And We

And so

What do we think?

And now

What will we say?

And yes

What is our decision?

And go

What are we waiting for?

© 2010

Broken Glass, Broken Hearts part 86

I stopped at the movie rental place on my way home and walked slowly down the aisles, searching for the perfect entertainment for the evening. Tyler and I were going over to Ed's house with Selena, and we were all supposed to bring a movie, so that we could have a marathon. I selected The Breakfast Club eventually- a movie that never failed to entertain- but as I was walking out I saw that old TV show with Tim Allen, Home Improvement peaking out at me from the TV section. I pulled it out and bit my lip, looking at the picture of the family standing with Tim, who was all dressed up in construction clothes. I put it back on the shelf and walked up to the counter with The Breakfast Club.

I whistled as I opened yet another box of clothes and deposited its contents onto my bed. My mom was playing Anya Marina in the living room, and though the music wasn't exactly my type, it was pretty catchy. My room was much larger than at the last house, though still smaller than the room I had at grandma's. I went back to the garage and selected another box at random. I brought it into my room and discovered that I was not, in fact, the only person who wasn't done packing. This box was full of stuff from my mom's childhood- there was a pair of jeans that I recognized, a stack of CDs, and a bunch of little pieces of junk. I found her old wallet and pulled it out. There was still forty dollars tucked in the largest pocket, and the card slots were all full. Her id picture smiled at me from behind the sheet of plastic that held it into the wallet. I pulled it out and another one came with it. I looked at that one and, after examining it for a minute, I realized that it was fake. The other one was real, so I don't why she kept her old one. I rolled my eyes and put them both back, leaving the forty bucks and closing the box again. I walked into the living room and left it on the couch. "I'm gonna go rent a movie," I told my mom, and she yelled back an Ok, so I grabbed my car keys and closed the front door behind me.

It always smelled like gasoline and incense in the movie store. As I was walking down the aisles, I saw a particular DVD case in the television section that was sticking out slightly, like someone had tucked it back onto the shelf quickly, not really making sure it was even. I pulled it out and Tim Allen smiled up at me from the cover of the Home Improvement case. I put it back onto the shelf carefully and continued down the aisle, pondering whether I should rent a new movie or just chose a classic.

© 2010

The Curious Relationship Of The Made and The Maker

There is a place in the world

Where all the dresses dance

And all the music sings

The shoes all tap their heels

The books all write themselves

There is a place in my mind

Where clocks stop time

And music skips itself

Shoes stop walking

And books crush the spines which hold them together

I see them coming now

They think they've got time,

But look, they're aging even now

They think their tunes are smart

But look, it controls their souls

They think they're in control

But just look at their feet,

They go where they want

They think that they are strong,

But see the books, manipulating their minds

We make the dresses

We make the clocks

We write the music and the books

We build the shoes that hold our socks

We are not in control

Often, the made thinks it can conquer its maker

But just look at the the dresses

Look at the clocks

Looks at the music, the books, the shoes

We can stop sewing those dresses.

We can stop building those clocks.

We can stop writing that music and those books.

We can stop making those shoes.

And whatever shall they do?

Not a thing, not a thing

For we made them

And no matter how powerful they seem:

They cannot overcome.

© 2010

Indie Times In The Grocery Store

HAPPY HALLOWEEN.

Most Recent Playlist:

1. Sleepyhead by Passion Pit
2. Cannibal Queen by Miniature Tigers
3. Animal by Neon Trees
4. Lucky by Colbie Calait ft. Jason Mraz
5. Lucky covered by Glee
6. Daughters by John Mayer
7. Romulus by Sufjan Stevens
8. John Wayne Gacy, Jr. by Sufjan Stevens
9. The Dress Looks Nice on You by Sufjan Stevens
10. The Avalanche by Sufjan Stevens
11. To Be Alone With You by Sufjan Stevens

Sufjan Stevens is an artist that Adam Young tweeted he had attended a performance of, so of course I checked him out. I'M IN LOVE. Thank you, Adam!

© 2010

Broken Glass, Broken Hearts part 85

I had thought that Stephen's had been stuffy before, but it was nothing next to what it felt like now, with the convenient heat stroke that came just in time for the beginning of students' summer. Tyler was at home unpacking into his new house, but he had promised to pick me up from work when I got off, at four. Sean had stopped by for a while to tell me about his family's two-week vacation to Maui. He hadn't really met Tyler formally, but he assured me that when he got back, he would introduce himself, clear the uncomfortable air that came into the room whenever Sean called me while I was Tyler, despite the fact that I had told him Sean and I were only friends, two people connected by a girl, one whom we had lost. Tyler tried to disguise his jealousy when he called, probably more for feeling bad about Dustin than because he actually wanted to be cool about me having a close guy friend, but I could see it clearly on his face. It was probably the same expression as the one that I wore when I climbed into his car or walked into his new house to find him leaving a message on Sadie's phone or checking his own messages, anxious to see if she had called him. I tried to understand that he was just concerned as to why she hadn't contacted him because they were good friends, but all the joy I should have been enjoying over the fact that my boyfriend's close girl friend refused to call him back was destroyed by his replying in most likely just the way she wanted him to-getting anxious, sitting by the phone, leaving countless messages on her phone. I knew that Tyler and I were really only new to the whole relationship thing. It was to be expected that we would start out just as any other couple, with obsessive protectiveness and consistent jealousy. It just seemed to me like we should really be at an advantage, avoid these things, since we had been on the brink of a relationship for so long. But what did I know.

I was perfectly fine with Angela working at Stephen's, it wasn't like I was a pathetic human being who had no way of occupying myself while my girlfriend worked a few hours on weekdays and every other Saturday. The fact that she was out of my surveillance, though, and that Sean did, in fact, stop by to chat with her occasionally, got on me like nothing else. I was happy to hear about his vacationing to Maui, unhappy to hear that it was only for two weeks. I shouldn't feel jealous, I knew that, Sean was just Angela's friend, and they could never be interested in each other that way because he was her passed sister's last boyfriend. But how many stories are there about two people bonding over a death, how many movies where the girl ends up with her dead husband's best friend or brother? I knew this wasn't a movie, and that in reality, no girl would ever be interested in any guy ever again after having been married to the beast of a dude that is Gerard Butler, but still. I was on the look-out. Ang might have been his lost girlfriend's sister, but that didn't make her any less charming and gorgeous.

© 2010

Broken Glass, Broken Hearts part 84

By the time everyone expected had arrived- plus some people who I either didn't recognize or hadn't been informed were invited- the weather had rocketed upwards, and all the body heat was no help. the windows were all pushed wide open and the air conditioner was blasting, but it was still hot. I was standing with Tyler by the fridge, ready to peel it open and stick my head it at any given moment if it became completely necessary. Just as I turned my head, hearing Selena call my name from somewhere in the room, I saw Trace. Surprised, I turned back and saw that he was indeed standing there, Lola pressed to his side. She was smiling widely, talking to someone as they laughed at whatever she was saying and he surveyed the crowd over her head. I caught his eye and gave a little wave, and he laughed and waved back in response. Shaking my head, I turned back to Tyler, pointing them out to him. He laughed and we drifted through the crowd to talk to them. "Long time no see," Trace said with a laugh. Lola nodded and also laughed. Her arm was hooked through his, and Tyler motioned to it and said, "So, has this sort-of relationship blossomed into a commitment?" Lola blushed and nodded quickly. Trace grinned and said, "Finally." Tyler laughed, wrapping his arm around my waste and drawing me closer, saying, "You and me both, pal." I grinned at them and their eyebrows shot up, and then we all laughed together at the sort of irony this little picture we formed was made of.

I never thought I would see those people again. They were nice, but the prospect of not meeting with them in the future hadn't particularly troubled me, seeing as our meeting had been particularly awkward. Now, though, it seemed that their appearance here, at Angela's beginning-of-summer celebration, thrown by Selena, could not be more appropriate. We soon lost them in the crowd, and Angela and I eventually gave up finding anywhere comfortable in the crowded house. We went into the backyard, where, other than a couple of girls sitting on the wooden lawn chairs, leaning towards each other in a secret-sharing sort of way, there was no one. It was still hot, and I felt sticky from sweat, but at least here the hot air had room to circulate. We sat in the grass and Angela swayed slightly to the song that started playing inside the house. I pretended to sing along, and she laughed before sighing and laying down, her hair spreading around her as if she were laying in water. I sat by her head and tilted my head to the sky, leaning on my hands. "It's weird," she started, "to sit here, in all this heat, with all these people here- with the loud music playing, and the conversation everywhere I look, and you standing beside me- it's strange to think about winter, to think about rain and quiet. It's difficult to recall the feeling of loneliness." I looked down at her for a moment before taking her hand in mine and looking back up at the sky. "It's nice," she continued after a moment, "to know that she's up there." I knew who she was talking about, she didn't have to explain. I smiled, "It is, isn't it?" and we watched the persistent but weak clouds as they moved quickly through the atmosphere.

© 2010

The Child's Voice

She looks up,

and they're looking down

She speaks up,

and they all turn around

She tries to fight

but they simply laugh

She gives her vote

but they count it as only half

Listen to the children

Hear their voices, however weak

Listen to the weak ones

Hear them out, let them speak

Listen to their wisdom

Let them tell you what they think

I promise you

You'll be surprised

They're wiser than you think.

© 2010

Broken Glass, Broken Hearts part 83

I jumped off the couch as the huge man walked in the front door with a briefcase tucked under his brawny arm. He looked straight off Wall Street, and also straight out of a boxing ring. He looked like Clark Kent. "Oh, hello!" I said, cringing as my voice cracked. Really? Now, in this moment, nature had to do that to me? "You're, um, Angela's father!" He smiled, "You can call me Jake. We've met, I believe, briefly." I nodded, "Oh, um, yes, very briefly, a while ago. Jake, though, you didn't tell me that was your name. So Jake was named after you, then?" He smiled and nodded, "Yup. And I after my father." The whole situation was bizarre because it seemed so cliche, like something out of a movie. Here I was, son of the traveling hippies, meeting my gorgeous and tiny girlfriend's Clark Kent of a father, who's name was given to him by generations past. While mine was...slightly less impressive. "How 'bout you? You named after anyone?" I smiled and nodded regretfully. My least favorite question to answer to anyone, let alone this classic dad-I-must-impress, proving right there in concrete that stereotypes truly are the result of actual facts. "Um," I started, hoping my cheeks weren't red, "I'm named after Bonnie Tyler." His eyebrows shot up and Angela clapped her hand in a fist over her mouth to stop her laugh. He chuckled, "Really?" I nodded, "Yea, I mean, uh, my parents were... hippies, I guess you could say. They pulled out the 70's, and the 80's, for as long as they could." The man laughed and shrugged, "Nothing wrong with that, I guess. Can't say I didn't like some Bonnie Tyler back in the day." He shrugged and winked at me as he said, "Hey, could be worse, you could be named after Steven Tyler."

"Who?" Selena asked, surprisingly close to me. I glance back and realized she had moved into the living room, probably to get away from the onions. Angela's dad looked over at Selena and said, "Steven Tyler? The singer?" Selena's face was blank with a lack of recognition. Jake rolled his eyes, "Kids now days. Aeorosmith's lead man?"

"Oh! I've heard of them," Selena said, smiling wide, like this was impressive. The man rose an eyebrow and rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Well," he said, "It's nice to formally meet you, Tyler named after Bonnie Tyler." He smiled and shook my hand once, firmly, before turning and saying to Angela, "I'll be in my office, if you need me."

"K," she replied, not looking up from the onions she was chopping. And with that, he disappeared up the stairs.

I finished chopping the onions and Selena drifted back into the kitchen, leaning against the counter and picking up a bowl of already-stirred mix, stirring it more so that she could at least have the appearance of looking like she was helping. "So, where'd you meet this Carter guy?" I asked casually. Tyler was on the couch again, but he looked slightly less comfortable as he sat stiffly, his eyes glued to the TV as a rerun of Saved By the Bell played.

© 2010

Broken Glass, Broken Hearts part 82

I sat in my new room and hit redial, biting my lip when it went straight to voicemail again. Finally, I caved and left a message. "Hey, Hawk, it's, uh, just me... Tyler...I was just calling, um, 'cause, you know, I haven't heard from you in a while and I was just... you know... wondering... how you were doing. Um, things are good over here. The house is awesome. So, uh... just call me, I mean, when you get this. Yea, so, uh... bye."

"Wow," Milly said, looking up from the book she was reading on my floor as she pretended to help me unpack, "Most awkward message ever. I mean, seriously, you deserve some sort of award. A medal. Or, um, you know, I mean, maybe just... you know, some, uh, recognition, or something."

"Shut up," I replied, rolling my eyes as I flung my pillow at her. She laughed and threw it back, turning her head away from me and back to her book. I looked back at the phone again, as if it may ring at any second and if I wasn't staring right at it, I would miss it. Milly looked over the cover of her book and said, "So, you gonna help me down here, or what? Any time in the next century would be awesome." I rolled my eyes, "You have to be doing something for me to help you."

"Ouch. That burns."

"I'm like a raging fire." Milly laughed and I climbed off the bed, sitting on the ground next to her as she put her book down and we turned to my boxes.

I wanted to approach my mom about my idea. I thought that if I caught her in the right moment, I might actually get something out of it. But really, I didn't want to wait for the right moment, I hoped she would just be in a bad mood every time I remembered the idea- because I didn't want to go through with it. I knew it was best, I knew it was progressive, I knew it was good for me. But I couldn't bring myself to accept that I wanted it, let alone ask my mom about it.

Selena was over when Tyler came by on Monday afternoon. She had come over at two, to celebrate the fact that it was two and we were not in school. Selena is a big summer person. Tyler walked at a quarter until five. He was wearing dark jeans and a dark shirt, and with the unexpected clouds in the sky and his mop of dark hair looking freshly cleaned, therefore, that much darker, Selena's comment was only to be expected. "Dude!" she said when he walked in, "You're gone for a few months, and you come back my best girl's boyfriend, and an emo?" He laughed, "Hey, Selena." She smiled and opened her arms wide, and he walked over, chuckling, and hugged her loosely. "Boyfriend, huh?" he said, turning to me with a raised eyebrow. I blushed, "Her words." He smiled and shrugged, winking at me as he walked into the living room and fell onto the couch. Selena sighed as she turned back to me. We were making dinner, because Selena had invited a bunch of people over from school to celebrate the joyous occasion of summer's arrival. My parents were thrilled with this idea and promised to stay out of the way. I grabbed my sister's old non-prescription glasses from Urban Outfitters and put them on as I started to chop the onions. Selena raised an eyebrow at me and I explained, "So my eyes don't tear up." Selena laughed, slipping around the counter for the same reason, I expected, but she defeated the purpose as she leaned over it and said, with wet eyes, "He is so fine. You are so lucky. I wish my boyfriend could wear jeans like that boy does." I laughed at that and replied, with a raised eyebrow, "Boyfriend?" She smiled, "Yea. Carter Lewis. Not a total hottie, but a real charmer." She shrugged, "What can I say, I'm a sucker for a guy who's creative with his pick-up lines." I laughed and shook my head. Tyler was flipping the channels on the TV, and I smiled at how comfortable he was in my house. Well. He was for a moment. Until..."Oh. Hello, there, son."

© 2010

Broken Glass, Broken Hearts part 81

I saw the moving van before I could hear it. Jake and I were sitting on the lawn of the house Linda, Tyler and Milly's mom, had recently purchased, watching the road blocks down, waiting. We jumped up and squealed like giddy little children when the van came into our sight range, and the car following behind the van held two people waving just as giddily back at us, being driven by a woman who grinned at us as she pulled past us, into her new driveway.

"Something about the moon with the trees around it," Tyler said, laying next to me in the tree house as we stared up at the sky, "It just doesn't look the same anywhere else." I smiled, "Yea." And he was right. It was beautiful, really beautiful, the kind of irreplaceable, iridescent loveliness that simply can't be ignored, even by the people who claim to find nature boring. And it was even better, having Tyler here to watch it with me. The clouds around the moon were small and frail, not like the thick ones that moved around it like waves during the winter. "I can't believe I'm back," he said, after a moment. I smiled and looked over at him, "I can't either." He looked over at me, smiled, and took my hand, and we looked back up at the stars.

I had imagined moments like last night since the day I met Angela, never really expecting them to happen. Sure, we'd slow-dances badly at the school dance and laid together on a stranger's trampoline, but even in the moments when it had seemed like we were an Us, like she felt about me the way I did about her, it was never in cement. Now, though, I could glance over at her and every smile she sent me was one of affection, not just of courtesy, not just being friendly. Jake and Milly sat in the backseat now as we drove down to the strip mall to get Milly new clothes. My mom had given her a huge wad of money, how much I didn't know, to make up to her the fact that in the process of moving, she managed to misplace an entire box of Milly's clothes, forever lost. Milly was ticked, but the money helped a bit. I had to take her since she only had her permit, not a license, and of course Jake was coming since Milly would be there, and Angela came to be with me. Just the thought of that, she's here to be with me, had me smiling as we pulled, finally, into an open parking space.

He tucked his fingers in between mine as we walked down the street, Milly and Jake ahead of us. Milly was peaking into each store and Jake was trailing slightly behind her, laughing at everything she said. It was so nice, to casually hold hands as we walked, to feel his hand tuck my hair behind my ear like he'd been doing it forever, like it was normal for us, to be expected. And really, it was. Even before, he'd always nudged me, poked me, caught my hair between his fingers, giving it a little tug. Teasing me, in a way that could be affectionate, but didn't have to be- so that he could touch me without showing, necessarily, that he had feelings for me. Now, though, when he did those same little things, those same little playful tickles, they were, undoubtably, doting. I giggled as he nudged me when we walked past a street performer, and he winked at me and took our hands, connected, and swung them wildly, pulling my body along with them as I laughed uncontrollably.

She wasn't short, not really, but she wasn't tall. Five five, I think. But though she wasn't too short, she was definitely slender. She had curves, but they were the kind of delicate little curves you would imagine on Tinker Bell or a mermaid. When I swung our hands, with enough force, I was able to swing her right along with them, and she giggled like a child as her body was thrown back and forth by my single hand, and I couldn't help but smile at her giggles, couldn't help but laugh at her smiles. She was like a sunflower, and I could practically feel her blooming.

© 2010

The Harvest Moon

When the clouds fell,

the light seeped away from the windows

and the room became dark.

The fire, a false symbol of hope in the withered home,

flickered out accordingly.

Rain began to patter on the roof

and the lights blinked out slowly.

She sat and stared in front of her,

her eyes not moving from one particular spot,

though that spot was now blackened with a blanket of night.

He, too, sitting in the spot where she stared,

had eyes focused in the darkness where hers were,

so that they were both resting in the black,

watching one another's silhouettes

watch one another's silhouettes.

A child's voice called in the distance.

The rain turned to snow, and his worry turned to fear.

Where was the path?

The animals all scurried into their burrows

and the nightingale let out one last weeping screech before she, too,

disappeared, cowering away from the night.

The child listened for the cry of the river,

but the whisper of water he heard

was only a slit in the Earth

filled with rain

to create a mischievous creek,

its song leading the boy away,

farther,

from his home.

The moon looked down upon its work

and was satisfied

as he saw the dark houses,

forcing sleep onto his exhausted people.

Grief teared at him, though,

as he saw the wandering child.

He hoped the people would continue to sleep,

but he could not escape the need to help the boy.

He widened his eyes

and the forest around the child

was illuminated.

The child realized his wrong wandering

and led himself home,

by the light of the harvest moon.

© 2010

MY LIFE IS A LIE.

Up until extremely recently, I was convinced that the last line of the chorus of Fall For You by Secondhand Serenade was, "Because the girl I kill is impossible to find."

-_-

Wow. I feel...just, really, really stupid. Really stupid.

Sorry I haven't been written for a while, I had the single busiest weekend ever known to all

mankind, and then I got sick from lack of sleep and had to spend my day laying in bed and

feeling very much like there were things I needed to be doing that I couldn't be doing. Worst

feeling in the world. While I was away, however, I composed a playlist:

1. Fall For You by Secondhand Serenade
2. The Only Exception by Paramore
3. Daughters by John Mayer
4. You and I by Ingrid Michaelson
5. The Way I Am by Ingrid Michaelson
6. Giving Up by Ingrid Michaelson

That'll be all, sir.

-Sienna

(professional wrestler in all 60 states)

© 2010

Nibble part 23

Nick followed me quietly as I casually walked into the store, as usual, avoiding the eyes of the cash register lady. She looked up, though, and raised her hair at the white-haired boy following me. We stepped out of her view as we walked into an aisle, and I led him to the furniture section, smiling as I saw my couch, waiting for me. I sat down, pulling my small backpack of my shoulders, and unzipped it, reaching in and retrieving my notebook. He sat down next to me and leaned his head back, staring up at the bright lights on the ceiling. I opened to the last page I had written on and scanned the poem I had written, checking to see if I was comfortable sharing it with him.

Fine

Don't say a thing

Fine

Just ignore me

Fine

I'll just leave

Lock me up

Beat me

Shout at me

Anything

But please

Don't ignore me

He screams, she cries

They sing into the night

A cry for help, a desperate plea

Not because they hurt me

Because they don't seem to see me

Fine

Don't say a thing

Fine

Just ignore me

Fine

I'll just leave

I bit my lip, hesitating, and, before I could think about it, handed the pad over to him. He read the words and looked up at me, but I wasn't looking at him, I was just staring out in front of me. He turned the page backwards and read the poem before it

Howl at the moon

Bite into what's there

Crying out in pain

We do it again

Lost from the pack

No wolves come back

Must feed myself

Must keep on

Howl at the moon

Bite into what's there

Crying out in pain

We do it again

The cry of the night

The dark that brings light

To my mind, frees me

Free for the hunt

Howl at the moon

Bite into what's there

Crying out in pain

We do it again

Settle in

Sleep all day

Keep it all in

'Til night comes again

Then we

Howl at the moon

Bite into what's there

Crying out in pain

We've done it again

He looked up at me again, and I glanced over at him for a second before quickly looking away. "These," he said, "are incredible." That surprised me. Depressing, maybe. Dramatic, possibly. Incredible? "I think..." he said, "Well, would you help me write a song?" I blinked at him, gaping. He shrugged, "It seems that your poems fit my music. The mood, I mean. They match up." I blinked at him again before looking away. "Sure."

© 2010

Sneaky Sarcasm (Short Story)

So. This is a short story I wrote for a writing contest on Owl City University.com I'm not

exactly surprised it didn't win, as it's pretty cheeseball and not the best I could do, but I had fun

writing it, which is really all that matters. So here it is:

The wind that bit at my shoulders felt like ice on a stovetop-disturbing the warm summer day with the memory of the fall that would soon come. I closed my eyes and just let the ocean water come up on my feet, surrounding them, melting around them as it fell, slowly, back into the sea. Goosebumps rose on my arms with each wave, and slowly disappeared before being resurrected by another wave. My iPod was tucked into the pocket of my jean shorts, and my headphones were tucked into my ears, playing my favorite music, until Peter came up behind me and pulled them out. I glared at him as he laughed and went deeper into the water. He splashed me and I gaped at him in anger for a moment before quickly pulling my iPod out of my pocket and making sure it wasn’t wet. As I tucked the headphones back into my ears, music played once again, so I figured I was safe. I did, however, turn and walk back up the sand to my towel, not wanting to risk being splashed again by the know-it-all failing musician that I currently had to call roommate.

My summer had been going perfectly, spotless and flawless- then, just as I realized that school was approaching and I had to make the last few weeks the best of my life- my mom came up to me one day, wearing one of her long, low-cut halter-top dresses, this one a blue the color of the sky with splashes of white that reminded me of clouds- and said, “Do you remember Kathryn Lennett?” I glanced haphazardly up at her from over the cover of the novel I was currently reading on our porch and said, “Yea.” She smiled now, and continued, in a giddy tone, smiling as if she just new thin new would make my day- “She’s decided to come stay with us for the rest of the summer! Isn’t that just lovely?” I didn’t exactly think this news was lovely, but it wasn’t awful, either, so I just shrugged and looked back down at my book. Her grin grew as she went on, “And her son Peter will be coming, too. Do you remember him,darling? Kathryn says he’s become a really handsome boy.” Now she had my attention. I slammed my novel shut and turned to look at her, my eyes narrowed to slits, “Peter Lennett is coming here?” She smiled in response, for whatever reason naively mistaking my sarcasm for excited disbelief, and nodded briskly.

And so it was that I ended up walking into my room after showering down the hall with a towel wrapped around my body only to find that Peter was laying on my futon, his eyes closed and his arms clasped under his head as he whispered along with The Saltwater Room by Owl City as it blasted from my speakers. I didn’t know what to do, so I pretended I hadn’t been standing there for a minute already and shrieked, putting on an expression of shock. Peter shot up on the futon and took one look at my towel before lunging behind the futon, pulling the blanket he was using as a bedcover with him. I ran quickly across the room and slammed the door of my closet, flipping the light switch and wishing I had underwear in this tiny closet. I grabbed the first thing that touched my hand when I extended my arm- a short strapless violet summer dress- and threw it over my head before opening the closet door slightly and yelling, louder than necessary- “If your eyes are not covered when I come out of this closet, you are the deadest of dead meat that the world has ever seen, Peter Lennett.”

“Trust me, I am not peeking,” Peter muttered, and his voice was muffled, so I figured he was still under the blanket and quickly hurried out of the closet, pulling open a drawer of my dresser and grabbing a bra and underwear before lunging for the closet again and slamming it closed on myself, tugging my hair out of the door seam and slipping my undergarments on quickly.

“I want to go the cinema,” Peter said as we ate dinner- after stuffing a huge bite of steak into his mouth. I groaned at his male-ness and said, “What is this, the 40’s?” Peter made a face at me and turned back to his mom, repeating his question. Kathryn looked straight at me with a huge grin and said, “You can go with Bree, if you want. I think Jenna and I will stay home tonight.” Jenna- that would be my mom- grinned a cheek-bursting grin and nodded over-energetically in response. Our moms had some sort of match-making thing going on with them. They probably just wanted us to get married so that they could spend Thanksgiving together. They both loved eating and having deep conversations about meat. I was about to protest when Peter said, “Fine,” I shot him a look of shock and horror and he avoided eye contact, looking at his meat as he said, “But I get to chose to movie.”

Um, right, because I was going to argue with him about which movie we would go to.

I didn’t care if I had to watch a movie about exploding cars and ax murderers as long as I wasn’t watching it with Peter Lennett.

I sighed as I stepped up to the movie window after Peter and said, “One for-” Peter cut me off, handing me a ticket and saying, “I already paid for you.” I looked down at the ticket and then said, “Oh, no, I don’t want to take your mom’s mon-”

“You’re not. It was my money.” I blinked at him and gaped as he stared back me with slightly crumpled lips and scrunched up eyebrows, as if he didn’t really like the reaction he was getting from me. “A simple ‘thanks’ would have sufficed just fine, Bree. No need for the theatrics.” I blinked at him, shutting my mouth- which was literally open slightly in a gape- and said, “You bought my ticket?!” Peter rolled his eyes and said, “Shut up and let’s go.” I walked in front of him as he held the theater door open for me, but I was still in a trance, and as he took my ticket, handed it to the ticket guy, and gave me back a stub, I stared at it for a moment before looking up at his face, which had one eyebrow raised, observing me, and I repeated, “You bought my ticket?!” Peter groaned and pushed me toward the snack stand, asking, “Do you want popcorn?” I nodded slowly and then quickly added, “But don’t pay for this, too, or the world as we know it will implode on us, leaving all humans to float around in the atmosphere, confused and frightened, until we die of lack of oxygen.” Peter stared at me for a moment before shaking his head and turning to the person working at the snack stand, handing him a bill and ordering a large popcorn despite my warning. I put my hands over my head to protect it from the theater roof that would surely implode on us momentarily. Peter smacked me upside the head and rolled his eyes, shaking his head and walking off toward our theater, muttering, “Unbelievable.” I grinned and followed him quickly. Now there was the annoying Peter I knew.

The movie was violent. To say the least. It was exactly the kind of movie I would expect Peter to watch. But then, of course, there was the beautiful girl that the main hero- or villain, actually, but the main character- fell in love with, and right at this really cheesy romantic scene, it happened. That thing that happens so often in movies and TV shows that you think it must be fake...it would never really happen in real life. We both reached into the popcorn bag at the same time, and our hands touched. But we didn’t blush, apologize, and then slip our hands back into the bag and hold hands under the popcorn, smiling to ourselves. I always thought it was gross when movie characters did that. Why would you want to hold the hand of a sweaty guy in a bag of greasy-buttered popcorn for two hours? I wouldn’t do that with a guy I liked, let alone Peter. I pulled my hand back immediately and said, “Ewww.” Peter rolled his eyes and stuck his hands back in, taking some popcorn before withdrawing it. I stared at it for a few more seconds, making sure he was done, and then I reached in and quickly grabbed a handful, as if I only had five seconds to grab the popcorn or I would get zapped.

“What’s your favorite band?”

“Why do you care?”

“I’m just preparing you for school,” Peter replied breezily, laying out on one of our lawn chairs, disturbing the silence and casting a shadow over the pages of my book. I glared at him for reminding me of the one thing I was avoiding thinking about and looked back down at my page, asking, “And how does that prepare me for that?”

“You can say school. Really, no one’s going to come chop off your head for criticizing the Kind of summer.” I glared at him again and waited for him to answer my question. He grinned, satisfied with the way he irked me, and said, “When you get to school, teachers try to bond with you by having you answer questions about yourself. I’m just making sure your forehead doesn’t explode with sweat when you have five different bands to chose between and only five minutes to fill out the whole sheet.” I stared at Peter and shook my head, “Owl City.”

“Is that really a band, though, since it’s just one guy?”

“It’s not one guy. It’s the guy.” Peter rose an eyebrow at me and then looked out at the ocean far out in front of him, letting out a low whistle. “Wow. Can you say groupie in five different languages?”

“Shut up. I’m not a groupie.”

“Um, right. The guy.”

“Well, God is the God, my dad is the dad, and you are the single most irritating dude on the face of the Earth.”

“Dude.”

“Shut up.”

My mom was wearing another one of her dresses. This one was strapless, red, and had a belt around the waste. She was smiling widely at me as I narrowed my eyes and shook my head. “No.” She pouted. Literally, she did that thing with your lips- an actual pout. I was surprised when she didn’t stomp her foot. “Come on,” she said, “It’s just one night! You have the rest of the summer!” I groaned, “No, no, no, no. I am not going anywhere as Peter’s date. I do not care if it’s a summer splash dance. That sounds stupid anyway. What is this, Aquamarine?” My mom pouted and said, “Fine. But you’ll have to do something else with him that night, because all us parents will be out and you’re not allowed in the house alone.” My mother liked to refer to herself, my dad, and Peter’s mom as “us parents”. “Afraid I’ll put metal in the microwave and set the house on fire?” My mom wrinkled her nose and said, “Not you. Peter.” I was going to protest, but it was true. And I wasn’t going to stand up for Peter, anyway. He was an idiot. I sighed and turned back to my speakers, adjusting the volume so A Little Opera Goes a Long Way filled my room. “Fine.”

“Ok, I know I agreed to go somewhere with you tonight,” I said wincing as he took a sharp left. Peter grinned at me and looked back out the windshield, and I continued, “For my mom’s sake, because she has so little faith of you being alone in a close proximity to metal and a microwave,” Peter rolled his eyes at this, “But this is just ridiculous,” I went on. “We have been wandering for half an hour. Are you actually taking me somewhere, or are you just driving around and seeing where it takes us?” Peter rolled his eyes again and said, “I have a destination. I do this every Thursday night. I usually go by myself, not with a sarcastic know-it-all like the girl sitting next to me right now, but my mom said I had to take you along, so I caved.”

“I’m the sarcastic know-it-all? Oh, that is a show.”

“What?”

“You are the king of all sarcastic know-it-alls.”

“Well, you’re the queen.” I considered this for a moment and then said, “Oh, no, I’m not. Then I’d have to be married to you.”

“We could be siblings.”

“No, then the older one of us and their spouse would be the king and queen.”

“Well, we could be from different kingdoms.”

“Different sarcastic-know-it-all kingdoms? I don’t think there’s more than one.”

“Well, if we’re making this up as we go along, then I think we’re allowed to say that there’s two.”

“But what if one of us has an older sister or brother who steals our crown?”

“I don’t have an older sibling.”

“Neither do I.”

“So the problem is...”

“I don’t think there should be two sarcastic-know-it-all kingdoms.”

“I think maybe you should just shut up.”

“Shut up.”

“I can, too, that makes sense, since we’re both royalty and all.”

Peter took me to a bar. A bar? What? “Um, I’m not old enough to come here,” I protested. Peter rolled his eyes and said, “It’s not a bar. It’s a restaurant with a bar. And I work here.” Wait. Did he just say that he works here? “Excuse me?”

“I said, I work here.”

“I heard you, thanks. I just didn’t quite understand.”

“What do you not understand?” I looked around the little restaurant as he lead me inside. I looked down and realized he was holding a guitar case. “Wha-”

“I have to go work. You can just...sit. And watch. Maybe I’ll even play one for you.”

“What?” Peter disappeared into the crowd of people then, and I sat down at a table and looked around, confused.

Peter stepped out on the stage. He was holding the guitar and everything connected as he pulled a stool up to the front of the stage and adjusted the microphone. He strummed the guitar slowly and everyone in the restaurant hooted. I looked around, confused, and a woman sitting next to me, seeing my expression, leaned towards me and said, “He’s famous here. All the girls love him.” I rose my eyebrows and looked back up at the stage just as Peter leaned into the microphone and started singing-and playing- If My Heart Was a House. It wasn’t like in the movies, where he made eye contact with me and grinned, as if the song was for me, simply to make me fall head over heels in love with him despite my past hatred of him...but it was something. He was really good. It was kind of weird hearing someone other than Adam Young playing the song...and, no doubt, Adam was better, though Peter was good. It was different. It was fascinating, the way his fingers flowed along the strings, memorized, and though his singing voice was good, it was nothing next to his guitar playing. He was incredible on the guitar...I didn’t even know he played. He finished the song and the crowd cheered. Then he started snapping, indicating that the audience should join in, and he leaned back into the microphone and started singing Cooler Than Me by Mike Posner. Now he made eye contact and winked, and I couldn’t help it. I laughed.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Thank you.”

“I am not vain.”

“Mm...”

“I’m not.” Peter laughed, “Don’t worry, Bree, it’s just a song.”

“So I’m guessing that was the song you sang for me, and not the Owl City song.” He laughed and shrugged, “I guess I sang two for you.”

“I feel so loved.”

“You’re so vain.”

“Shut up.”

“I have something to show you.”

“I don’t think I want to see.”

“Really? Can you not be sarcastic for, like, one millisecond?”

“I don’t know. Can you?”

“Shut up. Come on,” Peter said, walking out the side door of my bedroom, which led outside, and glancing back to make sure I was following him. I sighed and closed my lap top, slipping on my sandals and following him outside. He walked away from the house, hands in pockets, and pulled the passenger-side door of his car open, indicating that I should get in. I wrinkled my nose and said, “You’ve got to stop acting like a gentleman. It’s freaking me out.”

“You really are incapable of not being sarcastic.”

“As are you.”

“Touché.”

We pulled up to a random path on the side of the road and Peter cut the engine, put the car in park, and got out. I sat there for a moment, unaware about two things:

1. Where we were and why we were where we were.
2. Whether I should get out or just assume that Peter’s gentleman act was still going on and wait for him to open it for me.

Before I was able to start thinking that I was being stupid, however, Peter opened the door and said, “You’re going to love this.” Well, that sounded convincing enough. I climbed out of the car, following him down the path as he took my hand. I tried to tell myself it was just because it was getting dark and he didn’t want me to trip on anything-there was a large variation of things to trip on-but it seemed like maybe he was just using that as an excuse to hold my hand.

We stepped into a sort of clearing, or at least an area where the trees were less dense, and Peter put a finger to his lips, grinning, and pulled me slowly up to an Oak tree. It was one of those trees that had a huge hole in the trunk, sort of like a mini cave, that always seemed to me to have a million possibilities inside. He smiled at me before bringing me closer to the hole and looking in. I turned my head away from his face and gasped as I saw the nest. It was an owl nest, and little baby owls were inside, making quiet cries for their mom. We stepped back as, suddenly, a large owl, probably the mom, swooped down from a higher branch and protected her babies. We stayed slightly away and smiled as the owl hooted. Peter was smiling widely at me, not really watching the owls that closely, and I suddenly felt nervous, so I swallowed, tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, and whispered, “Owl city.” He laughed, nodded, and leaned toward me, whispering into my ear, “Tell me, darling, do you wish we’d fall in love?” I stared up at his face, my eyes wide, and carried on the lyric, almost as a second-nature, “All the time.” His smile dropped and he just stared at me for a moment, and just as I bit my lip, he leaned down, cupping my face in his hands, and kissed me, as the owl hooted at us again.

© 2010

First Kiss

The soft, warm feeling

The taste, the scent

The rush, got you believing

It's all so deceiving

What is this?

The capture of your mind

All eyes on this

The stealing of your choice

All eyes on the kiss

The wanted feeling

The smile, the promise

The rush, got you believing

It's all so deceiving

What is this?

It's the First Kiss.

© 2010

Broken Glass, Broken Hearts part 80

I told Angela in the morning about my moving back, and the smile on her face made my dar. When I left, it was all I could do not to turn the car around and go back. Milly and I were both grinning like idiots as we drove down the freeway, and when we stopped for lunch at Panda Express, the guy behind the counter gave us a weird look, like being this naturally happy was not normal. If I had been impatient for summer before, I was dying now.

Sunday felt like a major let down, as Jake and I walked back into our house after Tyler and Milly left. My mom had left to meet some friends and my dad had gone to work. Jake was meeting up with Sean's little brother, but Sean was going somewhere with his friend Martchie, so I was left at the house alone, with nothing to do. I stared at the calendar, counting the days until Tyler was moving back. Then I bit my lip and looked at the calendar a moment longer, counting the days until my birthday. I would be seventeen. I remembered Dustin had been planning our seventeenth birthday since we were twelve, she was so excited for it. Most people were excited for sixteen, but she always said seventeen was the really good year- you weren't quite an adult yet, so you still got to enjoy being a teenager, but you weren't a sweet little sixteen year old anymore, either, so people took you more seriously. Now, it was only me that was going to turn seventeen, only me that would ever get a driver's license, vote, go to college, someday get a career, have a family. I remembered Dustin had made a specific plan for her future, set out step by step. The only thing she didn't have planned was who she would marry and what genders her children would be. I couldn't remember the details of the plan, but I could remember the gleam in her eyes as she spoke about it. I turned away from the calendar. Dustin would never turn seventeen, never live out that detailed plan she formed. But I knew, now, that she was doing something much better. The only ones who would regret her not reaching these things would be us- the ones still trapped on Earth.

One more week. One more week, and then I could go home, where Angela

was waiting for me. And now I had even more to look forward to. The idea of

being with Angela again had been enthusing enough before, now the seconds

seemed to tick by endlessly, the time stretching itself out, keeping me away

from my destination. Sadie had left school early, going on some trip with her

family. I was bummed that I hadn't gotten to say a real goodbye to her, but I

had a feeling she wouldn't really cooperate if we had tried to, anyway. She

didn't call me after she left, didn't text me or message me on facebook. I wasn't

that surprised, I guess, but I did hope that she would call sometime- I had

messaged her, but I had lost her cell phone number when my phone broke, so I

couldn't call her. Milly had been helping me pack my things, eager to have

everything ready as soon as possible so that we could leave as soon as the school

year ended. My mom, too, had been packing like crazy- the kitchen had two boxes

of cereal in the cabinet and two gallons of milk in the fridge, but mom was giving

us money for lunch everyday and taking us out or ordering pizza for dinner

everyday. She had really warmed up to the idea of moving closer to grandma, and

she said she thought the town was "quite homey". We were all bouncing off the

walls, staring at our cell phone and lap and iPod screens to count the minutes as

they passed, since the clocks were already packed.

© 2010

Broken Glass, Broken Hearts part 79

I had it under control. I was keeping it together, I was just fine. But that- that was too much.

Tyler pushed me gently onto my bed, where I drew my feet into myself, sobbing quietly, and he closed the door. He took my shoes off of my feet and then took off his own. He lay next to me and watched my face as I cried, wiping tears from my cheeks. The slow beat of my speakers was still playing, the song Tonight was playing, my iPod had stayed under the artist Lykke Li. I buried my face into Tyler's chest, not thinking about the fact that my tears were staining his shirt, just letting myself think about nothing but the beat of the music and the feel of his hand, pulling through my hair easily.

She was so beautiful. Delicate, fragile, breakable- a side of her I had never seen before, not like this. She was always strong, slightly sarcastic, holding herself with an enviably straight posture and a smile that leans more toward a smirk. Now, though, she was just the girl she hid inside herself, the one that I knew so well despite only having really seen just once, right now. The one I loved.

I don't know how long we lay there, but it must have been long. I fell asleep against his chest and only awoke when I heard voiced in the second floor hallway, my parents getting home from the event they had regretfully had to attend tonight. Tyler should have been sleeping in the guest room, I should have been showered and wearing a thin nightgown, sleeping on top of my covers. But I was in the clothes I had been wearing all day, my face streaked with tearstains. But I had also never been more comfortable. Tyler had been sleeping, too, but he awoke when I shifted slightly. "Sorry," I whispered. He murmured a forgiving and returned to unknotting my hair with his fingertips. I pulled myself higher up, so that my face was only slightly lower than his, my eyes aligned with his jaw. "Thank you," I whispered, and he opened his tired eyes, looking down at me and smiling at me slightly. I smiled back and drew my face up farther, pressing my lips to his.

Her lips were soft, warm, and tasted like cinnamon. I felt my eyes widen and then close, my hands removing themselves from the bottom of her hair and bringing her face closer in to mine, breathing in her perfume and tasting her lips. She was here. She was kissing me. She was mine.

His kiss was strong, gripping, protective. His hands took my face and pulled it closer to his. His lips were soft but rough, he tasted like chocolate chips. I felt his lips lifting as he smiled under my mouth. I was here. He was kissing me. I was his.

© 2010