A/N So this idea just came to me today while I was watching this episode of Victorious with my girls. It is one of the only shows my girls enjoy that I can stomach, and I actually really love the characters, especially Jade, and wanted to get into her head a bit.
Wok Star
Chapter One
Jade's POV
I feel my phone vibrate on my hip for about the twentieth time in the past hour. I don't even pause to glance down at the display screen. My eyes are focused on the trash can that I am methodically mutilating. I already know that it will be another text from Beck, asking where I am, if I'm okay, please let him know, yada yada yada. I know that I should send some kind of answer to him, but if I stop what I am currently doing, the tears I'm trying so damn hard to keep at bay may fall.
Blowing off my past two classes isn't going to do me any favors- the school is certain to call my mom about my unexcused absences. I don't even want to think about the amount of hell I am going to have to deal with when my mom and stepdad find out I skipped class. Fuck, it's not like it matters. My stepdad doesn't need an excuse to punish me. My mere exsistance seems to be enough for him.
"Well Wishes" was the ONE thing that I've created that I have been completely proud of. I had so much faith in my script, I even opened my big, fat mouth to my father about it. I never talk to him about school- or anything that is important to me really. It's not like he gives a rat's ass about anything involving the arts. My excitement and pride must have been too much for him to overlook and dismiss this time though. He actually told me that he would come to see my play when it opened, and literally pulled out his pearpad to make a reminder for himself about it.
Now thanks to Lane and Eikner, any hope that I had of earning one smidgen of respect from my father is null and void. How the hell can I tell him to forget it? That Sikowitz raved about the depth and feeling of my script, the emotional complexity, the way I could write such a brilliant piece of work at only sixteen was almost unheard of. My father won't care that my Bohemian theater teacher thought it was just as amazing as I did. What he WILL care about is the fact that once the play comittee read my script, I was sent to Lane's office for a mandatory "chat" with Eiker and him.
"This play is just too dark Jade."
"You understand this could upset people."
"We don't want to discourage you from writing in any way."
"Maybe your next play shouldn't focus on something so disturbing."
Seriously!? I mean, why the hell is it okay for SINJIN to direct a play about fucking canniblism? How is that subject not dark and depressing? I mean, a girl falling into a well and drowning in her own tears is worse than a bunch of campers going crazy, starving to death in the wilderness and freaking eating each other? Fuck you Lane and Eikner.
I notice my hands are shaking. I bite my bottom lip attempting to stop the tears that are threatening to run down my face. I take a ragged breath and focus all my energy on the sharp blades of my scissors, watching as they slice through the dense plastic of the janitor's trash can.
I can feel myself settling down and regaining my compsure. Good thing too, because ten seconds later I hear the squeek of the closet doorknob being turned, and I can feel the air swish as the closet door opens towards me. I discretely raise my eyes to the door, to see who has breached my sanctuary. Beck slowly walks in, followed by all the others.
Fucking fabulous.
A/N Let me know if you think I should continue this.