Favor
Chapter 2
The next day school was filled to the brim with tales of homecoming on Saturday and the after party on Sunday. I found the entire things absurd, but that was probably because I didn't know about it and therefore did not get to go.
When I left the party, I went home and locked myself in my room where I then proceeded to wallow in my own misery for hours on end. I went to sleep with a sad disposition and a tear streaked face, and I woke up with an even sadder disposition and a disgustingly crusty face. That being said, I did manage to have a little bit of fun over the weekend.
Every Sunday morning at precisely 10:00 am, right after breakfast, my family holds a poetry slam. Well, it's really more 'take turns' type of thing then a slam, but either way, we had a lot of fun. The poetry slam has been our family tradition since I was five and it was discovered that I had a lovely way with words. My mother who's an editor for a high end fashion magazine thought that my skills should be molded and given the opportunity to reach the highest degree, so it was her who first came up with the tradition. My father who is a lawyer for a nationwide restaurant chain, was never a creative sort of man, but because he loved my mother and I, he grudgingly participated. And so we were made privy to his dreadful 'lawyer limericks', as he prefers to call them.
The high that was left in me from the poetry slam was immediately crushed when I was forced to listen to numerous people blabber about the kick ass homecoming after party, for hours. I then had to feign indifference for an excessive amount of time, when people asked me what my favorite part of the party was and I had to tell them that I didn't even know the party had existed before they mentioned it.
I saw Greg, when I was jamming my textbooks into my locker, and when he called out to me, I pretended to ignore him, but he didn't get the hint and so I had to acknowledge him in the end.
"Hey, Nicki--" He began but I stopped him right there with a swift wave of my hand.
"No. You are not allowed to call me that. After what you did on Saturday, why in the hell do you think that you're allowed to call me by my nickname? We are not on friendly terms anymore!" I hissed. Normally I would be speaking in a regular even toned voice, but for some odd reason, the same twelfth grader that Greg had ditched me for, was hanging around, trying her best to not look like the little eavesdropper that she was.
Greg shuffled his feet awkwardly and attempted a smile, "Yeah about that, so look--
"You made a commitment and you broke it, and now you're trying to explain your actions but not apologize first? That's low Greg Ulman."
As spot on as that sounded, I was not the one to speak those words, and when I turned around, I was dumbfounded to find the blond girl from homecoming standing behind me. She was holding a large and pink gift wrapped box in her hands, but despite the cheerful accessory, she looked anything but. Instead, her eyes were narrowed and her lips were pursed. Turning on her heel, the girl glared at Greg's twelfth grader girl and made a shooing motion with her hands. The girl scurried away immediately and didn't look back. Meanwhile, Greg was rooted to the spot, his eyes wide with terror.
The girl turned back towards him, and he dropped his fear filled eyes to the floor. "Well? What are you waiting for? Apologize to Monica. I won't tell you twice." She stated calmly.
Greg shifted so that his body was facing me, but he didn't lift his head or his gaze. "I'm sorry Monica. It was wrong of me to break our agreement. I--um, I should have--
The girl's lip curled up in a sneer once Greg began to stutter. "That's enough. Now leave." She snapped. He didn't have to be told twice.
I was speechless with amazement. Who was this girl and why was everyone doing what she said?
As soon he left, the girl's entire personality did a one eighty and she smiled brightly at me.
"Hello, Monica, my name is Juliana Acciaoli,"
Oh. That's why.
When I left the party, I went home and locked myself in my room where I then proceeded to wallow in my own misery for hours on end. I went to sleep with a sad disposition and a tear streaked face, and I woke up with an even sadder disposition and a disgustingly crusty face. That being said, I did manage to have a little bit of fun over the weekend.
Every Sunday morning at precisely 10:00 am, right after breakfast, my family holds a poetry slam. Well, it's really more 'take turns' type of thing then a slam, but either way, we had a lot of fun. The poetry slam has been our family tradition since I was five and it was discovered that I had a lovely way with words. My mother who's an editor for a high end fashion magazine thought that my skills should be molded and given the opportunity to reach the highest degree, so it was her who first came up with the tradition. My father who is a lawyer for a nationwide restaurant chain, was never a creative sort of man, but because he loved my mother and I, he grudgingly participated. And so we were made privy to his dreadful 'lawyer limericks', as he prefers to call them.
The high that was left in me from the poetry slam was immediately crushed when I was forced to listen to numerous people blabber about the kick ass homecoming after party, for hours. I then had to feign indifference for an excessive amount of time, when people asked me what my favorite part of the party was and I had to tell them that I didn't even know the party had existed before they mentioned it.
I saw Greg, when I was jamming my textbooks into my locker, and when he called out to me, I pretended to ignore him, but he didn't get the hint and so I had to acknowledge him in the end.
"Hey, Nicki--" He began but I stopped him right there with a swift wave of my hand.
"No. You are not allowed to call me that. After what you did on Saturday, why in the hell do you think that you're allowed to call me by my nickname? We are not on friendly terms anymore!" I hissed. Normally I would be speaking in a regular even toned voice, but for some odd reason, the same twelfth grader that Greg had ditched me for, was hanging around, trying her best to not look like the little eavesdropper that she was.
Greg shuffled his feet awkwardly and attempted a smile, "Yeah about that, so look--
"You made a commitment and you broke it, and now you're trying to explain your actions but not apologize first? That's low Greg Ulman."
As spot on as that sounded, I was not the one to speak those words, and when I turned around, I was dumbfounded to find the blond girl from homecoming standing behind me. She was holding a large and pink gift wrapped box in her hands, but despite the cheerful accessory, she looked anything but. Instead, her eyes were narrowed and her lips were pursed. Turning on her heel, the girl glared at Greg's twelfth grader girl and made a shooing motion with her hands. The girl scurried away immediately and didn't look back. Meanwhile, Greg was rooted to the spot, his eyes wide with terror.
The girl turned back towards him, and he dropped his fear filled eyes to the floor. "Well? What are you waiting for? Apologize to Monica. I won't tell you twice." She stated calmly.
Greg shifted so that his body was facing me, but he didn't lift his head or his gaze. "I'm sorry Monica. It was wrong of me to break our agreement. I--um, I should have--
The girl's lip curled up in a sneer once Greg began to stutter. "That's enough. Now leave." She snapped. He didn't have to be told twice.
I was speechless with amazement. Who was this girl and why was everyone doing what she said?
As soon he left, the girl's entire personality did a one eighty and she smiled brightly at me.
"Hello, Monica, my name is Juliana Acciaoli,"
Oh. That's why.