A/N: This would have come sooner, but I had to reread RSG to decide what to
include and what I didn't need. And the direction I want to go in. I've
pretty much got a bunch of stuff to do now.
Reviews:
TKDScorpius: Thank you.
Starcraze: It definitely will. And I think you'll like the 'end Gordo' a lot.
Crazychild15: I know that it will be my shortest story. Friends or More? is 15, so around there. I don't think it'll go much more than that.
BrownEyedGurl: I think everyone will be shocked with the reason he leaves. You are my faithful reviewer, you're one of the few who has stuck with me through the stories.
Chapter 4
~Freshman year~
My dad has always been big on his appearance. How people see him - his family included - always meant the world to him. He wanted to feel superior to all the others. Naturally, I pissed him off endless times. I've never cared what other people thought of me and after a while, it meant my dad would suffer because of my attitude. That only aided in my apathy and hatred for any event he attempted dragging me to. I knew that was something Mom hated. Being his trophy wife. That's why she wanted out. Why she got out.
He also didn't like the choice of friends I had. He loved Lizzie and Miranda. But, once Noah made his first appearance, my dad only gave me shit. Before and after I would go out with Noah, I would receive a lecture on how horrible an influence Noah was on me.
He just didn't understand. Noah was the first real guy friend that I ever had. Lizzie and Miranda were one thing, but they were girls. They had their girl talk, what about MY guy talk? Not that I was ever big on it, but it's more the principle of the matter. In high school, we stayed close, grew closer, but our group expanded. Noah, a sophomore, and I 'hit it off' better than I had with the other additions. He was just so different from everyone else I knew. So outspoken and outlandish. We had the same outlook on life. But he tried less than I did. I still cared about my grades. Noah just coasted through school.
We first met in World History. If that doesn't scream fun, I don't know what does. To top it off, our teacher was senile. No joke. He hadn't spent any time in a mental facility, as far as we knew, but he definitely needed to. He didn't have the whole 'teacher respects student' thing down either. He'd already called us white trash, useless, and my personal favorite, sophomoric. Countless times. Noah and I started keeping track. We'd also noticed that when Mr. Kovak said the majority of his insults, his eyes were focused in our direction.
That's how our friendship started. Noah sat in front of me and I would continuously laugh at his snide comments. Eventually, I'd come up with my own and we'd started the friendship. I owe Mr. Kovak that; he gave me my first close make friend. It's odd the people that end up helping you the most.
~Senior year~
Davis having me write this shit isn't helping me any. What is he trying to do? Make me realize my life is shit. Because that's all it's doing. I have no real friends here. My life hasn't gotten any better.
This is only depressing me more. I go into my room after school and open up my closet door. I reach up to one of the shelves and pull down an old box. Pulling out the small baggie and one-hitter I'd bought for such occasions, I stuffed them into my sweatshirt pocket and hopped in my beat up car. The next thing I knew I was laying on the ground. Staring up at the sky. I come here often. to think. But now, now that I'm writing about everything it just makes me remember. It makes me remember holding her, laying with her like this. Watching the stars.
^E^A^R^L^I^E^R
"I can't do this anymore." I say to Davis earlier that day.
"Okay." He solemnly responds.
"I'm serious. I'm done."
"I understand." I turned to walk away, but he had stopped me. (A/N: The following quotation is not mine.) "We sow seeds born of desperation and rage that, as older and wiser souls, we eventually regret. This idea is plated in our head - we can walk away without minding the crop, but unless that crop is harvested, the reaper will indeed be grim Capise, Grasshopper?"
I gulped. I knew there was philosophical meaning behind this. I caught on to that. But, he knew. I know he knew, he had to know. The little plant was starting to sprout and everything. Davis turned to look out his window and I took the opportunity given to me. I reached towards the plant I had bought him and pulled the growing ganja seed out by its roots.
"Mr. Gordon, wastebasket." He said without turning around.
^E^N^D
I stretched out in the sand and sped home. I sprinted up the stairs to my room and wrote.
A/N: A little short, but I digress.
Reviews:
TKDScorpius: Thank you.
Starcraze: It definitely will. And I think you'll like the 'end Gordo' a lot.
Crazychild15: I know that it will be my shortest story. Friends or More? is 15, so around there. I don't think it'll go much more than that.
BrownEyedGurl: I think everyone will be shocked with the reason he leaves. You are my faithful reviewer, you're one of the few who has stuck with me through the stories.
Chapter 4
~Freshman year~
My dad has always been big on his appearance. How people see him - his family included - always meant the world to him. He wanted to feel superior to all the others. Naturally, I pissed him off endless times. I've never cared what other people thought of me and after a while, it meant my dad would suffer because of my attitude. That only aided in my apathy and hatred for any event he attempted dragging me to. I knew that was something Mom hated. Being his trophy wife. That's why she wanted out. Why she got out.
He also didn't like the choice of friends I had. He loved Lizzie and Miranda. But, once Noah made his first appearance, my dad only gave me shit. Before and after I would go out with Noah, I would receive a lecture on how horrible an influence Noah was on me.
He just didn't understand. Noah was the first real guy friend that I ever had. Lizzie and Miranda were one thing, but they were girls. They had their girl talk, what about MY guy talk? Not that I was ever big on it, but it's more the principle of the matter. In high school, we stayed close, grew closer, but our group expanded. Noah, a sophomore, and I 'hit it off' better than I had with the other additions. He was just so different from everyone else I knew. So outspoken and outlandish. We had the same outlook on life. But he tried less than I did. I still cared about my grades. Noah just coasted through school.
We first met in World History. If that doesn't scream fun, I don't know what does. To top it off, our teacher was senile. No joke. He hadn't spent any time in a mental facility, as far as we knew, but he definitely needed to. He didn't have the whole 'teacher respects student' thing down either. He'd already called us white trash, useless, and my personal favorite, sophomoric. Countless times. Noah and I started keeping track. We'd also noticed that when Mr. Kovak said the majority of his insults, his eyes were focused in our direction.
That's how our friendship started. Noah sat in front of me and I would continuously laugh at his snide comments. Eventually, I'd come up with my own and we'd started the friendship. I owe Mr. Kovak that; he gave me my first close make friend. It's odd the people that end up helping you the most.
~Senior year~
Davis having me write this shit isn't helping me any. What is he trying to do? Make me realize my life is shit. Because that's all it's doing. I have no real friends here. My life hasn't gotten any better.
This is only depressing me more. I go into my room after school and open up my closet door. I reach up to one of the shelves and pull down an old box. Pulling out the small baggie and one-hitter I'd bought for such occasions, I stuffed them into my sweatshirt pocket and hopped in my beat up car. The next thing I knew I was laying on the ground. Staring up at the sky. I come here often. to think. But now, now that I'm writing about everything it just makes me remember. It makes me remember holding her, laying with her like this. Watching the stars.
^E^A^R^L^I^E^R
"I can't do this anymore." I say to Davis earlier that day.
"Okay." He solemnly responds.
"I'm serious. I'm done."
"I understand." I turned to walk away, but he had stopped me. (A/N: The following quotation is not mine.) "We sow seeds born of desperation and rage that, as older and wiser souls, we eventually regret. This idea is plated in our head - we can walk away without minding the crop, but unless that crop is harvested, the reaper will indeed be grim Capise, Grasshopper?"
I gulped. I knew there was philosophical meaning behind this. I caught on to that. But, he knew. I know he knew, he had to know. The little plant was starting to sprout and everything. Davis turned to look out his window and I took the opportunity given to me. I reached towards the plant I had bought him and pulled the growing ganja seed out by its roots.
"Mr. Gordon, wastebasket." He said without turning around.
^E^N^D
I stretched out in the sand and sped home. I sprinted up the stairs to my room and wrote.
A/N: A little short, but I digress.