before starting on my upcoming muti-chapter, i thought i'd get more into the whole writing business. so this idea kind of came to me, and i decided to try it out. a three-shot in the view of nikki dalton, hmmm. think it might work?
completely & totally & sadly, disclaimed. (HATE YOU LISI HARRISON)
this is for chantal, just because. (:
-Leave Me At the Front Door-
independently written by melissa,
who would like to introduce to you lovely readers & reviewers a fab new three-shot. :)
life is the beginning, and death is the end. it's what you do in between that counts.
(fourteen is the age for dreams and happiness, and mistakes)
-
I like to think that I was dragged, completely unwillingly, into the whole fiasco.
Sometimes I can even delude myself to believing that it was, in fact, not me at all but some alternate-universe me, some impersonator who had temporarily taken control of my body and was just refusing to give it back until there was nothing left of me but the broken pieces.
Nicolette Dalton was the name of this impersonator.
And I knew this because when the cute green- and blue-eyed boy from Cabin 11 jogged up to Massie and I and asked me my name, I answered in a sly voice that I had never known to have, "Nicolette. Nicolette Dalton." A seductive drawl, really something that would come out of some heroine's lipstick-painted mouth in an action movie, and certainly not something that would come from me, plain old Nikki.
"Nicolette, huh? Rhymes with cigarette. I like it." He grins at me and my heart beats, onetwothree, a tad faster than what I think would be considered normal. "Well, Nicolette Dalton, would you like to go to the Beaches with me?"
The Beaches was the nickname for the upcoming camp dance, White Beaches Dance. Not a very creative name, considering it was taking place on the nearby beach (which was called White Beaches, coincidentally) and that the name hadn't changed for the last three years I'd been going to this camp.
"Well," it was still Nicolette, the name that rhymes with cigarette, that was speaking, and I wasn't sure if I liked it or not. "That depends. Care to enlighten me with a name?"
"Cameron. Cameron Fischer." Oh, dear Lord, why must he have such beautiful, deep eyes? One blue and one green, to top it off. I almost couldn't breathe. In, out, in, out. Open your mouth, dammit, Nikki! Open your mouth and take a deep breath!
And because of this little inner bicker I was having with myself, my response sounded half-strangled and like I was choking on something. "Mmpf--nice--name--," which was the outcome of taking a deep breath and sounding like a poseur heroine at the same time.
It was eerily silent for a few seconds, and I swear my cheeks had turned crimson. I look back on it and think that if it had not been for Massie, dear Massie, I would have probably locked myself in the cabin for the rest of the camp. "Cameron -- oh, but that doesn't really rhyme with anything."
He smirked at her, "No, it doesn't. And your name is...?"
"For me to know and you to find out, maybe. That is, it depends on whether or not Nikki--Nicolette feels like telling you." She snickered under her breath, but kept a cool exterior when facing Cameron.
I shot her a grateful look. "I'll see about that." The heroine was back. "And about the dance, I suppose I can see if anyone else comes up, and decide a little later. I'll keep in contact." Smooth, distant, incredibly sexy.
Cameron looked shocked for one split-second, but he quickly and nodded, keeping his eyes locked onto mine. "Alright then. I'm in Cabin 11, if you ever want to ask for anything." I nodded idly, and Massie didn't even bother to respond. "See you girls later."
"See you," I--Nicolette--cooed in a silky voice, then waggled the tips of her fingers at him when he turned around and looked back.
When Cameron was completely out of sight, Massie and I burst into uncontrollable giggles.
"Nicolette--Dalton--is it?" Massie gasped between bouts of laughter. "I can't believe you told him that! You two were like a pair of actors from some film or something! Cameron and--" a short pause as she laughed even harder, "Cameron and Nicolette."
"I don't even know what made me do that," I said. "It was like I was cursed or something, no joke."
"I wonder if he'll ask you to the Beaches again?" Massie wondered, calming herself down slightly.
"Maybe," I said, a knot tightening in my stomach. What if he didn't? What if he thought I was just incredibly weird and stupid and a loser? I kept my face composed, my voice casual, "But probably not. He's cute, and so is his friend over there. They'll probably get dates in no time."
"Yeah, but he asked you. Or at least, he asked Nicolette." Massie pursued her argument defiantly, "He must somewhat like her."
And this was about the time when both Massie and I stopped refering to Cameron's Nicolette as Nikki, as me, but simply as Nicolette. Nicolette was not Nikki Dalton - not at all. She was sexy and mysterious and bold and daring and irresistable. Nikki was plain and awkward and shy and liked rereading the Harry Potter books when she was bored.
Nicolette, at that time, did not seem to be of much importance. She was just someone that had temporarily possessed me, well enough so that a cute boy with multi-colored eyes had expressed interest in taking me - her - to the dance.
Little did I know that in just a few weeks, she would be so much more.