Okay, so this is my first fanfic. This really was put out there to, you know, see what happens, lifes all about that. I resonantly had my tonsils taken out and this is what got my through that whole week. Trust me, in your reviews you have a right to say anything you want. Go ahead flame me. Just be sure to put constructive critisism in it!
Disclaimer- Stephanie owns all characters(duh) exept for Story. Oh yeah, I also don't own Mrs. Crowe(shh, don't tell her I wrote about her).
Five hundred thirty five, five hundred thirty six, five hundred thirty seven, five hundred(no I'm not counting sheep)thirty eight. There are exactly five hundred thirty eight ceiling tiles, seven windows, twenty desks, five computers, and two hundred floor tiles. I counted. Somebody had their left over lunch out. I could smell it; tuna noodle casserole. My stomach twisted and growled making a few annoyed heads turn from their reading. Why me? The room got silent again, Mr. Greyson had fallen asleep. All you could hear was his soft snoring. Some Gothic chick got out her Ipod and was blaring the music. I bet her parents don't even care that she has detention. Especially if they let her out of the house in a mini skirt and fish nets. My Mom would skin me alive if I ever went Goth. I'm sure Mom was pretty upset, now that this was like the fifth time I had detention, this year.
I feel that school has nothing to do with learning anymore, the teachers could care less. So first I tried using my voice and talking irrationally. The school thought I was complaining, so that's why I get here, detention number five. All I wanted was to give a little life to everyone's day, so sue me.
This last prank had been so worth it. Me and my best friend snuck bubble-bath into the restroom and put it into the toilets. When class was over there were a flurry of girls rushing to the bathroom. You should have heard their laughing when the room started filling with bubbles. Then the evil witch, Mrs. Crowe, walked out. Her face just read, "my office now!" Two words, detention sucks. At least I get my homework done.
The Strawberry Shortcake watch on my hand read 4:10, five more minutes. Thank God it's Friday. This really gross boy in the back corner farted SO loud. Of course it started smelling and everyone was laughing, not caring to hold it in. The door called to me. My eyes were watering. I was about to go stick my face in that kids casserole when finally, the bell rings. Freedom! Our little stampede came hurling out of the classroom coughing and laughing but all the same. I yelled bye to Megan and started skipping to my Dad's car. Yes, skipping, no one was around.
"Hey," I murmured as I got into the old Rabbit. I knew my dad wouldn't be too upset. He was a lot like me in that way.
He rolled his eyes then said, "what cha do this time?"
"Just filled the girls toilets with bubble bath." I swear he smirked. Jacob is pretty cool, he's a werewolf properly known as a shape shifter. Shocker, tell me about it. With his long black hair and built bod, you can tell he doesn't look at all old enough to be my father. I'll even admit that I can see why my mom married him. Hope that didn't sound weird. I pulled the car mirror thingy down and looked at my face. It had been through a lot of teary laughing today. Most people say I look a lot like Jacob, with my black hair and thick dark lashes. My cheekbones were high. I also got that from my dad's Native American heritage. Sadly, I didn't get my moms brown eyes. Even better, mine are a deep forest green that stand out and illuminate my features. Word is that my eyes came from my grandfather Edward's mom. Her name is Elizabeth, she died when Edward turned. I was a mix of every one. Mama gave me her hair. Most of the time it's rather straight but just slightly wavy and full. My favorite thing about my face are my lips. They are called rosebud lips; the kind that women had in the 1800's. Full but small. You might say I am beautiful. People often do. If there is one thing that I will never do though, is to brag. I have friends all shapes and sizes but I love them all the same.
"So Story, me and your mom were thinking about taking a trip down to La Push tomorrow. Do you want to come and meet my side of the family? I know it's kind of sudden but I'm sure you would love La Push. It's got beautiful landscape. You could get some major painting done."
"I guess I can go, but why now?" This was so random.
"Look at you. I'm your father. I can tell when you need a change of scenery because your mind's getting restless. I also want you to know the family before you turn 18 and run off." His black eyes turned to me and he gave me a half smile.
"I'm not going to run off." My eyes wandered back to him.
"You are too much like me. It's OK, you need to have your own life."
"Deep Jake, honestly." I turned my head back to the window and looked out at the country side. The rest of the drive was dead silent.
When we got home I hopped out of the car and slung my worn book bag over my shoulder. My hair was caught so I pulled it of off my neck. Jake came over and casually slung his arm around my shoulder. That was his way of comforting me from what my mom was about to throw at me. We walked up the steps and he opened the white, creaky door. After I got in, I threw my back pack on the floor right next to the umbrella holder, making it wobble. The room smelled delicious. At least she was cooking happily.
"Do you even try to be careful?" A soprano voice rang from the kitchen. I gave Jake a look.
Might as well get this over with fast, like a bandage. The quicker you rip it off, the less pain you end up with. Jake took this time to go to the den. You know for a dog, he is such a scaredy cat.
"Want me to help you cook?" One last shot at getting on her good side.
"Go ahead, I need you to crunch up some crackers. We're making a casserole." What a coinkydink (coincidence for those that don't know).
I reach in the cabinet and pull out the Zesta crackers. Maybe she'll just ignore the conversation all together.
"Sometimes Story I just don't understand you. You do things so differently than me. We can all see that you are different than me, but why do you have to make such wrong decisions?" Never mind. It's lecture time. For now I just fix the crackers. I don't really want to talk.
"When we go on this trip I want you to be on your best behavior. No silly pranks even though there will be people trying to encourage them." She pulls her bronze curls up in a messy bun and shoots me a look that says, I mean business.
"I don't see what the problem is, they don't hurt anyone. I've made it this far without doing drugs or smoking. You never look at the good things!" "Cool down Story, my mom began. You're making the crackers turn to dust."
"I'm just saying, some people don't like your silly pranks. Maybe you should grow up a little, in a few months you'll be off on your own." Just be quite.
I take the bowl full of cracker crumbs and place them next to her. Jake walks into the room and I walk past him heading to my bedroom. I'm tired of her always yelling at me. I know she means well, but come on.
Before I leave, I turn around and forcefully say,"Maybe you need to realize that I only have one life and I plan to live it." Then I run up to my bedroom.
Yeah, see you didn't die. Terribly sorry if my grammar is horrendous. We have a sucky language arts teacher, *cough cough* Mrs. Crowe.