Status: hiatus-ish
Days Like Masquerades
liar, liar
Mom thinks I look cute in my new clothes, but I feel so awkward wearing a dress that I put on jeans under them. Blonde Jennifer swings by the apartment to pick me up, but she immediately points to my acid-wash jeans.
"Take those off." She throws a pair of stilettos at me. "Put those on. Skate shoes aren't cool anymore."
I look at my beaten-up Vans, the ones I've had since I was a freshman. The faded, electric-blue "V" has grass stains on it from when I used to take long walks in the Washington woods. "But they're my favorite shoes," I say, frowning. "I don't like how you're trying to change who I am."
"Oh, Gen, it's just a pair of shoes. I've been meaning to throw them away anyway," Mom says, grinning at Blonde Jennifer.
I glare at both of them and slam my door shut.
I pull off the jeans and squeeze my feet into Blonde Jennifer's size six stilettos. I feel like one of the ugly sisters from Cinderella trying to put on the glass slipper. I step out, and Blonde Jennifer looks relieved. "I'm glad you're not arguing anymore. It's such a pain when people don't listen," she says airily, grabbing my wrist. "We'll see you later, Aunt Lauretta!"
Mom can't wait to see me out the door.
The other Jennifers wait in the lobby, wearing swim suits under their clothes. "We're tanning today," Curly-haired Jennifer says, handing me a big bottle of SPF 60. "You're really pale, so you might want that."
"But I don't tan--"
"Well, you'll start," Brunette Jennifer replies, strutting towards the pool. "Now, c'mon; my skin isn't going to tan in the lobby."
Blonde Jennifer drapes an arm around my shoulders. "Stop acting like such a loser, Genevieve. Hold your head up; your posture is terrible." I really can't wait to punch her.
Four guys stand up as we head toward some empty chairs. "Hello there, ladies," a guy with skater hair says, Brunette Jennifer rolling her eyes. "Looks like you've got a fourth member in your group."
"This is Genevieve Caulfield, an honorary Jennifer," Blonde Jennifer replies, waving her hand at them. Her perfectly-manicured nails glint in the sunlight. "Genevieve, these are the Big Time Losers."
"Some think I'm related to Holden Caulfield," I joke, but the Jennifers give me blank stares. "You know, the main character from the novel Catcher in the Rye." I'm guessing none of the Jennifers have ever read an important literary work in their lives, but one of the four guys chuckles.
"Genevieve, I'm Kendall," the one with blondish hair says, sticking out a hand. Blonde Jennifer grabs my wrist and pulls me away, glowering at me.
"'Holden Caulfield'?" she repeats harshly. "Oh my goodness, Genevieve! Who reads anymore!"
Curly-haired Jennifer smirks. "You see, this is why you didn't have that many friends in Washington. You've got to get with the times, girl."
I narrow my eyes.
The Jennifers lie down on their stomachs, dozing off in the warm LA heat. I wrap my copy of The Catcher in the Rye inside my towel and pull out my iPod. Blonde Jennifer says something to me, but I only see her lips move. I nod, pretending to understand what she said.
> >
At night, I sneak off to the poolside to get a bit of reading done. I sit down and pull out my copy of Invisible Monsters by Chuck Palahniuk. "So, what're you doing here all alone?" I look up to see one of the guys from earlier. "Shouldn't you be with the Jennifers?"
I shrug. "Blonde Jennifer's my cousin; she's helping me get...acquainted." I just felt like the life-sized Barbie her parents never bought her. "Where are your friends?"
"They're upstairs fighting over the remote." He sighs, sitting down next to me. "You don't mind if I...?"
"Go ahead."
He leans back in the chair, looking up at the stars. "You know, you're not really like them." He laughs. "You're actually nice."
"Thanks. I think." Blonde Jennifer would kill me if she saw what I'm wearing; I reverted back to wearing my old Vans and my Jack's Mannequin t-shirt. "I feel like my mom just wants me to be part of the 'in-crowd' because I've never really..." I cheeks turn red.
"Never really what?" he asks, sitting up. The aquamarine tint from the pool reflects on his face. I'm surprised he's still listening to my rambling.
"I don't know. I guess I've always been considered a loser or something." Captain of the debate team, president of the medical interest club--you're looking right at her.
"I don't think you're a loser." He grins. "You're so much more than those Jennifers. You shouldn't let them control you."
I shake my head. "You don't understand."
"Well, if you explain it to me, maybe I can." He sticks out a hand. "By the way, I'm Kendall."
"Genevieve." We shake hands.
"You should be your own person, not what blonde Jennifer tells you to be," Kendall says.
"It's not that easy." I can't believe my mom is encouraging blonde Jennifer's behavior; what kind of parent tells you to change the roots of your personality in order to better fit a clique?
Oh, wait. My mom.
"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself," he says, patting my shoulder. "You've just gotta stick up for the things you believe in."
"You should be a motivational speaker." We laugh, and the other three sprint to the pool.
"There you are, Kendall!" the guy with the helmet exclaims. "We were looking all over for you!"
The guy with chestnut skater hair gives me a wink. "Hey there," he says, flipping his hair. I roll my eyes. "Wow, the Jennifers are really rubbing their attitude off on you," the guy grumbles.
"Guys, this is Genevieve. She's cool." Kendall smiles. "Genevieve, this is Logan, Carlos, and James."
"Nice to meet you all," I greet shyly. I've never been good with speaking to the opposite sex. I guess that's a downside to attending an all-girls school for at least half your life.
"Why don't you come hang out with us?" Kendall asks as we all cram into the elevator.
"There'll be food," says Carlos.
I shake my head. "I can't. I told my mom I was stopping by blonde Jennifer's so we could paint our nails together."
"Just tell her you're going to stay over for dinner," James replies.
"I can't lie to my mom!"
"You already did," Logan points out.
I make a face.
"It won't hurt if you stop by, even for a little bit," Kendall says. "And we promise it'll be fun. More fun than hanging out with the Jennifers."
"So, what'll it be?" James asks.
"Fine." I look at them. "But can any of you guys paint nails?"
Kendall grins. "That's what moms are for."
"Take those off." She throws a pair of stilettos at me. "Put those on. Skate shoes aren't cool anymore."
I look at my beaten-up Vans, the ones I've had since I was a freshman. The faded, electric-blue "V" has grass stains on it from when I used to take long walks in the Washington woods. "But they're my favorite shoes," I say, frowning. "I don't like how you're trying to change who I am."
"Oh, Gen, it's just a pair of shoes. I've been meaning to throw them away anyway," Mom says, grinning at Blonde Jennifer.
I glare at both of them and slam my door shut.
I pull off the jeans and squeeze my feet into Blonde Jennifer's size six stilettos. I feel like one of the ugly sisters from Cinderella trying to put on the glass slipper. I step out, and Blonde Jennifer looks relieved. "I'm glad you're not arguing anymore. It's such a pain when people don't listen," she says airily, grabbing my wrist. "We'll see you later, Aunt Lauretta!"
Mom can't wait to see me out the door.
The other Jennifers wait in the lobby, wearing swim suits under their clothes. "We're tanning today," Curly-haired Jennifer says, handing me a big bottle of SPF 60. "You're really pale, so you might want that."
"But I don't tan--"
"Well, you'll start," Brunette Jennifer replies, strutting towards the pool. "Now, c'mon; my skin isn't going to tan in the lobby."
Blonde Jennifer drapes an arm around my shoulders. "Stop acting like such a loser, Genevieve. Hold your head up; your posture is terrible." I really can't wait to punch her.
Four guys stand up as we head toward some empty chairs. "Hello there, ladies," a guy with skater hair says, Brunette Jennifer rolling her eyes. "Looks like you've got a fourth member in your group."
"This is Genevieve Caulfield, an honorary Jennifer," Blonde Jennifer replies, waving her hand at them. Her perfectly-manicured nails glint in the sunlight. "Genevieve, these are the Big Time Losers."
"Some think I'm related to Holden Caulfield," I joke, but the Jennifers give me blank stares. "You know, the main character from the novel Catcher in the Rye." I'm guessing none of the Jennifers have ever read an important literary work in their lives, but one of the four guys chuckles.
"Genevieve, I'm Kendall," the one with blondish hair says, sticking out a hand. Blonde Jennifer grabs my wrist and pulls me away, glowering at me.
"'Holden Caulfield'?" she repeats harshly. "Oh my goodness, Genevieve! Who reads anymore!"
Curly-haired Jennifer smirks. "You see, this is why you didn't have that many friends in Washington. You've got to get with the times, girl."
I narrow my eyes.
The Jennifers lie down on their stomachs, dozing off in the warm LA heat. I wrap my copy of The Catcher in the Rye inside my towel and pull out my iPod. Blonde Jennifer says something to me, but I only see her lips move. I nod, pretending to understand what she said.
> >
At night, I sneak off to the poolside to get a bit of reading done. I sit down and pull out my copy of Invisible Monsters by Chuck Palahniuk. "So, what're you doing here all alone?" I look up to see one of the guys from earlier. "Shouldn't you be with the Jennifers?"
I shrug. "Blonde Jennifer's my cousin; she's helping me get...acquainted." I just felt like the life-sized Barbie her parents never bought her. "Where are your friends?"
"They're upstairs fighting over the remote." He sighs, sitting down next to me. "You don't mind if I...?"
"Go ahead."
He leans back in the chair, looking up at the stars. "You know, you're not really like them." He laughs. "You're actually nice."
"Thanks. I think." Blonde Jennifer would kill me if she saw what I'm wearing; I reverted back to wearing my old Vans and my Jack's Mannequin t-shirt. "I feel like my mom just wants me to be part of the 'in-crowd' because I've never really..." I cheeks turn red.
"Never really what?" he asks, sitting up. The aquamarine tint from the pool reflects on his face. I'm surprised he's still listening to my rambling.
"I don't know. I guess I've always been considered a loser or something." Captain of the debate team, president of the medical interest club--you're looking right at her.
"I don't think you're a loser." He grins. "You're so much more than those Jennifers. You shouldn't let them control you."
I shake my head. "You don't understand."
"Well, if you explain it to me, maybe I can." He sticks out a hand. "By the way, I'm Kendall."
"Genevieve." We shake hands.
"You should be your own person, not what blonde Jennifer tells you to be," Kendall says.
"It's not that easy." I can't believe my mom is encouraging blonde Jennifer's behavior; what kind of parent tells you to change the roots of your personality in order to better fit a clique?
Oh, wait. My mom.
"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself," he says, patting my shoulder. "You've just gotta stick up for the things you believe in."
"You should be a motivational speaker." We laugh, and the other three sprint to the pool.
"There you are, Kendall!" the guy with the helmet exclaims. "We were looking all over for you!"
The guy with chestnut skater hair gives me a wink. "Hey there," he says, flipping his hair. I roll my eyes. "Wow, the Jennifers are really rubbing their attitude off on you," the guy grumbles.
"Guys, this is Genevieve. She's cool." Kendall smiles. "Genevieve, this is Logan, Carlos, and James."
"Nice to meet you all," I greet shyly. I've never been good with speaking to the opposite sex. I guess that's a downside to attending an all-girls school for at least half your life.
"Why don't you come hang out with us?" Kendall asks as we all cram into the elevator.
"There'll be food," says Carlos.
I shake my head. "I can't. I told my mom I was stopping by blonde Jennifer's so we could paint our nails together."
"Just tell her you're going to stay over for dinner," James replies.
"I can't lie to my mom!"
"You already did," Logan points out.
I make a face.
"It won't hurt if you stop by, even for a little bit," Kendall says. "And we promise it'll be fun. More fun than hanging out with the Jennifers."
"So, what'll it be?" James asks.
"Fine." I look at them. "But can any of you guys paint nails?"
Kendall grins. "That's what moms are for."
♠ ♠ ♠
God, I feel like an elitist jerk; I've been bashing people who don't have much talent in writing at school...but then again, it may be that I just don't enjoy their style of writing. I hate how most teachers give you a pat on the back and a smile, expecting that that is what you wanted from them. And maybe it is sometimes--maybe you want to feel like you're writing is acceptable to the community. But at the same time, how will you grow if you aren't given the hard facts? If something sucks, it sucks! Be truthful, teachers!//end rambling.