Ekk, I'm so sorry this chapter has taken forever. At first I got a minor case of writer's block, then I focused on my other story…and I can go on making excuses that you could care less about. Anyway, here it is. I tried making it longer to make up for the time lost :D More "action" than journal entries this time around. Oh, little tidbit, it's still Friday in Kim's world. Please enjoy and review!
Disclaimer: Don't own Twilight, never will. Let me cry in a corner...*sniffle* Also, the idea of this "art scene" below (you shall read ;D) comes from Meg Cabot's All American Girl with the whole drawing what you know lesson. Like the protagonist of that story, Madison is also an artist with red hair, but the similarities end there. She's got her own personality and OC mind. Thanks ;D
Memoirs of a Crazy
Chapter Three:
Mrs. Taylor hasn't come in yet. That would be awesome if we had a roll and release.
I had to do something in order to ignore the temptation of looking at Jared. So, I was writing in the journal, again.
I wonder what I will be doing tonight. Tomorrow's Blaire's little get-together. I have a feeling that it's going to be a little more than a "few friends." She still hadn't figured out what to buy me off with. Not that she will. She knows me about as much as my parents do.
They're working late again tonight. *gasp* So, I'll have the house to myself. As usual. Blaire's going to be over at Sarah's for a sleepover.
When was the last time I had a sleepover?
I think it was at Madison birthday party two years ago. She had invited all the girls in our grade---less than thirty---for a "we've survived middle school" celebration. Sammie was the only person who refused to go (the other popular kids just politely declined). She and Madison had a fall out earlier in the semester. They've never been the same since, hence lunch today.
I like Madison, she's refreshingly different. Then again, she is the only Caucasian at our school. The board's kind of stingy when it comes to having diversity. Most everyone "special" (their words not mine) just goes to Forks. But Madison's mom works as a teacher here, so she was allowed to stay.
"Today we're talking about the food pyramid." Mrs. Taylor came into the room all chirpy. The whole class moaned---so much for having a free.
We started at the bottom and went all the way to the top. So far, I had broken almost all the serving rules. I wonder if Jared ate healthy….probably not.
"Would you like to share something with the class?" I jerked my head and watched as Mrs. Taylor tsked my husband-to-be and Paul.
"No, Mrs. Taylor. We were just discussing our daily intake of food." Jared said; his lie as smooth as he was. "Right Paulie?" He thumped Paul on the back, smiling.
"Right," Paul coughed, his fists tightening. "Me and Fat Ass over here were talking about how he needs to cut the calories."
Oh, Mrs. Taylor just loved that.
"Both of you, separate. Paul, stay where you are. Jared, go sit in the front row, and take all of your stuff. That will be your permanent residence in this class from here on out."
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Come on, Kim. Breathe. Breathe.
This is a fan girl's dream. My dream. Did Mrs. Taylor really say that? I pinched myself awake. This can't be happening. I checked out my classmates' reactions.
Sammie appeared to be mildly perturbed, but other than that, excited. She now had Paul to herself. Paul tried to act down about the new arrangement, however, we all knew fireworks were going off inside. He hated Jared. The rest of the class was uninterested, and Jared... Jared was mad. Furious and shaking. He practically smashed himself down in the seat in front of me. I could almost touch his back---that's how close I was too him.
Mrs. Taylor was victorious. I wanted to kiss the ground at her feet for giving me this opportunity. I quickly slammed my journal shut, hoping he didn't see anything. Major crisis averted. Now, just to figure out what to say…
"Hey Jared, welcome to the loser spot."
"I'm in love with you, Jared. It's nice to finally meet you face-to-face."
"Don't be mad, now you've got me to keep you company!"
I sighed loudly, knowing I'd never ever say those things, no matter how true they were. He might think I was crazy.
Definitely not a good way to start off a relationship.
I tapped my pencil on my desk, mind now focused on the god in front of me. My daydreams consisted of him turning around and in that deep voice of his, say my name. Just my name. He'd look at me with those dark mysterious eyes---completely smitten.
I jerked myself up. It was clear that I read way too many corny romance novels. In reality, life wasn't fair. Popular girls hooked up with the popular guys. It was the unchanging, social code. If you didn't date within your "station," it was instantly noticed. And with that, came the gossip. The cruel, fast fire gossip that killed a reputation within a day---sometimes even less than that depending on the student body size.
I hate school systems.
A drip of sweat formed on my forehead. I wiped it quickly, wondering what the heck was wrong with me. I only "glowed" (my mother's ladylike word for it) when I was making public speeches, talking to guys, and obviously, when I was hot. Confused, I glanced around the room; the class was pretending to listen to Mrs. Taylor as she showed us some diagram on the wall. They seemed normal enough. My clothes began to stick to my body and I felt like the sun was scorching me alive. It was as if the temperature had gone up 40 degrees.
The only thing wrong about that was one) I was in a classroom and two) it was snowing outside. Was it the heating? I couldn't even tell. I meekly raised my hand. I needed air.
"Kim?"
"Can I go to the restroom?" I squeaked, trying not to draw too much attention to myself. She nodded, and I hid my journal under my textbook, high-tailing it out of there. A rush of cold air hit me as I found myself in the narrow hallway.
Guess it wasn't the heating. I bet it was my reaction to Jared---that's the only reasonable explanation for it. I was going to have to prepare next time…I couldn't be sweating like a cow every health class. Lighter clothes, I decided. It was a sacrifice I was willing to make. I'd just wear thin, long sleeve shirts and a jacket, taking off the later when it was time for that particular period.
There, problem solved. I grimaced at myself in the dirty mirror in the girl's bathroom, and doused my face with water. My bangs just hadto get in the way, so I ended up drenching my hair too. Perfect. I saw my reflection and for the billionth time in my life, I mourned the fact that I didn't inherit my mother's genes. You guessed it----Blaire did. I was reminded of that every time we had to get dressed up.
Jeez, I was acting like one of those super self-conscious girls who were obsessed with what they looked like. My mouth stretched into a small grin, giving me all the confidence I needed to slink back to class.
Right in time to hear the homework.
Later, I found myself dozing off in Mr. Boyd's during a long winded explanation of some European war, only to promptly get poked by Sammie.
"Wanna go to that party Saturday? A freshman is throwing it, but everyone's going to be there. Paul, Jared, and that guy in second period…" She went down a long list of names. I blinked, forcing myself awake.
"Freshman?"
"Yeah, some girl named Blaire. Her friend is from that stupid clique that likes to smoke near the dumpsters. What's her face?" Sammie snapped her fingers, trying to figure out the name. "Oh, Sarah Bark. That's it. She's in my gym class."
Blaire was so dead.
"My parents are going to kill her when they find," I muttered darkly. Sammie's eyes widened as she realized who I was talking about.
"You mean---Blaire, like your sister, Blaire? She's the one who's…," she trailed off, not needing to go any further. If I left like my idiot sister wanted me to, I was going to get in trouble for not using my non-existent sisterly "influence" to stop her. And if I stayed, I was going to get blamed for encouraging her.
Either way I was toast. Time to write some contingency plans.
"We don't have to go," my friend assured me quickly.
"It's my house," I said. "Where else am I going to go?"
"Well, I don't know. We can get some people and head to the beach, though I'm pretty sure the Forks kids are going to Blaire's party. Or—"
"Forks kids?"
She looked at me as if I were dumb. "Yeah, nobody's had a rave lately, so this is like the next big thing. It's gonna be huge." I thought of my small two-story house and cringed. I could only imagine the mess that was going to be left behind.
"I have to stop her. She's going to get us both in trouble."
"It's too late for that," Sammie shook her head. "The word's already spread."
How to Stop A Partyby Kim
-burn the house down (probably not an option)
-put poisonous gas in the vents and scream wildly
-make it really lame and hopefully people will leave
-have the parents come home and tell everyone off (last resort)
-get the police (doughnut shop is full of them)
-send everyone a message that gives a different location (should've done that earlier)
This is the stupidest list I think I've ever made. Probably because absolutely none of these ideas are ever going to work. Even I know when I need to get real. Okay, or more creative.
"What's that?" Madison said, trying to look past my hunched shoulders.
"Notes," I replied a little too quickly, turning the page over. She raised her eyebrows. "It's an art class."
"Aren't finals over the artists?" I asked---my voice a little too desperate. She giggled at my useless efforts. "Yeah, like in, oh I don't know, nine months."
"Well, I was you know, getting…uhh," I blubbered, trying to come up with another excuse. Madison rolled her eyes and went back to her sketch. We were supposed to be drawing still-life fruit---simple enough. Mine looked like kindergartener scribbles. The teacher came by and glanced over my shoulder, shaking his head sadly. I reddened and tried to make it look better with a few dark shadings.
Now my apples were plums.
"Ms. Madison," his deep voice filled the whole room, "you're drawing it incorrectly."
Everyone instantly turned.
"But it's art!" Her charcoal fell out of her hand with a clatter. "You can't do anything wrong. I can draw a picture of my butt and people would think it's a masterpiece."
It's true. You could buy anything these days.
He sighed wearily. "The objective of this class is to better your skills. I just wanted to tell you that your fruit does not look like the fruit I assigned you to recreate."
Madison's fiery red hair and freckles stood out as she stared at him, mouth agape. "Are you serious?" Her blue eyes literally were throwing darts. Out of our whole school, Madison was by far the best artist. I stared at her paper. The picture was even better than the original.
"You're not understanding me," he told her. "This fruit," he motioned to her sketch, "is not the same as that." He pointed to the lone fruit basket on the stool in the middle of the room. "Draw what you see, not what you know."
"Yeah, I'm not getting you," her expression softened a fraction as she realized he was actually trying to give her constructive criticism.
He tried again like the patient teacher he was.
"You see that apple?" I noticed a bruised apple in the middle of the display. "It's not shiny like in your drawing, it has a dent on its side. And why are there grapes in here? I don't see grapes in the basket."
"It worked better," she said stiffly, but had already gotten an eraser out to redo her sketch. The teacher gave her an encouraging smile and moved on to the next person.
"Freaking fruit," she mumbled to herself. I gave up on my piece of art and started doodling Jared's name on the edge of my paper.
"So you've got the hots for Mr. I'm So Full Of Myself?" Madison voiced off. She gave me a gigantic smirk. I blushed furiously as she handed me the pink eraser. "I'll take that as a yes."
"Just a crush," I said, trying to shrug it off and make up for my minor blunder. Madison, as usual, wasn't fooled.
"Whatever you say, Kim." After a brief moment of silence and furious angry scrawls, she started up again. "Hey, are you doing anything with Sammie tonight?" Her words were laced with venom when she mentioned my best friend's name. I shook my head. Sammie was going to Port Angeles to flirt with some guys at the rec center. I told her I was going to pass.
"Awesome. I was wondering if you wanted to hang with me tonight and go to Seattle. My friend is reciting his poetry at this café, and wanted some moral support."
"Isn't Seattle four hours away?"
"Yep," Madison said, putting a pop on the 'p.' "Think of it as a mini road trip. Will your parents be okay with it?"
I was sort of flattered. Madison was mostly just a school friend, you know, the person you'll talk non-stop to during classes but never hang with on weekends. I could feel the excitement build up in the pit of my stomach. Something new.
"Yeah, most likely."
"Great, I'll pick you up right after we break out of this joint. I hate driving in the dark." I did a double-take.
"Wait, you'redriving?" Cackling, Madison nodded her head, swearing she wouldn't kill us. I gave off an uneasy laugh, causing her to make enough racket where even the teacher looked our way. And he was a little deaf in one ear.
Go figure.
It wasn't hard to convince my parents over the phone. I almost wished they'd be a little more concerned. Mom thought it was cute that the "little Madison girl" asked me to go. My dad told me that the some extra money was in the cookie jar above the fridge. Yeah, don't ask. After those painful conversations, I was able to quickly pack some stuff in my handy tan messenger bag before I heard an obnoxious car honk.
"You're going to need more than that," she told me when she found out what I was bringing. I saw a baby blue duffel bag dumped behind the driver's seat, and realized that she was planning for us to stay in Seattle over night. Whoops.
"Where are we going to sleep?"
"Either my friend's house, aunt's house, or a cheap hotel. You chose," she said while helping me pack some clothes. "Nice room." I saw that she was examining my periwinkle bed covers and its clash against the pale green walls. I had thrown some accent pillows to mix around the colors, but it was obvious that I was no interior designer. Not my forte. She listened to me ramble about its weirdness for a few minutes before interrupting me and saying that we needed to hit the road.
One thing can be said about Madison's driving. She's fast. And she has road rage. Her stereotypical hair color personality (red=temperamental) matches her driving behavior exactly. I was so freaked out, that I yelled for joy when I saw that we were stopping. Madison was a little offended to say the least.
"It wasn't that bad," she insisted as we were striding across a congested street walk. We had to park a mile away from the café due to insane traffic. Downtown Seattle must be a party on Fridays.
"I'm just grateful I'm alive," I said, nearly running into a pack of college students. "Who's your friend again?"
"Oh, Jeff." Madison nodded. "I met him during camp in seventh grade, and we've been tight since. He lives here, so we take turns visiting each other. It's going to be harder with school now though." Randomly, she began jumping right as I caught view of a bright neon sign flashing Bluebird Café.Packs of people were trying to get in all at the same time---most of them teens like us.
"Open poetry slam," Madison explained to me when she noticed my confused face. She checked her watch. "Jeff should be on in an hour or so. Let's grab some coffees and wait."
We slid in between the crowd and managed to find an unoccupied loveseat near the window. Then, Madison and I proceeded to dump tons of crème and sugar into our caffeinated drinks while playing twenty questions. It was hard to hear---the room was filling up quicker than an airplane terminal. Some girls near the makeshift stage had music blaring, shaking their hips at unsuspecting onlookers.
"It's very casual," Madison said out of blue as someone made a fool of herself by tripping over a chair. "I've been coming to these for the past three years with Jeff. He's not the greatest poet, but he tries anyway."
"Like how bad is he?" I wondered out loud. She put a finger to her lips. "Don't tell, but he's horrible. Not really much of a writer."
"Have you ever competed?"
Madison snorted. "Yeah right. I stick to my art. I tried once…I don't do rhymes. Or theater. Or any of that stuff."
A hush fell over everyone as the slam began. The judges had been randomly picked and were already finished with their "sacrificial poet." I listened as people, some who were amazing, recited their pieces. A majority were just teens telling me about their lives. Sometimes, they used diffent voices, dipping into the art of theater, while other times they resorted to humor and standup comedy. One person whispered,
I live in a world where I am a shadow,
I live in a world where there's no light,
I am no one.
They went on into some other pretty depressing stanzas, and then afterwards got their score. After what seemed like two hours, I felt Madison pinch my side. "That's Jeff," she hissed to me.
A mud-haired lanky boy walked onto the "stage" and shouted his poem. His eyes were closed and he rocked back and forth on his toes.
Thou shall not sit on thee arse!was the first line I heard. It got even weirder and more vulgar every time he opened his mouth. Madison was cringing by the end---you get the picture. I hoped he didn't really speak like that normally.
"He doesn't even make sense," I whispered to her. She quirked a smile. "Yeah, that's the point. Jeff has never made sense. When he does, that'll be the end of his poetry slam career."
I wasn't sure on what the judges decided to give him, but I'm pretty positive it wasn't high enough to go onto the next rounds.
"Maddy!" He found us right after his performance, dragging us out of the café and onto the dark streets of Seattle. I examined Jeff as he excitedly talked to Madison about what had been happening since she last saw him. He was tall, sporting bright hazel eyes along with a face tanned from the sun. He was alittle cute, I'll admit, but it was clear that he already liked my friend. It didn't matter to me----Jared was my only love.
"Who's this?" He asked, finally noticing me. Madison smacked herself on the forehead. "Oh my gosh, I'm sorry. I forgot to introduce you guys. Jeff, this is Kim. Kim, this is Jeff." He shook my hand and tried making small talk with me. I couldn't even handle that without stuttering---I was grateful when he realized the efforts were useless.
We all decided to go catch a movie before Madison and I headed out to find refuge for the night. It was awkward to say the least. Jeff couldn't retain his excitement when Madison sat next to him, and she was oblivious to his wooing efforts. Even I, anti-social Kim, could tell.
It was kind of funny.
I munched on some popcorn while they talked throughout the commercials. Would Jared and I be like this? Friends first then lovers? Or would we skip steps? I thought about him, envisioning him as the hero instead of some random actor as the movie progressed.
Maybe this party wouldn't be so bad after all. Maybe it would be worth the yelling I'd get from my parents. Maybe I could finally talk to Jared.
Maybe…
Or maybe not.
So, how'd you guys like it? I've never been to a poetry slam before, so tell me if I got any details mixed up. Just wanted to give Kim something to do before the party….and introduce Madison a bit more. I promise the update won't take two months to put out next time! I swear…thanks to all of you who were patient. Beta'd by me (still), so hopefully there aren't too many errors.
Please Review ;D They make my day.
Side Note: It was just pointed out to me by a very helpful someone that the temperature sytems are different for everyone---excuse my slightly stupid moment. :D Anyway, when Kim's feeling hot, it's about 100 degrees Fahrenheit (at least for her) which is around 37.77 degrees Celsius.