So, I'm NOT good at math OR science, and because of this, my mind wonders in those classes. I get tons of story ideas and ideas for chapter updates to my already stories, and then I get home and poof – forgotten. Sooooo finally, I went out and bought myself a 'journal' and I've been writing all my ideas in them. This is the one that came to me during Bio today, and I hope I can write it as well as it sounds in my head. I plan on making this a 10-15 chapter fic. And don't worry – I'm still continuing the other ones I have. This story won't always be in Brooke's POV. Please review... they're crucial in the beginning chapters of a story!
Xx N
-X-
Sometimes I try to picture a certain flower and I can't. I loved flowers – still do – but now, I appreciate their beauty in a different way.
I don't see the bright reds, or soft blues. I don't see the pollen drift away, or the petals bloom after a rainy day.
Now I smell the delicate scents that seem to define their serene beauty. I smell the softness that seems to evade most people. Sometimes when I'm around my favorite flowers, their smell can paint the picture in my mind of what it is, but I can never really see them. Not anymore.
When I was eight years old, I lost my eye sight. Sometimes I hate myself for it, but that's rare. Mostly I wish that I had lost it because of a more serious issue. But I didn't. I lost it because I was stupid, that's mostly why I hate myself. But like I said, that's rare.
Long story short, I hate having hazel eyes. I wanted blue ones. Cindy Crawford had blue eyes and Erick Connors had a crush on her. See, I liked Erick Connors, but he didn't like me. Cindy had the same color hair as me, same light skin color, but the only thing we had different was our eye color.
One day in the playground, I heard Cassy say how her mom would go in the bathroom and put drops in her eyes, then she would come out and her eyes were magically blue.
See, what I didn't know then was that her eyes weren't turning colors because of magic liquid, but because of contacts.
Rachel, my half sister, decided she wanted blue eyes too, so one day we went through our house until we found a little bottle that sounded just like the one Cassy had described.
Since it was my idea, I told Rachel I would do it first. She agreed, because secretly she was scared, even though she would have never admitted that to me.
It's funny, even at such a young age, we hated showing our fears and insecurities.
Anyways, Rachel dropped three drops in each of my eyes. It burned so badly that she said my face turned red. Through the pain, I figured that it was just the price to pay. After all, my mother did tell me that beauty had a price.
When I tried to open my eyes, they wouldn't. That's when I started panicking. Rachel got scared and called our mom, she was in her home office. I remember it took her twenty minutes before she finally came out to see what was wrong.
I guess when she realized that Rachel hadn't been kidding, and my cries weren't fake, she finally took me to the doctor.
They were able to cut my eyelids open with a sharp little knife, and my lashes grew back a few weeks later, but my eye sight never came back.
I guess maybe if Rachel had put in one less drop, or if my mom would have come see me a few minutes earlier, or maybe if I just would have been happy with myself, this would have never happened.
I don't hate it much because I guess in a way, my life is pretty much exactly how it would be if I did have my eyesight.
You see, Rachel is my eyes. She's my sister, my best friend, my other half, and through her it's like I can see everything that's around me.
She tells me if the guy that just bought me the drink at the bar is hot. She tells me if the outfit I'm wearing looks good. She tells me if it's sunny outside, or cloudy.
And yes, I like to know if it's sunny or cloudy. I like the way the sun warms my skin, and so I like to know if I should wear the skimpiest outfit possible so the sun can give me one of my greatest pleasures.
I guess I live through her.
I don't really know what I look like anymore, but if the amount of attention guys give me is any indication, then I'm pretty damn hot.
Rach says I am, but she says she's hotter. I can't really deny that, because I don't really know, but I still do. Just to mess with her, you know?
I do know that I have hazel eyes, because Rach always says how thankful she is that they're not white or creepy looking – that they're still normal. I also have dark hair, and it falls just bellow my boobs. I've always had dimples, and my skin has always been sorta pail. No matter how much I love the sun, it always seems to go right through me.
Anyways, I'm probably boring you with all of this, but I guess you gotta know what made me into this person if you want to understand my life.
I'm a party girl. A bitch. A slut.
I have tons of other colorful names, but I guess I don't need to dirty this anymore than those already have.
But my real name is Brooke Davis, and this is my story.
-X-
"Brooke," Rachel calls out, and just by the tone of her voice, I can tell that even if I pretend to still be asleep, she'll still bother me with whatever is bothering her.
"I'm sleeping," I reply, in my raspy voice, but like I predicted, she ignores my words.
"Brooke, it's the first day of school at a new school," Rachel reminds me for the millionth time since we've arrived in Tree Hill, and I can only roll my eyes. I may be blind, but that doesn't break a habit.
"I know, Rach," I say annoyed, because sometimes I wonder if she thinks I'm some sort of crippled, retarded invalid.
"No, I don't think you do, Brooke," she says with extra emphasis on my name, and I can clearly hear her feet running from one side of the room to the other.
"I just don't understand why you're stressing over it," I say, shaking my head in something between defeat and annoyance, as I work my way up from my bed. We've only been in this new house for two nights, so I'm still a few steps off from the bathroom door, and I have to feel my way by placing my palm against the wall, but I predict that by tomorrow I'll be able to make my way there without help.
"Because the first day is crucial," Rachel explains in that tone that makes me feel like I'm five. "We have to look hot so we can establish that the new Queen Bees have arrived," Rachel finishes, and her words are slightly mumbled as she pulls what I'm guessing is an even sluttier shirt over her head.
I try not to laugh, because I know it won't settle well with her, but I do anyways. And because of that, she does the one thing I hate the most – she throws a pillow at me.
I hate it when she does that because I think it's unfair, but I guess I deserved it for laughing. Or so I tell myself.
A few minutes later, my makeup is immaculately done, my hair is falling in those lose curls that I wore as a little girl, and my jeans and dark, red blouse are hugging my curves perfectly.
Or so Rachel says.
She drives us to school in the blue beetle that we share. I wish I could drive, but I can't. I know how though, because sometimes Rachel lets me drive on the back roads. It's fun, and when she does that I love her all the more for it.
She knows I live for fun and sometimes that's the only thing that keeps me from falling into the darkness that seems to define my life.
"We're here," she says in her sweet voice, even though I can feel the car stopping, but I still offer her an excited smile.
Maybe if she wasn't so damn happy she would see that it was fake, but I'm kind of glad she didn't, because I like when she's happy, even if I'm not.
"Do we have all the same classes?" I ask once we walk out of the extremely cold guidance office, and I swear that my heart is beating a million beats a minute as I wait for her reply.
"We have, one, uhm, two, three classes together," she says as her hand locks with mine so she can quickly takes me to my first period, while still being on time to hers. She's not really one for perfect attendance, but secretly, I know she still kind of cares.
"How many classes are there all together?" I ask as my feet hesitantly try to keep up with her brisk step. I try not to sound nervous or scared, because I am Brooke Fucking Davis, but she knows I am.
She knows that change is my biggest fear, and moving to a new town is definitely a big change.
"Seven," she says, and by the way her warm breath hits my cheek, I know that she's looking at me, so I try my best to smile.
"I'll be okay," I say, trying to convince her, but even more so trying to convince myself.
"Are you sure?" she asks in her worried tone, and I can feel her step slowing down a bit. "We can go back to the office and request to have all our classes together," Rachel continues, and it makes me smile genuinely for the first time in a while, because it reminds me how lucky I am to have her, but I know we can't do that.
"I'll be fine, Rach," I say yet again, and I can sense that she doesn't quite believe me, but she doesn't fight it because she knows there's no sense in it.
"Okay," she drawls out slowly, as her feet stop and I hear the sound of muffled talking coming from somewhere to my left.
"I guess this is my class, huh?" And Rachel letting go of my hand is the only answer I need. We hesitate for a few moments, but the bell rings, and I know that's our cue to separate.
"Just ask someone to show you to your next class, okay? Just like the office lady said. And if not, just call my cell and I'll come walk you to it."
"Of course," I reply confidently with my raspy voice.
"I'll meet you after second period, and don't talk to any guys until I tell you if they're hot or not. Okay?" shes asks in that worried tone and I can't help the loud giggles that escape me.
I fucking love her.
"Don't worry, whore," I say as I reach out for the door handle.
"Shoulders back, chest out," Rachel calls out from somewhere down the hall, and I can only shake my head slightly before entering the classroom.
It's kind of awkward, because even though I can't see, I know every single person in there is looking at me. But that doesn't keep me from proudly showing off the smile I know drives men crazy, and drives women deep into envy.
A few seconds pass before the deep voice of the teacher introduces me to the class, and I already know by the way he's speaking that he's already warned everyone of making fun of the blind girl.
He tells me that there's an empty desk two feet to my right, and that I'll be sitting there, and I can only imagine the pissed off look that whoever used to sit there is giving me.
He tells me that theirs a book in braille on my desk, and that we're supposed to be silently reading. I only nod my head, as a lazy pointer finger begins to drift over a random page.
"I realized what a ridiculous lie my whole life has been." Is the first line I read before his voice pulled me away from the assignment.
I don't look at him, because there's no point, but I lift my head slightly, just so he knows that I'm acknowledging him.
"You don't look blind," he says almost accusingly, and all I can do is offer him a dimple smile.
"Thank you," I whisper back, still not looking at him.
"I'm Lucas," he says as his warm hand envelops mine in an unexpected handshake.
"I'm Brooke," I say, still smiling, but pulling my hand away from his. "But I can't talk to you."
"Why?"
"Because you may be disgustingly ugly, and I do have standards," I say very seriously, but giggle slightly when he begins to laugh.
"I'm not disgustingly ugly," he assures me, but all I can do is raise one of my perfectly plucked eye brows at him.
"Is that so?" I ask, and I try not to pity myself because I really do wish I could see him.
"You could say I'm like a Leonardo Dicaprio," he says in tone of voice that I guess to be cocky, and this time it's my turn to laugh.
"Well then, Lucas, you must be lucky, because Leo has been my crush ever since I was six," I say through the sultry smile of mine, as I hear him chuckle.
"Davis, Scott, silence," the voice of her teacher says, causing my smile to fade instantaneously.
-X-
"So, tell me something about yourself," Lucas says to me as we walk to my next class. I already like him, wait, not in a like like way, but in a I could totally use you to carry my books way.
"I'm from California, for a long time I called squirrels, squallers, and I don't remember what a koala bear looks like," I say very seriously, and I can feel his eyes on me.
"Those are interesting facts," he says with a chuckle, and I feel his grip tighten on my arm as we turn a corner.
"What color are your eyes?" I ask, and I know he's probably looking at me oddly, but I can't help but ask.
"Blue," he says, and all I can do is nod my head.
"I like blue eyes."
"Your eyes are pretty."
"My eyes are useless," I say, and by now we've stopped walking, and I hear the familiar muffled talking coming from directly in front of me, so I only give him a small wave as I walk into the classroom and far away from him.
-X-
"Sorry I couldn't meet you at lunch," Rachel says once we're both in the car and she's speeding down the road.
"I understand," I say emotionless, because as much as I hate pitting myself, I still allow myself to do it sometimes. After all, I am a selfish bitch, and it's always me, me, me.
"You know that if you could cheer, I'd have brought you with," and that's when I try to shut her out, because the pang in my chest hurts too much.
When I was three, our mother signed us both up for cheer leading, and pretty soon, it was my favorite thing in the world. Still is, but most high school captains won't let a blind chick on the team.
I don't really blame them though, I wouldn't have either.
"I know," I whisper.
"Did you make any friends?" she asks, and I know that she's just trying to change the subject because she feels guilty deep down.
"Don't try to act like you care, Whore," I say bitterly, but can't help but smile when she slaps me on the shoulder.
"Fuck you, Slut," she retorts dryly, but I know she's smiling too.
"Did you fuck any hot guys yet?" I ask, earning another slap from her, but this time I slap her back.
"No," she says in mock humor, because she doesn't appreciate her sexuality being the punch line to a joke, but maybe she does, I don't really know. "You know I wait until the second day, keeps them waiting," she says seriously, but in a matter of seconds we're both laughing.
Once our laughter dies out, she asks me the same question, and all I can do is stick my tongue out.
"I did talk to a nice guy, sounded hot, his arms were strong, and he has blue eyes."
"Ooooh, what's his name?" she asks, actually interested.
"Lucas."
"Scott?" she asks slowly, and I have to think for a second before I nod my head slowly.
"You met him?" I ask, thinking this Lucas guy must be more good looking than I thought if Rachel remembers his last name.
"Ohh, I definitely met him," she says in a tone that screams seduction, and my throat suddenly feels very dry. "He asked me to go to a party with him tonight, which, by the way, you're coming to."
"Oh," is all I can, as I try to hide the obvious crushing feeling that my little seventeen year old self is feeling.
Typical, no coherent guy goes for the blind chick when they could have her equally hot not blind sister.
"Jesus, Brooke, could you sound any more excited?" she asks in annoyance, and it fucking pisses me off that she won't realize how annoyed I am.
"I just don't feel well," I lie, and I guess I must look more crushed than I feel, because she believes it.
"Yeah, you do look kind of shitty, we'll just have you sit this one out," Rachel says, and as I feel the engine of the car shut off, I waste no time in getting out of that hell hole.
-X-
I try to ignore Rachel as she gets ready for her little party with Lucas, but she makes it really hard when she's constantly running back and fourths and cursing her reflection.
I'm not jealous of her and Lucas, because I really don't like him - honest. It just pisses me off how she puts herself first and didn't even ask if it's okay for her to date him. She should know that if I find a guy worth describing to her, I find him worth fucking.
There's a knock on the front door, and I try not to smile when Rachel hisses, because I can clearly tell that she's not ready to leave the house.
But I definitely don't smile when she asks me to open the door, and since I'm trying to act un-phased by her 'dating' him, I open it, because I usually do this every time she goes out without me.
"Step right in, Lucas," I say in that bitter tone that I love to use on those I hate, and when he doesn't reply right away, I begin to wonder if he's deaf or something.
"You're her sister?" he asks dumbly, and then I realize that Rachel doesn't usually tell people that I'm blind. Actually, I didn't even know she told potential fuck buddies she had a sister.
"And you're wasting my time, so could you please come inside?" I say in a disgustingly sweet voice, but my face is anything but sweet.
"Uh, is this the same Brooke I met this morning?" he asks once the door has securely shut behind him.
"Yup, same old Brooke, Mr. Leo."
"Weird, you weren't showing your bitch before, now I know why you were sitting alone at lunch," he says in a tone that I haven't heard him use before, but my blood instantly boils as his words cut into me.
"Good thing you're just a one night thing, because I'm already fucking sick of you," I hiss in disgust as my secretly broken ego tries to recover, because I'm most definitely not supposed to show anyone, let alone this asshole, how insecure little miss Brooke really is.
"I guess it runs in the family: one day is all it takes for the slut sisters to move onto new prey," he says triumphantly, and my lips unwillingly part in shock, because if I'm not mistaken, he's just bashed the girl he'll be fucking, whom is my sister, right to my face. And he doesn't seem to regret it.
"Hey, stud," the voice of Rachel walking past me snaps me out of my utter shock, and by now I'm definitely fuming.
"You look incredible, babe," he whispers just loud enough for me to hear, and I know he's doing it on purpose. That asshole!
"You don't look too bad yourself," she purrs back, and by now I definitely feel like I'm going to explode.
He thinks you're a fucking slut! Is all I want to scream, but she's one of the driving factors into my terrible mood, and I already resent her a little for my current state, so I don't say anything. Because secretly and selfishly, I look forward to her getting fucked over.
Thoughts?