This is just an innocent little multi-chapter story I'm writing to help clear my writer's block. This is my first time writing a first person fic, so hopefully it's not terrible. And seeing as I was in fourth grade during the early 2000's, I will be referencing a lot of awesome older stuff I remember. I hope you like it, and thanks to anyone who reads, reviews, follows, or favorites!
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But Today Was Different
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Chapter 1: Posh Spice's Not-So-Secret Admirer
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Hello. I'm Courtney Day. If I've learned anything so far this year, it's that fourth grade is nothing like third grade. Fourth grade involves cursive, which means no more printing. I still dot my 'i's with hearts, but it doesn't look as good, in my opinion. Math has turned into multiplication, which is just ridiculous. I'm better at writing, personally, but I can keep up. The main thing that changed from last year, though, is the boys.
Last year, boys were boys. We could coincide peacefully at the playground by avoiding each other, but now it's as if avoidance has been replaced by fighting and chasing and all sorts of other weird activities I do NOT want to participate in. However, my best friend, Gwen, wants nothing more than to go jogging after the boys in a rough game of frisbee football or mud puddle hopping or whatever.
Today was no different.
"I'm telling you, Courtney! The Backstreet Boys are the greatest band EVER!" Gwen insisted, bumping her swing into mine.
My sneaker toes dragged through the wet wood chips and I gave Gwen a dirty look. "No way," I said, "The Spice Girls are. Posh Spice is my idol!" I adored Victoria Beckham's glamorous business style; my button-up shirt and green corduroy skirt were an attempt to mirror her look.
"Yeah, they're okay. I like Scary Spice," Gwen said, staring absent-mindedly at the boy's football game.
I sighed. Gwen wasn't herself anymore. Instead of wanting to pretend to be animals or explore the woods with me, she only cared about what the boys were doing. "Gwen," I started, "Maybe-"
But my possibly brilliant sentence was cut off by a harsh thunk to the back of my head.
"Um, ouch!" I cried angrily as the projectile football bounced to the ground.
"Heads up!" one of the guys yelled. I rubbed my head where the pointy ball had struck.
Gwen tugged on my jacket sleeve excitedly and squealed, "Courtney! Trent and Duncan are coming over!"
Now, I didn't mind Trent, I really didn't. He usually did his homework, was mostly polite, and didn't stink. But Duncan was a completley different story. That ugly jerk couldn't go one day without pulling my hair, calling me a name, stealing my pencil, or any other obnoxious activity. He pulled pranks on the teachers, he was rude and loud, and he never seemed to be doing anything he was supposed to be doing. A lot of girls liked that about him, but honestly? He was repulsive.
Today was no different.
"Heyyy Princess!" Duncan sneered, searching around for his ball. His black bangs fell into his eyes; in my opinion, he needed a haircut.
"Hi Duncan," Gwen smiled shyly, playing with her black hoop earrings. Gwen had been the first in our class to get her ears pierced, and she wouldn't let anyone forget. After a second she quickly added, "Hey Trent." I rolled my eyes.
Trent smiled back at us and asked if we wanted to join. I politely declined, but Gwen raced away from her swing like it was on fire and covered in spiders. After Duncan called me a 'buzzkill', the three ran down to the field, giggling and passing the ball between them.
And I rocked slowly in my swing, watching my best friend run away from me. She tried to catch the ball from the air, but dropped it. Gwen's almost as bad at team sports as I am. I lifted my chin and considered that The Spice Girls probably didn't hang out all the time either, and maybe Scary Spice abandoned Posh Spice once in a while too.
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Miss Blainley is our fourth grade teacher and has been for exactly two months and six days. I have my serious concerns that Miss Blainley isn't a real teacher, because she only wears expensive dresses and chunky jewelry, and every day she staggers through the classroom door with sunglasses and frizzed up hair. Most of the time, she just assigns us group reading projects or silent math work while she sits at her tiny desk, either sipping on a fancy looking coffee and flipping through magazines or putting her head down and complaining about the fluorescent lights in the hallway.
Today was no different.
As I sat at my table cluster with Geoff, Bridgette, and Izzy, reading the assigned dinosaur facts page in our science books, I felt a tiny movement in my hair, and then another. I reached back to brush whatever it was away, but my hand came in contact with something slimy and round. I spun around to see Duncan with a straw in one hand and an evil smile on his stupid face.
"SPITBALLS?" I roared, "You're the worst, Duncan Scotts!"
"Settle down, class," Miss Blainley half-heartedly scolded from behind her wrinkled Cosmopolitan.
I crossed my arms and huffed, leaving my book facedown with its spine bent- a major crime in the fourth grade.
"Don't let him get to you," Bridgette said, picking the paper wads out of my hair.
I sighed.
"Seriously, dude, that's just how Duncan is," Geoff said cheerily.
"I wish Duncan was more like these dinosaurs. Extinct!" I grumbled. Geoff and Bridgette just chuckled and went back to reading, but I remained seething in my chair. As I thought of different ways to send Duncan to the moon, I couldn't help but notice Beth glaring at me again; her pigtails stuck out at funny angles from her random assortment of barrettes, making her look like some angry little alien. She'd been giving me nasty looks a lot lately, and I didn't quite understand that either.
Apparently fourth grade was the gateway to becoming crazy.
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"Today we will be continuing our discussion about World War One," Miss Blainley announced. She pulled a stack of papers from behind her podium and began passing them out.
"Psst!" Gwen hissed at me. I ignored her.
"Psst! Courtney!" she said, louder than before. "Courtney!"
I was still slightly upset about what happened at recess, but I figured if Gwen was willing to get yelled at by Miss Blainley, what she had to say must be important. I turned to look at her. "What is it? You're going to get us in trouble," I whispered sharply back.
Gwen nodded understandingly but relayed her message anyway. "I need to talk to you!" she replied.
"No talking!" Miss Blainley grumped, her back turned to us as she began writing on the board.
We stayed quiet throughout the rest of the lesson, and it was a relief when Miss Blainley announced free study time. Sitting quietly in my desk, I began looking up words on the spelling list. As I pondered the validity of spelling lists, because I didn't understand how I could possibly look up a word I didn't how to spell, I noticed a tiny blue drop splatter on my desktop. And then another.
"Duncan!" I cried, "What did you do?"
He stood in front of my desk, his hands stained a deep blue, holding a leaking pen. He grinned at me, jerking his head to the side to get his bangs out of his eyes. "So, I guess this is what happens when you put a pen in a pencil sharpener," he snickered, holding it out to me.
I pulled back in my seat. "Duncan! You're getting ink all over my paper!"
He snorted. "Have you seen my hands, Princess? Here, give me a high five!"
"No!" I squealed, pushing myself further away. "Go away! What kind of idiot puts a pen in a pencil sharpener anyways?"
"Dude, that happened to me last week!" Geoff laughed, joining our conversation.
"Nice," Duncan complimented him, still dripping ink on my homework.
"Duncan," I said calmly, "you are SO ANNOYING AND I HATE YOU!"
He only smiled wider. "I hate you too, Princess!" he sang, swinging the leaking pen around like an orchestrator's wand. A splatter of ink hit my cheek.
"DUNCAN!"
"What's going on over there?" Miss Blainley interjected finally.
He gave me a pleading look, and I knew he already had his name on the board for being late. I sighed. "Nothing, Miss Blainley. Everything's fine."
"Get back to work please," she said from behind her magazine.
Duncan snickered and walked away to the sink.
"I am going to get you, Duncan Scotts," I mumbled under my breath, taking my ruined homework to the trash.
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Upon returning from my trip to the wastebasket, I found a folded up piece of paper wedged under my desktop.
"Bridgette? Did you see who put this here?" I asked, pulling the paper out of its hiding place.
She looked up from her conversation with Geoff with a lost, dreamy look on her face. "Wha...?" she said.
I shook my head and smiled. "Never mind." I turned my attention back to the paper. Getting notes was a pretty big deal in the fourth grade, so I was kind of excited. My name had been scrawled in messy hand, but it was the kind of messy where it could've been a guy or a girl who wrote it. I unfolded it stealthily under my book, pretending to be interested in reading, but that didn't stop Gwen from coming over.
"Hey Courtney, can we ta- what's on your face?" she asked, cutting herself off.
I rolled my eyes. "Duncan got ink all over me."
"Oh. Who's the note from?" she asked; she looked kind of sick. Gwen twisted on the hem of her dark blue shirt.
"I don't know," I said. Moving the note to my lap, I leaned down to read it in private:
Dear Courtney,
I think you are really nice and pretty and I was hoping you would come watch our basketball game tonight and cheer for me.
-Trent
I felt my cheeks flare up.
"What's it say? What's it say?" Gwen giggled, almost nervously, and prodded my shoulder with her long nails. I gave it to her to read, still speechless, and watched as her reaction changed. She looked down at me with the biggest smile I'd ever seen her wear.
"We have to go to this game tonight! He totally likes you!" Gwen gushed excitedly.
"You think so?" I asked, smiling.
"Of course! This is perfect!" she declared. "My mom can drive us!"
"Okay," I said uncertainly, "I'll have to ask."
"Call me once you get home," Gwen insisted, the smile never leaving her face. I might've been more suspicious of her weirdly happy mood if I hadn't been so distracted by the foreign feeling of butterflies in my stomach.
Gwen started back for her desk, but then I remembered something she had said.
"Wait! Didn't you want to say something to me?" I asked.
Gwen shrugged and said, "I'll just tell you tonight. It will be perfect!"
She skipped back to her seat and I almost had a heart attack. Gwen was skipping? Something was up, and I needed to know. Gwen was always starting someone dramatic though, whether she meant to or not. She fought with Heather and Lindsay on an almost daily basis, and she always got her name on the board for disrespecting Mr. Chef's cooking in front of him. Drama followed Gwen everywhere.
I could only hope that today would be different.