Okay, new story. This is just the prologue. Take a look and
please tell me if you want me to continue.
Like that picture book, she thought with a sigh, a no-good, very bad day. Yeah that was it. Her cousin's daughter had showed her. A no-good, very bad day.
"Hiya, Steph," suddenly someone said from behind her, and she turned around. "What's up?"
"Nothing," she sighed. "Nothing but life."
"Nice," Chris Irvine chuckled. "Very nice."
"Shut up, you fool," she told him. "You're a fool."
"Yes, sue me," he said, turning backwards and suddenly moonwalking towards her with a grace Michael Jackson would have been sad of. "You're right, darling. I'm a fool."
"Darling," she snorted. "What the hell are you trying to do?"
"What does it look like?" he asked, suddenly tripping over and falling flat on the floor polished, tiled floor. He groaned when he hit and she laughed. "I'm moonwalking," he said painfully from his fetal position on the floor.
"Nice moonwalk," she said, walking over to stand over him and peer into his face. "I'm sure you'll win with that one."
"Who said anything about winning?" he asked, getting to his feet, grabbing her hand and helping himself up. "I'm losing."
"You're impossible."
"I like to think of it as "possibility impaired.""
"You're crazy."
"Yes," he agreed, smiling at her. "Every way you look at it."
"Crazy," she muttered, smiling at him. "Well, I have to go. Thanks for making me laugh."
"And who said anything about you?" Chris said, turning puzzled. "I was just moonwalking."
"Stupid," she said to herself, and then turned on her heel. "Gotta go. See you later, Chris."
"Bye-bye, darling," he chortled after her.
"Stupid," she muttered to herself again.
Watching Stephanie leave, he felt an odd tug at his heart, but he dispelled it with practice. Things work out that way, he thought to himself as he turned the other way and started to go up the hallway. Things always work out that way.
And wasn't there a song that preached the exact opposite?
Mad at himself, he turned a corner on his heel. He was mad at himself for not taking the opportunity when it arose to at least try and have a go at it with Stephanie. Paul Leseveque had made his gamble before Chris had known what happened, and now it was Hunter's ring that Stephanie wore on her finger, not his.
Reminds me of a book, Chris thought as he heard his name called from behind him. Reminds me of a sad, depressing book where he killed himself at the end of it because she didn't love him. My life.
"Hey Chris," Jay Reso said as he caught up to Chris. "I was looking for you."
"Yeah?" Chris knew his friend had been looking for him. He'd run away from that in the first place this morning. But somehow Christian, despite Chris's attempts to shake him, had finally sniffed him out.
"Well, you've been avoiding me like the plague," Jay said disappointedly. "You know I have a letter for you from your parents."
"I told you, I don't want it," Chris said firmly. "I don't want it!"
"So touchy," Jay said, batting his eyes. "A little thing getting you down, Chris? A little something named Stephanie?"
"You touch me," Chris growled. "No. I don't want the letter, Jay."
"Well, that's why they sent it to me." Jay held the letter up in the air. "I don't take correspondence for friends, my friend. They said you haven't gotten your other ones, so maybe something was up with your mail. Now I'm lead to believe that you just don't answer your other ones."
"Truth me told," Chris said, "I don't."
"Could have fooled me," Jay sarcastically said. "Just take the damn letter, Chris. And tell them not to send anymore to me." He threw the letter on the floor. "I've got a match. See you soon!"
"You're a real pal!" Chris yelled after him.
"I know, thankies!"
"Fool," Chris muttered under his breath, and bent to pick up the letter. Jay's address was scrawled in his father's handwriting, the return address in his mother's. "Can't they just leave me alone?" he murmured under his breath, slitting it open and pulling out the lined paper inside. So cheap, just like his father. Give Ted Irvine a package of premium Budweiser and he'd pawn it and buy Reddie Miles.
Looking over the bulk of the letter in a glance, Chris shoved it into his pockets. He didn't need this again. He was fine off as he was.
He had a match to prepare for. He didn't need this again. He didn't need it again at all.
Like that picture book, she thought with a sigh, a no-good, very bad day. Yeah that was it. Her cousin's daughter had showed her. A no-good, very bad day.
"Hiya, Steph," suddenly someone said from behind her, and she turned around. "What's up?"
"Nothing," she sighed. "Nothing but life."
"Nice," Chris Irvine chuckled. "Very nice."
"Shut up, you fool," she told him. "You're a fool."
"Yes, sue me," he said, turning backwards and suddenly moonwalking towards her with a grace Michael Jackson would have been sad of. "You're right, darling. I'm a fool."
"Darling," she snorted. "What the hell are you trying to do?"
"What does it look like?" he asked, suddenly tripping over and falling flat on the floor polished, tiled floor. He groaned when he hit and she laughed. "I'm moonwalking," he said painfully from his fetal position on the floor.
"Nice moonwalk," she said, walking over to stand over him and peer into his face. "I'm sure you'll win with that one."
"Who said anything about winning?" he asked, getting to his feet, grabbing her hand and helping himself up. "I'm losing."
"You're impossible."
"I like to think of it as "possibility impaired.""
"You're crazy."
"Yes," he agreed, smiling at her. "Every way you look at it."
"Crazy," she muttered, smiling at him. "Well, I have to go. Thanks for making me laugh."
"And who said anything about you?" Chris said, turning puzzled. "I was just moonwalking."
"Stupid," she said to herself, and then turned on her heel. "Gotta go. See you later, Chris."
"Bye-bye, darling," he chortled after her.
"Stupid," she muttered to herself again.
Watching Stephanie leave, he felt an odd tug at his heart, but he dispelled it with practice. Things work out that way, he thought to himself as he turned the other way and started to go up the hallway. Things always work out that way.
And wasn't there a song that preached the exact opposite?
Mad at himself, he turned a corner on his heel. He was mad at himself for not taking the opportunity when it arose to at least try and have a go at it with Stephanie. Paul Leseveque had made his gamble before Chris had known what happened, and now it was Hunter's ring that Stephanie wore on her finger, not his.
Reminds me of a book, Chris thought as he heard his name called from behind him. Reminds me of a sad, depressing book where he killed himself at the end of it because she didn't love him. My life.
"Hey Chris," Jay Reso said as he caught up to Chris. "I was looking for you."
"Yeah?" Chris knew his friend had been looking for him. He'd run away from that in the first place this morning. But somehow Christian, despite Chris's attempts to shake him, had finally sniffed him out.
"Well, you've been avoiding me like the plague," Jay said disappointedly. "You know I have a letter for you from your parents."
"I told you, I don't want it," Chris said firmly. "I don't want it!"
"So touchy," Jay said, batting his eyes. "A little thing getting you down, Chris? A little something named Stephanie?"
"You touch me," Chris growled. "No. I don't want the letter, Jay."
"Well, that's why they sent it to me." Jay held the letter up in the air. "I don't take correspondence for friends, my friend. They said you haven't gotten your other ones, so maybe something was up with your mail. Now I'm lead to believe that you just don't answer your other ones."
"Truth me told," Chris said, "I don't."
"Could have fooled me," Jay sarcastically said. "Just take the damn letter, Chris. And tell them not to send anymore to me." He threw the letter on the floor. "I've got a match. See you soon!"
"You're a real pal!" Chris yelled after him.
"I know, thankies!"
"Fool," Chris muttered under his breath, and bent to pick up the letter. Jay's address was scrawled in his father's handwriting, the return address in his mother's. "Can't they just leave me alone?" he murmured under his breath, slitting it open and pulling out the lined paper inside. So cheap, just like his father. Give Ted Irvine a package of premium Budweiser and he'd pawn it and buy Reddie Miles.
Looking over the bulk of the letter in a glance, Chris shoved it into his pockets. He didn't need this again. He was fine off as he was.
He had a match to prepare for. He didn't need this again. He didn't need it again at all.