? Isn't that the write spelling? ...The computer says no guesses found. How is that possible? Wait, is pronunciate a word? Oh my gosh, I guess it's not. Wow. Everything I know is a lie.)

You learn something new every day...I did, but it was in school and had absolutely not relevancy to what I was just talking about. I learned quite a few things, actually... like click save every 15 milliseconds whenever you're doing anything on the computer, ever.

Song recommendation of the day (not that I'll do one of these every day): If My Heart Was a House by Owl City

But Sienna, you already recommended an Owl City song! Why yes, non-existent person, I did. And I could recommend MANY more, but since I know that if you actually payed attention to my last recommendation and listened to the song, you would be long addicted to the one-man-band of my future husband Adam Young, (he's even a strong Christian!) I find it pointless to tell you to listen to any more of their songs, because by now you'll have heard and memorized the majority of the lyrics to pretty much all of his songs. (Wow, THAT was a long and confusing sentence.) So, I guess I have to make another recommendation, since you already know that one... Furr by Blitzen Trapper. This song is pure brilliance, and this is coming from a person who hates all country music excepting Taylor Swift and a couple Carrie Underwood songs. If you've read the book Shiver, (which, if you haven't, you should... hey, book recommendation!) then you will truly be able to experience how amazing this song is and how much it just totally coincidentally relates to the book. Like, majorly.

Like. Like totally. Like. Like. Like.

Teenagers scare me. And I am one.

© 2010

Lovely, Lazy, Hot, and Not part 26

Russel

I close the driver's door of Jameson's truck and walk up to Joe's with my hands in my pockets, looking down at the ground. It's dark and my parents went out, leaving Jameson I home alone. Amber and Stacy went to their friend's house, as did Kenny, and mom insisted on taking Lellin with her to the movies. That should be an interesting experience for them. I look up as I walk closer to the curb and notice Venice sitting on the bench, with her lap top open on her legs as she leans forward, staring intently at the screen with her eyes narrowed. She sighs and looks up, and notices me standing there. "Russel!" she exclaims, clearly surprised. "Hey," I reply with a small smile, "What are you doing here?" She sighs and pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, glancing back at her computer screen, as she says, "There's no internet connection at my house. I usually get it in my yard, but occasionally I have to come over here." I laugh, "Bummer! Desperately needed to check your facebook, huh?" She smiles, "No, actually, I emailed a research paper to myself from the library." She sits back, crossing her arms over her chest and looking over at me, "But I sent it a while ago, so now I have to search through a million emails before I can find it. Then I have to edit it, and then go home and print it out, so I can turn it in tomorrow." I raise an eyebrow, "Wow. And you left this all for tonight?" She shrugs, "What can I say, I'm the queen of procrastination." I chuckle, "I'm gonna go get a Coke, you want one?" She looks back up at me from her screen and smiles slightly, "Sure. Thanks."

"No problem." I push Joe's door open and step into the tiny convenience store. The blasting air conditioning sends a chill down my spine as I walk back toward the cooler and pull the door open, pulling out two Cokes." I walk over to the candy aisle and grab a super-size bag of Swedish Fish, which of course Joe has even though he doesn't have shampoo and conditioner. I chuckle to myself and go up to the counter where a sleepy red head rings me up, then step out of the store and hand one of the Cokes to Venice, who gratefully takes it and flashes me a smile before quickly opening the bottle and taking a long chug. "Thirsty?"

"Jeez, you have no idea," she says as takes the bottle away from her lips. She pouts, and her lips pucker perfectly, sparkling from the liquid she just chugged. Jeez, she's gorgeous. "Why didn't you buy some soda yourself?" I ask, forcing myself to look up at her eyes, which really isn't that hard seeing at they're gorgeous too, darkened by the night sky so that they look like a lake under the night sky, a sparkling dark blue-green. I can almost imagine a boat sitting on that lake, with a man waiting on it for the morning to come once again. "I forgot my wallet at home," she sighs, brushing her hair out of her face with one hand and running the thumb of her other hand around the circular top of her coke bottle. She puts the bottle down next to her on the bench and looks back at her lap top screen, and I sit next to her and watch the distant trees sway with the evening breeze. Venice shivers slightly and pulls her baggy sweater tighter around her, and I look down at my bare arms, noting that I don't feel cold at all. I smile, happy for the extra heat of muscles. I look at Venice's slim figure and can't even imagine how fast she must get freezing. She has no fat or muscle to protect her. "I would offer you my jacket, but I don't actually have one," I say, taking a sip of my coke, leaning forward on the bench and looking back at her. She glances at me for only a second and then looks back at her screen, typing madly, as she replies, "No, it's Ok, I have a sweater." Another breeze comes and she shivers again, and I chuckle, "Yea, a lot of good that's doing you." She sticks her tongue out at me without looking away from her essay, and I laugh, leaning back again and taking another sip of my coke before stretching my arms out behind me on the bench. She straightens slightly and I smile. She continues to type and we sit there in silence for a few minutes before she finally says, "Ha! I finished it!"

"I hadn't even realized you found it."

"Oh, yea, I remembered that I starred it so I wouldn't have to look for it so long, so I went to my starred emails, found it, and edited it." She closes her lap top and smiles at me, taking another sip of her coke. "Well," I say, standing up and dropping my empty cooke bottle into a nearby trash can, "since we're both here, and free," I pause for a second, and she narrows her eyes at me, but I can tell she's trying not to smile, "How'd you like to go for a drive?" She stands up, "Sure. Why not? Not like there's much more to do in this town." I role my eyes, "You can say that again."

"Not li-"

"Don't say it!" I yell, and she laughs before following me to Jameson's car.

"Other than Good Charlotte?" Venice asks.

"Yea."

"Owl City."

"Really?"

"Oh, yea. Definitely."

"Huh. Who would have thought?"

"My family."

"Wha?"

"They live with me. I listen to music loud."

"Ohhh. Right. That makes sense." I laugh and run my hand through my hair as Venice and I sit in the back of Jameson's truck with my super-size bag of Swedish Fish, looking at the stars and quizzing each other on favorites. "What's your favorite band? Other than Good Charlotte." Venice asks me. I ponder this for a moment, "The Beatles."

"I don't think that counts. We were talking current bands."

"Oh. Ok... The Black Eyed Peas."

"That's weird."

"What? You don't like them?"

"No, I do, I just didn't think you would."

"I do."

"Um, yea, thanks, I got that." I laugh and rip the candy bag open farther so I can reach in and grab a big handful of the fish. "Wow. You just swallow those things whole," Venice says, watching me eat the entire handful in a matter of seconds. I laugh, "Maybe, but your extremely slow dissection of every single fish kind of evens us out." She laughs and agrees, biting off a corner of a tail of a fish. "Ok. Favorite...movie."

"Hm. That's a toughie."

"Phantom of the Opera, for me. No doubt. Ooh! And Pride and Prejudice."

"Of course. Why am I not surprised?"

"Well, what's yours?"

"I don't know. I don't really have one, I guess."

"Ok, then. What about TV show?"

"I like Lost."

"Yea, but who doesn't? Something more original."

"Um...ok..." I think for a minute but can't seem to come up with anything. "You know what, forget you. New subject. Favorite song," Venice finally says.

"Furr."

"Fur?" Venice asks. I widen my eyes at her, "What?! YOU'VE NEVER HEARD FURR?!" She blinks, "Um. No?" I jump up out of the back of the truck and run to the driver's side door, throwing it open. Venice turns and watches as I hook up my iPod to the car and turn the radio on. I scan through my music until I find the song and then turn the radio up full volume. I get out of the seat, close the door, and jump over the side of the truck, back into the trunk, sitting down next to Venice again. She crosses her arms over her chest and I watch as she nibbles on a fish, listening intently to the music with her eyes narrowed. About a a minute into the song, she says, "You know, this is weird music for a guy who's favorite band is Good Charlotte to listen to."

"Shhh!" I hush her, "This is the best part!" I pretend to play a guitar as I put on a passionate performing expression and sing along, "You can wear you fur, like a river on fire, but you better be sure, if you're making God a liar, I'm a rattle snake babe, I'm like fuel on fire, so if you're gonna get made, don't be afraid of what you've learned..." I pretend to play the guitar again and sing along with the next verse, and Venice just smiles at me, as I slip into the words, "So I took her by the arm, we settled down upon a farm, and raised our children up as gently as you please." She joins in with me as the chorus comes around again, messing up the words and pressing her hand to her chest for dramatic effect. We both laugh as the song ends and my iPod plays another song, but we pay no attention to it. "Wow. That's a cool song, actually, but really surprising as your favorite song. Were you saying other than a Good Charlotte song, or does the beat them?" I smile, "I love Good Charlotte, but that song is the bomb."

"The bomb diggety." I laugh and Venice says, "It reminds me a lot of a book I read, actually...what was it called..."

"Shiver?"

"Yea! That's it."

"Yea, that's what my sister said, too, when I showed it to her." Venice laughs and lays down on her back, looking up at the sky, and I lay down next to her and grab more Swedish Fish, smiling widely.

© 2010

Aw, College Students

Yes, another post about my actual life. Shut up. Stop it. Be quiet. Why are you so mean?

Well, thank you so much for screaming next door and making me think someone was murdered or something. Also, thank you for having a crazy party and leaving shards of beer bottles scattered all over the road in the morning. You don't know how much I appreciate that.

Wait, you thought I was being sarcastic?

Sadly, no. I am one of those people who is really easily entertained. You know those people who walk up to you with their friend and they're like, "Watch this, she laughs at anything," and then they turn to their friend and they're like, "Muffin," and their friend starts cracking up hysterically. ... Those people really annoy me. I'm not like that. I'm not going to laugh if you walk up to me and say muffin. (Well, I might, but that's just because I have a lot of inside jokes involving muffins and I occasionally laugh when I'm confused, which I would be if a random stranger came up to me and said muffin. Not that you're a random stranger. You probably aren't. Hi, mom! No, actually... my mom doesn't read this. ...Hi, dad! If you read this...

-sigh- I have no one to say hi to.

How terribly sad my life is.

Wait, what were we talking about again? ...OH! Right. College students. So anyway, I actually do appreciate their loud parties and shards of glass, because, frankly, it's really interesting to observe. I'm a writer, in case you haven't noticed, (if you haven't, I pity your teachers,) and I'm pretty sure writers see the world in a different perspective... one where things that annoy most people are fascinating and things that some people find fascinating are annoying. Ok, well, maybe that's just me. OH! Speaking of the word Ok, I found out today that it's a verb, a noun, an adjective, and exclamation, and an adverb. AND the abbreviation for Oklahoma.

You learn something new every day.

So anyway... no, actually, I'm not going to talk about the college partiers anymore. They don't really party that much. (The world hates me. Ok, no, that's false. My life is fabulous. BUT STILL.) ... so, I was freezing today, and I was wearing a strapless dress, (wow, SMART, Sienna, where a strapless dress on a day that's clearly going to be freezing,) and I forgot a jacket, (-_-), so I was walking around school with a towel wrapped around my shoulders, (I had the towel for a good reason, trust me, although I didn't actually end up using it,) and since I happened to be wearing a strapless dress, it looked like I was naked. Oh, yea, go ahead, laugh at me. Thanks. You're so nice. -sigh- So, the guys who never ever look over at my friends at I in our lunch spot, (cliques,) were all looking over at us wide-eyed and pointing, all shocked and staring and everything, so I sigh and yell, "I'M WEARING CLOTHES!" Clearly, though, not everyone heard me, because they continued to stare at me through lunch.

Note to self: No strapless dresses on freezing days. Or, if you do, don't wear a towel to stay warm. Just sit in the office. Idiot. O.o

Song recommendation of the day (not that I'll do one of these every day): Stuck In the Moment by Justin Bieber

... did you just recommend a Justin Bieber song, Sienna? Really? Why yes, person who doesn't read this, I did. Oh gosh, don't be so judgmental. It's a good song. Just listen to it. -sigh-

Back to watching the ducks fly over my head... tents are so pointy underneath the afternoon sunset...

Does Megan Fox realize she is a gilded butterfly? I'm just saying.

© 2010

Broken Glass, Broken Hearts part 53

For Ariana: I still love you. Don't forget that.

Robert really wasn't a bad guy. He was nice, good-humored, smart, and he clearly loved my sister. But he was just so freaking clueless! It was like he knew nothing about our family. Not to mention, nothing about teenage girls. At all. Whatsoever. "So, Vinny, do you have a boyfriend?" He asked her as we sat around the table. I looked up at my older sister, my eyes wide and my cheeks red, but she just kind of looked down at her plate and smiled. Vinny, on the other hand, was staring at Rob with wide eyes and an open mouth. "Um...no."

"Oh. Well, do you like someone?" Really, dude? Really? She blushed, "Um."

"Do you like the Dodgers?" I asked Rob quickly. Vinny let out a small sigh of relief. Rob looked at me, seeming surprised that I interrupted my sister. Freaking idiot. "Well, sort of, but I'm more of an Angels person." Strike one. "Oh, really?"

"Yea. But I like the Yankees better than both combined," he said with a laugh. I rose an eyebrow. Strike two. "Oh, really?"

"Oh, yea, they're the best. Plus, I love New York." Strike three. "Oh," I said, smiling slightly at my older sister who was now, finally, after half a meal of idiocy from her fiance, blushing as red as a beet. See, this family isn't really into sports. We don't even watch any of the games. But the Dodgers are our team, and if you disagree, well, you get two words:

Good. Bye.

Vinny laughed and I just smiled widely, shaking my head, as Jane put her head in her hands and shook it, groaning. "What?" Rob asked, clearly confused, "I'm sorry, did I miss something?" Jane leaned over and whispered, "Honey, please, you've dug yourself into a deep enough hole." Rob smiled, "Oh, I see. You guys are loyal Dodgers fans. I totally get that. No, they're totally cool too, don't get me wrong, I just prefer the Yankees." Vinny, Mom and I burst out laughing and Jane groaned loudly as she pushed her chair away from the table and walked into the kitchen, carrying her plate of barely touched food to the sink. Vinny and I were still cracking up as Jane pulled Rob away from the table to give him "The Talk", which, in our family, may as well be called "Don't Say You Like The Yankees Unless You Want To Die Soon".

"Tammy?"

"Yes? Hello? Who is this?" I paused, realizing how long it had been since I had heard this familiar voice. "It's Angela."

"Angela...?" I waited. "OH! Angela! Hi! What are you doing calling me?" I was slightly hurt and felt incredibly bad for this question. "Um, I...I just wanted to...talk, I guess." Tammy was silent for a moment. "Oh," she said, clearly surprised, "Ok. What about?"

"Um. How's...how's Canada?"

"Eh. Canadian. Ay." I laughed, "Yea, I suspected as much."

"Yea. Hey, so, what happened with that guy Tyler? Are you guys going out?" I fell silent for a moment, and played with a string coming out of my jeans, hoping I wouldn't unravel them more. "Nope," I said, and Tammy didn't say anything in reply. I sighed before saying, "He moved." I could almost hear Tammy nod, "Oh. Sorry about that." I played with the string for another moment until she added, "Yea, that's kind of a relationship-killer, huh?" I blinked, "Oh." Oh? Oh? Wow. That's just great. Tammy sighed, "Listen, Ang, I gotta go, I have like a butt load of homework. I'll talk to you later, Ok?"

"Yea, of course. Ok. Bye."

"Bye, Angela." Tammy hung up and I put down the phone, looking over at my bedside table where two picture frames still sat: One of Dustin and I, and one of Dustin, Tammy, and I. The second frame had the words "best friends forever" engraved into it. Well. That changed, now didn't it?

...Did it?

© 2010

A blog post that actually talks about my life?! What is this madness?!?

Yes, it's true.

I'm actually making a blog post that is similar to the rest of the blog posts in the world. "But Sienna, what caused this change?!" I don't know, person that doesn't read this, (hello, by the way, to all the non-existent locals of this website,) I just feel like it today.

So, I was talking to my friend the other day, and I was about to say "Come to me, duck gods!" (Don't ask...) but I accidently said, "Come to me, character gods!" CHARACTER?! How did I accidently say character instead of duck? ...the world may never know.

So, here's a couple of my pet peevs for you to lie awake tonight pondering, (because you know you will):

1. Open doors

2. When people call me Sianna (I've actually gotten used to it, but I wish people would call me my real name.)

The fact is, it drives me crazy to be sitting in a room where there's a door open. But, I mean, once you're sitting, you don't wanna get up again just to close a flippin door. So it just sits there, open, mocking you. Grrr. About my name, when I tell people "Call me Sienna." They're like, "I do...?" And I'm like, "No, you call me Sianna."And they're like, "I don't hear a difference." -_- Of course you don't. No one does. Except me, 'cause I have to listen to it 24/7. Ok, it doesn't really bug me that much. But I just really think my real name is much prettier than Sianna, which sounds like one of those names that some person says in a really nasally voice before calling you a hillbilly and throwing a bologna sandwich at you. (I don't speak from experience. Thank goodness.) Hmmm...I just spelled bologna wrong, (I thought it was balogne,) so I typed it, "baloney" just to see if the computer was stupid or not and it didn't put a little red dotted line underneath it, so I was terribly confused. I looked up the word and found out that when people say, "That's bologna!" about some sort of lie or whatever, the word is actually spelled b-a-l-o-n-e-y, but when they say, "That's bologna!" referring to an actual slice of meat, it's spelled b-o-l-o-g-n-a. ...You learn something new every day.

Song recommendation of the day (not that I'll do one every day or anything): The Bird and the Worm by Owl City (I LOVE ADAM YOUNG)

Seriously, listen to it. Now. NOW, WOMAN! (Or man.)

© 2010

Lovely, Lazy, Hot, and Not part 25

PART 25! :D

Venice

James. A motorcycle. Who would've thought. I mean, not that I really care much about James's personal life, but... seriously, a motorcycle?! I mean, he's like this total loner-loser, the type that has all the qualities of a nerd excepting being smart. And he has a motorcycle. A motorcycle! No one else at this school has a motorcycle, but of course James Luther does! Weird, weird, weird.

"Did you know crickets make their noise with there knees?" I look up at Russel as he sits

down across from me at my lunch table. I put down my book, "Yes, actually, I did know that."

He raises an eyebrow, "Huh. Well, that's a bummer."

"Why are you sitting with me again?"

"Why not?" I shake my head at him, "That's not a good enough answer." He shrugs and takes a

bite of a licorice whip, looking over it into my eyes, "I don't know. I like you."

"You also like Good Charlotte, and skateboarding."

"I do, yes."

"So that's not a good reason." He lowered his right eyebrow and raised his left one at me. "Why

else do people sit together? They like one another. That's the way it works."

"Yea, for most. But I always sit by myself."

"Maybe nobody likes you."

"Gee, thanks."

"Or maybe you don't like them." I ponder this for a moment, "I don't really, you're right about

that."

"Well there you have it." He takes another bite of his licorice whip. "So, what are you reading?"

I hold up Pride and Prejudice and he reads the title. He takes another bite, "Cool."

"What about you? You reading anything?" He reaches into his backpack and pulls out Hamlet. I

raise an eyebrow, "You're reading that?"

"For English."

"Oh, right." I lean back on the bench and look up at the sky as a bird flies past. "What do you

want to be when you grow up, Russel?" I ask him, looking down. He raises an eyebrow, "Uh, I

don't know, I guess. A dad. A husband." I smile, "What do you want to do for work I meant?" He

shrugs, "I don't know. I guess I'll find out when the time comes, right?" I grin and reply, "I guess

you will." He smiles and looks up at the sky. I look up, too, and we both watch as another bird

flies past our heads, knowing exactly where it's going... unlike us. "So, how many kids do you

want?" I ask, looking down again. He looks down too, "I don't know. I want a big family, like my

own." I smile, "That's funny, most people with a big family growing up want a small family, and

vice versa." He shrugs, "Yea, I don't really get that. I love having a big family. I don't get why

anybody would want a small family, especially someone who's experienced a big one." He

shrugs again, "Maybe that's just me." I smile wider. "I want a big family, too, but not huge or

anything, you know. I want four or five kids." He smiles, "I want six, one less than my parents."

"You have six brother and sisters?" I exclaim. He nods, smiling, "Yup. An older brother, older

sister, three younger sisters, and a younger brother." I whistle, "Wow. What are there names?"

"Jameson, Isobel, Amber, Stacy, Lellin, and Kenny."

"How old are they?"

"Jameson is nineteen, Isobel's twenty-four, Amber and Stacy are fifteen, they're twins, Lellin is

six months, and Kenny is six years."

"Wow. Your parents sure have their hands full."

"You can say that one again."

"Your parent sure have their hands full." He laughs, "Ok, you didn't have to." I smile.

© 2010

Devyn part 6

"Just a couple hours. Come on."

"No, Bubba, I'm not coming to your club. I don't like night clubs in the first place, and yours sucks. Sorry, Bubby."

"But Jus-tiiiiinnn!" he whined. "Nope. Bye bye." I hung up the phone and walked into the office. Diane looked up at me, glared, and looked back down at her computer. I walked into my cubicle and sighed, sitting down with coffee cup in hand and turning on my computer. My screensaver, a picture of Devyn standing outside the Colosseum with me on his back, sticking out my tongue and giving a hang-ten symbol to the camera, came on the screen. I smiled slightly at the memory and set down my coffee, getting to work.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"I don't know, Devyn, we're talking on the phone."

"Three."

"That's great."

"Mhm, I know" I heard a crash in the background and Devyn said, "Oh, Annie! Did you break

it?"

"Uh..."

"UGH! ANNIE! Sorry, Justin, I gotta go."

"Clearly. I'll talk to you later."

"Bye." I hung up the phone and walked into my apartment building, heading towards the elevator. "Afternoon, Justin!" Lenny, the guy who lived underneath me, said with a wide smile. I gave him a fake smile and looked back down at my phone, trying to figure out how to change my calendar to fit my board meeting. "You doing anything tonight?" Lenny asked. I looked up at him, surprised by the question. I blinked, and looked back down at my phone. "Um...no, I guess I'm not. Why do you ask?"

"I'm having a party at my place, I thought you might want to come. You can bring anyone you want!" He smiled widely. Friendly, that guys was. "Um. Oh. Yea. Ok, thanks." He nodded and got off the elevator at his floor, and I rode up to the next floor pondering whether or not I should actually go his party.

"Devyn?"

"Hmm?"

"You got plans tonight?"

"Uh...well, I guess not."

"You wanna come to a party at the guy who lives beneath me's place?

"The guys who lives beneath you's place?"

"Yea."

"Sure, why not. After, we should hit Vegas and get hitched my a fat cupid in an Elvis wig."

"Devyn."

"Well, sheesh, Justin, could you be anymore vague? Who is this guy? I'm not just gonna go to some random loser's party. I might get some drug slipped into my coke or something." I sighed, "He's my neighbor, Devyn. He's a nice guy. Do you want to come or not?" He was quiet for a moment, "Sure, I guess so."

"Ok, I'll see you there around eight, I think."

"Ok."

© 2010

Devyn part 5

Sorry it's been so long since I wrote in this one...I literally forgot about it...oops...

"HELLO, PEOPLE OF THE OFFICE!" Devyn hollered as he swung around the corner of

the wall in front of the elevator. "Shhhh!" Debra shushed Devyn loudly and he put his hands

up in front of him in defense. "Where's my girl?" he asked loudly, and Debra groaned. I

laughed and stood up, "Hi, baby."

"JUSTIN! THERE she is!"

"Oh, would you be quiet! This is an office, you know!" Debra complained. Devyn smiled at her,

"Yea. An office, not a library."

"She only gets away with things because Erik doesn't want to fire her," Debra muttered.

"Hey," I replied, narrowing my eyes in disgust at Debra's horrible-haircut surrounded, acne

covered face. "Shut up." Devyn laughed and I turned my computer off, getting up and walking

over to him, giving him my arm and sticking out my tongue at her as we left the building.

"Agh!" she hollered in irritation. The fact was, what she had said was true. The only reason I

could get away with anything was because Erik was the manager and he didn't want to have to

confront me. This is why you shouldn't date your co-workers...well, from Erik's perspective, at

least. From my perspective, this is why you should date your boss.

"So, where to, Mr. Mom?"

"Mr. Mom?"

"Yup."

"Why?"

"Dunno."

"Well, OK then. To the Cheesecake Factory, I think." I smile, "Random, but OK."

"Oh, yea, 'cause Mr. Mom isn't random but going to the Cheesecake Factory for lunch is."

"I never said Mr. Mom wasn't random."

"You're gonna give me an aneurism."

"Oh, I hope not." Devyn smacked my arm and I laughed as we stepped into the mall.

As we sat down at a table, Devyn said, "So, I think it's really hysterical that you have a

real, live, actual Debra-the-annoying-office-lady at your work."

"Hilarious."

"What, you don't find that funny?"

"You wouldn't, either, if you knew just how really annoying she is."

"On the contrary, I would only find it funnier."

"You say that now."

"Well, then, I suppose we shall never know." The waitress came up to us now and smiled at us,

"You guys are such and adorable couple," she started, "your appearances, like, mesh. Like

matching clothes, or something." I rose an eyebrow and Devyn just put on the huge grin he

wears every time he's trying not to laugh. "Um, we're, like, you know, not together."

"Oh! Sorry! You're siblings, duh. I was wondering how you looked so alike." She smiled, and I

shook my head as Devyn put his hand underneath his chin, looking at her, his grin growing. "No,

actually, we're not related, we're just friends." The waitress rose an eyebrow, and Devyn

added, "Oh, yea, best friends." He held up to fingers and crossed them, "We're like this." The

woman blushed, "Oh. I see. Sorry about that. Well...um, are you ready to order?"

"Yup!" Devyn said with a smile, waving off the entire conversation wit his easy manner. I

watched him with a smile as he ordered for us and handed the woman our menus. "So," he said,

looking back at me, "how's work?"

"Bleh. Boring."

"Mm. I can imagine."

"No you can't. You're an author. All you do is what you love, and you get paid for it."

"Yea, you're right. I can't imagine. I love my job." I groaned and rolled my eyes, and he laughed

and took a sip of his water. He gargled it and I smacked him on the arm, laughing as a couple

sitting at the table next to us looked over at us. Devyn looked back at them, "Hello!" he said in a

friendly tone. They rose their eyebrows and looked away, and I cracked up laughing as Devyn

said, "Sheesh, polite people right there."

"Oh, Devyn, you crack me up."

"Glad to be of service," he replied, smiling at me.

© 2010

Lovely, Lazy, Hot, and Not part 24

James

I wake up wednesday morning with a headache. I sit up and rub my skull, hoping it will

fade away. I walk downstairs, pour myself cereal, and take out the bottle of aspirin. I pour

myself a cup of water and sit down. Once I finish my cereal, I swallow two aspirin with the

water and get up, bringing my bowl to the sink. Just now Jesse walks downstairs. "Wow,

decided you're gonna ditch school today?" I ask, pulling out my red converse from underneath

the arm chair, where I left them the night before. "What?"

"It's like past 7:30, man."

"WHAT?!" Jesse runs over to the computer, clicks it, and looks at the time on the corner of the

screen. "Agh!" He runs into the kitchen and pulls the cupboard door open quickly. Chuckling, I

walk upstairs and change into jeans and a t-shirt, brushing my teeth, washing my face, and

running a comb quickly through my hair before going back downstairs and picking up my

backpack from the living room floor. I walk outside and realize Jesse is already driving down

the street in the family truck. "Hey, you forgot something!" I yell angrily after him. He turns the

curve, driving farther away from me, and I groan as I look around the driveway. I see my bike in

the garage and walk over to it. I've never driven to school on it before, (it's not exactly backpack

friendly,) but I guess I have no choice today. I put my backpack on, praying it won't mess up my

balance, and pull my helmet over my head. I spot my leather jacket on the tune-up shelf and

walk over to it, picking it up. Apparently, leather jackets are good protection in case you crash.

Its recommended to wear leather pants, too, but I think I'll take my chances with that one. I pull

my jacket on over my shirt and walk back to my motorcycle, getting on and driving out of the

garage.

I pull into the student parking lot and people look over toward me. No one else at this

school has a motorcycle, and I guess most people don't know that I do. I park and get off my

bike, pulling my helmet off and putting it on the handlebars. I'm about to take off my jacket,

too, but I figure it's probably a bad idea to leave it on my bike where anyone can take it. So I

leave on the jacket and walk away from my bike towards the school, becoming aware of all the

people watching me. Jeez, people, I didn't get a makeover something. You've just never seen me

this way.

"You're wearing a leather jacket," Venice says as she walks up to her common seat in

science. I look up at her, smile, and reply, "I noticed."

"And I heard you rode a motorcycle to school."

"News travels fast."

"Why did you ride a motorcycle?"

"My brother took the truck and left me in the driveway. Didn't exactly have a choice there."

"I didn't even know you had a motorcycle."

"Well we don't exactly talk very much. There's a lot about me you don't know."

"Well, yea. But, a motorcycle? I just totally did not imagine you as the type of person who

would have a motorcycle."

"I call is The Blackbird."

"Why's that?"

"Well, it's black." She laughs, "Yea. But why Blackbird?"

"Eh. Just a cool name, I guess."

"Heartfelt, too."

"This is a motorcycle we're talking about here, remember." She smiles and turns around, and I

smile too.

© 2010

REACTIONS

I've added an option at the end of my posts so you guys (you guys being anyone who actually read this, :) I love you,) can tell me your reaction to the post without going to all the hassle of commenting. ;) The reaction options are "Funny" "Interesting" and "Ew" (Be honest, if it's gross, check ew.)

Thanks guys!

-Sienna (obviously, who'd you think it was, the Windex guy? The Windex guy. Psh. Who the heck is the Windex guy?)

© 2010

Broken Glass, Broken Hearts part 52

"Hey, Angela!" Selena said with a smile as I walked up to her with my lunch bag. "Hi," I replied, sitting down. Jayd gave me a look and bit down into the baby carrot she was holding. "Hello, ladies," Ed Drawe said as he walked up to us, smiling and carrying a food from the cafeteria vending machines. "Hey, Drawe," Selena said to him with a smile. I looked over her to the ramp where some kids were sitting on the concrete, talking and eating. I glanced down at the grass beneath the ramps, next to the fence that separated the students from the rest of the world. Tyler and I used to sit on that grass, usually by ourselves but occasionally joined by Ed, Selena, Jayd, or all three. Tyler also became friends with this guy Shane, and through him I met his twin sister Emily. Emily and I became what elementary students would call 'school friends.' We, coincidentally, had almost every class together, so we hung out together during class and talked, laughing like best friends and eating to together, (with Tyler and Shane, of course, and whoever else decided to join us,) but we never corresponded outside of school hours. Emily and Shane lived on Paradise Cove and decided to go on vacation to the exact opposite place of their Paradise beach-front home- Death Valley. So, for the time being, the grass by the fence was empty, and I sat with Selena and her friends at the lunch tables. "Whatever happened to that girl, what's her face..." Jayd started, looking at me, "you know, you hung out with her a lot...she had short hair, it was, like, spiky, and she wore those huge glasses?"

"Tammy."

"Yea, her. Where'd she go again?"

"She moved to Canada."

"Oh. So, like, are you guys still friends?" I thought about Tammy...pictured her in my mind. 4'10, a legal Little Person, with huge glasses and a wardrobe staight out of the eighty's. Her hair was, as Jayd described it, rather spiky and really short, sticking up in all directions and often dyed multiple bright colors at the tips. She had one chunk of hair that she didn't cut when she donated her hair to locks of love, and she always styled it...dying it to top off her bright tips, braiding it with beads, knotting it with lace- she even once dyed it red, put beads with smiley faces on them into it, and braided it around red velvet. "I haven't talked to her in a while, I guess," I replied. "She was here at the dance, though."

"The dance? What, you mean the one that was like, a bajillion years ago? Sheesh, I thought you guys were like best friends or something."

"We were."

"Then how come you guys haven't talked in so long?" I shrugged, "I don't know, we were both just busy, I guess. She's probably making new friends and stuff."

"Well I think you should call her. Real friends don't just, like, drop all acquaintance 'cause one of them moves and the other gets a boyfriend."

"I don't have a boyfriend."

"Ok, sorry, a really close friend that just happens to be a boy."

"Yea, whatever. So does that mean Phil and you are going out now?" She 'pshed' and replied, "Puh-lease. Not my type. Even if he was, I think he's like my distant cousin or something. That would be incest."

"Oh, that's nasty. I didn't know you guys were related."

"Yea, I didn't either, until, like, a week ago. So weird. But seriously, you should call her." I looked down at my phone, sticking out of the front pocket of my bag. "Yea, I guess I should."

© 2010

Lovely, Lazy, Hot, and Not part 23

Thomas

I blew a bubble and she reached out and popped it with her index finger. Laughing, I dropped backward into the grass. She sat down on my stomach and bounced. "AH! CAN'T! BREATH!" I yelled. She laughed as she got off of me, "You calling me fat?" I smiled, "Oh, yea, you really should lose some weight." She smiled widely and I stood up. She slipped off her flip flops and jumped into the pool, overalls and all. "Minnie!" I yelled. She laughed and threw a giant rubber duck at me. I smiled and took off my converse and socks before jumping into the pool with her.

Minnie looks at me as I walk up to the general store. I don't know whether to stop or not. "Hey, Thomas," Keith says, smiling at me. That guy is the most clueless moron I've known in all my life. And I've known a lot of clueless morons. "Hey, Keith. Minnie." She looks me over and says, "You've gained weight." Keith smiles, "Yea, looks like you've been working out, man! Nice!" Minnie clearly meant her comment to be criticism. Yet another example of Keith's clueless moronic-ness. I smile at him anyway, "Thanks, man. I'll see you guys later." I slip past them into Joe's and watch Minnie watch me in the mirror on the back wall of the store. She slowly turns around and leans her head on Keith's shoulder. Keith wraps his arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer to him. Irritated, I look away from the mirror and walk into the aisle with pizza in it. I was planning on just chilling at the store for a while, but looks like that plan's done for. My dad had been watching TV when I came back downstairs, after finishing my homework and running out of excuses for staying in my room, so I grabbed my keys and left. I don't know why, but for some reason my dad being home is irking me even more than his not being home. Its like he's just hanging there to be pretend that he's making up for lost time. But one day can't make up for years. And time lost is time that can never be taken back.

Minnie and I went out through freshman and sophomore years. We broke up in the summer. I don't even remember who dumped who, but I'm pretty sure she broke up with me. And yet she treats me like this huge jerk, like I cheated and then dumped her on the street or something. I don't feel any regret about our relationship, I'm not broken-hearted about losing her, she doesn't stir up some ocean of feelings inside me every time she gives me her death glare. Frankly, she's just annoying. Our relationship ended because neither of us really felt anything anymore. Its as simple as that. When we broke up, we both agreed it was best, and it seemed to me like we were both relieved. But then school starts up again and every time she sees me she gives me this look like I hurt her, like I messed her up, like the time we dated was the worst two years of her life. I don't get it. But its just another person who hates me. Not really that big of a deal.

Just annoying.

© 2010

Lovely, Lazy, Hot, and Not part 22

Russel

I hang up the phone at 11:23, smiling, and open the drawer of my bedside table, pulling out my iPod and scrolling to the newest album of Good Charlotte, laying down on my bed and turning the music up to drown out all the lovely and loud noises of a large family in the night time.

"Peanuts."

"Butter."

"Toast."

"Bagels."

"Cream cheese."

"Blue cheese dressing."

"Ranch."

"Cows."

"Milk."

"Chocolate."

"Vanilla."

"White."

"Weddings."

"Cake."

"Cookies."

"Chocolate chips."

"...um..."

"You can't think! The first thing that comes to mind!"

"Sorry! Um...candy."

"Halloween."

"Costumes."

"Pirates."

"Johnny Depp."

"Old men."

"Hey!"

"Don't interrupt! First thing that comes to mind!"

"...math teachers."

"Glasses."

"Contacts."

"...hm..."

"No thinking!"

"Cat-eyes."

"Cat-eyes?"

"You turn!"

"Dogs."

"Bones."

"Archeology."

"Dinosaurs."

"First grade."

"Pilgrims."

"Turkey."

"Stuffing."

"Teddy bears."

"Nightmares."

"Kidnappers."

"White vans."

"Paparazzi."

"Magazines."

"Nail polish."

"Girls." Amber laughs, "Boys."

"Me."

"Annoying."

"You."

"Beautiful."

"Conceited."

"You."

"Hot."

"Johnny Depp."

"You can't repeat."

"Fine. Orlando Bloom."

"...Pirates of the Caribbean."

"Keira Knightley."

"Angelina Jolie."

"...really?"

"Keep it going."

"Brad Pitt."

"Ugly."

"Gorgeous."

"Megan Fox."

"Shia Labeouf."

"Transformers."

"Stupid."

"Smart."

"School."

"Apples."

"Seeds."

"Peanuts."

"OHHHH!!!" we both yell in unison, pointing at each other and laughing. Stacy stumbles down the stairs with her un-school-like bag and looks at us, "What are you guys doing?"

"Playing Next Word That Comes to Mind."

"Is it called that?"

"I don't know."

"When are we going?"

"Now."

"Then let's go already."

© 2010

Lovely, Lazy, Hot, and Not part 21

This post, as will be obvious to you if you read the rest, is dedicated to my all-time favorite band, (seriously, I've loved them since 1st grade, no joke, that's what happens when you have older siblings,) Good Charlotte. I love you, Joel and Benji Madden, Billy Martin, Paul Thomas, and Dean Butterworth!!! May 11th, their new album, Cardiology, which has been completely redone, finally comes out! YAY!

Venice

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that little brothers are the most irritating type of human on the planet Earth. (That first part courtesy of Jane Austen.) "There's a boy on the phone for you," Jeffrey says as he walks into my room, one headphone hanging from his neck, blasting Good Charlotte, our favorite band. I reach to take the phone from him and reply, "Ok, I love your taste in music and all, but you're gonna blow out your freaking eardrums if you don't turn that flipping thing down. Jeez, are you just hoping to be deaf before your twentieth birthday?"

"I hope to keep my eardrums, actually, so I can hear more of your annoying boyfriends calling while I'm trying to do homework."

"Oh, yea, because the ringing of the phone is so much more distracting than Good Charlotte blasting directly into your puny little brain."

"Actually, music helps me focus."

"Yea, right. Just give me the freaking phone." He pulls the phone away from me, putting one hand on his hip, "How much you willing to sacrifice?"

"What?"

"Let me upload the Young and Hopeless album onto my iPod from yours."

"Jeez, Jeff, I don't care if you upload some freaking music off my iPod, just give me the freaking phone so the poor guy doesn't have to wait anymore."

"I think he's wasting his time calling you, anyway."

"Frick, Jeff, just give me the phone! I'll be surprised if he hasn't hung up already!"

"If he went to the trouble to call you, I doubt he'll hang up."

"Give me the phone."

"Man, you suck at playing hard to get."

"I'm not trying to play hard to get! For all I know, it could be Grandpa! Just give me the phone!"

"Fine. Where's your iPod?"

"ON MY DESK! GIVE ME THE PHONE!" Jeff smiles, gives me the phone, and walks over to my desk, picking up my iPod and walking out of the room, slamming my door. I wince at the little brat and place the phone to my ear. "Hello?"

"Venice?"

"Yea."

"Oh, hi. It's Russel." I'm silent for a second, surprised, before I reply, "Um. Oh. Hey."

"Yea, sorry for calling, I was just wondering if you have the math homework? I forgot to copy it down and my cousin isn't in the same math course we're in, so..."

"Yea, no problem. Um..." I pull out my math notebook, pressing play on my CD that constantly has a Good Charlotte CD in it, inspired by my brother, and flip to the page I did tonight's homework on. "Um...page 267 numbers 11-47, odds only."

"Ok. Thanks." He pauses, and I almost hang up, when he suddenly says, "Hey, is that Good Charlotte?" I raise and eyebrow, closing my notebook, surprised that he recognizes the newer Good Charlotte song. A lot of people know Good Charlotte, but not many people actually listen to them anymore, or at least not their new music. Well, as far as I know, I guess. "Yea. It's All Black."

"Oh, man, I love that song! Turn it up!" I smile slightly and oblige, falling back onto my bed and letting the music flow around me, holding the phone up to my ear. I hear some kitchenware banging around on Russel's end of the phone, seeming to complete the scene...I feel so content, my favorite band playing, on the phone with a funny new British kid, with my brother locked up in his room where he can't irritate me anymore. "Man, it seems like no one listens to them anymore," Russel says as something beeps. Clearly, he's cooking. "I don't get it, though, they're still just as great as ever."

"Well, they haven't had a new album in, like, over two years."

"That long, huh? Wow. Guess I just never get over the oldies." I laugh, "Wouldn't call them oldies. Good Charlotte itself isn't even that old." He laughs, "Yea, not in reality, but to me, it seems like they've been around forever." I smile and nod, then say, "Yea, I guess I feel the same way." We just sit there in silence for a while, him moving around in his kitchen, probably holding the phone with his shoulder, getting a neck-ache, while I lay on my bed, holding the phone up to my ear and actually getting a soar arm. All Black ends and The River starts playing, and Russel bangs pans along with the drums before starting to sing along with Joel. I'm laughing, and join in the singing, and we both belt out, "I'm walking towards the light!" I stop singing and just laugh as Russel sings along with the rest of the chorus and then changes his voice, making it deeper, in order to sing the second verse along with M. Shadows. "Oh man," I say with a laugh, "stick with singing with Joel. You can't pull off the whole scratchy thing."

"Scratchy?"

"Yea."

"Right."

"You take the bus?"

"55!" I laugh, surprised that he actually got my reference to Little Things. "So you're as much of a GC fan as me, I guess?"

"Oh man, you don't even know. Best. Band. Ever."

"Huh. Somehow, I just didn't envision you as the type of person who would listen to them."

"Eh, their fan base is wider than you would expect."

"They deserve it."

"I'll second that." I smile and turn up my CD player, opening my eyes and looking up at the giant poster of Joel Madden on my ceiling.

© 2010

Lovely, Lazy, Hot, and Not part 20

Thomas

There's something about an empty room that has always disturbed me. It doesn't make any sense to me...you'd thing I would be used to it by now, having been left alone in this house for so long, so many times. But for some reason, walking into my tiny little house, hearing the absolute silence, excepting the noise coming from the heater and occasionally the dish washer or dryer running, always throws me off. I can feel completely calm, content, and maybe even in a good mood, but as soon as I walk into that house, and feel the absence of the presence of my dad, of anyone at all, emotions stir up in me. At first, fear, an instinct that sets off every time I'm alone in a room, since I can remember, then sadness, loneliness, then, last of all, but also the longest-lasting, anger. Like for some reason I actually expect that one of these times my dad will be home, waiting for me, pouring some chips into a bowl and turning when I walk in, his face brightening as he asks me, "How was school, son?" I, unlike the kids in the movie scenes I had witnessed this exchange in countless times, would not have simply said, "Fine," and gotten annoyed, immediately heading toward my room. I would have gotten my own bowl, filled it with chips, too, and sat down to tell him exactly how my day did go and to ask him how his went. Or at least, that's how I had always imagined it would happen. As I walk into the house this Monday afternoon, however, and see him standing in the kitchen, putting a sandwich together, he doesn't even have time to ask me how my day went before I ask, shocked, "Dad?" He turns and smiles, like all those movie dads did. But I'm not filled with a sense of warmth, I'm not happy, I'm not even annoyed, like all those movie characters. Instead, I feel how I honestly should have known I would feel if this ever happened: suspicious. "Hey, son," he says, still smiling, making me narrow my eyes, "where you been?" I want to roll my eyes and reply, "I don't know, maybe the same place you've been all these years? Where were you when I came home, dad?" Instead, I casually walk into the kitchen, open the cupboard and pulling out a container of oreos, which I rip open before turning to him and replying, "Out." He nods and smiles again, and I can't help feeling slightly disturbed by the whole scene. Its so fake, like he's acting. I almost expect to turn around and find a cameraman behind me. "What are you doing here, dad?" I finally ask as he looks down at the sandwich that he has now finished making, like he doesn't know what to do next. Of course he doesn't. Its not like he has much practice with it. "The hospital let me out," he says. "Yea," I reply, irritated, "I noticed. I meant what are you doing home, dad."

"Oh. Well, uh, I live here..."

"Hardly."

"What?"

"Nothing. Aren't you going to go out, or something? Aren't you gonna go see friends, or something like that?"

"Well...no, not tonight."

"Oh."

"Is something wrong, son?" he asks, an expression of concern on his face as he looks at me intently, "You look...disturbed, or something. You feeling all right?" I sigh, "I'm fine dad. I'm going upstairs." I hurry to the stairs and go to my room, closing the door and throwing my backpack on my bed. I'm not going to torture myself by pretending that, just for a day, my dad actually cares about me. I sit down and pull out my textbooks from under my bed, starting my homework.

© 2010

Lovely, Lazy, Hot, and Not part 19

James

I sit on the back porch watching as my cousins, aunts, and uncles walk around, talking,

laughing, gossiping, like they actually enjoy our completely-on-the-surface every-other-

monthly visits. I take a chug of my bottle of Coke and watch as one of my cousins, Cassandra,

who is three months younger than myself, watches all of us with her warped perspective of the

world. Her obviously-dyed pitch black hair blows slightly with the wind and she quickly pulls

it back in front of her shoulders, fixing a chunk of it so that it rests over half of her right eye.

She does this so often that, while the rest of her now-fake hair is clean, (even if it is filled with

toxic chemicals,) this particular chunk of her hair is oily and disgusting-to the point that it

almost looks like she just stepped out of the shower. She fixes her hair with her right hand,

which has a black fish-net glove over it that shows only the tips of her fingers, and covers her

pinky entirely. The lack of covering at the top of these gloves reveals black finger nail polish.

Her thumb has a white blob on it that, upon closer inspection, (which I was given earlier when

I was forced calmly to greet her with a fake smile though she did not even attempt to put one

on,) is actually a tiny skull and crossbones with tiny fake jewels where the holes for eyes should

be.

"Hey," I say, walking up behind her. She looks at me and puts down the phone she was

texting on. "Hey."

"So..." I pause, and she waits, looking annoyed, "why...um, why are you...like this?" I ask,

blushing. Honestly, I don't really care that much. She's probably just the typical I-hate-the-

world-so-I'm-going-to-rebel-by-dressing-weird emo teenager, but right now, I have absolutely

nothing better to do, and over-emotional teenage girls typically have pretty entertaining rants,

so I figure, what the heck? "This. That's one way to put it." She gives me a half-smile, "Have

you ever listened to Good Charlotte, James?"

"Yea. Who hasn't?" She smiles wider and looks out at my yard. "Have you ever heard the song

All Black?"

"I think so, yea."

"The song talks about the night...Joel, the singer, he says in the song that he feels free during

the night, that that's the only time he feels alive."

"Alive."

"Yea."

"So you're saying that's how you feel," I reply. She smiles wider and looks up at me with her

thick-black-outlined blue eyes. "No. Just making conversation." I raise my eyebrows and she

laughs, looking back at the yard. "Um...right," I say. She picks up her phone again and

continues texting. "I'm gonna go back in the house," I say, already walking away. She makes no

reply, not even a hand motion or a tip of her head. I swear, I'll never understand girls.

Especially young, hormonal, moody girls who either honestly have temporarily messed up

minds or just like to pretend they do in order to mess with the minds of the people around

them.

© 2010

What's my favorite word? Why, touche of course.

Generally, some type of indication of what title belongs to who is addressed.
Yea, well, generally, the person being addressed isn't in the position of being bothered 'til they're dead by the person addressing them.
...Touche.
© 2010