Title: Change of Heart
Rating: PG, at some points it may get to be PG-13. For stuff like Mild Language and Sexual Comments, but nothing too extreme.
Category: Romance/Drama
Summary: After her mothers death, Rachel Pearson moves to Tulsa, Oklahoma to live with her Aunt and Uncle and falls in love with a person who nobody expects, but does he love her back? I can NOT write summaries so you're just going to have to read it!!
Disclaimer: No I don't own The Outsiders I only own Rachel and anybody else that you don't recognize from the book.
Author Note: Hey y'all. Here's chapter 2! After the longest wait ever! lol! After a couple of reviews I got from people (Wen! Emily!) I decided to stop procrastinating (ugh, long word! Lol!) And get up off my lazy butt and write another chapter for this story. When I get reviews from people about this story I like go into shock for a couple of seconds and think to myself "OMIG! People actually like this stuff?" I don't know but I hate everything I write, maybe I'm just hard on myself…or maybe I really am bad at writing and you people are trying to make me feel better and all the people who reviewed are in the 'Fanfic Encouragement club' for all the "not so good authors" out there or maybe I'm just rambling on about nothing because it's like 12:00 at night!! I'm really confused now, so I have a question for all you authors out there: Are you all hard on yourselves and think that every little thing you write is a piece of shit? Answer that for me, k?
Oh…one more thing…In like the last couple of weeks I have gotten reviews saying that I copied another authors work. Well, the whole thing was a BIG accident. I had no idea that the lines in my story were the same as the authors.
While I was writing the 1st chapter for this I was also in the middle of reading the authors story. (The chapter was for an english assessment in school and I so I was reading her story and writing mine at the same time and it didn't help that it was around 10 at night!) My parents won't let me have Internet in my room so when they tell me to get offline I usually copy what ever I'm reading to Microsoft word and read it in my room. I was on fanfic reading ppl's stories and when I was in the middle of reading hers my parents told me to get offline so I took the story to my computer to finish reading. Well I guess I just wasn't thinking clearly and I just wrote down what was on my mind. And the bad part is that it was part of that author's story. And then without rereading my chapter I stupidly put it on fanfic thinking it would get some reviews and that maybe I would get some encouragement to actually continue a story without stopping on the forth chapter and just giving up. Well, I got some reviews, all right. Anyways…I apologized to the author. I am still upset by this and didn't mean for all this to happen but it did. And from now on I am going to reread what I write and not read other ppl's stories before I write, because when I do stuff like that gets stuck in my head. And I promise nothing like that will ever happen again. Oh, and I changed the part that sounded the same (it was in the last paragraph, last chapter)
Okay so on with the story…Oh wait I got to thank the ppl that reviewed!!
alyssaloo: thanks for thinking this is good, personally I hate it, but thanks, keep reviewing!
Wen: Well I wrote now, so here it is! Hope you like.
Karlei Shaynner: Thank you!
Emily: I'm writing so you gotta get reading! Review!
D & fqwhgads: Read above. Thank you for telling me that though and sorry about the whole ordeal. And I will make sure something like that never happens again.
Okay here's chapter 2! Sorry if this is horrible! When I stay up late, late (like 1 late) my writing is kind of horrible…oh great there I go again…somebody PLEASE answer that question for me so that I know I'm not the only one out there that hates their own work!!
Okay, okay, I'll shut up now…here's chapter 2!
Change of Heart: Chapter 2: Hospitals, Crappy Relatives, A new home.
Sounds.
Loud sounds.
They were coming at me from all directions.
Talking, lots of talking.
And then there was this terrible beeping noise and it wouldn't go away.
It just kept getting louder and louder and louder…
I opened my eyes and blinked as bright light flooded my vision, just about blinding me. I turned my head to the side, trying to get my eyes to focus. When my vision was normal again, I tilted my head trying to make out my surroundings. I was in a bed, and I was wearing some sort of gown. Where the heck am I? I asked myself. The walls were white with no sort of decoration or anything. I glanced around some more still not fully registering where I was. The cart next to my bed had a machine on it. I tried to sit up only to lie back down again 'cause of my head. It was hurting real bad. I tried to move my left arm into a different position, but couldn't. I glanced over at my arm. There was an IV attached. Then it hit me. Oh gosh! I'm in a hospital! But why…
Then it all came flooding back to me. The doorbell…the police officers…mom… I felt tears well up in my eyes. This can't be happening, this is wrong, this is all wrong. She shouldn't have died. She didn't deserve to die. I thought, trying hard to control my tears as they threatened to spill down my cheeks. Damnit! Why couldn't it be somebody else's mother that died! I thought bitterly as I let the tears flow freely down my face. Why did it have to be mine? Why? Why her? Why my mother?
"What did I do to deserve this?" I cried out, not able to control my emotions any longer. Anger was bottled up inside of me and I just had to let it out. I punched the mattress with my fist, "Damnit!" I screamed. My anger subsided and quickly turned into tears. Mom's gone, she's dead, and she's never coming back. Ever.
Five minutes later a nurse came in.
"Your awake." She said coming over to the side of my bed, and checked the machines that were on the cart. "You passed out and hit your head pretty hard on the floor, you ended up with a minor concussion-"
I cut her off. "How long was I out for?" I asked.
"You were out since yesterday." She paused, and scribbled something on a clipboard. When she was done she looked at me. "I'm sorry about your mother dear. I really am."
I wanted to laugh and cry all at the same time. How could she say that? She probably doesn't know the half of what it feels like to lose someone. How the hell does she know? She must've seen the expression on my face, because she looked at me weird. "Are you okay?" She asked. "I didn't mean to upset you." Too late.
I shrugged. "I'm fine," I said. "I just want to be left alone right now." I didn't want to talk to anyone right now. I just wanted to be left alone.
The nurse looked me over once again. She opened her mouth to say something but shut it. She obviously got the hint that I didn't want to talk. She nodded and started to walk off, but quickly turned around and said, "Oh I forgot to tell you, there's some visitor's here for you. They claim to be your aunt and uncle." She paused, then said, "Do you want to see them?"
"Yeah. Sure."
She nodded. And with that she was gone.
My aunt and uncle? I haven't seen them ever since dad died. As I waited for them to come, I wondered what they wanted, and also why they were here. They live in Oklahoma. Why did they come all the way out to New York?
A/N: Oops, forgot to tell you'll that she lives in New York. Sorry!…**runs and hides in corner** No…no…**covers face with hands**…I didn't mean to leave that out…I'm sorry okay! …now go back to reading!!
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A/N: Yeah, yeah it's me again. Okay that was just a quickie (the thingy above) so I just wanted to speed it up a little so here's the next section…
Two weeks Later…
I set my suitcase down on my bed. I looked around my new room, surveying everything. I was in Tulsa, Oklahoma now, the last place on earth I thought I would ever be. It's a tuff town, I don't
hate it, it's okay…but I mean what do you do out here for fun? What do I do? Go see a drive-in movie? Play poker? I think not.
Back in New York there was always something to do, nothing was ever boring, and you could always entertain yourself, whither it was a watching a fight, hanging out with friends, watching tv, you could always find something. But here…the town…it looked dead. Oh, sure I've seen a couple of people walking up and down the streets, but they we're mostly adults, I saw some kids once in awhile too but they didn't look like they were my age. I began to wonder if I was the only person in this town that was sixteen or at least close to it. (A/N: Forgot to tell you that to! Oops again!) But then I remembered they had a high school, so they must have kids my age. I rolled my eyes at my own stupidity and began to unpack.
I took out my clothes and hung them up in the closet. Next I started taking out my few belongings I had brought with me. My makeup, books, (I'm a bookworm, just like my dad, he loved books) my journal, my Elvis records, jewelry, and pictures. I sat down on my bed and took one out to look at. It was of my mother and me; we were on a tire swing in the park, she was smiling and I was laughing as she tried to stand on the swing.
Mom was always trying find ways to make me laugh. It usually takes a lot to make me laugh, I'm usually not a very sociable person, and I'm quiet most of the time, I really have to know people before I start to open out to them.
Mom was always the outgoing one, never shy, she always had this very bubbly, very bright personality. Mom used to joke that maybe Amanda and me got switched at birth. I used to roll my eyes at that, but I guess now that I really have a chance to look back on it Amanda really did act like mom, they both had that same bubbly personality. As for me, I took after dad, at least that's what mom said. I never got a chance to know my father, he died of cancer when I was three. I have memories of him even though people say I was really too young to remember anything. I know exactly what he looks like, and it's not from pictures. It's from memory.
Mom says I look exactly like him that it scares her, but I have her blue eyes. They're an ocean blue really, with a hint of yellow in them. When I look into the mirror and I see my eye's it reminds me of the sea, at dusk when the rays of the sun glint down onto the water…it's beautiful.
I guess my hair and my eyes are the best features I have. I'm not fat, at least I don't think so... I sure hope not. I have a pretty good figure, I guess. Mom used to say I was all curves, and that I was very pretty, I used to snort at this remark. If I was so good looking, how come I never got asked out on dates every other day? My hair, besides my eyes, is the best thing I like about me. It was long, down past my shoulders, just the way I like it. It was a brownish blonde color. That was weird though, none of my parents had the same colored hair as I do. Mom had a strawberry reddish color, and Dad was a brunette. I was always puzzled over that, of why my hair wasn't like my parents. But mom just told me not to worry, saying that I had different colored hair because I was special and that I shouldn't be upset over that.
I set the picture down on the bed and sorted threw the rest of them. When I was finished I lay them down with the picture of mom and me. When I was unpacked and my suitcase was empty I reached under the inside bottom of the suitcase, revealing my secret hiding place. I hid two things in there, cigarette's, because I wasn't sure how my aunt and uncle would react to me smoking in their house. I didn't what a relapse of what happened before.
It was when I first got addicted to smoking. One of Amanda's old ex-boyfriend's got me into it. Got me hooked for good. Well anyway I was at home smoking a pack of cigarettes when mom comes running into the kitchen at the time yelling about a raise or something. (I don't really remember now, I think I was still in shock at her coming home from work this early.) Well when she saw me with the cigarette hanging from my mouth I just knew I was dead. Needless to say I was grounded for six months, (Basically a lifetime, to me anyway but to her it was six months of peace and quiet.) During those months mom took away my cigarettes in an attempt to get me to stop smoking but it was useless. I was hooked and eventually started buying them off of people at school wasting my lunch money on pack of cigarettes. But eventually I started rationing them so that I wouldn't have to starve to death at school. I've gotten better at saving them; The most I ever smoke in a day anymore is around four, considering I used to smoke around two packs a day.
Eventually Mom just gave up on trying to get me to break the addiction and said that she didn't care if I got black teeth and looked like a prune when I died. I didn't care very much, what I looked like when I died. Hell, I'd be dead. I wouldn't care if I looked like a prune. I don't think I'd care if I looked like Mickey Mouse or Elvis for that matter either. Black teeth on the other hand…I wasn't really itching to "dye" my teeth black. I thought about quitting for a moment but just shrugged it off. Who'd care if my teeth were black? I'd be dead, remember?
The other thing I got hidden in my suitcase was my dad's old black-handled switchblade, four inches long, very tuff looking. Mom gave it to me a year ago, saying that dad had wanted me to have it when I was old enough and so mom gave it to me on my fifteenth birthday. I love that switchblade like it's the last thing on earth; I can never go anywhere without it. It's a really good bluff when you're cornered, to. But I'd never in a million years think of using it on somebody. I don't really wanna get hauled into the station for murder, if you know what I mean. I don't really know how to explain this but when I hold that switchblade in my hands I can feel my dad in me. Alive, Reckless, Angry, Vicious, Violence, Strong. I don't really know how to explain it really, but it's like I had this deep connection with my dad even though I never knew him, it's kind of scary but also kind of exciting.
I slid the cigarette's under my pillow, making a mental not to myself to find a better place to stash them later. I put the switch in my back pocket and grabbed the pictures up off the bed. I looked around wondering where to put them. I gave up and decided to find a place for them later as I stuffed them in back in the suitcase.
"Rachel! Dinner's ready!" Aunt Bernice called from the kitchen. I groaned softly. I didn't want to go eat with them, especially my uncle…I've only lived with them for two days and he's already starting to get on my nerves.
"Coming!" I yelled back, as I slowly trudged my way on into the kitchen.
(A/N: Okay this was just a little fill in on where she lived what her mom was like and her whole back round and stuff…I know I could've written it to be included in the story, but I didn't….oh well…more for you to read…and the less for me to write. Oh and some of the stuff in here might be the same in the next chapters.)
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So what do ya think??? Huh? Huh? Okay…pretty please review!! Please, please, please! It would mean a lot to me!
