Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease don't kill me. I'm starting a new story right now, INSTEAD of posting more of 'It Had To Be You'.
PLEASE bear with me though - I just positively cannot write anything else while this story is still in my head. I already have 12 chapters of this written, and it's been causing many sleepless, writing-filled nights when I should be getting my beauty sleep.
If you're a writer as well, you'll understand what I mean when I say I can't think of writing anything else until this one great idea I have is out and written down. :3
I will still be continuing Between You And I until that's finished. I'll also posting the last chapters of For What It's Worth in the next couple of days, as I have already finished writing those and all they need are some tweaking.
It Had To Be You is on a hiatus at the moment, but I have every intention of writing a complete story. Just not quite yet. I'm sorry, lovelies.
"Mitchie, can you pass me the salt?"
I rolled my eyes.
"Ella, salt will not make Slim Fast taste any better. Nothing can make that microwave-able shit taste better," I said dryly to my best friend Ella as she looked dejectedly at the lunch she had brought. I flipped a page of my magazine and kept reading.
"There has to be a better way to lose ten pounds!" Ella whined, throwing her fork down on the table and picking up her magazine in a huff, flicking quickly through it to the 'Life and Body' pages.
"You don't need to lose ten pounds, Ella; people will say you're anorexic. You're skinny enough already," my other best friend, Tess snapped, lowering her People magazine to glare at Ella.
"I need to lose the ten pounds so I can fit into the dress I want to wear to Homecoming, Tess," Ella said, acid dripping from her glossy lips as she drew herself up in her seat, "and people will not say I'm anorexic because they've already tried to start that one, and it died months ago!"
"Yeah, that one died, but haven't you heard the one about how you're bulimic and that when you go out to eat you don't order but throw up anyway?" Tess spat back, raising her perfectly plucked blonde eyebrow.
Actually, I think Tess made that one up by herself and started spreading it.
Great friends, huh?
"No, But-"
"God, shut the fuck up, both of you!" I sighed exasperatedly, staring at one point on my magazine page. They both quietened down immediately and looked at me with large, puppy dog eyes. They looked as though I just smacked them both.
Fucking pathetic.
"I am so sick of you two bickering and bitching at each other all the time. Just because Ella has a fucking eating disorder doesn't mean you have to show all of the knowledge of what everybody is saying about her, Tess. Can't you two just put those things aside for one moment, and stop snapping at each other?" I ranted quietly, my eyes still upon my magazine, never looking up at them. I licked my finger and turned the page.
I was so sick of both of them.
I was sick of all of this. The popularity, the fear of me, and the fear of what I could do, the fawning over me, the pressure. And God, it was only the third month of school.
I want out.
I slammed down my magazine after my brief rant and stormed out of the cafeteria, slinging my black leather messenger bag over my shoulder and waving my hand to make several freshmen move out of the way of the door. "Move, please," I sighed and the two girls scampered away in fear. I cast them a sweet smile and pushed my way out of the cafeteria, half expecting one of the girls to suddenly get on her knees and bow to me, just for the looking of awe she was giving me.
Thank god I am a senior.
I'll be out of here in less than 6 months.
Walking quickly through the halls of our beloved high school, my wish that I had not worn this particular pair of high heels grew with every step I took down the hall. Sure, they looked fucking fantastic with my outfit, and 'pain is beauty', but seriously, this was not worth it.
I just wished it wouldn't cause a scandal if 'Queen Bee' wore ballet flats for a change.
I had an image to keep, no matter how much I despised it. The truth was, I didn't know how to change - I'd grown up like this.
Finally, scoffing, I stopped and kicked off the shoes.
Fuck it.
As the back of my foot touched the ground at the same level as the front, I sighed in painless relief. Honestly, I would do anything to be in my fluffy pink slippers at home right now.
Hearing my name being called frantically and quick footsteps quickly gaining on my position, I quickly snatched up my shoes and began to walk at a quicker pace. I could not deal with Tess and Ella's whimpering and grovelling right now.
No doubt they would be trying to get back into my good books. Not only was the student body and staff afraid of me, my 'friends' were as well.
God, that's depressing.
Turning my path to the nurse's office, a plan was forming in my mind of a way to be able to just go home.
Headache? Nah, used it last week.
Stomach ache? Bleck, too juvenile.
Anxiety attack... Perfect.
Increasing my rate of breathing incredibly, I paused and leaned against a row of lockers to think of a good reason to be having the spaz out.
Scanning my mind, I settled on a big Latin test we were having in a week. It wasn't really a big test, but still, it was something to worry about.
With my chest heaving, I blinked my eyes rapidly to produce tears and to flush my face slightly. I rubbed one hand lightly over my forehead to increase the temperature and make my story even more convincing.
"Hey!" I heard from down the hallway to my left. It was followed by an appreciative wolf whistle.
Oh no, not you. Go away.
I jerked my head to the left where I saw a group of three guys approaching me. I rolled my eyes and went back to trying to perfect my anxiety attack.
"What do you want, Shane Gray? If you don't mind I'm kind of busy" I asked in between gasps, glaring at the ground because even if I turned my head, I wouldn't be able to see his face because he was standing so close.
"Nope, I don't mind," he said with a wink and I rolled my eyes again. "Just the usual, come on Mitchie, you know you want me," he said, winking and leaning on the lockers next to me, smiling and raising his eyebrows.
His friends all stood behind him, chuckling at his audacity.
Shane had been asking me out for the past four years.
I had been saying no for the past four years.
Shane has been getting stupider for the past four years.
"Nah, sorry, but I don't," I said in the same fashion as before. "Just like last time, and the time before that? Oh! And the time before that too!" Still, I glared at the ground wishing he would just fuck off.
I could feel Shane watching me in curiosity for a moment before he seemed to have realized what I was doing. "Doing the old 'Anxiety Attack' to get out of Fifth, hey?" Shane said, crossing his arms and sounding smug as if he did it all the time. I knew for a fact, though, that he didn't even bother with the theatrics – he simply walked out the front gate.
I finally straightened up and shot him a glare that would normally send anybody running, but not Shane.
No, never Shane.
Sigh.
"That won't work on me, Mitchie. I'm not scared of you. You're too pretty to be scary," he chuckled at his own assessment and grinned at me.
"Why don't you go off with your loser friends, I'm sure they actually want to talk to you," I hissed, beginning to walk away towards the nurses' office.
"Why don't you agree to go out on a date with me, and I will go off with my loser friends?" Shane asked, stepping in front of me and successfully earning himself a death glare from yours truly.
"Get out of my way," I hissed, looking up at the ceiling and trying hard to restrain myself from smacking that stupid cocky grin off his face.
I had no time for this. Or him.
Shocking me momentarily, he obligingly stepped aside at my request.
I turned to him quickly, "The answers no, again, Shane. I wouldn't date somebody like you even if you were the only guy left on the planet," I snapped, drawing myself up to my full height, which was unfortunately still a couple of inches or so shorter than Shane.
Truthfully, it was hard to intimidate when I had nothing on him vertically wise.
Stupid Shane and his stupid height.
His friends all laughed at Shane, and I shot an annoyed look at them. They quietened slightly, but still chuckling under their breath.
"Whatever," Shane said, a defiant look in his eyes as her turned and started walking down the hall with his friends, "I know she wants me," he added cockily.
I paused, smirking slightly. "Oh and Shane?" I called down the hall after him. He paused slightly and turned around quickly, to see if I'd changed my mind in the whole three seconds since I'd burned him.
Not fucking likely.
I hadn't changed it in four years. And honestly? I don't think I ever will.
Actually, I know I never will.
"Your lip is peeling slightly. I would suggest a chap stick or something, it's kind of gross," I said coolly before whirling around and walking casually, and bare-footedly down the hall to the clinic.
His friends both roared with laughter, and I heard him yell, "Shut up you bastards! It is NOT peeling!"
I smirked as they rounded the corner, watching Shane hit them on the back of their heads, and returned to walking to the clinic.
---
"What's the problem, dearie?" The old nurse, Mrs. Fielding, asked in her croaky voice as she shuffled her way into the waiting room that adjoined the clinic. I quickly perfected my rapid breathing and made sure I had a slight stumble when I walked.
Mrs. Fielding would have been was about 80, and I was sure she was half blind so it didn't really matter how accurate I made it look, as long as I sounded panicked when I talked. I took a deep breath.
"I think – I'm – just – stressed…" I choked out, hyperventilating loudly. "My – chest hurts – and I'm getting – really – really – dizzy," I gasped clutching my chest. And for added measure, I collapsed into one of the chairs and leaned forward, breathing deeply.
"Oh my. Oh my," she panicked, leaning down to press her hand to my forehead, checking my temperature. "You're a bit warm, dear," she mused. She then placed two of her wrinkled fingers over the major artery in my neck. The hyperventilating from before had quickened my pulse and she drew her hand away after a couple of seconds, looking worried.
"I – don't know – why – this – is hap – happen – happen -" I choked out, effectively not finishing my sentence before slumping backwards into the chair.
"I'll call your mother and have her come pick you up. I can't let you drive yourself home in your current condition," she said gently, stroking the top of my head. "Go in there," she gestured to the clinic with a couple of beds, "and have a lie down while you wait. There's cold water in the fridge." She smiled kindly at me and bustled off into the office to get the details to contact my mom.
I knew she could still see me so I roughly pulled myself up and out of the chair and stumbled into the room. Once I knew I was out of sight, I headed to the fridge and got myself a drink of cold water. All that pretending to be sick stuff really dehydrated me.
I really should be an actress.
I looked over to see the bed staring invitingly at me - my feet still hurt from those bloody stupid shoes I decided to wear today. Crashing onto the bed furthest from the door, I grabbed the blanket from the end, and threw it over my legs before resting my head on the pillow.
My thoughts drifted back to what had happened before I got here.
How could Shane still think, after four years, that I was going to change my mind and go on a date with him?
He obviously didn't understand my world, where it was simply not okay for someone like me to date someone like him. He didn't understand the pressure, the expectations.
I wondered to myself about how I'd even managed to get this way. I was a different girl here at school than I was outside. My mother and I were really close – more like girlfriends than mother and daughter.
All the pop culture movies I'd seen, the girl who was the Queen Bee always came from a rich, privileged background. I was from neither, yet still, I ruled with an iron fist. Sure it was good at times, but fuck, I was sick of it all.
I suppose it had all to do with my tenacity. And, of course, my looks would have gotten me to where I was today, no doubt about it. I guess, when I was younger, I liked the power. Hell, I liked it when I was this age. The respect it brought me, the fear, the adoration, I loved it. I thrived off it – it was in my personality to.
It seemed it was only in the past couple of months, my first senior months, that I really became sick of it. I'm not even sure why. I don't know when it started or how it came about. All I knew is that I knew what I was doing, and how I was treating others was not right.
Of course, mom had no idea about the 'Other Mitchie' as I liked to call it. At home, I could just throw on an old band tee, some jeans and my slippers. I would bake with her and we'd swap stories and jokes we'd heard and play board games and computer games. Like every normal family.
This 'Other Mitchie' was 'Queen Bee Mitchie'. Always ahead of the latest trend, starting a few herself. Never one to do things by halves. Make up always immaculate. Shoes, unscuffed and towering – not that my 5'7" frame needed the extra height. I couldn't leave the house without every aspect of my appearance perfect and immaculate. The personality of course, was not my own. It was a fake – a show. It was what was expected of me.
Expected of me by 'my friends'.
Expected of me by the student body.
I hated it.
I hated it all.
I wanted to change, I really did. I just wasn't sure how. And everyone was so frightened of me, it just seemed impossible for me to just start again.
I realised that the only way was for me to just have to ride it out for the rest of the school year and then I'd be able to start over again when I got to college, where no one would know anything about me and my background, and I could just be myself.
The real Mitchie.
"Mitchie, honey? You ready to go home?" I heard my mom's sympathetic voice come from the door. I opened my eyes to see her standing there, looking concerned.
I wasn't fooled though, I knew that she was disappointed that I was skiving off another day of school. But the fact that she had still come and picked me up proved that whatever she was going to say on the subject, I knew she wasn't 100% sure that she meant it.
As I walked out of the clinic with her, I had the unfortunate luck to pass Shane's classroom. He saw me and waved from his seat next to the window. He was rocking backwards on his chair, spinning a pen in his fingers of his other hand.
I rolled my eyes and waved sarcastically at him.
I hope he got the message.
Wait, maybe he didn't.
Is he… Is he high fiving Jason?
Seriously?
Because I waved back?
Even though it was clearly sarcastically?
Well, shit.
Good work, Mitchie.
Mom and I got into her car and had a silent trip home. She kept her eyes to the road and I looked out the window, my eyes tracing the familiar trip from school to home I'd been taking every day for the past couple of years.
I got out of the car and headed for the front door. Mom wasn't following me – she hadn't even turned the car off. I turned around and bent down to look in the window she had just rolled down.
"I'm going back to work, honey. We'll talk about this later," she said. She was smiling though, so I knew I wasn't in too much trouble.
"Okay, thank you, mommy," I grinned at her. "Love you."
"You're welcome. Love you too. Be good." She put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway, speeding off down the street and around the corner, disappearing out of sight.
I unlocked the front door and walked in – going over to my fish tank where my goldfish swam around happily.
"Hello, Hamish. Hello, Andy. You're not scared of me are you?" I asked them glumly as my finger followed them swimming carelessly in the water.
Greattt, talking to goldfish.
A new low.
Way to go, Mitchie.
I trudged my way up the white carpeted stairs and to my room, taking my shoes out of my bag and throwing them into the closet. I quickly changed out of my school clothes and slipped into my pyjamas – an old AC/DC shirt and black boxers I'd stolen years ago off my best friend from middle school who had sadly moved away before high school.
I felt unnaturally tired for 2 o'clock in the afternoon. It must have been all that acting that had really taken it out of me.
The last thing I could remember thinking about before I finally drifted off to sleep was Shane.
He better not appear in my dreams…
Scratch that. Nightmares.
I bet that started out differently than any other Camp Rock fic you've ever read, right?
I hope so. :3
Review and tell me what you think!
PS: You guys are amazing. Seriously - I love you all. If I could buy you all a Jonas brother, I really would :)