Ok, so I got this idea from a book I just read 'Sloppy Firsts by Megan Mccafferty"(extremely good have to read!)
And I thought it would be a perfect Inuyasha fic so that is why I am here writing this fanfic so remember the idea isn't mine its Megan Mccafferty so please read and review and enjoyPanadabamboo
Special Note: - Sessho-maru isn't Inuyasha's brother in this fic (sorry)
- There isn't any Miroku & Sango in this story at all its an Kagome & Inuyasha flick (sorry sango& miroku lovers)
Also Kagome has a sister named Bethany (sorry have to or the story won't make sense)
Now that that's settled on with the story.
SLOPPY FIRSTS
Chapter 1, January
January 1st
Sango,
I guess your move wasn't a sign of the Y2K teen angst apocalypse after all. I'm still here. Fortunately, I've been way to busy basking in the golden glow of adolescent adulation to be least bit depressed about your departure…
I'm kidding. Sort of.
The pathetic truth is this: I have become somewhat of a shikon high celebrity in the eighteen hours since our goodbye. Everyone is paying more attention to me. Of course, I still lack the Oscar- calibre star power that would win me instant acceptance into the Upper Crust or make Sessho-maru Gazamuzo worship or adore me. No, mine is a Z-level celebrity, comparable to an actress who makes her mark in lifetime made-for-TV movies with titles like Daddy, May I Dance with Danger?
The real reason I'm writing this letter is because I want it to get to your new zip code before you do. I figure you'd want something other that your grandmother's Shalimar-soaked hug to greet you upon you arrival at you new Home Sweet Home. Plus, there's no better way to ring in this oh-so happy New Year than by exercising my right to good on the first of our Totally Guilt-Free Guidelines for Keeping in Touch:
Snail-mail once a month
Call once a week
E0mail/IM once a day
Remember: ONLY IF YOU WANT TO. The minute our correspondence becomes obligatory, there's no point in keeping touch at all. I miss you. Already
Quasi-famously yours, Kags
JANUARYTonight I've been thinking about the mosaic Sango gave me the night she U-hauled ass out of Tokyo. I wasn't supposed to open it until my birthday, but I couldn't wait. I tore off the wrapping paper and finally had an explanation for the mysterious slivers of shredded magazine pages all over her carpet. For months, Sango had been tearing out pictures of Hershey bars and beer bottles to capture her high dark brown ponytail and dark lettering for my dark raven hair.
I hung it on my wall next to my bed. I've been staring at it, trying to figure out how she glued all those tiny pieces of paper so they would come together to recreate my favourite photo: Sango and me at four a.m. –wide awake and laughing, waiting to sneak out to watch the sunrise.
I remember that summer sleepover at Sango's house two and half years ago more vividly than anything I did today.
We watched the video of her little Miss Superstar dance recital. She was the most coordinated of the dozen or so yellow bikini-clad four-year0olds shuffle-ball-changing to a Beach Boys medley. (Sango's review: hello, JonBetet Ramey!)
We tried to outdo each other in round after round of "Would you Rather" Eat nothing but fish sticks OR wear head-to-toe NSYNC paraphernalia for the rest of your life? French kiss you dog OR have sex with Chaka, the Special Ed. King? Be zit free forever OR fill a D-cup bra?
We flipped through our eight-grade ear book and decided that being voted Class Brainiac (me) and Class Artist (her) just about guaranteed geekdom in high school. We thought that Brainiac Who Will Actually Make Something of Her Life and Not End Up Managing a 7-Eleven and Artist Who Will Contribute More in This World Than Misspelled Graffiti sounded so much better. Then we literally rolled on the rug laughing as we stripped other class characters of their titles and gave them what they really deserved…
Hojo Yakimozu: From most Athletic to most middle-aged yet totally immature.
Ayame D'Abruzzi: From best looking to Best she'll peak to soon
Kikyo Makio: From biggest flirt to Most Likely to end up on Jerry Springer
Kagura Otoshi: From Class Motormouth to Future double Agent who would betray her Country for liposuction.
Mrs. Tsurai made German pancakes with lemon juice and confectioners' sugar for breakfast. Sango's then-sixteen-year-old brother, Kohaku, snorted the powdery sugar up his nose and imitated some crazy seventies comedian all hopped up on coke. This made me laugh so hard I though my stomach was going to come out my ears. I felt bad when Sango later explained to me why she and her mother weren't so amused by his antics. And when Kohaku died of a heroin overdose six months ago, I felt even worse.
My brother would've been in the same grade as Kohaku. Sango and I always thought that was really freaky coincidence. I never knew my brother, though. Sota Kamjii Higurashi died when he was only two weeks old. Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. No one in my family talks about him. Ever.
Mr. and Mrs. Tsurai made countless excuses for the sudden move back to their tiny hometown (Wellgoode, Tennessee: Population 6,345, uh, make that 6,348. They had to get Sango down there in time to start the third period. They had to move in with Sango's grandmother so they could afford to pay for collage. But Sango's and I saw right through the lies. We knew the truth-even if we never said so out load. The Tsurai's wanted to get Sango out of Tokyo, Japan (pop. 3,699,428, Wow now that's a huge difference), so she wouldn't end up like her brother. Dead at eighteen.
Now II mean, we, Sango and me have to pay for his mistakes. It's not fair. I know this may sound a little selfish, but couldn't they have waited another seventeen days? Couldn't they have waited until after my Birthday?
I told my parents not to even dare throwing me a Sweet Sixteen party. The very thought of Ice-cream cake and pink crepe paper makes me want to hurl. Not to mention the fact that I can't even imagine who would be in the guest list since I hate all my other friends. I know my parents think I'm being ridiculous. But if the one person I want to be there can't be there, I'd rather just stay home and mope. Or sleep.
Besides, I have never been sweet. Maybe not never, but definitely not after the age of three. That's when my chocolate hair darkened to raven and my attitude went with it. Whenever anyone tried to talk to me I'd yell BOR-ING and run away. I probably picked it up from my sister, Bethany, who was fourteen at the time and spent hours in front of the mirror rolling her eyes and practicing pissy looks to advertise her so-called angst. Of course, the difference between Bethany and me is that I've never had to practice.
So wadda you think? Good, Ok, Great, Nothing special, or just plain Horrible? Please be truthful and review! Cause If I don't get some reviews then I will stop writing this story! Well review
