Status: Believe me, my tiny little group of readers, I'm not giving this one up. Updates are going to start surfacing on a regular basis, just lemme get college application stuff out the way first. Kinda important. ::tehe:
The Technicolor Daydreamer; Folie A Deux.
Quatre.
There aren't many things I'll admit to loving, but I can honestly say that lax hallway security is one of them.
Surely no one would mind if I grabbed a snack from the vending machines.
I needed something sugary, anyway; having something siphoning off your nutrients and everything kind of makes you woozy every once in a while.
Okay, very woozy.
Actually, I should hurry. Everything's slanted. My vision's already blurred from the bright screen I was gazing at in class.
Digital Graphics and Animation.
Ha. Computers. I love computers.
I also love art. Why not combine the two?
Of course, my indecisive nature made this class a necessity.
"What do you want to be when you grow up?" (A simple question, right?)
"I don't know, mom..."
"A doctor? A dentist? Lawyer? Nurse?"
"I...don't know."
"You'd better decide soon; you've only got one more year and you're out of the house and off to college..."
Yeah. Another thing to worry about.
Breathing, school, grades, money, bills, breathing, dating, guys, grandmother, mom, dad, college, marriage, my appearance, breathing.
But no problem.
I'll just live as a lonely old chihuahua lady. (Because I hate cats.)
Living off the government.
Doing nothing productive, and wondering "what if".
Withering away. Just existing.
Or...a guitarist? On the off chance I succeed?Live?
Frets and amps and tours and sweat and sticky garden-hose showers at 3:00AM on the outside of a venue in a state I've never been to.
Junk food and late nights--broken toes and merch.
And...a worried, disappointed, angry, heartbroken mother.
Unless she eventually saw my side of things.
I'd meet them; all five of them. Tell them what they did ten years earlier--the voices on the window-ledge.
Publicicty? Perez Hilton? Bloggers and Myspace impostors and screaming teenies?
MTV. VH1. Fuse. VMAs.
Success. And an impact. A footprint left behind.
Maybe, just maybe, I'd be something after a--
THWACK!
"Ow-Ow-Ow-Ow! I'm--I'm...sorry..."
Hm. The sleepy-eyed boy from lunch.
On the floor; splayed out across from me.
I really should watch where I'm going.And stop pondering my future while I'm out getting a bag of M&Ms.
"Are you okay?"
He got to his feet with the speed of an 80-year-old man, then extended his hand to me with a barely noticeable wince.
Hm. That's different.
Most guys either recoil in horror or get up and walk away as if nothing had happened. Occasionally, with the somewhat decent ones, I'd get a half-mumbled apology.
"Um...do you want me to help you up?" Sleepy-Eyed Boy's slight smile wavered, probably wondering if anything was wrong with me.
Oops. I'd been staring out into space again.
Like an idiot, I nodded shyly for fear of using my voice, and slipped my sinewy hand into his.
He helped me up nicely, too...like a....
...a gentleman. Hm.
I always thought those were extinct...
"Um, you're in my DGA class, right?" Why, I believe so.
Not responding, like a freak, my eyes traveled downward to his hand still comfortably wrapped around mine.
His hand felt...odd. Ridiculously soft, warm, but with rough fingertips. And there was a scar in his palm, a puckered, barely-visible line.
"Oh! Uh, sorry. I wasn't thinking," He let go of my hand a bit slower than necessary. "Um...gosh.. You must think I'm some sort of weirdo now..."
No, not really.I kind of liked it.
I shook my head wordlessly. At school, I suppose you could say I'm a somewhat selective mute--I don't talk unless it's a friend or I have to.
I hate my voice so much.
"I'm Frank." He blurted out to break the brief silence, yanking me out of my thoughts for the third time.
Aw, shoot. I have to talk now. He sure is a patient guy...
"Amia," I stammered ineptly, low enough to wonder if he'd heard me well enough.
"Amia." Sleepy-Eyed--I mean, Frank--repeated perfectly with a murmur.
Usually, I get "What?" or "Hm?" or "Amy?"
And it ends with an awkward exchange of incorrect names.
"Ah-mee?" "Ah-my-uh?" "Amy-uh?"
No. Amia. Ah-mee-uh.
"I like it," Frank complimented, glancing at me with those hazy, bright-green eyes again. I don't think those dark rings around them were simply well-placed eyeliner; they spread out until they had a purple tinge. They complimented his eyes well, though.
"Thank you," I tried but failed miserably to keep from grinning.
The only guy to ever compliment me in three years had been He-Who-Shall-Remain-Unnamed, the sorry joker who got my hopes up in middle school, then rejected me and moved to a school in the district next door.
Wait...Frank's face...
"Uh, I think you're bleeding, by the way..." I winced at the fact that I sounded like produce was jammed up my nose.
"How do I keep forgetting that?" He giggled self-consciously, feeling the side of his face and rubbing his fingertips together for a brief moment. "I must look like I just came off of a horror movie set," he shook his head.
I raised my eyebrows in agreement. He wasn't wrong...
"Look, um, I realize I'm being a bit forward, and I hope I don't scare you...or haven't already, for that matter, but...would you like to walk me to the nurse?"
I paused.
"You never know, I could have a concussion and pass out on the way there..."
His lips pulled into a friendly, sidewaysquite alluring smirk.
Hm. what is this? Butterflies? How strange.
Even more strange was that his eyes flickered brightly for a second.
This must be the result of a few cafeteria chicken nuggets gone bad. They looked a bit stale, and I ate them anyway.
Or...the cause could be the smell of blood. Though I like it, I tend to lose the ability to think straight when i'm around it......so I have a vampire fetish. Sue me.
Whatever the reason was for the feathery-winged insects rocketing around in my gut, and despite what the rational side of me was screaming, I grinned again with a small nod.
"Sure."
Frank smiled back like a kid being told he could eat ice cream for dinner.He had a nice smile. Radiant, and kind of contagious.
"So...you really think things over, huh?" Frank started up the conversation with a slow, leisurely pace.
Apparently, he didn't intend to go back to class anytime soon.
Surely no one would mind if I grabbed a snack from the vending machines.
I needed something sugary, anyway; having something siphoning off your nutrients and everything kind of makes you woozy every once in a while.
Okay, very woozy.
Actually, I should hurry. Everything's slanted. My vision's already blurred from the bright screen I was gazing at in class.
Digital Graphics and Animation.
Ha. Computers. I love computers.
I also love art. Why not combine the two?
Of course, my indecisive nature made this class a necessity.
"What do you want to be when you grow up?" (A simple question, right?)
"I don't know, mom..."
"A doctor? A dentist? Lawyer? Nurse?"
"I...don't know."
"You'd better decide soon; you've only got one more year and you're out of the house and off to college..."
Yeah. Another thing to worry about.
Breathing, school, grades, money, bills, breathing, dating, guys, grandmother, mom, dad, college, marriage, my appearance, breathing.
But no problem.
I'll just live as a lonely old chihuahua lady. (Because I hate cats.)
Living off the government.
Doing nothing productive, and wondering "what if".
Withering away. Just existing.
Or...a guitarist? On the off chance I succeed?Live?
Frets and amps and tours and sweat and sticky garden-hose showers at 3:00AM on the outside of a venue in a state I've never been to.
Junk food and late nights--broken toes and merch.
And...a worried, disappointed, angry, heartbroken mother.
Unless she eventually saw my side of things.
I'd meet them; all five of them. Tell them what they did ten years earlier--the voices on the window-ledge.
Publicicty? Perez Hilton? Bloggers and Myspace impostors and screaming teenies?
MTV. VH1. Fuse. VMAs.
Success. And an impact. A footprint left behind.
Maybe, just maybe, I'd be something after a--
THWACK!
"Ow-Ow-Ow-Ow! I'm--I'm...sorry..."
Hm. The sleepy-eyed boy from lunch.
On the floor; splayed out across from me.
I really should watch where I'm going.And stop pondering my future while I'm out getting a bag of M&Ms.
"Are you okay?"
He got to his feet with the speed of an 80-year-old man, then extended his hand to me with a barely noticeable wince.
Hm. That's different.
Most guys either recoil in horror or get up and walk away as if nothing had happened. Occasionally, with the somewhat decent ones, I'd get a half-mumbled apology.
"Um...do you want me to help you up?" Sleepy-Eyed Boy's slight smile wavered, probably wondering if anything was wrong with me.
Oops. I'd been staring out into space again.
Like an idiot, I nodded shyly for fear of using my voice, and slipped my sinewy hand into his.
He helped me up nicely, too...like a....
...a gentleman. Hm.
I always thought those were extinct...
"Um, you're in my DGA class, right?" Why, I believe so.
Not responding, like a freak, my eyes traveled downward to his hand still comfortably wrapped around mine.
His hand felt...odd. Ridiculously soft, warm, but with rough fingertips. And there was a scar in his palm, a puckered, barely-visible line.
"Oh! Uh, sorry. I wasn't thinking," He let go of my hand a bit slower than necessary. "Um...gosh.. You must think I'm some sort of weirdo now..."
No, not really.I kind of liked it.
I shook my head wordlessly. At school, I suppose you could say I'm a somewhat selective mute--I don't talk unless it's a friend or I have to.
I hate my voice so much.
"I'm Frank." He blurted out to break the brief silence, yanking me out of my thoughts for the third time.
Aw, shoot. I have to talk now. He sure is a patient guy...
"Amia," I stammered ineptly, low enough to wonder if he'd heard me well enough.
"Amia." Sleepy-Eyed--I mean, Frank--repeated perfectly with a murmur.
Usually, I get "What?" or "Hm?" or "Amy?"
And it ends with an awkward exchange of incorrect names.
"Ah-mee?" "Ah-my-uh?" "Amy-uh?"
No. Amia. Ah-mee-uh.
"I like it," Frank complimented, glancing at me with those hazy, bright-green eyes again. I don't think those dark rings around them were simply well-placed eyeliner; they spread out until they had a purple tinge. They complimented his eyes well, though.
"Thank you," I tried but failed miserably to keep from grinning.
The only guy to ever compliment me in three years had been He-Who-Shall-Remain-Unnamed, the sorry joker who got my hopes up in middle school, then rejected me and moved to a school in the district next door.
Wait...Frank's face...
"Uh, I think you're bleeding, by the way..." I winced at the fact that I sounded like produce was jammed up my nose.
"How do I keep forgetting that?" He giggled self-consciously, feeling the side of his face and rubbing his fingertips together for a brief moment. "I must look like I just came off of a horror movie set," he shook his head.
I raised my eyebrows in agreement. He wasn't wrong...
"Look, um, I realize I'm being a bit forward, and I hope I don't scare you...or haven't already, for that matter, but...would you like to walk me to the nurse?"
I paused.
"You never know, I could have a concussion and pass out on the way there..."
His lips pulled into a friendly, sidewaysquite alluring smirk.
Hm. what is this? Butterflies? How strange.
Even more strange was that his eyes flickered brightly for a second.
This must be the result of a few cafeteria chicken nuggets gone bad. They looked a bit stale, and I ate them anyway.
Or...the cause could be the smell of blood. Though I like it, I tend to lose the ability to think straight when i'm around it......so I have a vampire fetish. Sue me.
Whatever the reason was for the feathery-winged insects rocketing around in my gut, and despite what the rational side of me was screaming, I grinned again with a small nod.
"Sure."
Frank smiled back like a kid being told he could eat ice cream for dinner.He had a nice smile. Radiant, and kind of contagious.
"So...you really think things over, huh?" Frank started up the conversation with a slow, leisurely pace.
Apparently, he didn't intend to go back to class anytime soon.
♠ ♠ ♠
This chapter's dedicated to a user made of awesomeness, The Color Abi, who gave this fic its first comment today. :tehe:This chapter's also dedicated to the wonderful PhantomMasque, who I love ever so much. Of course he knows that, but I like repeating it. :arms:
...Thoughts, anyone?
<3