read on to hear my broken thoughts and insanely vague descriptions.
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ericamay, 25may1995, single forever, devoted to peter pan
charlieissocoollike, doctor who, peter pan, you me at six, i see stars, andy oliver, devin oliver, ribbons, bows, drummers, bright colours, black and white contrast, people who smile a lot, laughing, beats, rhythms, being good at something, fireworks, writing, sketching, details, internet, photoshop, graphic design, coding, paint, crayons, paper, plain goldfish, the colours green and blue, prince phillip, princess aurora, tinkerbell, neverland, disneyland, disneyworld, crush the turtle, chemistry, storybook romance, arctic monkeys, britain, irish accents, every accent, scottish boys, skinny boys, pale boys, collarbones, freckles, gingers, photobooths, madina lake, billy idol, chocolate chip cookies, toffee, tiny marshmallows, hot cocoa, good memories, bloodrushes, laughing, singers, musicians, good headphones, punching the backs of car seats while listening to hardcore music in parking lots, hugs, kisses, winter, sweaters, hoodies, scarves, snowflakes, eyelashes, pretty eyes, dark hair, blonde hair, straight hair, wavy hair, offensive humours, people who don't take things seriously, heated debates, awkward moments, having private concerts home alone, red pandas, sharks, weasels, minxes, puppydogs, kittycats, post-it notes, caring reminders, strawberries, raspberries, william beckett, matt smith, karen gillan, david tennant, alex turner, joe brooks, noah and the whale, mumford and sons, los campesinos, french people, foreign languages, magic tricks, illusions, photographs, macros, doodling people i know, doodling people i wish i knew, pens that flow smoothly, shortbread cookies, tapping my feet, high fives, pokemon, laughing so hard i cry, being told people love me, winning, swedish fish, candies, neil patrick harris, nerimon, frezned, danisnotonfire, alexisonfire, billy talent, taking back sunday, john gomez, brian dales, alex pettyfer, logan lerman, tumblr, squareenix, old names, music class, good friends, late-night confessions, hanging out anywhere, eccentricity, spontaneous people, people with good memories, being unforgotten, lyricists, air heads, scissors, kicking, unicorns, rainbows, miss rainicorn, adventure time with finn and jake, flapjack, we came as romans, architects, joy division, two door cinema club, emma watson, george craig, emma watson and george craig together, the hoosiers, old photos, chalk drawing, graffiti, skateboarders, bmx riders, comic fanatics, superheros, guys, candy in tin cases, pastel stars, pointless wishing, sweet dreams, morning messages, text conversations, honey on toast, apple jelly, internet memes, advil, motion city soundtrack, vampire weekend, rolo tomassi, people named connor, people named sebastian, william, james, oliver, owen, eoin, alexander, joshua, andrew, aaron, christopher, jackson, hunter, and the like, the afterlife kids, downloading music, new downloads, video games, rpgs, shooter games, screaming, all forgotten, arcade fire, the asteroids galaxy tour, kick ass, aaron johnson, christopher mintz-plasse, devon werkshire, thick rimmed glasses, flickr, hipsters, cute kids, never growing up, beastie boys, we are the ocean, blink182, chameleon circuit, john green, hank green, paper towns, the perks of being a wallflower, lewis carroll, c.s. lewis, absolute brightness, the chronicles of narnia, lockets, trinkets, mimes, golden pocketwatches, nifty antiquities, halloween, sewing, the click five, parkway drive, cold war kids, obscurities, confessions, bookstores, candy stores, inside jokes, walls of wonder, being awesome, skins, kaya scodelario, luca pasqualino, jack o'connell, nicholas hoult, max hewer, hannah murray,
and a number of other things...
you don't know the answers to my questions. you are an alligator.
during this week, just when i needed a ray of sunshine, trisha armena asked if she could come over. and after what should have been 2 minutes waiting but turned to be 15, we were sitting in my backyard eating popsicles, chilling to rock and talking about life. then my dog ran away, but running out to catch her was nice.
then, today was the geography trip and i had so much fun just hanging out with my friends, ignoring the fact that i've been hating people for no reason lately. gosh, like, this was freaking awesome and there were so many lulz. some people will be very lucky thanks to us, and someone else will find random litter in the street and step on it. but that's okay, because i love my friends.
basically, this week has taught me that i don't need an objective to function. i don't need to him to function. i can go to school and reap the benefits of quality time with close buds. i can think about him with some other girl and not give a fuck. and i mean that honestly. maybe he'll start dating someone else, but i won't really mind all too much.
so that's what i wanted to say. and i've said it. whatever happens, happens and only the best can come from the worst.
g'night.
xx
really, now.
this is the absolute story of my life. im really sorry to everyone for bringing them down. i realized i really am kinda depressingly mirthful as of late. ill crack jokes and laugh really hard for a little while, but then all i can do is space out. i noticed ive actually refused speaking to people -- and, woegosh, ive even found myself absolutely hating people. everyone.
i just dont think thats like me!
i used to fucking run and bounce around like a madman and say whatever the shit popped into my head, but now im so tired and every conversation out of my mouth feels like a twitter update with those 140 character limits.
AND I DONT EVEN KNOW WHY.
- my efforts are totally useless
- no matter what i do, i only get further
- nothing works out
- my absolute paranoia pushes people away
- constant disappointment
- self pity
- why do i even try?
id be so filled with imponderable joy if you'd just talk to me for once. but im sick and tired of trying. my opportunities were missed. i learned too late. the one time i may have underestimated myself, i may have had a chance. all this wasted time ive spent on you.
i really just kinda wish youd go away.
that 'mac' would no longer be of relevance to me.
that i wont feel a smile when i walk into mcdonalds and hear someone order a bigmac.
..but then i kinda see you and dont hate you. its a cheap trick.
is it all just a trick?
im so confused and ill and unstable right now.
and i didnt write this out to get pity. it was an honest attempt to try and sort myself out. to let my fingers fly all over these keys and convey my mind without trying to make the words sound right.
xx
honestly,
this kid is so freaking great. like, why don't people enjoy talking to him more? he's quite the conversationalist for someone who sits alone oftentimes. heck, i just realized today that we share the same lunch EVERY DAY yet i never see him there because he goes to the library right after swallowing his lunch. maybe a sandwich - he seems like a sandwich person. but if more people was as polite and kind as him, there would be SO MUCH LESS SCANDAL in our freaking school. people here are so goddam full of themselves that they don't seem to care about anything, much less others who care.
i think i'm a great part of this blame.
shoot, i don't even know why i like this guy who doesn't even bother talking to me anymore, who isn't very smart, or very attractive (i think he's kinda cute, actually) or even remotely polite. i mean, he's really funny, but he's still an asshole. so why do i like this kid when there are better people out there. i need to follow my words through - if i say i'm going to get over him, i better try.
xx
The house was empty when I got home.
Silent, too, aside from the constant hum of the refrigerator and the fish tank. It wasn’t much of a surprise, though. Both of my parents still worked in downtown Toronto and even if I was rushed to the ER of the nearest hospital, it would take them at least forty-minutes (traffic dependent) to be at my bedside. It wasn’t such a big deal, really, because for one thing: that wouldn’t happen and for another: my mum’s cousin lived just a five minute drive from our house and was a sure emergency contact – she never left her home.
I dropped off my backpack at the door and collapsed on the cool leather of the black sofas in our living room. There were many positive and negative points about my days and I usually did this everyday just to reflect upon them. It’s warm outside – positive. It’s warm outside and I’m inside – negative. I saw an attractive guy who likes my sweater vest – positive. Because this guy likes my sweater, I don’t think I ever want to change it – negative. The chemistry teacher didn’t set herself on fire – positive, but mostly negative.
In the end, I counted most negatives than positive, causing me to get up and grab something to eat. Actually, even if my outcomes differed, I’d have still gotten a snack, just because I get hungry a lot. Much to my Asian mother’s demise, I don’t gain weight that easily; when you’re an Asian, the most satisfying thought (apparently) is to have plump children who drown themselves in rice and soy sauce. I’m only halfway there.
{---}
In the silent house, the sound of an unbolting lock in the front door made my heart jump. My parents were back and, after much experience, that was usually a bad thing. I love my family, but the lack of freedom and start of small chores were just enough to make me quake. There was also a time in the seventh grade when I did a number of rebellious things, the sound of my parents’ arrival bringing forth punishments and lectures. In the past years, my heart just got used to fearing the sound of the door; like a hunted animal would forever fear humans even after being rescued.
“Hellooo there!” I called out.
“Alice, I bought you some cake snack. Come here; help me put this away.” My mum replied.
I bounded down the stairs like a heroine to meet my chocolaty match, but was first met with a package of tenderloin, a case of instant noodles and a loaf of bread.
“Meat goes in the freezer and everything else in the pantry.”
I nodded and grabbed the food, moving quickly to the basement to put it all away and be done with it, so I could settle in front of my computer with a cake and a glass of milk.
Milk in hand and snack in mouth, I sat at my desk, which was cluttered with textbooks, binders and remnants of my latest projects. I pushed away some Post-It notes and a notebook full of the birthdays of people I knew and started up my laptop. Logging into my account, my desktop appeared and everything began to load. I double-clicked the Internet browser, and my home page opened up, yielding a couple of the usual notifications.
It’s really funny how I spend so much time on the Internet. I don’t recall exactly what I do or what websites I go on, yet I can find so much interest in doing this. I opened up my Instant Messenger and briefly scrolled through the contacts. Before I could even get halfway, a new window opened up with a message from Parvati.
* p a r v a t i -- [6:43PM] says: Hey there.
I brought my fingers to the keys and typed up a quick reply – the usual: hi, hello,not much, you? We went on to talk about somewhat more complex things (I say that with the most sarcasm intended), and I ended up in conversations with a few others at the same time, but then my conversation with Par took a slight turn.
* p a r v a t i -- [6:57PM] says: So what about that new guy?
> { a l i c e } < [6:58PM] says: What new guy?
* p a r v a t i -- [6:58PM] says: Mister Blue-Eyes-Hot-Skater.
> { a l i c e } < [6:58PM] says: There’s nothing to say about that.
* p a r v a t i -- [6:59PM] says: LIES.
> { a l i c e } < [6:59PM] says: IDEK his name – there’s nothing going on!
* p a r v a t i -- [6:59PM] says: Alright then. ;)
I kept my computer and all its windows on as I did my homework, only half of my attention spent on my Physics homework. My eyes were constantly jumping from the words in my textbook to the blinking orange of a new response in an MSN conversation and the bright crimson of a new notification; what could have easily been half-an-hour’s work morphed and stretched, taking up almost two hours of my night. After scribbling down the last of my Physics at around nine – which was a prime time to start surfing the net properly – I still had to read seven chapters of a book for English, and answer fifteen questions on it.
Rest assured, I did not turn out my lights until well beyond eleven, I totally collapsed after describing the plot in about ten different ways, and none of the reading actually sank in.
{---}
If there’s one thing that will always remain a common trait in myself (and those others of my generation), that one thing would be my inability to wake up before the sun with a smile on my face. For school, I have to deal with music blaring at a time as early as six, and no later than seven – I don’t think there are any possible ways to make that a happy thing. Waking up early, to me, is like getting a bucket of ice water dunked over my head: it’s far too cold, my eyes hurt and I legitimately want to cry.
Then you can throw in the fact that my alarm clock wakes me by playing a random song off my iPod. Let’s just say I have a very diverse sense of musical taste, most of which orbits around anything with a guitar or keyboard. Some days, the shuffle of my mp3 player will bless me with a cheery, light song like Hello Yellow by Backseat Goodbye or Summer Skin by Death Cab For Cutie. Most days, though, I’m most inconvenienced by the screaming and crashing of electric guitars and drum beats of Eyes Set To Kill and As I Lay Dying, that would definitely be enjoyed when I’m not dreaming about hot guys and wallabies – in no way do I find it acceptable to start the day by having the lover in my dream and his cute, furry marsupial friend eaten by a crazy, fire-breathing dragon named Meddler or Hottlips.
Some days, though, I’m simply at the peak of badass-ity and find this kind of awakening invigorating.
Like today, for example. Maybe it was the fact that I had multiple plans for this day, or the fact I lay in bed for over two hours before falling asleep, but I sure was looking forward to today, and I found no obstacles to my ever-growing excitement. My blanket had not ripped itself off my bed, and my toothpaste was minty-fresh. My hair was wavy and curly in the right spots and I hadn’t broken out in new, embarrassing spots in my sleep. Flat tire? No chance – I walk to school!
I was still literally skipping when I ran into my dad, coming up the stairs, who proceeded to towel off his hair (even though water had soaked the shoulders of his shirt already) and fix me with a strange look through his blue eyes.
“Mon Dieu, qu’est-ce je fait…” he sighed – though, hardly a serious man.
“Today will be a good day, father,” I grinned. “You’ll see.”
“If you say so,” he said as he passed me. “There’s chocolate pancakes on the stove.”
“You see what I mean?”
Nothing like warm, homemade chocolate-chip pancakes to fuel a rad, awesome, bangarang day!
After nearly paying attention in my first two classes,
it was finally lunch. Our chemistry teacher always dismissed us early, so I made use to the time to walk down to Charlie’s Computer Technology and Robotics class where I usually pick him up to walk with him down to lunch or to his locker, before meeting up with Adelaide. Although the class is full of geeks and hardcore gamers (who are only in this class to practice modifying their consoles illegally), Charlie isn’t really either – we play video games a lot, but would never be caught chugging Mountain Dew and living like hermits. He started Computer Technology in the tenth grade as an elective because he thought robots were cooler than cooking school food or painting abstract art. What started as a bit of a last resort soon became a favourite; who knew Charlie was such a computer genius?
So I waited outside the door for a few minutes until the bell rang. The kid stayed back a bit to talk with the teacher, and then left and we proceeded with the routine. Char said he didn’t really need to go to his locker, so I suggested we meet Addy at her locker. Charlie may not have known my alternate objective, but he agreed anyways. We climbed a flight of steps to the third floor and got to her locker.
But, alas, Mister Unknown wasn’t there.
I tried not to let the disappointed scowl reach my face, but I didn’t have to try too hard; Addy was already setting her lock in place when we reached her.
“Let’s go?” She asked to the two of us. It wasn’t really a question, but I nodded anyways and we started back down the grey steps all the way to the main floor. A tall, lean-built guy with an argyle sweater and dark jeans stood near the door waiting for us and we met up with him. That was Seth, the guy from my AP English class. He had high cheekbones, a calm face, hazel eyes and tousled chestnut hair. He hugged Charlie when they were near before releasing and addressing the rest of us with a warm hello.
Just like a commuter catches the same train into the city, picking up the same double-double medium coffee and sitting in the same cubicle every single day, this was our routine. Seth always waited for us when he was here and we always rode in his car to wherever we wanted to eat lunch, or kill time before class. Some people joined us sometimes, but this was the norm right here. Well, aside from Parvati, the really pretty Indian girl who’s been with us since tenth grade.
“Parvati sick?” Charlie asked. I swear he always found a way of reading my mind.
“Naw, she’s got a dentist appointment,” Seth explained as he adjusted the rearview mirror and slipped on a pair of aviators. “She asked if we could meet her in the mall. I said okay, I mean, we’re going there anyways, right?”
“Yeah, actually – might as well make use of this uniform-free day,” Addy confirmed.
So Seth tuned the radio to the Edge, one of the only good rock stations on the radio. Especially now: it played Cage the Elephant as often as those other stations play Lady What’s-her-face and the girl who won American Idol. We chitchatted lightly; the ride to Erin Mills Town Centre was a short one, really. Our school wasn’t too far from there in a car.
The parking lot was pretty empty, not too surprising since the nearest high school from there was set just across the street; no need for a car when you can access a good burger or Chinese food by walking. They had it lucky, I guess.
Parvati was already waiting for us in front of the dental office in the mall, and once we collected her, we split up in search of what we needed. Addy, Charlie and I go off in search of refreshments or ice cream, leaving Seth and Parvati to order our lunch. The two of them went off to the food court and we went to the opposite wing of the mall. We lined up in front of Bubble Tease and ordered slushies with extra tapioca; strawberry for me and green apple for Adelaide – we usually alternated between our flavour choices.
Lunch was uneventful, and I’m thankful she didn’t bring up “my distraction” to anyone else. I was perfectly content with sipping my drink and stealing some orange chicken and pad thai from Seth and Charlie. Adelaide didn’t stop from checking out some guys from the other school, though. I drifted in and out of the conversation, hearing bits and pieces of things like “he’s a definite hottie” and “no, no, no – he needs a haircut”.
I felt like I had momentarily been immersed in Narnia: what had felt like years to me ended up being only about half an hour, and after what felt like for ever, the Styrofoam take-out containers and plates tossed into the recycling bins with empty plastic cups and straws. It made me wish that I had been less absorbed by my own thoughts and more active in this conversation.
{---}
Being back at school, I was suddenly alert. It was a shame, since I really wished I could join the vast majority of my class in a huge slumber during Anthropology. I don’t know how people did it, really. I mean I can go as far as put my head down on the desk and close my eyes, but then I suddenly become so incredibly self-conscious. What if someone’s awake and watching the way I slept? What if my shirt was riding up and everyone was getting a view of my back? What if? A million insecurities and situations always played in my head.
But Media Arts was a better class. I don’t know how, but I am always energized by the simple presence of a computer with access to the Internet and Adobe Photoshop programs. Text designing was one of the things I did. I didn’t ever pay much attention to colour saturation and all that jazz when I started as a kid, but I have a bit of respect for photo manipulation, sure.
I managed to save what I was working on and sign off exactly as the bell rang, which was good because I had this rushing want and need to get to Adelaide’s locker. Surely I’m not crazy to believe that no matter how good-looking and seemingly mysterious a guy can be, he’d go back to his locker to pick up his stuff after he dropped it off there in the first place, right?
So that was my basic mantra, but I prepared myself for the worse, slowing my heartbeat as best as I could and keeping the excitement and anticipation from my face. He won’t be there. He won’t be there. He won’t. The thoughts chanted in my head, because Murphy’s Law had this ironic way that when you think something won’t happen, they usually will; and when you’re excited for someone, they don’t happen; and when you’re looking good, you won’t see a single person; and when you’ve got a blob of mayonnaise on your shirt, everyone shows up as if to admire it. Therefore, if I told myself, and thoroughly believed, that he wouldn’t be here, even if it seemed inevitable that he’d show up to reclaim his skateboard, I could safely be satisfied when he did show up. And I know it may not make sense to you right now, but when you catch yourself doing it in your own situations, you’ll probably think, “Oh, so that’s what Alice meant…” and everything will just fit into place.
Alas, Murphy (whomever he was) must have seen through my seemingly clever trap and decided to torture me cruelly. Just as I turned the corner to that particular hall of lockers, I caught a glimpse of his green hat and receding figure pushing the doors into the stairwell and leaving.
Adelaide, however, was just coming down the hall and totally missed my ten-seconds of shame. It was honestly like being Frankie Muniz in that one film where his mum gives him a puppy for his birthday, but his dad takes it away, just as poor little Frankie got a chance to hug it . As clichéd as it sounds, it really was like watching a prize get ripped out of my hands. No wonder beauty queens were so murderous.
“I swear to God I’ve got so much homework.” Adelaide sighed as she tossed her art bag in her locker. “I’ve got to sketch someone valuable to me by tomorrow. A full sketch in one night!”
“It’s all right, you can pull that off easy. Not like you have to colour or anything.”
“But I had plans tonight. Not to mention I’ve got a load of other homework to do. History essay due, too.”
“See, you could’ve dropped that after last year, but no, you thought it would be better for you as an immigrant. I’m glad I’m not that mature.”
She faked a pout before we both bust up laughing and headed down to the first floor to meet Charlie and maybe get a ride home from Seth.
“I was walkin’ down the street when out’ the corner of my eye"
“I saw a pretty little thing approaching meee.”
I groaned and turned over, pushing my palms to my eyes before stretching my hands up over my head, grabbing the cool, black metal of the headboard and yawning.
“Could you use a li’l company?”
It was Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked by Cage the Elephant and the singer’s voice drawled in my room, the alarm automatically increasing the volume for every second it suspected me to be sleeping in; sooner or later, the whole house would be awake and I’d only have hell to pay. I blindly reached out, trying to hit the snooze button. I failed, of course, and ended up hitting my fingers straight down on the edge of my wooden bedside table. The impact sounded like cracking bones and panicked me just a bit. I pulled my knuckles to my mouth and angrily sat up, eying the evil alarm clock. I pressed the snooze successfully this time, having the luxury of open eyes, and the display dimmed down, still reading ‘6:30 AM’.
School didn’t start for two hours, but I might as well get up and fix myself, anyways. At least then I wouldn’t have to rush.
So I threw back my blankets and walked groggily to the bathroom to brush my teeth, burning myself a bit more than I’d like to admit to with the blasted flat iron in attempts to fix my bangs. After nursing the last of my burns, I worked on getting my curly hair to look less like Annie and more presentable. I left the bathroom satisfied with my hair and walked to my room, passing a rather dazed looking Charlie. His wavy, saddle brown hair was messed up – and, no, not in that gorgeously tousled way – and his blue eyes were glazed. In his plaid boxers, he looked like an American Eagle model gone zombie.
“Looking hot,” I commented as he fumbled with the bathroom doorknob.
“Shut the hell up,” he replied, locking himself in. He was the total opposite of himself in the mornings, shame.
“Good morning to you too, sweetheart!” I called back before clicking my door behind me and edging toward my closet. I ignored the uniforms and pulled out a hanger, draped with a full outfit from the v-neck and sweater vest to the layered necklace and straight leg jeans.
Yes, I know it sounds lame, but I’ve already planned my outfit, and you would, too, if you have to wear a uniform every single day for four years. You see, at our school, we have to wear uniforms everyday, with the exception of ‘casual days’ and retreats. On those designated days, we can wear whatever we like, and even the fashionably lame – like yours truly – perfect their style while detesting the skirts, khakis or polos we are confined to.
After slipping into the outfit, feeling nice about my appearance, I left my room and headed down for breakfast. My mum was already fixing something Filipino – she called it tagsilog or something – that consisted of fried egg, Filipino sausage and garlic rice . Don’t think that my mum’s some extremely cultural traveller or anything: she’s full Filipino, born and raised and everything. She doesn’t have such a thick accent, but that’s probably because I’m used to it. She pronounces Vs as Bs and Fs as Ps , and doesn’t always know the proper word for something. I don’t really speak tagalog , though, since I was born in Toronto and my dad’s pretty French.
“Morning,” I said as I reached into the cupboard for a glass. She simply nodded her head, turning off the stove and singing along to the snippets of chorus she knew to the pop song on the radio.
As I pulled up a bar stool – we have one of those raised counters across from the sink – and cut a slice of longanisa to pop into my mouth, Charlie came into the kitchen and sat up on the stool next to mine. He rolled up the sleeves of his light blue hoodie and starting on his eggs, getting up again to grab himself a drink.
“Why don’t you just get your drink before you eat?” I inquired. He always did that. Charlie was the type of person who waited until he had rice clogging his throat before he got something to wash it down.
“Because I don’t need to drink while I eat. I’m not dependent on it like some people, thanks.”
“And you say this as you chug orange juice?”
“Just stop questioning my ways, ‘kay?”
I shook my head in despair as I walked around to leave my empty plate in the sink. Normally I would’ve had to wash it, but it was already half-past-seven and we needed to walk. I hurried up the stairs to brush my teeth, rinse with mouthwash and grab all my school stuff, because I have come to the conclusion that whenever I don’t double-check, I forget something. Thus, by gathering my belongings and so forth at least ten minutes before departure, I’d have enough time to run through my mental checklist. I have a small case of short-term memory loss.
Within minutes, Charlie and I were out the door, enjoying the surprisingly warm, March weather. It was probably only six degrees Celsius, but when you’re Canadian, you learn to appreciate any warm weather you can get, even if it’s not really the kind of weather you would go swimming in.
We did our usual detour on the way to the school to pick up Adelaide, my best friend since the eighth grade. She started off as an annoyance to me, just because she was a new student – she moved here from Australia, but I don’t know why she’d want to leave – and had a crush on Charlie that caused her to flirt with him every minute of every day. I really hated her, her stupid Australian accent, her awesome clothes, her naturally perfect sandy-blonde hair , and the fact she thought she could flirt with any guy she wanted. I was almost positive that if Charlie went out with her, I’d lose him as my best friend.
That thought reigned in my mind until the eighth grade dance, where he announced his homosexuality; after about fifty girls asked him to dance and confessed their secret crushes on him, he felt the need to wipe out the whole colony of ants with a large, single sweeping of repellent. The messy haired, blue eyed boy went straight up to the microphone and said with a sheepish grin, “Sorry everyone. I meant to tell you I’m gay. Must’ve slipped my mind, aha.” There was silence, everyone digesting that small fact. They thought he was kidding, but the sincerity in his eyes told them otherwise. A couple of girls were stunned, but it didn’t really affect them.
However, Adelaide was the one I found crying in the bathroom after the announcement. I couldn’t help but feel bad for her, I mean, she could have any guy she wanted and the one she really liked was now openly gay. I won’t get into all the details, but I think it’s pretty clear we’re all rather close friends now, even if Adelaide still flirts with everyone and Charlie’s dating this guy in my English class named Seth.
Charlie rang her doorbell while I waited on the sidewalk, and she stepped out in a plaid skirt and complementary blouse, her blonde hair in their usual mermaid curls and her green eyes accentuated with the perfect makeup that made you deny the fact she wore any at all, besides the cherry-dipped lips. She closed the door quick behind her before either of her little dogs could run out.
“Aw, you guys look so cute!” She chirped, playing off the fact she looked amazing.
“You’re the one who looks like she stepped out of a magazine,” I replied.
“Now, now, girls. Can’t we all just get along?” Charlie proposed as he walked ahead of us. “Besides, we all know I’m looking the best here – spent hours on my makeup.” His sarcasm was always refreshing.
“Oh, yes, dear. I’m sure Seth will be all over you.” Addy was sincere as she readjusted the strap of her shoulder bag. She never wore backpacks; they would cramp her style.
“Yeah, how are you guys, by the way?” I asked. Charlie rarely talked about him at home, unless they were planning on going to the movies, which was usually a group thing, anyways.
“We’re good, why?”
“Just double-checking, is all.”
He nodded and turned back to watch where he was going, narrowly missing a street sign and a car. I don’t know how he did it, but I was pretty convinced he was coveting a secret, superhero identity. I spent the rest of the walk building up the facts for this secret alias. By the time we had reached the side doors of the school, I had enough detail to write a book, which would continue to remain the third best book in some foreign city. Addy held the door open for us and we ascended up the stairs together, until we came to the second floor, where Adelaide and my lockers were located. We waved Charlie off and went to my locker first, dropping off my light jacket and textbooks before going to Addy’s locker.
I leaned on the locker next to hers as he nearly emptied her bag and fixed herself in the mirror. We started the usual conversation about boys, styles, school, and current events. It was practically tradition, holding three years strong. We’d go to her locker, she’d drop her stuff off, I’d stay with her and while we hung out there, we’d talk. It was nice and made up for the fact I didn’t live with her like Charlie.
“So anything new with Olly?” She asked as she touched up her lip-gloss.
I felt my face turn red and my chest tighten considerably. “No.” I replied and she gave me a sympathetic look anyways. Olly was Oliver, the guy I’ve been “dealing with” since summer. He was pretty talented in swimming and anything music, so I always ran into him in any music store or at the pool. I obviously had a crush on him, and we progressed into being pretty good friends, but when this year started, everything changed. I’d almost forgotten: Oliver West-Laurent was practically off-limits to every girl in the school, just because almost every girl in the school liked him, especially Rebecca Dawn Stygian, ex-best friend and little miss bitch. I was surprised he still remembered my name, and called on me with greetings whenever he saw me, but that soon died down. Someone told him I liked him and he told me he wasn’t sure of his feelings. Basically, to any girl, that translated to “no, sorry, I don’t like you, but I don’t have the guts to tell you that to your face and I probably don’t want you to stop liking me so I can make your life hell while I flirt with everyone else”. Okay, Oliver was just a nice guy, but it basically went like that. And now I was looking for opportunities to talk to him again, to at least reclaim our friendship.
“It’s okay, he wasn’t good enough for you anyways.” Addy said with simplicity.
It was a typical friend thing to say, and I was about to reply with some quick remark about how he was good enough for everyone else, including Rebecca, when I realized she was only trying to help. God, I hated when I felt like such a prick to everyone.
“’Scuse me.” A voice called from behind me. I jerked away from the locker apologetically, forgetting momentarily that other people used lockers, not just Adelaide.
“Maybe you’ll find someone else.” She added as she reached down in her locker for her back-up makeup kit.
“Yeah, sure, because people just fall out of the sky, right?” I retorted, nearly hitting the guy in front of me.
It then occurred to me that I’d never seen that guy at that locker before. In fact, as far as this year started, I’d never seen anyone at that locker. I mean, you’d think I’d be able to remember a guy with black hair, spiked in a kind of faux-hawk, and watery-blue eyes. His skin was fair – not super pale, but not even slightly tanned – with barely noticeable freckles here and there. He wore a green toque, a plaid dress shirt and straight-cut jeans. I considered him to be gay – just for a second – but he had a skateboard, and I remember Seth saying once that there were never any hot gays at the skatepark that he ever met.
I heard Addy clear her throat and the guy turned and caught my gaze. I realized I’d been staring at him the whole time and casually, but quickly, looked away, clicking my tongue. Adelaide couldn’t help but laugh and the guy cocked his head to side as he analyzed us.
“What?” he asked me after a second of unsuccessful deduction.
He totally caught me off guard – since when do people actually ask why you’re staring at them? If someone were staring at me, I’d awkwardly avoid any association.
“Oh, ehm, nothing, I just really like your hat.” Oh, wow. Of all the smooth things to say, I just had to compliment his hat. That, dear readers, was the reason I haven’t had a boyfriend since the ninth grade.
He grinned, though, and turned back to his locker. I was somewhat disappointed. Yes, I got a smile, but I thought he’d say something at least. He closed his locker and turned to me, fixing an iPod earphone in his ear.
“Well, I really like your sweater vest. Vintage.”
And then Mister Unknown smiled and left, leaving me to collapse on his locker once more.
“Who was that?” I asked Adelaide.
“Your new distraction.”
Somewhere, the sun’s hanging high,
shining away brilliantly like the great ball of fire it is. Somewhere, you can see the birds having all the fun, soaring against the blue sky like props against sapphire drapes. Somewhere, a million brilliant things were happening, obvious to any bystander, but these brilliant things weren’t happening here. The sun, the sky, the birds – all was hidden behind tall buildings and leafy trees. It was autumn and the leaves had already started to fall, scattering the lawn and forming a colourful carpet beneath the feet of a little girl.
The little girl sat on the thick plastic seat of a park swing, the toes of her little shoes dipping into the sand as she slowed down. Her cherry-red dress billowed slightly with every small gust of wind, also ruffling her straight black hair. Warm brown eyes looked around with curiosity at the kids who played around her. She was too shy to get up and talk to them, but longed to do so anyways. Nevertheless, her tiny hands only tightened around the swing’s chains.
There was a quiet thump and the sound of footsteps drawing nearer, muffled by the soft sand. She turned her head in time to see a boy around her age running near her, dressed in a red windbreaker, Toronto Blue Jays baseball cap, tiny jeans and sneakers. He smiled timidly as he approached.
“Hi, I’m Charlie,” he introduced himself with ease, whereas the little girl had to compose herself for a second before answering herself.
“A-Alice – I’m Alice.”
Charlie’s eyes, blue as marbles, fell to the sand under the swing seat before he pointed at the spot, looking back at her.
“My ball is under you.”
“Sorry?” Alice asked, quite unsure as to what he meant.
“My ball,” he pointed again until she shifted her gaze to the ball in question.
“Oh.”
She reached down and plucked the softball up from beneath her and passed it to him, clumsily shaking her black hair out of her eyes. He took the ball and held it in his hands, dusting off the sand with his thumbs as if contemplating some big, life changing decision. After a few seconds that felt like a lifetime to Alice, Charlie looked back up at her. He looked cautious for a second before grinning warmly.
“Do you wanna play some catch?” he asked. She thought for a little while, before replying with a small smile of her own. “Okay,” she said.
Alice released herself from the swing, unaware yet that she’d never have to sit alone at a swing ever again.
{---}
Twelve years later, things were different now; I’m still the same Alice Clementine, but so much has changed since that time in Moss Park on the corner of Sherbourne and Shuter. While Charlie and I played that day, our parents started talking and became something like friends. We’d hang out often, staying at one another’s house after school and on the weekends. I made other friends, but by the time I did, I was already so tight with Charlie.
Everything was great until just about the third grade, when my parents decided they might want to move out of Toronto to Mississauga, a smaller city just thirty minutes away but so suburban in comparison to the bustling city. My parents were just looking for a new house when probably the worst possible thing happened: Charlie’s dad had a heart attack, his mum already passed away while she was in labour. I was only eight at the time, so I’m not too sure about the details, but Mr. Brooks was so close to our parents at the time that after quite a discussion, a decision was made; papers would be signed immediately and Charlie would be placed in the custody of my parents.
It was a complicated procedure that resulted in a small debate with a judge and a lawyer, but in the end, Charlie was left in our hands, his father passed away at ease and we moved to a new house – a definite step-up from our little apartment. I hate to be so brisk about it, but that’s just how I am with sentimental things: if I cry over it again, I’ll only hate myself. I was already so close to Charlie, his dad was like an uncle to me, and just watching him look so sad and empty inside was enough to tear anyone up inside. Believe me, I don’t ever want to have to linger on those thoughts for too long.
But Charlie’s long past the grief of his parents’ death. He’s accepted it, not feeling so bad since he’s not alone. He’s always been an ingeniously witty person, so you probably wouldn’t realize how spiritual he actually is. When his dad passed away, he only mourned for about a week, after which he was absolutely positively convinced they were in a better place; truth is, they are. But it’s still pretty amazing how he managed to realize that at only five. Mr. Brooks was agnostic, but baptized Charlie as part of his wife’s dying wish, a rather strong Catholic. That meant that Charlie didn’t go to church, or Sunday school, nor did he have a Bible or any of that in his house that he could even make reference to; but it also meant he went to the same Catholic elementary school that I did. There are times that I wonder upon the odds of that – what if the priest wouldn’t baptize him because his father wasn’t a Catholic or Christian? – but then I just close my eyes and thank fate or God for whatever’s happened so far.
i deleted the post containing that sample of my manuscript's first two chapters
but i'm going to reblog it now, chapter form.
xx
it's like my life is finally more than just bearable.
it's not like everything's perfect, but i'm just really thankful and don't usually get the opportunity to feel blessed. so many people have their lives so much harder and i'm complaining over a crush? shameful.
but anyways, talking isn't really an issue, and neither is school. my only bad marks are... in english. aha, on another note, I'M REALLY WORKING ON THAT MANUSCRIPT OF MINE. kudos to my 74% in ENG to boost my self-esteem...
i'm also learning german. i've borrowed three books on it out and am trying my best. it might not be going anywhere, but i've got hellos, goodbyes, how are yous and the first three numbers down-pat!
i'm amazed at the sweet, genuine friendliness of a new friend and the small fact that 'he has no friends'. that's a definite lie, because if he didn't, how could he be so good at holding a conversation? comics and gameboys - guten tag, long lost soul-brother!
so now i'm going to get back to my religion project and i'll try and fit in a post when there's something to say.
have a nice day, errbody!
xx
this layout and the icon was made by chapstick with colors from colourlovers. do not remove/alter the credits section in any way, thank you.
ericamay, 25may1995, single forever, devoted to peter pan
charlieissocoollike, doctor who, peter pan, you me at six, i see stars, andy oliver, devin oliver, ribbons, bows, drummers, bright colours, black and white contrast, people who smile a lot, laughing, beats, rhythms, being good at something, fireworks, writing, sketching, details, internet, photoshop, graphic design, coding, paint, crayons, paper, plain goldfish, the colours green and blue, prince phillip, princess aurora, tinkerbell, neverland, disneyland, disneyworld, crush the turtle, chemistry, storybook romance, arctic monkeys, britain, irish accents, every accent, scottish boys, skinny boys, pale boys, collarbones, freckles, gingers, photobooths, madina lake, billy idol, chocolate chip cookies, toffee, tiny marshmallows, hot cocoa, good memories, bloodrushes, laughing, singers, musicians, good headphones, punching the backs of car seats while listening to hardcore music in parking lots, hugs, kisses, winter, sweaters, hoodies, scarves, snowflakes, eyelashes, pretty eyes, dark hair, blonde hair, straight hair, wavy hair, offensive humours, people who don't take things seriously, heated debates, awkward moments, having private concerts home alone, red pandas, sharks, weasels, minxes, puppydogs, kittycats, post-it notes, caring reminders, strawberries, raspberries, william beckett, matt smith, karen gillan, david tennant, alex turner, joe brooks, noah and the whale, mumford and sons, los campesinos, french people, foreign languages, magic tricks, illusions, photographs, macros, doodling people i know, doodling people i wish i knew, pens that flow smoothly, shortbread cookies, tapping my feet, high fives, pokemon, laughing so hard i cry, being told people love me, winning, swedish fish, candies, neil patrick harris, nerimon, frezned, danisnotonfire, alexisonfire, billy talent, taking back sunday, john gomez, brian dales, alex pettyfer, logan lerman, tumblr, squareenix, old names, music class, good friends, late-night confessions, hanging out anywhere, eccentricity, spontaneous people, people with good memories, being unforgotten, lyricists, air heads, scissors, kicking, unicorns, rainbows, miss rainicorn, adventure time with finn and jake, flapjack, we came as romans, architects, joy division, two door cinema club, emma watson, george craig, emma watson and george craig together, the hoosiers, old photos, chalk drawing, graffiti, skateboarders, bmx riders, comic fanatics, superheros, guys, candy in tin cases, pastel stars, pointless wishing, sweet dreams, morning messages, text conversations, honey on toast, apple jelly, internet memes, advil, motion city soundtrack, vampire weekend, rolo tomassi, people named connor, people named sebastian, william, james, oliver, owen, eoin, alexander, joshua, andrew, aaron, christopher, jackson, hunter, and the like, the afterlife kids, downloading music, new downloads, video games, rpgs, shooter games, screaming, all forgotten, arcade fire, the asteroids galaxy tour, kick ass, aaron johnson, christopher mintz-plasse, devon werkshire, thick rimmed glasses, flickr, hipsters, cute kids, never growing up, beastie boys, we are the ocean, blink182, chameleon circuit, john green, hank green, paper towns, the perks of being a wallflower, lewis carroll, c.s. lewis, absolute brightness, the chronicles of narnia, lockets, trinkets, mimes, golden pocketwatches, nifty antiquities, halloween, sewing, the click five, parkway drive, cold war kids, obscurities, confessions, bookstores, candy stores, inside jokes, walls of wonder, being awesome, skins, kaya scodelario, luca pasqualino, jack o'connell, nicholas hoult, max hewer, hannah murray,
and a number of other things...
put down your hand, alligator.
23.4.10 at 9:12 PM
you don't know the answers to my questions. you are an alligator.
during this week, just when i needed a ray of sunshine, trisha armena asked if she could come over. and after what should have been 2 minutes waiting but turned to be 15, we were sitting in my backyard eating popsicles, chilling to rock and talking about life. then my dog ran away, but running out to catch her was nice.
then, today was the geography trip and i had so much fun just hanging out with my friends, ignoring the fact that i've been hating people for no reason lately. gosh, like, this was freaking awesome and there were so many lulz. some people will be very lucky thanks to us, and someone else will find random litter in the street and step on it. but that's okay, because i love my friends.
basically, this week has taught me that i don't need an objective to function. i don't need to him to function. i can go to school and reap the benefits of quality time with close buds. i can think about him with some other girl and not give a fuck. and i mean that honestly. maybe he'll start dating someone else, but i won't really mind all too much.
so that's what i wanted to say. and i've said it. whatever happens, happens and only the best can come from the worst.
g'night.
xx
thanks for !
15.4.10 at 4:31 PM
really, now.
this is the absolute story of my life. im really sorry to everyone for bringing them down. i realized i really am kinda depressingly mirthful as of late. ill crack jokes and laugh really hard for a little while, but then all i can do is space out. i noticed ive actually refused speaking to people -- and, woegosh, ive even found myself absolutely hating people. everyone.
i just dont think thats like me!
i used to fucking run and bounce around like a madman and say whatever the shit popped into my head, but now im so tired and every conversation out of my mouth feels like a twitter update with those 140 character limits.
AND I DONT EVEN KNOW WHY.
- my efforts are totally useless
- no matter what i do, i only get further
- nothing works out
- my absolute paranoia pushes people away
- constant disappointment
- self pity
- why do i even try?
id be so filled with imponderable joy if you'd just talk to me for once. but im sick and tired of trying. my opportunities were missed. i learned too late. the one time i may have underestimated myself, i may have had a chance. all this wasted time ive spent on you.
i really just kinda wish youd go away.
that 'mac' would no longer be of relevance to me.
that i wont feel a smile when i walk into mcdonalds and hear someone order a bigmac.
..but then i kinda see you and dont hate you. its a cheap trick.
is it all just a trick?
im so confused and ill and unstable right now.
and i didnt write this out to get pity. it was an honest attempt to try and sort myself out. to let my fingers fly all over these keys and convey my mind without trying to make the words sound right.
xx
hi! how are you?
12.4.10 at 7:01 PM
honestly,
this kid is so freaking great. like, why don't people enjoy talking to him more? he's quite the conversationalist for someone who sits alone oftentimes. heck, i just realized today that we share the same lunch EVERY DAY yet i never see him there because he goes to the library right after swallowing his lunch. maybe a sandwich - he seems like a sandwich person. but if more people was as polite and kind as him, there would be SO MUCH LESS SCANDAL in our freaking school. people here are so goddam full of themselves that they don't seem to care about anything, much less others who care.
i think i'm a great part of this blame.
shoot, i don't even know why i like this guy who doesn't even bother talking to me anymore, who isn't very smart, or very attractive (i think he's kinda cute, actually) or even remotely polite. i mean, he's really funny, but he's still an asshole. so why do i like this kid when there are better people out there. i need to follow my words through - if i say i'm going to get over him, i better try.
xx
{ chapter four } [pros, cons]
10.4.10 at 10:36 AM
The house was empty when I got home.
Silent, too, aside from the constant hum of the refrigerator and the fish tank. It wasn’t much of a surprise, though. Both of my parents still worked in downtown Toronto and even if I was rushed to the ER of the nearest hospital, it would take them at least forty-minutes (traffic dependent) to be at my bedside. It wasn’t such a big deal, really, because for one thing: that wouldn’t happen and for another: my mum’s cousin lived just a five minute drive from our house and was a sure emergency contact – she never left her home.
I dropped off my backpack at the door and collapsed on the cool leather of the black sofas in our living room. There were many positive and negative points about my days and I usually did this everyday just to reflect upon them. It’s warm outside – positive. It’s warm outside and I’m inside – negative. I saw an attractive guy who likes my sweater vest – positive. Because this guy likes my sweater, I don’t think I ever want to change it – negative. The chemistry teacher didn’t set herself on fire – positive, but mostly negative.
In the end, I counted most negatives than positive, causing me to get up and grab something to eat. Actually, even if my outcomes differed, I’d have still gotten a snack, just because I get hungry a lot. Much to my Asian mother’s demise, I don’t gain weight that easily; when you’re an Asian, the most satisfying thought (apparently) is to have plump children who drown themselves in rice and soy sauce. I’m only halfway there.
{---}
In the silent house, the sound of an unbolting lock in the front door made my heart jump. My parents were back and, after much experience, that was usually a bad thing. I love my family, but the lack of freedom and start of small chores were just enough to make me quake. There was also a time in the seventh grade when I did a number of rebellious things, the sound of my parents’ arrival bringing forth punishments and lectures. In the past years, my heart just got used to fearing the sound of the door; like a hunted animal would forever fear humans even after being rescued.
“Hellooo there!” I called out.
“Alice, I bought you some cake snack. Come here; help me put this away.” My mum replied.
I bounded down the stairs like a heroine to meet my chocolaty match, but was first met with a package of tenderloin, a case of instant noodles and a loaf of bread.
“Meat goes in the freezer and everything else in the pantry.”
I nodded and grabbed the food, moving quickly to the basement to put it all away and be done with it, so I could settle in front of my computer with a cake and a glass of milk.
Milk in hand and snack in mouth, I sat at my desk, which was cluttered with textbooks, binders and remnants of my latest projects. I pushed away some Post-It notes and a notebook full of the birthdays of people I knew and started up my laptop. Logging into my account, my desktop appeared and everything began to load. I double-clicked the Internet browser, and my home page opened up, yielding a couple of the usual notifications.
It’s really funny how I spend so much time on the Internet. I don’t recall exactly what I do or what websites I go on, yet I can find so much interest in doing this. I opened up my Instant Messenger and briefly scrolled through the contacts. Before I could even get halfway, a new window opened up with a message from Parvati.
* p a r v a t i -- [6:43PM] says: Hey there.
I brought my fingers to the keys and typed up a quick reply – the usual: hi, hello,not much, you? We went on to talk about somewhat more complex things (I say that with the most sarcasm intended), and I ended up in conversations with a few others at the same time, but then my conversation with Par took a slight turn.
* p a r v a t i -- [6:57PM] says: So what about that new guy?
> { a l i c e } < [6:58PM] says: What new guy?
* p a r v a t i -- [6:58PM] says: Mister Blue-Eyes-Hot-Skater.
> { a l i c e } < [6:58PM] says: There’s nothing to say about that.
* p a r v a t i -- [6:59PM] says: LIES.
> { a l i c e } < [6:59PM] says: IDEK his name – there’s nothing going on!
* p a r v a t i -- [6:59PM] says: Alright then. ;)
I kept my computer and all its windows on as I did my homework, only half of my attention spent on my Physics homework. My eyes were constantly jumping from the words in my textbook to the blinking orange of a new response in an MSN conversation and the bright crimson of a new notification; what could have easily been half-an-hour’s work morphed and stretched, taking up almost two hours of my night. After scribbling down the last of my Physics at around nine – which was a prime time to start surfing the net properly – I still had to read seven chapters of a book for English, and answer fifteen questions on it.
Rest assured, I did not turn out my lights until well beyond eleven, I totally collapsed after describing the plot in about ten different ways, and none of the reading actually sank in.
{---}
If there’s one thing that will always remain a common trait in myself (and those others of my generation), that one thing would be my inability to wake up before the sun with a smile on my face. For school, I have to deal with music blaring at a time as early as six, and no later than seven – I don’t think there are any possible ways to make that a happy thing. Waking up early, to me, is like getting a bucket of ice water dunked over my head: it’s far too cold, my eyes hurt and I legitimately want to cry.
Then you can throw in the fact that my alarm clock wakes me by playing a random song off my iPod. Let’s just say I have a very diverse sense of musical taste, most of which orbits around anything with a guitar or keyboard. Some days, the shuffle of my mp3 player will bless me with a cheery, light song like Hello Yellow by Backseat Goodbye or Summer Skin by Death Cab For Cutie. Most days, though, I’m most inconvenienced by the screaming and crashing of electric guitars and drum beats of Eyes Set To Kill and As I Lay Dying, that would definitely be enjoyed when I’m not dreaming about hot guys and wallabies – in no way do I find it acceptable to start the day by having the lover in my dream and his cute, furry marsupial friend eaten by a crazy, fire-breathing dragon named Meddler or Hottlips.
Some days, though, I’m simply at the peak of badass-ity and find this kind of awakening invigorating.
Like today, for example. Maybe it was the fact that I had multiple plans for this day, or the fact I lay in bed for over two hours before falling asleep, but I sure was looking forward to today, and I found no obstacles to my ever-growing excitement. My blanket had not ripped itself off my bed, and my toothpaste was minty-fresh. My hair was wavy and curly in the right spots and I hadn’t broken out in new, embarrassing spots in my sleep. Flat tire? No chance – I walk to school!
I was still literally skipping when I ran into my dad, coming up the stairs, who proceeded to towel off his hair (even though water had soaked the shoulders of his shirt already) and fix me with a strange look through his blue eyes.
“Mon Dieu, qu’est-ce je fait…” he sighed – though, hardly a serious man.
“Today will be a good day, father,” I grinned. “You’ll see.”
“If you say so,” he said as he passed me. “There’s chocolate pancakes on the stove.”
“You see what I mean?”
Nothing like warm, homemade chocolate-chip pancakes to fuel a rad, awesome, bangarang day!
{ chapter three } [routines]
at 10:32 AM
After nearly paying attention in my first two classes,
it was finally lunch. Our chemistry teacher always dismissed us early, so I made use to the time to walk down to Charlie’s Computer Technology and Robotics class where I usually pick him up to walk with him down to lunch or to his locker, before meeting up with Adelaide. Although the class is full of geeks and hardcore gamers (who are only in this class to practice modifying their consoles illegally), Charlie isn’t really either – we play video games a lot, but would never be caught chugging Mountain Dew and living like hermits. He started Computer Technology in the tenth grade as an elective because he thought robots were cooler than cooking school food or painting abstract art. What started as a bit of a last resort soon became a favourite; who knew Charlie was such a computer genius?
So I waited outside the door for a few minutes until the bell rang. The kid stayed back a bit to talk with the teacher, and then left and we proceeded with the routine. Char said he didn’t really need to go to his locker, so I suggested we meet Addy at her locker. Charlie may not have known my alternate objective, but he agreed anyways. We climbed a flight of steps to the third floor and got to her locker.
But, alas, Mister Unknown wasn’t there.
I tried not to let the disappointed scowl reach my face, but I didn’t have to try too hard; Addy was already setting her lock in place when we reached her.
“Let’s go?” She asked to the two of us. It wasn’t really a question, but I nodded anyways and we started back down the grey steps all the way to the main floor. A tall, lean-built guy with an argyle sweater and dark jeans stood near the door waiting for us and we met up with him. That was Seth, the guy from my AP English class. He had high cheekbones, a calm face, hazel eyes and tousled chestnut hair. He hugged Charlie when they were near before releasing and addressing the rest of us with a warm hello.
Just like a commuter catches the same train into the city, picking up the same double-double medium coffee and sitting in the same cubicle every single day, this was our routine. Seth always waited for us when he was here and we always rode in his car to wherever we wanted to eat lunch, or kill time before class. Some people joined us sometimes, but this was the norm right here. Well, aside from Parvati, the really pretty Indian girl who’s been with us since tenth grade.
“Parvati sick?” Charlie asked. I swear he always found a way of reading my mind.
“Naw, she’s got a dentist appointment,” Seth explained as he adjusted the rearview mirror and slipped on a pair of aviators. “She asked if we could meet her in the mall. I said okay, I mean, we’re going there anyways, right?”
“Yeah, actually – might as well make use of this uniform-free day,” Addy confirmed.
So Seth tuned the radio to the Edge, one of the only good rock stations on the radio. Especially now: it played Cage the Elephant as often as those other stations play Lady What’s-her-face and the girl who won American Idol. We chitchatted lightly; the ride to Erin Mills Town Centre was a short one, really. Our school wasn’t too far from there in a car.
The parking lot was pretty empty, not too surprising since the nearest high school from there was set just across the street; no need for a car when you can access a good burger or Chinese food by walking. They had it lucky, I guess.
Parvati was already waiting for us in front of the dental office in the mall, and once we collected her, we split up in search of what we needed. Addy, Charlie and I go off in search of refreshments or ice cream, leaving Seth and Parvati to order our lunch. The two of them went off to the food court and we went to the opposite wing of the mall. We lined up in front of Bubble Tease and ordered slushies with extra tapioca; strawberry for me and green apple for Adelaide – we usually alternated between our flavour choices.
Lunch was uneventful, and I’m thankful she didn’t bring up “my distraction” to anyone else. I was perfectly content with sipping my drink and stealing some orange chicken and pad thai from Seth and Charlie. Adelaide didn’t stop from checking out some guys from the other school, though. I drifted in and out of the conversation, hearing bits and pieces of things like “he’s a definite hottie” and “no, no, no – he needs a haircut”.
I felt like I had momentarily been immersed in Narnia: what had felt like years to me ended up being only about half an hour, and after what felt like for ever, the Styrofoam take-out containers and plates tossed into the recycling bins with empty plastic cups and straws. It made me wish that I had been less absorbed by my own thoughts and more active in this conversation.
{---}
Being back at school, I was suddenly alert. It was a shame, since I really wished I could join the vast majority of my class in a huge slumber during Anthropology. I don’t know how people did it, really. I mean I can go as far as put my head down on the desk and close my eyes, but then I suddenly become so incredibly self-conscious. What if someone’s awake and watching the way I slept? What if my shirt was riding up and everyone was getting a view of my back? What if? A million insecurities and situations always played in my head.
But Media Arts was a better class. I don’t know how, but I am always energized by the simple presence of a computer with access to the Internet and Adobe Photoshop programs. Text designing was one of the things I did. I didn’t ever pay much attention to colour saturation and all that jazz when I started as a kid, but I have a bit of respect for photo manipulation, sure.
I managed to save what I was working on and sign off exactly as the bell rang, which was good because I had this rushing want and need to get to Adelaide’s locker. Surely I’m not crazy to believe that no matter how good-looking and seemingly mysterious a guy can be, he’d go back to his locker to pick up his stuff after he dropped it off there in the first place, right?
So that was my basic mantra, but I prepared myself for the worse, slowing my heartbeat as best as I could and keeping the excitement and anticipation from my face. He won’t be there. He won’t be there. He won’t. The thoughts chanted in my head, because Murphy’s Law had this ironic way that when you think something won’t happen, they usually will; and when you’re excited for someone, they don’t happen; and when you’re looking good, you won’t see a single person; and when you’ve got a blob of mayonnaise on your shirt, everyone shows up as if to admire it. Therefore, if I told myself, and thoroughly believed, that he wouldn’t be here, even if it seemed inevitable that he’d show up to reclaim his skateboard, I could safely be satisfied when he did show up. And I know it may not make sense to you right now, but when you catch yourself doing it in your own situations, you’ll probably think, “Oh, so that’s what Alice meant…” and everything will just fit into place.
Alas, Murphy (whomever he was) must have seen through my seemingly clever trap and decided to torture me cruelly. Just as I turned the corner to that particular hall of lockers, I caught a glimpse of his green hat and receding figure pushing the doors into the stairwell and leaving.
Adelaide, however, was just coming down the hall and totally missed my ten-seconds of shame. It was honestly like being Frankie Muniz in that one film where his mum gives him a puppy for his birthday, but his dad takes it away, just as poor little Frankie got a chance to hug it . As clichéd as it sounds, it really was like watching a prize get ripped out of my hands. No wonder beauty queens were so murderous.
“I swear to God I’ve got so much homework.” Adelaide sighed as she tossed her art bag in her locker. “I’ve got to sketch someone valuable to me by tomorrow. A full sketch in one night!”
“It’s all right, you can pull that off easy. Not like you have to colour or anything.”
“But I had plans tonight. Not to mention I’ve got a load of other homework to do. History essay due, too.”
“See, you could’ve dropped that after last year, but no, you thought it would be better for you as an immigrant. I’m glad I’m not that mature.”
She faked a pout before we both bust up laughing and headed down to the first floor to meet Charlie and maybe get a ride home from Seth.
{ chapter two } [my distraction.]
at 9:29 AM
“I was walkin’ down the street when out’ the corner of my eye"
“I saw a pretty little thing approaching meee.”
I groaned and turned over, pushing my palms to my eyes before stretching my hands up over my head, grabbing the cool, black metal of the headboard and yawning.
“Could you use a li’l company?”
It was Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked by Cage the Elephant and the singer’s voice drawled in my room, the alarm automatically increasing the volume for every second it suspected me to be sleeping in; sooner or later, the whole house would be awake and I’d only have hell to pay. I blindly reached out, trying to hit the snooze button. I failed, of course, and ended up hitting my fingers straight down on the edge of my wooden bedside table. The impact sounded like cracking bones and panicked me just a bit. I pulled my knuckles to my mouth and angrily sat up, eying the evil alarm clock. I pressed the snooze successfully this time, having the luxury of open eyes, and the display dimmed down, still reading ‘6:30 AM’.
School didn’t start for two hours, but I might as well get up and fix myself, anyways. At least then I wouldn’t have to rush.
So I threw back my blankets and walked groggily to the bathroom to brush my teeth, burning myself a bit more than I’d like to admit to with the blasted flat iron in attempts to fix my bangs. After nursing the last of my burns, I worked on getting my curly hair to look less like Annie and more presentable. I left the bathroom satisfied with my hair and walked to my room, passing a rather dazed looking Charlie. His wavy, saddle brown hair was messed up – and, no, not in that gorgeously tousled way – and his blue eyes were glazed. In his plaid boxers, he looked like an American Eagle model gone zombie.
“Looking hot,” I commented as he fumbled with the bathroom doorknob.
“Shut the hell up,” he replied, locking himself in. He was the total opposite of himself in the mornings, shame.
“Good morning to you too, sweetheart!” I called back before clicking my door behind me and edging toward my closet. I ignored the uniforms and pulled out a hanger, draped with a full outfit from the v-neck and sweater vest to the layered necklace and straight leg jeans.
Yes, I know it sounds lame, but I’ve already planned my outfit, and you would, too, if you have to wear a uniform every single day for four years. You see, at our school, we have to wear uniforms everyday, with the exception of ‘casual days’ and retreats. On those designated days, we can wear whatever we like, and even the fashionably lame – like yours truly – perfect their style while detesting the skirts, khakis or polos we are confined to.
After slipping into the outfit, feeling nice about my appearance, I left my room and headed down for breakfast. My mum was already fixing something Filipino – she called it tagsilog or something – that consisted of fried egg, Filipino sausage and garlic rice . Don’t think that my mum’s some extremely cultural traveller or anything: she’s full Filipino, born and raised and everything. She doesn’t have such a thick accent, but that’s probably because I’m used to it. She pronounces Vs as Bs and Fs as Ps , and doesn’t always know the proper word for something. I don’t really speak tagalog , though, since I was born in Toronto and my dad’s pretty French.
“Morning,” I said as I reached into the cupboard for a glass. She simply nodded her head, turning off the stove and singing along to the snippets of chorus she knew to the pop song on the radio.
As I pulled up a bar stool – we have one of those raised counters across from the sink – and cut a slice of longanisa to pop into my mouth, Charlie came into the kitchen and sat up on the stool next to mine. He rolled up the sleeves of his light blue hoodie and starting on his eggs, getting up again to grab himself a drink.
“Why don’t you just get your drink before you eat?” I inquired. He always did that. Charlie was the type of person who waited until he had rice clogging his throat before he got something to wash it down.
“Because I don’t need to drink while I eat. I’m not dependent on it like some people, thanks.”
“And you say this as you chug orange juice?”
“Just stop questioning my ways, ‘kay?”
I shook my head in despair as I walked around to leave my empty plate in the sink. Normally I would’ve had to wash it, but it was already half-past-seven and we needed to walk. I hurried up the stairs to brush my teeth, rinse with mouthwash and grab all my school stuff, because I have come to the conclusion that whenever I don’t double-check, I forget something. Thus, by gathering my belongings and so forth at least ten minutes before departure, I’d have enough time to run through my mental checklist. I have a small case of short-term memory loss.
Within minutes, Charlie and I were out the door, enjoying the surprisingly warm, March weather. It was probably only six degrees Celsius, but when you’re Canadian, you learn to appreciate any warm weather you can get, even if it’s not really the kind of weather you would go swimming in.
We did our usual detour on the way to the school to pick up Adelaide, my best friend since the eighth grade. She started off as an annoyance to me, just because she was a new student – she moved here from Australia, but I don’t know why she’d want to leave – and had a crush on Charlie that caused her to flirt with him every minute of every day. I really hated her, her stupid Australian accent, her awesome clothes, her naturally perfect sandy-blonde hair , and the fact she thought she could flirt with any guy she wanted. I was almost positive that if Charlie went out with her, I’d lose him as my best friend.
That thought reigned in my mind until the eighth grade dance, where he announced his homosexuality; after about fifty girls asked him to dance and confessed their secret crushes on him, he felt the need to wipe out the whole colony of ants with a large, single sweeping of repellent. The messy haired, blue eyed boy went straight up to the microphone and said with a sheepish grin, “Sorry everyone. I meant to tell you I’m gay. Must’ve slipped my mind, aha.” There was silence, everyone digesting that small fact. They thought he was kidding, but the sincerity in his eyes told them otherwise. A couple of girls were stunned, but it didn’t really affect them.
However, Adelaide was the one I found crying in the bathroom after the announcement. I couldn’t help but feel bad for her, I mean, she could have any guy she wanted and the one she really liked was now openly gay. I won’t get into all the details, but I think it’s pretty clear we’re all rather close friends now, even if Adelaide still flirts with everyone and Charlie’s dating this guy in my English class named Seth.
Charlie rang her doorbell while I waited on the sidewalk, and she stepped out in a plaid skirt and complementary blouse, her blonde hair in their usual mermaid curls and her green eyes accentuated with the perfect makeup that made you deny the fact she wore any at all, besides the cherry-dipped lips. She closed the door quick behind her before either of her little dogs could run out.
“Aw, you guys look so cute!” She chirped, playing off the fact she looked amazing.
“You’re the one who looks like she stepped out of a magazine,” I replied.
“Now, now, girls. Can’t we all just get along?” Charlie proposed as he walked ahead of us. “Besides, we all know I’m looking the best here – spent hours on my makeup.” His sarcasm was always refreshing.
“Oh, yes, dear. I’m sure Seth will be all over you.” Addy was sincere as she readjusted the strap of her shoulder bag. She never wore backpacks; they would cramp her style.
“Yeah, how are you guys, by the way?” I asked. Charlie rarely talked about him at home, unless they were planning on going to the movies, which was usually a group thing, anyways.
“We’re good, why?”
“Just double-checking, is all.”
He nodded and turned back to watch where he was going, narrowly missing a street sign and a car. I don’t know how he did it, but I was pretty convinced he was coveting a secret, superhero identity. I spent the rest of the walk building up the facts for this secret alias. By the time we had reached the side doors of the school, I had enough detail to write a book, which would continue to remain the third best book in some foreign city. Addy held the door open for us and we ascended up the stairs together, until we came to the second floor, where Adelaide and my lockers were located. We waved Charlie off and went to my locker first, dropping off my light jacket and textbooks before going to Addy’s locker.
I leaned on the locker next to hers as he nearly emptied her bag and fixed herself in the mirror. We started the usual conversation about boys, styles, school, and current events. It was practically tradition, holding three years strong. We’d go to her locker, she’d drop her stuff off, I’d stay with her and while we hung out there, we’d talk. It was nice and made up for the fact I didn’t live with her like Charlie.
“So anything new with Olly?” She asked as she touched up her lip-gloss.
I felt my face turn red and my chest tighten considerably. “No.” I replied and she gave me a sympathetic look anyways. Olly was Oliver, the guy I’ve been “dealing with” since summer. He was pretty talented in swimming and anything music, so I always ran into him in any music store or at the pool. I obviously had a crush on him, and we progressed into being pretty good friends, but when this year started, everything changed. I’d almost forgotten: Oliver West-Laurent was practically off-limits to every girl in the school, just because almost every girl in the school liked him, especially Rebecca Dawn Stygian, ex-best friend and little miss bitch. I was surprised he still remembered my name, and called on me with greetings whenever he saw me, but that soon died down. Someone told him I liked him and he told me he wasn’t sure of his feelings. Basically, to any girl, that translated to “no, sorry, I don’t like you, but I don’t have the guts to tell you that to your face and I probably don’t want you to stop liking me so I can make your life hell while I flirt with everyone else”. Okay, Oliver was just a nice guy, but it basically went like that. And now I was looking for opportunities to talk to him again, to at least reclaim our friendship.
“It’s okay, he wasn’t good enough for you anyways.” Addy said with simplicity.
It was a typical friend thing to say, and I was about to reply with some quick remark about how he was good enough for everyone else, including Rebecca, when I realized she was only trying to help. God, I hated when I felt like such a prick to everyone.
“’Scuse me.” A voice called from behind me. I jerked away from the locker apologetically, forgetting momentarily that other people used lockers, not just Adelaide.
“Maybe you’ll find someone else.” She added as she reached down in her locker for her back-up makeup kit.
“Yeah, sure, because people just fall out of the sky, right?” I retorted, nearly hitting the guy in front of me.
It then occurred to me that I’d never seen that guy at that locker before. In fact, as far as this year started, I’d never seen anyone at that locker. I mean, you’d think I’d be able to remember a guy with black hair, spiked in a kind of faux-hawk, and watery-blue eyes. His skin was fair – not super pale, but not even slightly tanned – with barely noticeable freckles here and there. He wore a green toque, a plaid dress shirt and straight-cut jeans. I considered him to be gay – just for a second – but he had a skateboard, and I remember Seth saying once that there were never any hot gays at the skatepark that he ever met.
I heard Addy clear her throat and the guy turned and caught my gaze. I realized I’d been staring at him the whole time and casually, but quickly, looked away, clicking my tongue. Adelaide couldn’t help but laugh and the guy cocked his head to side as he analyzed us.
“What?” he asked me after a second of unsuccessful deduction.
He totally caught me off guard – since when do people actually ask why you’re staring at them? If someone were staring at me, I’d awkwardly avoid any association.
“Oh, ehm, nothing, I just really like your hat.” Oh, wow. Of all the smooth things to say, I just had to compliment his hat. That, dear readers, was the reason I haven’t had a boyfriend since the ninth grade.
He grinned, though, and turned back to his locker. I was somewhat disappointed. Yes, I got a smile, but I thought he’d say something at least. He closed his locker and turned to me, fixing an iPod earphone in his ear.
“Well, I really like your sweater vest. Vintage.”
And then Mister Unknown smiled and left, leaving me to collapse on his locker once more.
“Who was that?” I asked Adelaide.
“Your new distraction.”
{ chapter one } [origins of today.]
at 9:27 AM
Somewhere, the sun’s hanging high,
shining away brilliantly like the great ball of fire it is. Somewhere, you can see the birds having all the fun, soaring against the blue sky like props against sapphire drapes. Somewhere, a million brilliant things were happening, obvious to any bystander, but these brilliant things weren’t happening here. The sun, the sky, the birds – all was hidden behind tall buildings and leafy trees. It was autumn and the leaves had already started to fall, scattering the lawn and forming a colourful carpet beneath the feet of a little girl.
The little girl sat on the thick plastic seat of a park swing, the toes of her little shoes dipping into the sand as she slowed down. Her cherry-red dress billowed slightly with every small gust of wind, also ruffling her straight black hair. Warm brown eyes looked around with curiosity at the kids who played around her. She was too shy to get up and talk to them, but longed to do so anyways. Nevertheless, her tiny hands only tightened around the swing’s chains.
There was a quiet thump and the sound of footsteps drawing nearer, muffled by the soft sand. She turned her head in time to see a boy around her age running near her, dressed in a red windbreaker, Toronto Blue Jays baseball cap, tiny jeans and sneakers. He smiled timidly as he approached.
“Hi, I’m Charlie,” he introduced himself with ease, whereas the little girl had to compose herself for a second before answering herself.
“A-Alice – I’m Alice.”
Charlie’s eyes, blue as marbles, fell to the sand under the swing seat before he pointed at the spot, looking back at her.
“My ball is under you.”
“Sorry?” Alice asked, quite unsure as to what he meant.
“My ball,” he pointed again until she shifted her gaze to the ball in question.
“Oh.”
She reached down and plucked the softball up from beneath her and passed it to him, clumsily shaking her black hair out of her eyes. He took the ball and held it in his hands, dusting off the sand with his thumbs as if contemplating some big, life changing decision. After a few seconds that felt like a lifetime to Alice, Charlie looked back up at her. He looked cautious for a second before grinning warmly.
“Do you wanna play some catch?” he asked. She thought for a little while, before replying with a small smile of her own. “Okay,” she said.
Alice released herself from the swing, unaware yet that she’d never have to sit alone at a swing ever again.
{---}
Twelve years later, things were different now; I’m still the same Alice Clementine, but so much has changed since that time in Moss Park on the corner of Sherbourne and Shuter. While Charlie and I played that day, our parents started talking and became something like friends. We’d hang out often, staying at one another’s house after school and on the weekends. I made other friends, but by the time I did, I was already so tight with Charlie.
Everything was great until just about the third grade, when my parents decided they might want to move out of Toronto to Mississauga, a smaller city just thirty minutes away but so suburban in comparison to the bustling city. My parents were just looking for a new house when probably the worst possible thing happened: Charlie’s dad had a heart attack, his mum already passed away while she was in labour. I was only eight at the time, so I’m not too sure about the details, but Mr. Brooks was so close to our parents at the time that after quite a discussion, a decision was made; papers would be signed immediately and Charlie would be placed in the custody of my parents.
It was a complicated procedure that resulted in a small debate with a judge and a lawyer, but in the end, Charlie was left in our hands, his father passed away at ease and we moved to a new house – a definite step-up from our little apartment. I hate to be so brisk about it, but that’s just how I am with sentimental things: if I cry over it again, I’ll only hate myself. I was already so close to Charlie, his dad was like an uncle to me, and just watching him look so sad and empty inside was enough to tear anyone up inside. Believe me, I don’t ever want to have to linger on those thoughts for too long.
But Charlie’s long past the grief of his parents’ death. He’s accepted it, not feeling so bad since he’s not alone. He’s always been an ingeniously witty person, so you probably wouldn’t realize how spiritual he actually is. When his dad passed away, he only mourned for about a week, after which he was absolutely positively convinced they were in a better place; truth is, they are. But it’s still pretty amazing how he managed to realize that at only five. Mr. Brooks was agnostic, but baptized Charlie as part of his wife’s dying wish, a rather strong Catholic. That meant that Charlie didn’t go to church, or Sunday school, nor did he have a Bible or any of that in his house that he could even make reference to; but it also meant he went to the same Catholic elementary school that I did. There are times that I wonder upon the odds of that – what if the priest wouldn’t baptize him because his father wasn’t a Catholic or Christian? – but then I just close my eyes and thank fate or God for whatever’s happened so far.
oh yeah.
at 9:11 AM
i deleted the post containing that sample of my manuscript's first two chapters
but i'm going to reblog it now, chapter form.
xx
lisztomania -- think less but see it grow.
at 8:07 AM
it's like my life is finally more than just bearable.
it's not like everything's perfect, but i'm just really thankful and don't usually get the opportunity to feel blessed. so many people have their lives so much harder and i'm complaining over a crush? shameful.
but anyways, talking isn't really an issue, and neither is school. my only bad marks are... in english. aha, on another note, I'M REALLY WORKING ON THAT MANUSCRIPT OF MINE. kudos to my 74% in ENG to boost my self-esteem...
i'm also learning german. i've borrowed three books on it out and am trying my best. it might not be going anywhere, but i've got hellos, goodbyes, how are yous and the first three numbers down-pat!
i'm amazed at the sweet, genuine friendliness of a new friend and the small fact that 'he has no friends'. that's a definite lie, because if he didn't, how could he be so good at holding a conversation? comics and gameboys - guten tag, long lost soul-brother!
so now i'm going to get back to my religion project and i'll try and fit in a post when there's something to say.
have a nice day, errbody!
xx
this layout and the icon was made by chapstick with colors from colourlovers. do not remove/alter the credits section in any way, thank you.