English 9
Yesterday's Feelings
Who comes up with Chuck Norris jokes?
Yes. This thought actually crossed my mind in my AP English class. I was suppose to be listening to the teacher like every good student was suppose to and I was. Well, at least I heard her words. Whether I grasped the meaning was entirely my own problem. I tried to focus on her soft voice that almost sounded like purring, but the question nagged at my inter most thoughts. I spent most of the first half recovering from the devastatingly hard Geometry quiz. When I got over that train of thought I moved on to something more creative.
I bet you if she could pick any animal to become, she'd pick a cat.
I was talking about my English teacher of course, though, I'd never actually tell her that. She would think I was a freak. It was a nice thought never the less. She was still talking with her short black hair and I noticed that today, she couldn't stay still. I wonder why.
"..Personal narrative. Be creative and it's worth fifty total points. Rough drafts are due Friday.." What was I going to write about? Nothing, nothing at all happens in my life. Well, besides all the normal stuff. Somehow, though, that thought seemed too normal for me? A girl beside me raised her hand in a very polite manner.
"I don't have anything to write about!" She exclaimed. I looked curiously at her suddenly wondering if she could read my mind. I quickly dismissed this.
"Well." The teacher continued. "Everyone has something interesting about themselves. It's just all about finding it." Finding it? I highly doubted it. Today had just started out peachy for me. A project in English plus Math homework plus Spanish plus... I was good at math and I knew that was too many "pluses," for me. I sighed and waited for the bell to ring.
A Spanish Quiz flew at me from no where, it seemed as I tried to match up definitions with their pair. She had skipped letter keys which also made everything twice as confusing. Boring. Boring. Boring. That's how the classes skipped by. Unfortunately, where ever I went, my English assignment followed.
That girl would be a great protagonist. Or He seems like a real jerk underneath all those chains. I could probably talk to him, write it down, and call it a story. Each thought seemed pointless, almost childish. I chastised myself for even thinking them. My thoughts were an angry whirlwind in my small head causing things to bounce and crash amongst the furnishings that I held inside. Luckily, I didn't need those furnishings until fifteenth period, which was Science.
My thought went from cruel to beautiful in a second, from dark and bleak to bubbly and happy. It seemed like everywhere I looked, it would remind me of someone, something. It was strange how many connections I made with people and faces, from posters and conversation. Eventually, I reached study hall, the headache just starting to affect my ability to think clearly. I sat in my normal seat with my comfy sweatshirt like a security blanket. Me and about twenty other students were in the Choir room. There's only one negative thing about this: no desks. On any other day, it wouldn't have been a problem but today, with another test coming up and tons of homework to do, I got furious. Today was the type of day where you just had to clench your jaw and wait until it was over. I pulled out my science book, the only thing you could do with out a desk, and read the chapter about mixtures.
"Hey. You didn't say hi to me today." A voice, shrill and a little girlie, awoke me from the awesome section about homogeneous mixtures. I glanced up and saw a boy, clearly older than me and obviously waiting for my response. I smiled as best as I could and eventually my head gave me an answer. Kyle.
"Hello, Kyle." The words lacked something insightful. I needed more to say.
"Hi, Nicole." I smiled as I remembered last weekend. My sister, my mom and I were shopping for a Hallows Eve costume for my little sister. She had wanted to be a cat her seventh grade year. In eighth grade, I was a rock star. My costume topped hers in coolness, but she was all for the cute and cuddly aspect. I cringed at the whole concept of her buying fake whiskers, a pin on tail, and beret cat ears. She had described her outfit a million different times, each time adding something totally different or going in to more detail than last time. I listened politely each time commenting on her black jeans, black baby doll top, and my gray tank that was to go underneath. She was going to wear her black boots with little stick on white claws. I'd hate to admit it, but with her longer brownish tinted hair and green cat eye makeup, her costume was pretty cool. Well, for her. Anyways, my Mom sent me in to the dollar store to get something. As soon as I walked in the doors I saw him. He was checking out with a big shopping cart and briefly smiled at me. You know I think I've seen him more this week than my actual friends. Which is totally weird by the way.
"I saw you." I finished lamely. He looked like he was very confused. "At the Dollar Store."
"Oh. Yeah. You were there." At that exact moment, he was surround by two other girls who desperately wanted his attention.
There was an earthquake in my head. That's how bad this headache was getting. It flustered me more that I still couldn't think of a great idea for English. If only we could make something up about ourselves.
The brave princess struggled against her captors as they dragged her toward her cell. It was cold, putrid smelling. The two guards carried her. They were just that strong. She was thrown in one of those one by one cells so small that if another person was in here with her, they'd be standing on top of her. The worst part was at night when she heard the wretched screams coming from within the other cells. Then one day, a girl in the next cell started talking to her...
"Can you pass the salt?"
My small minded fantasy had just ended and I looked around hopelessly confused. I was in Art class and my paper was setting before me in a wonderful display of friendship that welcomed the bright colors that my pen could emit. A girl with curly dark brown hair had spoke. She smiled as I reached for the salt. When salt mixed with water colors it created a grainy texture. I had used it for my dark blue-violet sky. I passed it and as I did, I could just see the clock flying by and in each class after that, I felt like a ghost. I had talked sure, but it was just show to be polite. Only when someone really interesting talked did I pay attention. Science class was last and I had almost forgotten about our test. Well, almost. I sat still and quiet for a full forty- two minutes, each second feeling better than the last. Overall, today had been a really boring day. Nothing happened in particular.
After basketball and a lot of homework, I still had a gnawing headache. At home, I could hear the car start up to whisk away my sister to dance class and the T.V in the next room ramble on about some weight loss program that then claimed, "It actually works!" Then I could just imagine the fake smiles of "real people," who lost weight. Finally, I decided to read.
This week I haven't had a whole lot of real reading time. Sure, reading in English or after a test was OK, but then you can't get lost in the tangle of seaweed pages that threaten to drown you if you're not careful. I had changed in to comfortable PJ's and was now peering in to my personal sea. It was a sea filled with cheesy love novels for those romantic days, action and horror for the days that were raining or snowing and then there were books for sunny, happy days that made your heart swell and burst in to tiny glass-like pieces that glistened in the golden rays.
I searched the books, lined up like soldiers ready to fight a battle. A battle for my imagination, for my interest. The colors popped from their covers as author's names seemed to dance before me. What was I in the mood for? I had quickly decided something mildly uplifting, yet with sharp edges. Now to just find the right one. I ran my index finger over the smooth bindings, some crinkled with age, some just bought. My eyes danced to a green cover with a picture of a man on it. I slowly read the author's name. Maggie Shayne. The title? Angel's Pain. I smiled because I had read the book before, but it was perfect. Just perfect.
I started making my preparations. I went and retrieved my MP3 player from my bag. I turned on both lights above my couch. I fluffed each pillow twice, soaking in the air freshener that I had last sprayed. Tropical Forest. I then went to the kitchen to grab some crackers and a Strawberry Kiwi water. They probably would taste nasty together but, I figured I'd be too distracted to care. Finally, I sat down to read.
"Gregor didn't need to get very close to watch his target. He was a vampire, after all, thanks to the efforts of his employers in the CIA."
I got lost in a tale of immortal love and overall a tale of vengeance. I swam in a pool of text, too far under to see the light, not deep enough to reach the bottom. I glided through the triumphs and disasters, each one striking me the way it did Reaper. Or Briar. Reaper was cold, heartless. He killed for a living, drank blood, a deadly sin for the living man. He was the best killer and to top it off and Ex-CIA agent. Briar was a piece of work. She loved a man that cheated her out of her money and ultimately made a power house feel power-less. She loathed him. Hate coursed through her veins every moment she thought of him. Every idea she had, was another plan to murder a man who did her wrong. Actually, another vampire who did her wrong.
I lived in their world. I could see themselves as they saw themselves. I could see Briar short, unkempt, black hair and her know it all attitude. I played the little mind games Reaper played. I laughed when a young vampire did something totally stupid. I became transfixed on a world that was not our own. I loved it. I loved how I could pretend to be anyone. To pretend that, even for a night, I could be their friends. I could help them even.
In my mind, I was a prisoner in the world of books. They surrounded every fiber of my being and in that one night, I forgot everything that happened that day. All the quizzes and test, all the homework, and for a short time, I forgot my boring life. I was another person. Someone amazing. I idolized these characters for everything that the text described them as, for everything I thought they were.
I don't know how long I stayed like that in my perfect world. I lost all sense of being; all sense of time. I stayed wrapped up in my blanket, touching the pages but not feeling them. I vaguely heard the distant hum of a car and then nothing. Silence. I flipped through the pages and upon seeing no more, I set the book down. Strangely, it felt like a part of me had been awakened and captured in that very moment of time. I was stuck in a book of magic proportion waiting to be let back out. How I desperately wanted to keep reading! My eyes felt glued to my head and I heard the front door slam. I had just made a night feel like forever. I had made 328 pages disappear in to another part of my brain, another part of my life in one night. The loss of those 328 pages was the worst feeling I ever had because I never wanted the night to be over.
The story out weighed the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, the ending that seemed to never want to escape the confides of my mind. I smiled as I heard keys rattle and my sister's footsteps.
"Story's over and I finally figured out just how bad the Angel's Pain was." I was talking to no one, I think. Or maybe, the book. Who knows? My sister came in to my room just then, back from her dance already. She grabbed her cellphone from her bed and quickly noticed how focused I was.
"What's wrong?" She asked.
"My book...It's magical." She gave me the You're- So- Crazy-Look and slammed the door behind her. I placed my book back on it's proper shelf and glanced at the other soldiers all lined up for battle. I saluted them and closed the door, sending them to their dark shadows, back in to a place of nothing but imagination. And here's where the story ends.