Author's Warning: There is drug use in this chapter, though still within
the PG-13 rating.
Hours later, I was sitting stoned in my living room with Ethan, Nic, and Nic's brother Jordan. Jordan and I had a very mutual friendship. I let him get high in my extremely nice house and raid the well-stocked refridgerator, and he, in turn, shared his weed with me and supported my social status by being a Junior who approved of me. Just another one of my clever connections.
Jordan was sitting in a recliner with a bowl of M&Ms, and Nic was on the floor, rolling around every now and again whenever he erupted into laughter. Ethan played with my hair as I laid across the couch with my head in his lap. Ethan has a sort of infatuation with hair, which works out well since I have alot of it. He was the only one out of the four of us who wasn't high. People seem to have this notion that Ethan is a complete stoner, but in actuality, he won't touch the stuff. By the way he acts, you would really think he is one, but his simple-mindedness is completely natural.
It's immensely difficult to feel lonely or bored when you're high. Everyone tends to be everyone else's friend when they're high, and the laughter is just endless. As the talking and giggles surrounded me, it was easy to forget how lonley I could be sometimes. Ethan's fingers through my hair relaxed me as Jordan entertained me with stories that normally would have made no sense at all, but now seemed incredibly funny. It was a feeling of floating and absolute comfort.
My mind wandered, and I started to think what Lizzie might be like high. I giggled dreamily at the thought. She was a talkative and clumsy girl by nature, and I imagined marijuana would only magnify those traits. I tried to visualize the scenario in my head. I pictured Lizzie, stumbling about with laughter (much as Nic was doing at the moment), and at last crashing into my arms. I imagined myself combing my fingers through her hair as she rested her head in my lap, and listening as she rambled on about the winding thoughts inside her head.
"Dude!" said Jordan, digging through the shelves beside the TV. "You have got a sweet mess of games here."
"They're Amy's," I replied dreamily as he admired her collection of PlayStation 2 games. Ethan got up, and joined Nic and Jordan. They quickly became wrapped up in video games.
I curled up in a ball on one corner of the couch. I became lost in fantasies of hearing all that Lizzie could tell me. My fascination with Lizzie was endless. It began during our middle school years, when I was particularly cruel to her. For some reason, she was always willing to help me, no matter how badly I treated her in return. I was awestruck by her selflessness and compassion. When no one else was looking, we got along so well. There was a connection between us, though I was too set on my social goals to accept her.
When we started high school, an infatuation started to grow. I didn't understand why, but I craved to know more about her. I suppose it's because I knew I could never be friends with her. There were rules to maintaining my world, and being enemies with Lizzie McGuire was one of them. I could never be close to her, never be a part of the magic that followed her. That knowledge made me all the more enamored of her.
I picked up a blue pen that was lying on the coffee table and wrote out her name on my hand in delicate, twisting letters. I stared at the name, and thought about all the different things it meant to me. There were two ways to look at it. First, Lizzie was my rival. She was the person that I could never let trip me up, and that I was constantly butting heads with. Even though I was secretly intrigued by her, I still felt motivated to oppose her. Making her jealous and miserable was all a part of the game. Every time something went wrong for her, things were all the better for me.
I started drawing a lacy heart around the name. The flipside of it was that I constantly found her on my mind. She stirred up emotions in me, drove me to thoughts I never would have imagined having. My infatuation with Lizzie was the secret part of me. The emotions that I buried for her were powerful and somewhat sacred. When I felt like crap, I could use those emotions to lift my spirits and get me through dark times.
It was around 10:30 that Amy came home. She angrily barked at my friends to leave, which they reluctantly did. She half-heartedly yelled at me and told me I shouldn't have people over that late on a school night, but in all honesty I think she was really only mad because they were touching her precious PlayStation.
I got up from the couch and wandered into the kitchen. I pulled out bread and a jar of peanut butter from the cabinets, and noticed the red light on the answering machine was blinking. I hit play as I started spreading the peanut butter.
"Kate, it's Mom," said the machine. I groaned and spread my peanut butter more ferociously. "Things are a little hectic here, but your dad got the Freeman account. Isn't that fabulous? Turns out they want to get started as soon as possible, so we'll be here for a few more days. See you when we see you, probably Tuesday. Call us if you guys need extra cash. Love you. Kisses."
I took an angry bite of my sandwich. I wasn't upset that my parent's would be gone longer; this was no great shock to me. What frustrated me was that my mother actually made it sound like it was a good thing. She actually wanted me to happy for them. She was absolutely clueless to the fact that I might need something more than "extra cash" while they were away. My feelings never seemed to cross her mind whenever she and Dad were on these business trips.
Amy walked in and started looking through the cabinets for a snack. "Did I just hear your mom's voice?" she asked.
"They'll be out of town a few more days," I told her, bitterly chewing my sandwich. "We're supposed to call if we need more cash."
"Oh, sweet!" she said. Amy, of course, was the last person I would ever expect to sympathize with my situation. The longer my parents were away, the more fun she got to have at their expense.
After finishing my sandwich, I went upstairs and took a long shower. By the time I got in bed it was 11:30. Even when I laid down, I couldn't get to sleep. It sounds shallow, but the most frustrating thing of all was how little sleep I knew I'd get that night. It was important to me to be well- rested, so I could look fresh the next day. I put a high value on the concept of beauty sleep. That night, though, my mind was teeming with all sorts of thoughts, and sleep did not come easily.
Hours later, I was sitting stoned in my living room with Ethan, Nic, and Nic's brother Jordan. Jordan and I had a very mutual friendship. I let him get high in my extremely nice house and raid the well-stocked refridgerator, and he, in turn, shared his weed with me and supported my social status by being a Junior who approved of me. Just another one of my clever connections.
Jordan was sitting in a recliner with a bowl of M&Ms, and Nic was on the floor, rolling around every now and again whenever he erupted into laughter. Ethan played with my hair as I laid across the couch with my head in his lap. Ethan has a sort of infatuation with hair, which works out well since I have alot of it. He was the only one out of the four of us who wasn't high. People seem to have this notion that Ethan is a complete stoner, but in actuality, he won't touch the stuff. By the way he acts, you would really think he is one, but his simple-mindedness is completely natural.
It's immensely difficult to feel lonely or bored when you're high. Everyone tends to be everyone else's friend when they're high, and the laughter is just endless. As the talking and giggles surrounded me, it was easy to forget how lonley I could be sometimes. Ethan's fingers through my hair relaxed me as Jordan entertained me with stories that normally would have made no sense at all, but now seemed incredibly funny. It was a feeling of floating and absolute comfort.
My mind wandered, and I started to think what Lizzie might be like high. I giggled dreamily at the thought. She was a talkative and clumsy girl by nature, and I imagined marijuana would only magnify those traits. I tried to visualize the scenario in my head. I pictured Lizzie, stumbling about with laughter (much as Nic was doing at the moment), and at last crashing into my arms. I imagined myself combing my fingers through her hair as she rested her head in my lap, and listening as she rambled on about the winding thoughts inside her head.
"Dude!" said Jordan, digging through the shelves beside the TV. "You have got a sweet mess of games here."
"They're Amy's," I replied dreamily as he admired her collection of PlayStation 2 games. Ethan got up, and joined Nic and Jordan. They quickly became wrapped up in video games.
I curled up in a ball on one corner of the couch. I became lost in fantasies of hearing all that Lizzie could tell me. My fascination with Lizzie was endless. It began during our middle school years, when I was particularly cruel to her. For some reason, she was always willing to help me, no matter how badly I treated her in return. I was awestruck by her selflessness and compassion. When no one else was looking, we got along so well. There was a connection between us, though I was too set on my social goals to accept her.
When we started high school, an infatuation started to grow. I didn't understand why, but I craved to know more about her. I suppose it's because I knew I could never be friends with her. There were rules to maintaining my world, and being enemies with Lizzie McGuire was one of them. I could never be close to her, never be a part of the magic that followed her. That knowledge made me all the more enamored of her.
I picked up a blue pen that was lying on the coffee table and wrote out her name on my hand in delicate, twisting letters. I stared at the name, and thought about all the different things it meant to me. There were two ways to look at it. First, Lizzie was my rival. She was the person that I could never let trip me up, and that I was constantly butting heads with. Even though I was secretly intrigued by her, I still felt motivated to oppose her. Making her jealous and miserable was all a part of the game. Every time something went wrong for her, things were all the better for me.
I started drawing a lacy heart around the name. The flipside of it was that I constantly found her on my mind. She stirred up emotions in me, drove me to thoughts I never would have imagined having. My infatuation with Lizzie was the secret part of me. The emotions that I buried for her were powerful and somewhat sacred. When I felt like crap, I could use those emotions to lift my spirits and get me through dark times.
It was around 10:30 that Amy came home. She angrily barked at my friends to leave, which they reluctantly did. She half-heartedly yelled at me and told me I shouldn't have people over that late on a school night, but in all honesty I think she was really only mad because they were touching her precious PlayStation.
I got up from the couch and wandered into the kitchen. I pulled out bread and a jar of peanut butter from the cabinets, and noticed the red light on the answering machine was blinking. I hit play as I started spreading the peanut butter.
"Kate, it's Mom," said the machine. I groaned and spread my peanut butter more ferociously. "Things are a little hectic here, but your dad got the Freeman account. Isn't that fabulous? Turns out they want to get started as soon as possible, so we'll be here for a few more days. See you when we see you, probably Tuesday. Call us if you guys need extra cash. Love you. Kisses."
I took an angry bite of my sandwich. I wasn't upset that my parent's would be gone longer; this was no great shock to me. What frustrated me was that my mother actually made it sound like it was a good thing. She actually wanted me to happy for them. She was absolutely clueless to the fact that I might need something more than "extra cash" while they were away. My feelings never seemed to cross her mind whenever she and Dad were on these business trips.
Amy walked in and started looking through the cabinets for a snack. "Did I just hear your mom's voice?" she asked.
"They'll be out of town a few more days," I told her, bitterly chewing my sandwich. "We're supposed to call if we need more cash."
"Oh, sweet!" she said. Amy, of course, was the last person I would ever expect to sympathize with my situation. The longer my parents were away, the more fun she got to have at their expense.
After finishing my sandwich, I went upstairs and took a long shower. By the time I got in bed it was 11:30. Even when I laid down, I couldn't get to sleep. It sounds shallow, but the most frustrating thing of all was how little sleep I knew I'd get that night. It was important to me to be well- rested, so I could look fresh the next day. I put a high value on the concept of beauty sleep. That night, though, my mind was teeming with all sorts of thoughts, and sleep did not come easily.