And The Pilot Dies

The bell rang all too soon for Les. She was happy. Her friends didn’t murder her. Dick didn’t even flinch. She couldn’t help but laugh every time she thought of Donald’s commentary. She hung back talking to her friends, and yes she could really call them her friends now, while Dick had slinked off to Latin. She slid through the door just as the bell was ringing. The teacher didn’t even look up from his screen to register that Les had just slid through the doorway and scampered to her seat by the window.

                Dick sat stoically next to her. She looked up at his face for signs of emotion before turning to her book, empty-handed. “You seem awfully stoic,” she remarked dryly as she turned pages.

                Dick seemed to be busy taking notes, for the first time in his life. He had a sheet of paper that he was frantically scribbling words on in blue ink. “We didn’t have homework last night, did we?” Les asked worriedly as she leaned over to look at his paper.

                “No,” Dick shrugged her off his arm that she was leaning on. He slid the paper under his notebook and returned to looking stoic.

                At the end of class, Les and Dick stood up together. She looked way up at him to ask him to move out of her way, but he looked as though he had something to say. “Hold on,” she said to him as she put a hand inside his elbow to support herself as she climbed onto a chair. She measured herself against him and said, “Continue.”

                Dick reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He started to give it to Les when Mr. Bowserman noticed Les’s unusual height. “Miss Williams, what do you think you’re doing?”

                “Well if you haven’t noticed, sir, I’m a bit too short to talk to the Big Dick over here.”

                “Get off of there and go to class.”

                Les reluctantly dropped to the floor and Dick had pulled the piece of paper behind his back. As they left with their classmates Leslie tried to deduce the contents of the note. “What is that?”

                “It’s nothing.”

                “No. If it was nothing then you wouldn’t be hiding it from me.”

                “I’m not hiding anything.”

                “Then why don’t you give me the note?”

                “Who said it was a note?”
                “Who said it wasn’t?”

                “Well there is nothing now.” Dick took the paper and crumpled it into a ball before throwing it in Mr. Bowserman’s trash can just as they had left through the doorway.

                “You don’t have to be so childish about it,” Les remarked as they pulled away from class.

                Dick stopped in the hallway before Les noticed, but she quickly turned around and came back to him. He looked down at her and merely asked, “Do you have practice today?”

                “Yes, I usually do.”

                “Okay, well I’ll see you then.”

                Les walked out to the parking lot to not find Dick waiting for her. That wasn’t much of a surprise, but she wondered if he would come at all. She leaned against his little Mazda and waited for him.

                Dick appeared moments later and Les waved to him from her place. He waved as he approached the cars and stood awkwardly in front of her. After a few moments he merely said, “I guess that’s what you meant by ‘not my type.’”

                Les was downtrodden, but then she looked up at him trying and failing to conceal a grin. “Yeah, you’re a bit too tall for me,” she said, concealing her knowledge of the joke.

                “What? No I meant—“

                “You worked on that one all day, didn’t you?” she asked as she laughed at his poorly constructed joke, though she had to appreciate his memory. She went to punch him in the arm, when he hit her first in his friendliest way. She gave off an overdramatic look of shock before hugging him tightly around the waist.

                Dick gasped for breath, “You can let go anytime now.”

Coming Out

Lunch came around on one of these days. Les arrived later than usual, but her usual seat was still waiting for her. Dick was unsuspectingly eating his lunch when she appeared beside him, startling him slightly, but not enough for anyone to notice. He was gladder to see her.

                “Look who decided to show up,” David announced.

                Les glared at him as she pulled out a notebook. She opened to her Latin Vocabulary, but Dick moved his textbook over her page. She moved it aside, but he placed it right back on top. “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

                “You don’t need to study. Give it a break.”

                “Maybe I do, and you’re going to be the cause of my failure in life.”

                “I don’t think that one quiz will kill you.”               

                “Oh really? I have a pretty impressive combo streak going. You want to break it?”

                “And there’s why you don’t have to study. Now give me that.” He reached for her notebook, but she pulled it out of his way. She moved it as far away from him as possible and turned her back to him to study in peace.

                “Oh come on, don’t be like that.”

                “I think I know why you don’t want me to study. You didn’t at all.”

                “That is not true!”

                “Do you want my notes?”

                Dick paused for a moment, as if uncertain of what to make of her offer. After a moment he reluctantly answered, “Yes.”

                She handed him her notes and pulled out a different notebook. “Oh, come on!” Dick announced as she turned to a fresh page for Italian.

                “You can’t judge me!” was all she said, and all she usually said on such things.

                Dick sighed in exasperation and returned to his borrowed notebook. Dick and Les returned to their individual studies while lunch wore on, but all the while Les was thinking. I’ve got a secret. Every once in a while a second voice would pop up. “Why are you keeping it?”

                This is a bit much to think about.

                “Why are you bothering to think about it?”

                I don’t want them to know. That’s kind of the point of a secret.

                “Who is ‘them’? Why can’t they know? What’s wrong with you?”

                What’s wrong with me is that I am. Why can’t you leave me alone?

                “Maybe I don’t want to leave you alone. Maybe I can’t until you feel better.”

                No, actually what is wrong with me is that I’m talking to you.

                “Ooh, harsh. But come on. Why don’t you tell them your dirty little secret?”

                “I like girls.”

                Only one head turned at this announcement. Wouldn’t you know it had to be David. He smirked and looked at Les with an eyebrow cocked. “What was that? I don’t think we heard you.”

                “I don’t need them to hear me. I said it; that was enough.” Wasn’t it?

                “Hey guys! Leslie wants to share something.”

                All the people at the table turned expectantly towards Les. David tried to coax her to repeat herself. Dick looked on in confusion.

                After a slight hesitation on Les’s behalf, she piped up once more: “I like girls. Okay?”

                There was something of a variety in their response. David leered still. Dick looked on in utter confusion. Jessica was the first to speak, “oh? Since when?”

                Catherine looked on in disgust, “Oh dear Jesus. Why would you do such a thing?”

                Renée and Donald were the only ones who didn’t seem to hear, but after the questioning and the impaling died down, Donald looked in confusion and asked, “You mean you weren't out of the closet?”

                Les couldn’t think of what else to do at this moment, but merely smiled at Donald’s remark. Dick sat stunned into silence and remained there after the bell had rung for lunch to end. He was the last one in the cafeteria when the security guard had to coax him into moving on to class.

Leslie's Escape

The next day, Les pulled up in her elderly vehicle. She parked in her usual spot, next to Dick’s car. He was leaning against the passenger door, waiting for her.  He dangled her iPod in front of her by the headphones. She went to grab it, but he raised his hand so it was out of her reach. She jumped, but his hand went higher. That was one of their games. Dick always picked on Les for her height, but it was only play until she climbed up something or him, or attacked him in some way. She got her iPod back.

                Les blazed through the day, waiting for something, anything to happen. Mostly she was waiting for the end. She self-consciously pulled her sleeves down further whenever someone passed her. When she and Dick were together for Lunch and Latin, she bunched her hands into fists and would not release the hems of her sleeves. She couldn’t let him see what she had done again. He didn’t understand; he would only worry.

                Of course he noticed, but he wouldn’t say anything. He would pretend that he didn’t see anything. He knew her signs, and she knew that. Nothing was said between them at lunch or Latin, and Les sped out of the classroom before Dick could rise to his full height out of the seat.

                Once she had made her way to French, Les claimed her seat in the back near the window. She always liked to sit near a window. They provided a means of escape, if she ever needed one. She never had the need, but she liked to think there was always a way out. She sometimes daydreamed about how she would make her daring escape if someone entered the building, she daydreamed about anything and everything, but sometimes she thought too much.

                The sun is bright today. It’s almost as if I can feel the power of the sun in its light. What else could have that power? Is love that powerful? What is love? How would I know what it is? How does anyone?  It really seems like everyone falls in love, but then they fall out of it. I thought it was supposed to last forever. Maybe it doesn’t; maybe I’m just crazy. What’s that over there? Oh, someone just dropped their book. What about Dick? I don’t love him, right? I can’t. He’s my best friend. No, he’s more than that. He’s like a brother, but he’s not. He’s me. Could I love him? I do, but I don’t. He is me, and I don’t even know who I am. I don’t love myself, that’s for sure.

                “Pardon?” a voice pulled Les out of her mental wanderings. A sentence was written on the board, and the teacher stood at the front of the room looking impatiently.

                “Um… La biblioteca dispone di quel libro nella parte posteriore.”

                “That’s probably impressive Spanish Leslie, but this is French class.”

                “Excusez-moi, madame, mais je parlais italien.”

                “Don’t be so smart. I know you’re taking all those classes, but that does not give you an excuse to not pay attention in my class.”

                “I was merely confused. I was distracted.”

                “Are you confused about where the door is?”

                “No, it’s right over there. Why?”

                “Because you are going through to the door, and to the office.”

                “What did I do?”

                “I’ve had enough with your attitude. Leave now?”
                “What did I fucking do?”

                “Just leave.”

                “Merde!” Leslie rose out of her seat, and started to gather her things.

                “Get up now and get out of my class.”

                “I AM STANDING UP!” With that remark, Les, stormed out of the class.

                Going down the hallways, Les made her way in the direction of the principal’s office. At the last minute, Les turned around and strutted toward the math hall. She stopped in front of Mr. Quasar’s class. She looked in the open window in the door. She spotted Dick, and, without hesitation, called out, “Hey, Big Dick!” Not surprisingly, everyone turned around. She shot Dick a smile and hand-heart, before bolting out the faculty exit at the end of the hall.

Fairy Tale (With No Fairies...That I Originally Planned To, But Who Knows With My Brain)

To start off: When I trip on my heels, this is what I see: the lamp is spinning and it's staring at me. I got a CAT Scan of my head and I ain't afraid to show, it show, it show it, show it. I'm crazy and I know it.
Okay, enough of that crap.

Once upon a time there was a kingdom. This kingdom was ruled by a family: a king, a queen, and two princesses. The king and queen reigned for years, but when the eldest princess came of age, their power faded.  As the two princesses vied for power, the eldest reigned supreme.
The older princess ruled the kingdom with no cares about how she was viewed. She tried her best to be fair, but her punishments were swift. She was studious and strong. She worked hard for herself, trying not to rely on others.
The younger princess was shallow. She went to the public events. She was always dressed in the finest of gowns when in the eyes of the citizens. Her many servants feared her temper, which was always short and ended in fits of violence, but no one ever dared lay a hand on one of the royalty.
The older princess knew she was lacking in knowledge and skill to rule the country as well as she could. So she traveled far and wide to all the neighboring countries and as many distant countries as she could, to learn about others, and spread welcome from her kingdom. She traveled for over a year, and while she was gone, the younger princess reigned over in a year of terror.
When the older princess returned, peace had been made with the kingdoms of far and near, all except for hers. The kingdom was in shambles. The younger princess refused the older princess access to the castle, and when the older princess broke in at night, she ordered her to be exiled from the kingdom. The older princess snuck over the border, and gathered a group of followers. These followers scaled the palace walls and stole the crown and the rest of the belongings of the older princess.
The next morning, a caravan of wagons was circled in front of the palace. The older princess stood in the middle and called forth all who would follow her. One hundred and twelve people pledged their loyalty to her in hopes of peace and order. The younger princess was awoken just before noon by a chambermaid who warned her of the gathering. After a fit of temper at being awoken too early, she realized that only her sister could have caused a gathering such as the one outside her window. The younger princess rushed down the stairs and out the door, screaming for guards all the way. As she emerged from the palace doors the older princess had flipped up the hood of her cloak, climbed aboard a wagon, and rode off toward the border. The younger princess ordered the guards to follow them, and they did, until they reached the border. The older princess escaped to build her own kingdom, and hopefully to one day unite all the other kingdoms in peace, or at least to overthrow the younger princess. But for now, the older princess had to reign over her newly claimed kingdom.
She and her followers named in Queensland, for the newly crowned queen of the older princess.

Inside Leslie

You know like her brain and stuff. What did you think I meant? Pervert.

Small disclaimer: THIS IS NOT A PERSONAL EXPERIENCE! THIS IS FICTIONAL! LESLIE IS AN EXTREMELY MESSED UP CHARACTER! SHE CAN GET THROUGH THIS! YOU JUST HAVE TO BELIEVE IN HER! IF YOU DON’T SHE WILL KNOW! IF YOU DON’T TELL THREE PEOPLE TO CUT A HOLE IN ONE OUT OF EVERY THREE SOCKS SHE WON’T PULL OUT OF THIS! SHE WILL HAUNT YOU WHILE SHE IS STILL ALIVE! THIS IS JUST TO MAKE IT LOOK LIKE I WROTE MORE THAN I DID WHILE IN REALITY I SPENT MY WRITING TIME TALKING TO MYSELF WHILE I FILMED MYSELF WRITING SO I COULD…I DON’T KNOW WHY I DID THAT! I JUST DID! YOU CAN’T JUDGE ME!

                Leslie is sitting on a sink in her bathroom. Her fist is clenched around something small. She is crying. Who would ever understand? This was something that no one would understand. Not Dick, not Jim, not David, not Donald, and not Renée.

                There was something in her. Something that needed to come out. Something that needed to be free. But if that came out of her, would she survive? Would she be able to handle that? Where was this coming from? How could this be her? No one was really like this. No one actually felt this way, correct? There had to be something wrong. No one could know. She didn’t even know. There had to be something worth thinking about other than the ever-present self-doubt.

                She lowered her fist to her exposed right arm. The mirror reflects a shine of something jutting out the corner of her hand. Biting her lip, she brought it across her soft flesh. A crimson line appeared rapidly and diagonally across her forearm from the inside of her elbow to the middle of her inner-muscle. (I will look up that muscle later if this ever becomes a sitcom like I plan for it to MWAHAHAHA). She looked down at the streak; she saw the crimson liquid flowing out. In that liquid she saw the darkness in her mind flowing out of her. In the pain she felt the fear subsiding and escaping, but as the blood clotted, she knew parts of it were trapped inside her. She would just keep going until she was cleansed.

She closed her eyes, and felt the pain and confusion ebb from her open wound. This was working. Tomorrow was another day. Another day to live, another day to be with them, another day to work with the world, another day to cleanse.

                There was a jangle as the doorknob turned. Jim walked into the bathroom to see Leslie quickly pulling her right arm out of sight. He knew instantly what had happened. He had been in her situation before. “Give it to me,” he said.

                “Give you what?”

                “The blade, I can see your arm.”

                “I don’t want to.”

                “You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

                “You don’t have to watch.”

                “Leslie, please.”

                “For the last time, no. This is has nothing to do with you. Just leave me be.”

                “I don’t want you to do this.”

                “You don’t know what I go through.”

                “Maybe I would if you would tell me.”

                Leslie slid off the sink, the blood had dripped down her arm and stopped at her wrist, forming bulbous red bubbles at the end of matching lines. She wouldn’t move toward him or away from him. She merely stood there, still. He moved toward her, but she remained still. He put his arms around her, but she remained still. He said, “I love you Leslie.” She remained still. “I don’t want you to be hurt. Talk to me.”

                “Get the fuck out of my way.” Leslie pushed out of him embrace and past him to the door. “And get out of my house.”

Musical Exposure (Part 1)

                The final bell rang at 3:40. Les escaped Latin earlier, fleeing to French class, but Dick was trapped on a different pathway: he was headed for Calculus. The day wore on like this. He knew her schedule, and how their paths only crossed for lunch and Latin. She practically lived in the language hall, except for her intense biology course. He wore on through an ordinary day, English, Physics, Latin, Calculus, and Gym, all before running off to some sort of athletics practice. His days never changed, whereas she stockpiled up on everything so that her last year could be spent in tolerable stress.

                Around 4:30, Dick emerged from the school to find his shiny little Mazda. Les’s Ford  Fairmont had left the grounds as she normally took off the second she was released from school. He climbed into his car, after unlocking his door by remote, to sit almost comfortably inside with his legs stretched as far as was possible in the car. Maneuvering out the parking lot Dick left the campus too.

                A few minutes after he entered the world of moving cars, he noticed Les’s iPod was still plugged into his radio. He sighed in exasperation at her usual forgetfulness, but he pressed play to relieve his frustration. Immediately he was greeted by a loud beat and shouting. “What the-“ was all he could manage to say before the lyrics covered his words.

                “Stomp, stomp, I’ve arrived. Drop the beat, nasty face, why you looking at me?”**

                Dick was confused. How was this what Les was listening to? Why was she listening to it so loudly? What did she just say?

                “You think I can’t get hurt like you, you motherfucker. I can do it like a brother, do it like a dude. Grab my crotch, wear my hat low like you.”**

                This kind of music went on, scaring the mild-mannered Dick of his lifelong friend’s taste in music. He quickly pressed the next button on his radio. He was slightly comforted by the familiar sound of a beat from some kind of Hip Hop. This was what he was used to when it came to Les. She usually could sing along to any rap, it was just a bit weird when she would in his car. This song seemed friendly.

                “I’m captivated, mesmerized by your eyes. I saw you glance at me and look kind of shy. I think you’re sexy and you got a nice swagger.”***

                That seemed more like Les. Something fast paced, but listener friendly. He let it play for a while. Before long he was singing along to the repetitive chorus:

                “Hey sexy baby want to make you mine

                If it’s not for forever than at least tonight

                I’m a sucker for your energy come over to my house

                And feel my love machine”***

That was, until he wondered about the singer. Was that a girl’s voice? What was he listening to? He quickly turned it off as he pulled into his driveway.

                Dick climbed out of his car and unfolded himself next to the open door. He gathered his things and decided at the last minute to take Les’s iPod in with him. What types of things could he find out about her from this one little window to her life?

*I do not own any of these songs! These are merely songs that I know and thought would fit Leslie's character well.

**"Do It Like a Dude" by Jessie J

***"Love Machine" by God-Des and She

Aftermath...Afterlatin

                Back at the table, Renée and Donald, or as they called each other Soulflight and Riverhaze, had joined David. Les and Dick reclaimed their seats next to them as they were in mid-conversation with David.

                “What did that turkey ever do to the antelope?” Renée inquired of David.

                “What could it do?” David annoyingly responded, “Absolutely nothing. Thus why it-“

                “Flies away before this gets any weirder.” Donald piped in.

                Les waves her hands between her face and the others, “Once again, I don’t want to know what you freaks are talking about.”

                They all continue their lunch. When Dick had finished, he stood up to return his tray. “Hey babes, would you take this up for me? Please?” Les batted her eyelashes as she asked him.

                “Sure,” was all he could say.

                “Thanks Dick!”

                After he had walked far enough away, Les gathered her books and stood up. “Hey,” she said to Renée, “Tell him I went to Latin already.”

                “Why? Is something wrong?”

                “Nothing is wrong. I just have to go before you freaks stuff tofu in my face.” Les stood up, slung her backpack over her shoulder, and left though the doors to head to Latin.

                Dick returned to two empty seats.  Renée chimes in, “Leslie’s headed to Latin.”

                “Why? We still have fifteen minutes left.”

                “She just left, rather suddenly, and a little rudely.”

                Donald adds, “What Soulflight is trying to say is that she seemed to have a lot on her mind.”

                “What could she possibly have on her mind?” Dick inquires.

                “Well, have you ever noticed her taste in partners? You know; their generally not very masculine.”

                “The emo gays you mean?” David interjects.

                Donald, being the lover of mankind that he is, protests, “We shouldn’t call them that. They’re people, just like us. Although, he does have a point, they aren’t exactly perfect for her.”

                “Riverhaze, she probably just wants to be by herself. You know she’s not the most sociable of creatures.”

                “Okay, you guys are talking about her like she’s from another planet. She just went to Latin. Maybe I should join her. You guys just don’t know her at all.”

                “What a bitch,” David remarks as he follows Leslie’s path to the language hall.

*In Latin class*

                Les is sitting in her usual place, a desk near the window in the back corner. Her textbook is opened to the vocabulary list for the chapter, and an open notebook is overlapping the page. However, instead of diligently translating, she is facing the window. Her eyes are closed and her chin is resting on a fist, as the sunlight is just beginning to stream in over her fingertips stretched over the edge of the desk.

                “Don’t leave me with those freaks again,” Dick says as he slides into the seat next to her.

                “They had fake bacon,” was all Les said through lazy lips. She acted as though she were asleep and too exhausted to be angry that she was being woken too early.

                Dick sighs in exasperation at her excuses. It was always like this. She always had some crazed reason for doing anything, and they often made sense less than her actions did. “I see you’re working diligently as always.”

                “Four syllables, wooh. That’s a new record.”

                “You know that insulting me isn’t a good idea.”

                “And you know that I’ve already translated this chapter and I know how Sextus gets out of the ditch.”

                “And how does that explain your sleeping in class?”

                “Little hint: Sextus does absolutely nothing. He just sits there and watches the carriage transform into Optimus Primus.”

                “You’re insane.”

                “YOU’RE insane.”

                “Are you going to wake up any time soon?”

                Les doesn’t respond, but she overdramatizes her response with fake snores and letting her head fall off of her fist. She ‘startles’ awake.

                “Why do I talk to you?”

                “Because you love me.”

                Luckily for Dick, Mr. Bowserman entered the classroom at that time, following the students who had wandered in while Dick was talking to the sleeping Les. “Salvete class!” He was answered by some incomprehensible gibber that the students hoped could pass for Latin. “Miss Birch, is there a reason you’re resting? Are you deeply thinking about your opening remark?”

                Les sits up to look at Mr. Bowserman and says matter-of-factly, “Noli illegitimi carborundum, Magister,” before returning to her preferred sleeping position of resting her face on the desk with her forehead resting on the backs of her hands.

Well This Is Awkward

Later at lunch

                Dick is sitting at his usual table, waiting next to an empty seat for Les. He plans to make his move as soon as she breaks up with her newest boyfriend, Jim. This one seems even more messed up to him than she is. He is sure he can help Les. As he’s waiting for her to show up, she walks up behind him. “Guys are dicks.” She punches him in the back.

                “What did you do that for?”
                “Because guys are fucking jerks,” She massages her knuckles.

                “Is Jim in one piece?”

                “Oh that’s very mature. Just go make fun of the cutters.”

                “No, no. I meant did you kill him for being such a fucking jerk?”

                “No. He just can’t seem to understand me.”

                “Well what did you say to him?”

                “I told him that this just didn’t feel right.”

                “Fourth guy in two months. How long did this one last?” David appears across the table from Dick and Les.

                “We only went out twice.”

                “That has to be some new slut record.” Dick is appalled at David’s comment, and Les kicks him under the table. David cries out slightly.

                “Wow Dick, if looks could kill…” Les winks at him.

                David’s face has scrunched up as he mutters, “More like if heels could kill.”

                Les kicks him again. “Oh, they can.”

                These strange three continue their lunch in what could never pass for quiet. David badgers Les about Jim and the other boys. Dick defends Les. Les eats her fries as she accuses Dick of patronizing her and prattles on to David about the difference between being a slut and experimenting.

                “How is it experimenting if you always pick the same type of guys?” David asks.

                “They are not the same,” Les argues.

                “They’re always this creepy, emo type, which maybe is what turns you on, since you’ve got that whole-“ he looks at Dick trying not to upset him, “you know-thing going on. And just for the record, I always thought Jim was gay.”

                “He is not gay. He’s bi.”

                “Like there’s a difference. He likes dick.”

                Dick perks up, “Excuse me?”

                “No, no. He had no interest in you. I told him you were straight.”

                Dick isn’t consoled by this latest comment. He looks awkwardly down at his lunch as he swirls a French fry in ketchup. Les and David continue to debate the sexuality of poor Jim until he decides to leave. “Excuse me.”

                “Where are you going?” Les inquires.

                “To the bathroom?” Dick answers in a voice that seems unsure how to answer.

                “Oh. Have fun then!”

                After Dick has walked off David continues his tormenting of Les. “You know, you might get better guys if you grew your hair a little, or at least stopped dating guys that look like girls.”

                “I like my hair short. And they do not look like girls!”

                “Oh, come on! They all have longer hair than you and wear more makeup even.”

                “David, even you wear more makeup than me.”

                “I don’t wear any.”

                “Exactly.”

                “You do wear makeup.”

                “Yes, but it doesn’t look like I’m wearing makeup.”

                “But you’re still wearing makeup.”

                “It doesn’t count if you can’t see it.”

                “It does, especially to guys.”

                “Well I don’t wear it every day.”

                “Whatever. You still wear makeup.”

                “I’m tired of hearing that word.”

                “Fine then.” The conversation drops between David and Les for a minute. She continues her lunch before he strikes again. “You know, there are some guys who like you, even though you look a little butchy.”

                “None of them were gay!”

                “No, I mean guys you haven’t fucked around with yet.”

                “What?”

                “I believe you mean to say ‘who?’”

                “What are you talking about?”
                “Leslie, just go ask Richard. He’ll tell you. He should have by now anyway.”

                Les sits in front of him, a little confused. She decides to wait for Dick, not to talk to him, but just to get away from the confusion emanating from David. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She walks between the tables and leans against the wall by the entrance to the boys’ bathroom.

                Dick emerges to her calling, “What’s up, Big Dick?” His face reddens a little, but he turns around. He sees her waiting for him, and he has the urge to lean over her, to be close to her, to not care who was watching like her and kiss her. He puts his hands in his pockets and resists as he stands before her. “Hey,” he manages to get out.

                “Do I look like a girl?”

                Dick is taken by surprise by this inquisition. “You’re beautiful.”

                “Yes, but guys can be beautiful too. In many species, the male is the more visually appealing one and the females are often quite plain. But that’s not what I asked.”

                “Why are you even asking?”

                “I have no idea. David was talking about something, and then he mentioned you and something about us talking, or maybe you talking. Should I be talking? No you should have said something by now.”

                Dick is confused, as normal when she gets going on things that involve David. She doesn’t quite seem to understand his way of saying things. “What?”

                “That’s what he said: That you should have said something by now. What was he talking about? Do you want to tell me something? Or should you be the one to point out something obvious like half of my hair has fallen out because you’ve known me the longest? Or am I just confusing myself?”

                “You’re confusing me.”

                “Alrightie then…how about you just tell me something. Anything.”

                “Anything?”
                “Anything.”

                “Well I was just thinking, now that you and Jim aren’t you and Jim, maybe you would—or you don’t have to—unless you would like to go out with me—or we could just stay friends, I’m cool with being friends, but maybe you wouldn’t, or you would if I wasn’t. What I’m trying to say is—“

                “Will you go out with me?”

                “Yes. Well, I mean yes that was what I was going to say, unless you’re asking me. Are you?”

                “You were in the process of asking me.”

                “Oh right, so—“

                “Sorry.”

                “What?”

                “Look, you’re my best friend. You’re my oldest friend. You’re my biggest friend. It would just be awkward. I mean I like you, but what if it didn’t work out? We couldn’t be each other’s best friends anymore. Remember what happened with Mark?”

                “Yes, but I would never do that.”

                “No matter how much I hurt you? No. I’m sorry. You’re my friend. I am consciously putting you in the Friend-Zone because I don’t want to lose you.”

                “Tell me the truth.”

                “You’re just not my type.”

                “Oh.” Dick was crushed by this. He wished he could pull off a comical “ouch” like she could, but all he could do was stand in shame and embarrassment.

                “Oh come on you big pussy.” Les embraced Dick tightly before dragging him back to their table by his elbow.

Introducing Leslie and Richard

                There was Leslie, and there was Richard: two friends who had grown up together, two good friends who shared memories, two best friends who didn’t really know each other.

                “Hey Dick, can I charge my iPod in your car for a minute?”

                “You really should get an adapter for USBs.”

                “But why should I buy one when I can just use yours for free?”

                “So you don’t come off as a bum? And school starts soon; you won’t be able to use it anyway.”

                “…So can I charge it through the day?”

                “Do you know what that could do to my car battery?”

                “You were the one that told me about leaving your iPod charging in your car for a week while you were on vacation and nothing happened. So what is seven hours going to do to it?”

                Dick sighs irritated, “Fine Les, go ahead.”

                Les shouts a quick, “Thanks babe! I love you!” as she slips into his Mazda. Dick has heard this from her before, and he is getting tired of it not having any meaning.

                “You know, maybe the whole ‘I love you’ thing is what makes you come off as a slut.” Dick and Les walk at their usual pace out of the parking lot, him trying to take his enormous strides slowly, and her practically jogging to keep up.

                She kicks him in the calf at this remark. “I’m not a slut. I’m just affectionate! I don’t believe in hiding my emotions behind subtleties and innuendos.”

                “You know, maybe the old fashioned way of going about things works because it’s safer. You know, people don’t reject you so easily if you don’t let them.”

                “You sound like a whiny little bitch. Just grow a pair and talk to this imaginary chick you have been obsessing about for years.”

                “Will you please stop saying she’s fake?”

                “Oh come on, no girl is smart, pretty, and fun to be with. The closest thing I can come up with is a prostitute working her way through law school.”

                “Well you’re pretty.”

                “Oh really? Which is my better quality: my scars or my long nose?”

                “You’re smart.”

                “As every one of these pretentious bastards will agree with you as they call me ‘Nerd Girl.’ Can’t they at least come up with a more suitable or original insult?”

                “I like being with you.”

                “And that’s why we’re best friends, baby.”

                Dick and Les are entirely different. While Dick is introverted, Les is rather extroverted and tends to express her opinions more than she should. Dick quite the athlete: tennis, golf, and most importantly for a guy of his height basketball. Les is more content to stay home with her books. He’s a rich bastard, according to her. He can barely see her without tilting his head downward. His shiny silver 2011 Mazda 6 is always ironically parked next to her faded blue 1981 Ford Fairmont. She works on a farm; he’s only ever worked out. It’s weird how they’re best friends through all of this. They do share some qualities. They’re both seventeen. They share a short haircut for their curly hair, though hers is a soft brown while his is white-blonde. And they have something else in common Dick can’t quite see.

                They get through the front doors, and she’s still teasing him about his “imaginary” girlfriend. “Well I can’t tell if you really exist. I can’t see you half the time.” His usual comebacks to her insults involve her height.

                “Ooh! That hurts!” she exclaims, dramatically holding her abdomen over a invisible stab-wound. She sees a smiling face across the hall. “There’s Jim! Gotta go! Love ya!” She gives him one last punch in the arm before running off to grab the arm of a different guy.

                “Welcome to the friend-zone, my good man,” a sleazy David says as he appears next to a dumbfounded Dick. “Get over the bitch, Richard. She obviously prefers the emo freaks. And I mean ALL of the emo freaks.”

                “Shut up man. She’s not really a slut.”

                “Look all I’m saying is that you’re probably not going to tap that anytime soon.”

                “Oh yeah? I’ll ask her out if you don’t think I can.”

                “Go ahead. What’s stopping you?”

                “Well, I can’t now. She’s with her boyfriend.”

                “Give it a few days. She’ll dump him soon. Then he’ll have more things to be emo about. Is that why she picks them? Do they compare scars? Is that what emos do? Or does she just like to fuck with their heads like she does with yours?”

                “Look, she and I are friends—“

                “Hence, the ‘Friend-Zone.’”

                “I don’t want to hurt her. I just keep thinking that maybe I can help her with the whole-you know-thing.”

                “You can’t help her. She is the worst type to help. She has no reason to cut, so there is no reason for her to stop. It’s probably just for attention.”

Ghangsters (No That Is Not a Typo)

                As Amelia, Richard, and Braxton lived in their triumph over the G, a shadow fell across the parking lot. It was too late for kids to be hanging around a school, though it wasn’t yet dark. Braxton looked up at the clouds like a turkey in the rain.

Braxton: It’s getting dark.

Richard: Oh really? What does the weather girl have to say about this data you have collected?

Amelia: The term is “meteorologist.”

Richard: Excuse me!

Braxton: Guys! I’m just saying that the clouds are blocking the sun rather suddenly. No need to get sarcastic about it.

Amelia: I wasn’t being sarcastic.

Richard [grinning slyly and making a steeple from his fingers]: But I was.

                The Three bickered for a bit, continuing to argue about the clouds, Braxton’s definition of sarcasm, Braxton’s femininity, and whether or not Richard and Amelia were secretly plotting to kill Braxton over the weekend.

Braxton: I’m metro-sexual! Except I couldn’t care less about clothes and shit, so I’m not. But I am! I’M NOT GAY!

Amelia: You are just one flaming-hetero.

                Up on the hill overlooking the parking lot, their arguments were carried to the ears of listeners. These listeners had seen the G go down to mess with the Three, and be pushed down the hill pants-less.  As the Three continue to bicker, they creep down the side of the hill, and advance upon the Three.

Amelia: What good would a fucking turtle do?

Braxton: Just don’t bring turtles into this!

Richard: Dude seriously. They aren’t ninjas.

                The listeners, also G’s, were now upon the Three as this argument increased in volume and decreased in sense. Braxton was the first to point out the mass of G’s surrounding the Three.

G1: What’d you bitches stop fo’?

Braxton: Uh…she’s the bitch, we’re dudes.

Amelia [slaps Braxton’s shoulder]: What do you want?

G2: That’s our bitch down thur, what did you have to go and push him down thur fo’?

Richard: Wait, I thought we were the bitches?

G3: Shut up!

Braxton: Why don’t you make me?

G2: Fine then.

                The second G moved toward Braxton with an arm raised. Braxton retreated a step, but not enough to entirely avoid the punch that landed on his collarbone. “God damn it!” he screamed into the air.

                Richard moved forward and grabbed the second G before he could land another punch on Braxton, but another came from behind him and reached up to grab his neck. As Richard and Braxton scrambled with the numerous little G’s, Amelia was batting away at the G around Richard’s neck with her ice scraper. Or at least she was until she noticed something.

                “Hey guys look! That loser’s still trying to put his pants back on!” Amelia laughed, and Braxton…made some sound resembling a laugh and chipmunk choking.

                In this momentary confusion, Richard managed to get out of the dangling G’s grip. Amelia shoved him toward his truck and pulled Braxton away, slamming him into the door of his boarder-jumper. Braxton got away first, then Richard pulled out of his parking spot. Amelia’s SHO, though was having trouble starting. She quickly locked all the doors and tried again with the key. The engine roared to life. “Thank whatever god there isn’t!” she exclaimed as she backed out of her parking space in time to see Braxton turn into the road with Richard waiting behind him. Amelia pulled in behind him and saw two of the unruly G’s climb into the back of Richard’s car in the way that only rude jerks could consider stealthily. Luckily for them Richard couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his ancient truck’s engine running. Amelia honked her car horn, and the G’s ducked. Richard waved in ignorance and drove off. Amelia groaned in exasperation and followed Richard.

                The Three were all travelling the same way, and Richard passed Braxton as soon as a second lane was available. As Richard drove by Braxton, one of the G’s popped up, and Braxton, startled, swerved and jumped the curb into someone’s yard. Richard stopped at a red light and the G’s jumped out of the truck bed and ran for Braxton. Richard saw the commotion in his mirrors, and turned right at the light and up the hill. Amelia followed, and they came in almost a full circle to meet at the top of the hill to see Braxton being chased by the two G’s. Amelia and Richard parked their cars and ran out to see the chase.

Richard: He’s a cross-country runner, he should be fine.

Amelia: He’s not that good though.

Richard: Well all he has to do is run until those guys get tired.

Amelia: Good point.

                Amelia and Richard watched from above, laughing at Braxton when they weren’t cheering him on.

Richard: So about that whole, gangster thing:  it seems like the times are a-changing.

Amelia: Yep, there’s just no respect for the classics anymore.  These guys are a ruthless swarm of crazed hooligans. Kind of like…who was that one crazy dude with the army? You know the guy in Asia? He had the cool beard.

Richard: You mean Genghis Khan?

Amelia: Yes! These guys are just Ghangsters.

Richard: Hey look! Braxton tripped!

Amelia: Ah fuck. Does this mean we have to go get him?

Here Come the Real "G"

There was a high school. In this school were some “G’s”, scrawny little guys who had no idea what a belt or properly fitting pants were. These poor dumb fools had no idea what they were calling themselves.

                Then there were a few who decided to have some fun. Richard, Braxton, and Amelia were their names. They went to school with these “G’s” and decided that enough was enough; they were tired of seeing the pants around the knees of these pathetic little runts. They finally made their move on Decades Day.

                In walked the three, from different entrances. Braxton walked up the front steps, Richard came in the basement, and Amelia strutted through the front door. Each one radiating power and walking with the purpose of intimidating all those around them, not that they were entirely successful.

                They met in the atrium, the place where all the delinquents hung after school. These three were bad: they were there BEFORE school. Each had on a suit tailored to perfection. Richard wore a pinstripe navy suit, Braxton a grey suit, Amelia a black suit. Each had a shirt as white as angels’ wings, and a tie as black as the devil’s pupils. Their hair was combed back to a uniform smoothness. Each had a defining accessory: Richard had his trench coat, Braxton had his fedora, and Amelia had her pocket watch. They set out for the day: Richard and Amelia to Physics, Braxton to Calculus. Surrounding all of them were guys who didn’t give a fuck, “G’s,” a few ‘50s throwback dudes, and girls embracing their vintage sluttiness in mock ‘80s attire.

                The day wore on. The three met at lunch, outside on the steps. Amelia recounted her tales of being mistaken for a guy multiple times that day to the boys. While Amelia was confused, Richard and Braxton were amused. Richard’s roaring chortle nearly drowned out Braxton’s girly giggle. Nearly. It escaped their conversation and clumsily collided with the ears of one of the “G’s.” Insulted and intrigued by the sound, the “G” came over to the three.

G: “Wut goin’ down up in hur?”

Amelia: “Excuse me?”

G: “Wut is soooo funny, you dumb ass?”

Richard to the three: “Wouldn’t that be asses?”

Braxton giggles; the “G” looks in confusion

Amelia: “What do you want, punk?”

G: “Who you callin’ a punk, dick?”

Amelia points to Richard: “Do you mean him?”

Richard: “And that’s Big Dick to you.”

G: “Wut the fuck?”

Amelia: “You got a problem with us?”

G: “Wait…are you a girl?”

Amelia does a facepalm

Richard: “Yeah, that’s Amelia.”

Amelia: “So why is it so important that you’re bothering us?”

G: “Y’all are just a bunch of pussies”

Richard: “Hey! Watch your language!”
Amelia: “Yeah you cunt-sucker, watch your fucking mouth!”

G: “What the fuck…”
Amelia: “Seriously, shut the fuck up and get out of my face.”

Richard: “Amelia…”

G: “You got a problem, bitch? Is it that time of the month for you?”

Amelia lunges at hi;, Richard stops her with his extremely long muscled arm.

G: “Gotta keep your bitches on a tight leash, man.”

Richard: “You know what, just shut up.”

Braxton: “Hey guys, come on.”

Amelia: “Nut up or shut up, Braxton.”

Braxton: “I’m just saying that it’s getting near time to go.”

Amelia wriggles out of Richard’s arm

Amelia: “Excuse me, I have to go to German. Fich dich, Arschloch.”

                The three leave the somewhat angry, but mostly confused “G” out on the steps. They walk back to their classes.

Richard: “You know, swearing is not very lady-like, Amelia.”

Braxton: “No wonder people think you’re a guy. Besides the whole lack of boobs thing.”

Amelia: “How many times do I have to tell y’all? I ain’t no lady.”

                The three go through the rest of the day.

❶❷❸❹❺❻❼❽❾❿⓫⓬⓭⓮⓯⓰⓱⓲⓳⓴

                At the conclusion of the school day, each of the three went to their individual after-school activities. Amelia went to Academic Team; Braxton went to track practice; Richard went to basketball practice.

                Around 17:00 they all showed up in the parking lot. Amelia and Braxton were drawing on the windows of Richard’s antique truck with expo markers. “What are you guys doing?” Richard bellowed before picking up Braxton and dropping him in the bed of his little border-jumper truck.

                The annoying little “G” approaches.

G: “You girls having a little fight?”

Richard: “Dude, just back off.”

G: “Well maybe my car is out here, you dumb shit.”

Braxton: “Where is it then?”

G: “Why is he-“

Amelia: “Answer the question.”

G: “Maybe I don’t have a car.”

Amelia: “Ah the ambiguity.”

G: “Wut?”

Amelia: “Un idiot dit ‘quoi?’ en anglais.”

G: “What?”

Amelia laughs loudly; Braxton and Richard share a confused laugh.

G: “Are y’all makin’ fun o’ me?”

Amelia: “You wouldn’t know if I was or not, would you?”

Richard: “Amelia, be nice.”

Amelia: “I’ll act however I please.”

G: “Y’all are just stupid.”

                The “G” starts to walk away. Amelia heads toward her black ’93 Ford Taurus SHO. She opens the back door to drop off her back pack. From a surprising closeness, the voice of the “G” returns. “You’re nothing but talk bitch. Amelia pulls out her ice-scraper from the back of her car (Leonerd) and slaps the “G” on the shoulder with the bristled brush end. The “G” yells in surprise. “Wut da fuck, bitch? You cain’t do dat to a gangsta!”

                Braxton leaps out of the bed of his truck next to the “G.” Braxton grabs him and pins his arms to his sides. Amelia stands ready with her ice-scraper, posed like she used to at baseball practice years ago. Richard stands behind Amelia, his height imposing enough to scare anyone who mocked Amelia’s makeshift weapon. “You are no GANGSTER. You are just an ignorant fool, whose cowardly pants have decided to flee,” Amelia remarked upon the “G’s” pants sliding down his legs.

                Richard navigated Braxton, still holding the “G” to the edge of the hill, where Braxton released the “G” as Amelia poked his shoulder with her ice-scraper. The “G” rolled down the hill helplessly, wailing when he landed on the tennis court.

                Richard and Amelia shared a knuckle-touch. Braxton approached Amelia ready for a high-five, but Amelia high-fived his face instead, before embracing him in an apologetic hug.

IMA WRITE SOMETHING

Since I live in the most boring place I can imagine, I shall use this blog to WRITE!!! Big shock right there, eh? No I am not Canadian. My uncle is, and my mum kind of....Where am I? GOT IT!
So I'm going to start writing (again), but actually try to finish what I start. My few followers besides myself know of my writing, hehe...writing groupies! That was creepy, even for me.
So I'll write my little stories and let THE WORLD OF THE INTERWEBS see them! I'm scared of people copying what I'm going to write and stealing it, so I just won't use my good stuff, just some general things that I don't care about. My real friends can see my writing that I am really proud of (in a way).
Sadly though, my little stories all turn out to be gay...even if I purposefully make them straight, my brain twists it while I'm writing so it just doesn't work out the way I planned it. Ah well, no romance stories for me if I can help it.
RAWR! I'm bored. I also have no friends. I mean I have friends, I just never see them. You see, they go to school, or they live far away, or they work, or they don't have time, or they just don't like me at all. So it seems like I just live in a bubble by myself and have no life, so I just plug in my headphones and blast music while I dance like no one is watching (because I am forever alone).
BUT BUT BUT I promised myself I would start writing! I told the amazing Rufus that I would start writing! I told no one else about my plans for writing! I am now telling THE WORLD OF THE INTERWEBS about my plans for writing!
If I don't post something once a week (each Wednesday) while I am stuck here, an evil faerie will haunt my dreams and reduce my chances of ever finding a four-leaf clover.