pack·ing
\'pakiNG/
noun
The action or process of packing something; "The handling, packing, and shipping of products."
That was the Webster Dictionary's definition of "packing." What was Ally Dawson's definition then? I defined packing as "A huge pain in my ass, and a waste of time, since I never bothered to unpack everything I packed." On top of all that, I always managed to turn my room into a disaster zone while I was in the process of packing.
I cast a glance around my room, and shuddered in horror. I didn't know how my room got messy so quickly. Five minutes ago... Actually, forget that, thirty minutes ago, my room had been pretty decent looking. I wasn't going to delude anyone into believing that my room was hospital clean, but it was sanitary, at least.
But this? This was just plain disastrous. There were clothes strewn there and yonder. They were everywhere. Hell, I'd forgotten I even had so many clothes, since I was constantly complaining about "never having anything to wear." I was a damn liar apparently, because I could open a boutique with all the clothes I owned.
I was now in the process of trying to find my favorite pair of socks. Yes, you read that correctly, socks. I had a favorite item for every category of clothing I owned; Pants, shoes, socks, shirts, under garments... I even had a favorite hair tie. Maybe Ally Dawson needed friends. Yes, friends might be beneficial. I was digging through my drawer, and I was tinting with anger and annoyance.
I didn't want to be home, I didn't want to go anywhere. I wanted to be alone, I wanted condolence. I wanted to talk to Austin Moon, I cursed the bastard to the furthest depths of Tartarus. I was the moving version of contradictions. I was a peachy person. My most recent irk was the fact that my pikachu socks were not showing up anywhere in the drawer. Did I mention they were my favorite socks? But, they weren't in the drawer, or on the floor, or even under the bed.
I think it was those damn sock goblins again. I'm not even joking. Those bastards always snuck into my room at night and made my jeans tighter than they were the night before, and stole all my non-hobo looking pairs of socks. Seriously, it was worse than the first day of school for me, and usually the after-effects on my room on the first day of school made the Great Galveston Hurricane mild in comparison.
Ok, so maybe I was being just a tad bit over-dramatic. Come to think of it, I've always been a slight drama queen. My father had always told me I was his little diva, and I didn't think there was a finer adjective that could be concocted to describe little ole' me. More or less, I was not as extreme as some people, but I had my fair share of over-the-top moments. I was certainly more dramatic than Trish, by a long shot.
If something like this happened to Trish, she would've simply pushed it off and moved on. Hell, she would be laughing because she met a celebrity. Trish was the one who actually was good at dealing with things and taking things in stride. I was the exact opposite of things.
How Ally Dawson Deals with Emotions:
-Never talk about them.
-Barely acknowledge them.
-Hope they go away.
-I really don't, basically.
That was the Ally Dawson method to dealing with feelings, thoughts, and anything else that caused me a lot of grief. It was almost fool proof, it was simple, and it had always been a natural occurrence. I was simply a person who did not like dealing with petty things, and I viewed emotions as the pettiest object of all. But, on top of that, it was a way to seal my pride.
As I have said before, I am not a people person. I don't trust homo sapiens, I don't like them, and I don't want to be among them. God, now I sound like a comic geek or something. I was guarded, and the wall I had successfully built up over the years was created to protect myself from the people that surrounded me. I viewed emotions as a weakness, and with my view on almost everyfuckingbody on the planet being shady, it was not a good mix.
I believed that if I shared my emotions, that I was letting people in. And once I showed them emotion, I was admitting weakness. From personal experience, I had found that some people are like leeches. They try to latch on to you, and all they want is your blood, and to see you fall. If I admitted weakness, they would find a way to use it against me, because naturally there are people who just want to watch you fall and spit in your face. I was too prideful to admit defeat that way.
I knew the best way to deal with the Austin drama was to try and ignore any feelings or thoughts that intruded their way into my head. But sometimes that was easier said than done. I hated it. I hated him, because for once, my method wasn't working. For once, I had a permanent pest occupying my thoughts. It pissed me the fuck off.
God, the way I thought about him, people might get the wrong idea. It wasn't that I liked Austin, per say. I mean, I wasn't totally opposed to the idea of having feelings for him. Or, at least, I hadn't been. Now, I was guilt ridden, and fed up. I had no right to be so mad, because in a way, his logic made sense. But, instead of making me feel the urge to apologize, I had the urge to run south.
If I was famous, I reckon I'd want my friends to be real too, and so I'd hide my real identity from strangers if the chance arose. Yes, I was being stupid. Was I going to apologize? Fuck no. I was a stubborn person by nature, and I was even more competitive. I also tended to be a sore loser, and it really pissed me off that Austin had been right. The competitive part of me wanted to fight, and the jackass part of me just didn't want to admit that Austin wasn't really as big of a prat as I thought.
If I could make a list for all the reasons I hated Austin, I think that the fact that he had attempted to break down my walls and I had almost let him was at the top.
An hour finally approaches, and Trish arrives, much to my dismay, right on the dot. I wasn't sure if I liked her being prompt so frequently now. It worried me a little bit, to be honest. I had known Trish since we were practically in the womb. Hell, our moms had been best friends in high school themselves, so our fates were practically intertwined the moment we were conceived.
And in the entire time I had been friends with Trish, she was rarely ever on time, for anything. She had the biggest tardy record on file that I had ever seen, and once, she was even two hours late to her own birthday party. This being prompt and actually taking responsibility was making me believe that an alien abduction was quite possible.
But, some habits apparently never changed, because she barged into my room, once again. She'd been doing that since we were about 4, and I didn't think it was subject to change anytime soon. Still, there was always hope. I mean, why couldn't she change that habit? She knew I hated when people entered my room without knocking. She also knew I wouldn't do jackshit about it, because she was my best friend, and I was so used to it happening. I think she was getting just a little too comfortable with our friendship.
"Ready, Freddy?" she asks cheerfully, flopping down in the small amount of space that was free on the bed.
"'Ready Freddy', really? What is this, third grade?"
"Damn Ally, who shoved a tampon up your ass this morning?"
I clench my teeth and remind myself that Trish is just trying to help, and that by being a conniving bitch, I wasn't going to earn any points with her. I was being unfair by taking all my anger out on her when she was really just trying to cheer me up. I was a shitty friend, that much was obvious.
"I'm sorry, Trish. Yes, I'll be ready, right after I say bye to the family." I say, as I lug my duffle bag over my shoulder and sway towards the door. The duffle bag isn't too heavy, it's just all the shit on the floor that's making my balance sway and my coordination slightly off. Well, that, and the fact that I had always been just a little clumsy.
I'll spare you the details of saying goodbye to my family, because it's not terribly eventful, or emotional, or relative to anything. Mom cried, Dad warned me to behave myself, and Jared just waggled his eyebrows suggestively. I flipped him off. Mom hadn't been too pleased about that. Oh well.
Trish has decided to drive, which makes this terrible trip 500% more terrible. Trish's driving skills are shit, and I had never been afraid of anything reckless, until I got into a car with Patricia Maria De la Rosa. She had a frighteningly short attention-span, little patience for other driver's, and a consistent reckless regard for traffic rules. I had a feeling it was safer to be locked in a room with a starving cheetah, than within a 50 mile radius of Trish driving.
The saying that "women were bad drivers" definitely applied to Trish. That girl was a freaking crazy bitch when it came to anything involving operating a moving automobile. To prove my example, Trish runs a stop sign and nearly breaks some porcelain lawn ornaments that are nearby. "I swear to god Trish, how you ever managed to get your license completely baffles me."
She gives me a dirty look, before the light turns red and she slams on the breaks, nearly sliding us into another car, and the cross walk. "Jesus! You clearly got your license from a McDonald's Happy Meal!" I exclaim in exasperation and mild fear. If there was one way I didn't want to die, it was in a car with Trish. She was quite possibly the worst driver I had ever seen in my entire 18 years of existing on planet Earth."
"You know, you could be just a little more gracious that I am treating you to three days of sheer paradise before school begins again. I'd say you should be treating me like a goddess at this point."
"But I didn't want to go on this trip in the first place!" I argue, praying that wherever we are mobbing off to, it is nearby. I don't think I can last any longer than ten minutes maximum with Trish as my driver.
"True, but someday you're going to thank me for this experience. Trust me Ally, we're going to be doing something incredibly unforgettable, and we're going to yank you headfirst out of depression by the hair if that's what it takes to cure you."
"But, I'm not depressed. I'm a little gloomy because of the weather, I reckon. But, I'm always slightly moody, so I guess it's to be expected. Really Trish, I'm going to be just fine."
"Too right you are, because I am going to assure it happens. You can try to make this vacation as sucky as possible, but, I will never forgive you if you ruin this trip for me. I really think you're going to have a jolly good time if you'd just stop being such a pessimist. Suck it up, cupcake." Trish says, as she suddenly veers to the left, and several cars honk in aggravation. I let out a tiny breath as I realize we're approaching an airport.
There is only one thing that is more dangerous than being in a car with Trish, and that's flying in a plane with her. Sure, we'd have a hopefully trusted pilot who would guide us to some unknown destination. It was the unknown part that I was more worried about. For all I knew, she was whisking me off to Las Vegas to try my luck in some scummy casino.
"Trish, we're not going out of the country, are we?" I ask a little warily as she searches for a spot to park in the parking lot. Goody goody gumdrops, I'd be on land again rather quickly.
She snorts. "Yes, Ally. We're definitely going out of the country for three days, because tickets to any foreign destination couldn't possibly cost more than an arm and leg. I mean, I'm just drenched in money, and I thought 'hey, why not get a job for money, since I'm dripping in money already anyway.' And your parents agreed for me to drag you to Africa without adult supervision."
"I'm 18."
"So? You're still staying with your parents for the summer, and we both know how tightly they hold the reins."
I sigh, and we successfully exit the vehicle without dying in the process. We grab our luggage and head into the airport, with Trish walking as though she'd just won the lottery. What in the actual fuck was she so happy about anyway? It was like we were sauntering off to Disneyland. I wouldn't put that past her. She was a sneaky wench, and for all I knew, that was where we were heading. At least, I hoped it was something like that. I didn't really want to go anywhere sketchy for my forced vacation.
"Uh, Trish, we have a problem."
"Yes Ally?" Trish asks, continuing to walk in springy, joyous steps.
"I don't have a ticket, or money to buy one."
"Oh, don't worry about that. I already have gotten everything taken care of."
"That's what I was afraid of." I mutter under my breath as we walk towards the lobby.
Thirty minutes later, I find myself on a flight, but I still have no idea where we're heading off to. Trish had refused to tell me a single damn thing about our plans, except that they were going to "knock my socks off, and finally earn Trish the best friend award that was so rightfully hers." Bloody hell, what was it with me and associating with narcissistic tossers? Jared, Trish, Austin... I just had an apparent radar that led me towards people that carried characteristics I despised.
Trish sat next to me with her ear buds in, bobbing her head along to her music. It just figures that the traitor would be keeping as quiet about this as she was. She was worried about slipping up about something, and I was starting to go crazy with curiosity.
The expression had always been "Curiousity killed the cat", but I figured I was more of a dog person anyway. I was going to keep pondering different scenarios until everything unfolded, for better or for worse. I was an impatient person by nature, and I could already tell this was going to be three absolute days in hell. Whatever scheme Trish had planned out was going to kill me, one way, or another.
I stared out the window, watching as the clouds fluttered by in slow, lazy formations. The sky was a brilliant shade of blue, and if these were under any other circumstances, I would be relishing in the breathtaking views I was witnessing before me. But, this wasn't one of those times.
I'm a very consistent and routine oriented person. Jared had always joked that I "Could never maintain a normal life, or even function without a set schedule." The sad thing was, it was entirely true. As much as I hated to admit it, I was a complete control freak, and the fact that I was most definitely not in control right now was starting to eat me from the inside out. And for fuck's sakes, it hadn't even been an hour yet.
Once things became consistent, and I found a routine to stick to, I preferred to follow it thoroughly. I became uneasy once anything appeared subject to change. I hated surprises of any shape or form. My least favorite were the ones that struck me right in the face, giving me very little time to analyze things, or prepare for the inevitable.
All I knew was that whatever happened was going to change things. I had hoped for a relaxing vacation, but I had a sinking suspicion that something big was heading my way, and I was about to be thrown into the middle of a shitstorm. I felt a sense of dread and resentment at this. Trish glances over at me, before giving me a sincere and apologetic smile, and squeezing my hand once.
I resist the urge to backhand her across the face. As I've mentioned before, I am not a person who enjoys affection, especially not by touching. I hated people touching me, and that included everyone I associated with. It wasn't as bad with certain people, but for the most part, touching me was taking out a gamble on your own safety.
I send Trish a scowl, and she waggles a finger at me. "Try to lighten up, Alls. I know things aren't really going exactly how you planned, and you've been tossed into my sporadic plans, but it's going to be fun. If there is one thing I can guarantee, it's that you're going to have a blast. I am the life of the party, and you're going to love me forever for this."
"I hope you're right. Otherwise, I've already planned the perfect place in which to hide your body. Tumblr has taught me how to make a death look like an accident, and you're no exception. I'd watch your back, Patricia Maria De La Rosa. I might decide to come out and get you."
"Oh my god. You're so morbid. Why am I even friends with you? You're clearly batshit crazy! Anyway, chill your balls and watch a movie or something. I'll be back, I have to piss like a racehorse."
She abruptly leaves her seat, and I sink lower down in mine. In the seats directly behind me, I can hear two girls obsessing about some article they're reading in J-14 Magazine. God, I hated those magazines. They spewed bullshit by the ton, and I was firmly and severely allergic to bullshit. Those magazines always looked so silly; They looked as though some 8 year old had created the images on the front page using Microsoft Paint. And the stories were always about stupid things, like Harry Style's favorite scent of cologne.
If this was what I had to look forward to, you could safely count me out. I firmly disapproved the next generation. They listened to music that was complete and utter rubbish, they cared about petty things like hair and boyfriends, and they hid behind their "swag" and terrible English skills. I swear to God, at least 95% of the people on the internet were tedious morons who enjoyed trolling and typing in an impeccable and infertile fashion. America's official language was 3rd grade English.
"Austin is so freaking cute! I think him and I would be the perfect match. I mean, we share so many qualities, and interests. And sure, we don't really listen to a lot of the same music, but I'm sure I could get into the beatles, or the Raymonds. I like that one song, 'I Can't Get No Satisfaction'. I mean, Joey Raymond is so freaking cool!" One voice gushes, before I hear the noises of someone turning the page.
"Yeah! I mean, he's dreamy, and gorgeous, and perfect. I already have our wedding planned out." A second voice swoons, earning an annoyed huff from her friend.
For Christ's sake, girls needed to learn that not every man in the world was available, and that they weren't all God's gift to the universe. The likelihood of a peasant marrying royalty was nearly impossible. Plus, they couldn't all have the same guy. Polygamy was still frowned upon, I believe. But then again, so were gay rights, which was also complete rubbish.
"Yeah, I agree. Someday, I'm going to be Mrs. Talia Monica Moon. Who the hell is 'Ally Dawson' anyway? I mean, she had to be sort of important if Austin called out for her at his concert in Miami, Florida. She's such a bitch. I mean, who in their right mind would ever reject Austin Moon? She's probably some useless whore who just wanted to gain her 15 minutes of fame in the most despicable and pathetic way possible. Austin doesn't need hoes clinging to his side. He probably just felt bad for her, you know. I mean, what an unfortunate name she possess. She's probably as unfortunate looking as her name."
I clench my jaw, and I dig my nails into my skin until I can feel blood begin to drip. Yup, it was official, Ally Dawson had dived right off the fucking deep end. They had the audacity to sit here and fucking talk shit about me? I was used to girls like this. My name must've tasted good, because it was always in someone else's mouth. Oh yeah, I was going to make these girls think twice before they assumed such shallow things about a person.
A hoe? I wasn't a virgin by any means, but I had only had sex with one guy, who I had been dating for close to two years. If that made me a whore, I shuddered to think what the rest of the female gender was considered. I was, unfortunately, someone who didn't care too much what people thought about me. But, that didn't mean I enjoyed hearing my name said by complete strangers who had no right to judge me.
That does it. I will not stand for girls attempting to use their shallow deception to make a mockery of the female population. Girls like them were the reason women didn't get any respect. I would not stand for being objectified by girls who had possibly seven brain cells combined, at maximum. Gee, I was sure being a judgmental bitch today. Go Ally, it's going to be a splendid evening.
"I think you two twats need to shut up, because you're certainly crossing the line there. Do you know the girl? No? I didn't think so either. Talking shit about people is the lowest you can sink, if you guys can even sink any lower than the scum you already are. First off, Austin moon is a complete wanker, and the sooner you realize how unintelligent and annoying you sound, the better. Life isn't as easy as trying to claim a human being. They're not objects, they're people. Maybe once you realize that the likelihood that you would actually ever attract the attention of a celebrity is never going to happen. Second, music is not for fake people. Don't tell someone you like a band if you don't. Unless you want Barbie to be jealous of how fake you are. Then, by all means, go for it. And third, The Raymonds? Please tell me you're not actually so moronic and oblivious that you can't even say the bloody name correctly? It's the Ramones. And the lead singer's name is Joey Ramone, not Raymond, you uncultured little shit. And I Can't Get No Satisfaction isn't even written or performed by the Ramones! It's by the Rolling fucking Stones. God, girls like you are the reason I seriously wish people would stop breeding."
The two girls, who I have now noted look about 14 at maximum, are completely flabbergasted. I've never seen someone rendered so completely speechless before. They both wear bubblegum t-shirts with Austin's hideous face in the center, outlined in a heart shape. God, could their merchandise be any worse? The world was really going to shit.
The one directly behind me has long blonde hair pulled delicately into a braid that wrapped around her head, and looked like something slightly more romantic. Too bad I already thought she was one ugly bitch. Her pale pink lips were pressed into a unamused and infuriated scowl. Her cloudy grey eyes were boring into mine, her posture very tense. She was preparing for a fight, and from the spark in her eye, I could tell she wasn't going to give up. Perfect. I actually loved people who could argue with me. I could argue for hours on end without losing motivation or interest.
The second girl's looks contrasted to her friend's. This girl had more exotic features. For being about 14, she was already blossoming with hidden beauty. This girl was destined to be a model. It's too bad her taste in music was complete shit. She had almond shaped, coffee brown eyes, and dark, roasted bean hair. She was tanned, but not ridiculously so. Who knows, maybe this little lech actually had a shot at snagging the heart of a dickcactus like Austin.
"Well, are you going to counter my argument? Or are you both going to sit there with your mouths down at your feet, giving full entrance to flies?"
"What's your fucking problem? You don't even know us, and yet, you're sitting here, bashing on us. We weren't talking to you, so how about you butt out, you masochistic bitch." The blonde one snarls, her eyes narrowing to practical slits. Ooh, intimidating. I was absolutely quaking in my boots at this macho 12 year old who clearly thought she was a bad bitch.
Well, here was Dr. Ally here to drag her out of that dream. I had been itching for a fight; I needed to yell at someone, and these two witless morons were the perfect candidates. I didn't care too much that they were technically idiots. They had made all women look like trash, and I wasn't going to hold back.
"I don't need to know you. I know your type. You're the type to do whatever it takes to get what you want, no matter what it costs or whose life you have to tarnish before you succeed. You set your sights on unrealistic fantasies that could never happen, even if there was really such thing as miracles. You really think that by becoming an attention seeking whore and clinging to someone as shallow as Austin Moon, your life is going to become this magical fairytale? It's time for you to enter the world of reality. In reality, guys don't go for girls with personalities like yours."
Her face turns dark at that, her face reddening in anger. This girl was fun to rile up. I give her a sarcastic clap to further my point."I'm impressed. I had begun thinking that your shitty music had fried your brain. I'm glad to know you can at least say one big girl word. Second, do you realize that because you're talking shit about someone you don't even know, you're showing obvious signs of insecurity. It's pretty sad, actually. I pity you. Well, I guess we can's save them all. Maybe you should get to know someone before you ride on your unorthodox assumptions that someone is a whore or useless, or anything like that."
I'm about to continue my rant when Trish flops back into her seat, her eyes leaving no doubt in my mind that she heard everything that just went down, and she is not happy. I shrug, which makes her clench her jaw and let out a frustrated sigh.
"Allison Dawson, why are you being so rude to two young girls? I don't understand why you feel the need to join in on some stupid conversation over Austin. You're better than that. You're 18. For fuck's sake, grow up and start acting like it." And with that, she angrily shoves her earbuds back in, glowering at me while she does it. Brilliant job, Ally, absolutely fucking brilliant.
It's officially been an hour, and I've already pissed off three people with little effort. I'd say I was in my A-game, baby. Ally Dawson was on a roll, and I didn't foresee this stopping any time soon. Still, I had been a bitch, so instead of continuing to antagonize and insult the two girls behind me, I listened to my own music, and calmed the uproar that had been ready to explode inside of me.