"Lark, if you don't mind, I'd appreciate it if you kept your elbows off the
table."
I looked at my mother sitting across the table from me and actually scoffed. She had to be kidding right? That line was always only used in movies—she couldn't be serious. Then again, my mother was like that. Very old-fashioned. The apple-pie baking, home crafter, fresh wine kind of mom. She always wore that cheesy apron you saw on sitcoms and was always baking it seemed, all hours of the night.
"Honey, did you hear me?"
I snapped out of my train of thought and shook my head. "What—oh, yeah sorry."
My mom nodded and smiled. "It's fine dear."
I inwardly rolled my eyes. How come my mother couldn't be normal? It was like she put on this act constantly—the over happy mother. How could she be...so perfectly together all the time? It's not like I wanted parent's like Chris'—but why did she have to be so fake? I wasn't stupid...I'd seen her crying alone in her room some nights, thinking no one was there. Why did she have to be like that? It made me sick—it made me feel so full of flaws.
I looked across the table at Lucy and cringed. She was so perfect compared to me. Lucy had pretty eyes. Life was easier if you were pretty. I would never admit it to anyone, but I envied her so much. I was always the quirk of the family. Dan was good-looking, tall and dark haired. I sighed...the gene pool just didn't work out for me.
My father took a sip of his drink and cleared his throat. I looked at him questionably.
"So, Lark," he began, cutting his steak in half. "How was your day today? Anything new?"
"No."
"Oh, come on," he said, smiling at me. "Anything? Any new—boyfriends?"
Lucy laughed and I glared at her. "Right...Lark have a boyfriend. That'll be the day."
I looked at her angrily and set down my fork. "Oh, and heaven forbid someone was actually attracted me."
Dan laughed from across the table and I kicked him hard in the shins. "Oww!"
I grinned satisfied, but my mother scowled at me. "None of that horse play at the dinner table. I don't want you to upset your stomachs."
I rolled my eyes. "I'm finished anyway...may I be excused?"
My father frowned. "Lark, honey, you've barely touched your peas."
I smiled sarcastically. "What a shame. I'm leaving now." I picked up my plate and exited the dining room. Not a second after I left had the room buzzed back with normal conversation. Alas, I was non-existent.
* * *
* * *
* * *
* * *
In the confines of my bedroom I finally felt safe, isolated from the world around me. And that was the way I liked it best—where no one knew who I was and no one looked upon me and labeled me. I was my own person. And I wished I could be like that my whole life.
I laid down on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the faint 'drip drop' of the rain outside the window. It was weird, but I loved the rain for some reason. More so, I loved the smell before the actually rainfall. It was a pure smell, very honest and refreshing. Rain always brought sunlight, a new day, and it washed away all of my inequities. I felt solitude when it rained. A security—my haven. My place.
Unfortunately, I also had a very short attention span. My mind quickly raced onto other things—more like someone. I couldn't help but think about Chris. Why did I always think about him? It annoyed me to no end...but for some reason I wanted to always think about him. I was afraid I would lose him and I would regret every second I didn't think of him. I wanted to love him before it was too late—before I lost him forever, forever into the palm of Amanda Bradshaw's everywhere hands.
Why did I even bother? Why? I didn't understand it. Chris obviously didn't like me in a romantic way—he thought of me as no more than a sister figure. He was evidently very into the Amanda Bradshaw type, very stereotypical. I wondered for a moment why he ever bothered to be my friend. I sighed. It wasn't like I was this hideous beast—in fact, I'm sure if I tried sometimes I would look pretty decent. It's just—I was boring. Boring, boring, boring. There was nothing special about me—no heads turned when I walked down the halls, I didn't have this 'glow' around me like some girls did. I wasn't charismatic. People didn't have this strange desire to know me. I was just another face in the crowd. But I didn't want to me—I didn't care about the appearance part as much as I wanted people to actually love the real me. For people—Chris—to love and care about my mind, who I was as a person, not just as a high school girl who was dubbed a 'geek.'
What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I just get my act together and run some gel through my hair? Why couldn't I just throw on a skirt, put some blush on . Why? Because I didn't want to...because that wasn't me. And no matter how much I loved Chris, I wasn't going to change the person I was. Even Chris couldn't make me do that.
I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't even hear the knocking on my door. I was finally forced, however, to take notice when my door burst open and Chris himself came into my room, flopped himself down on my bed, and groaned, deep and long. I didn't care that he was slightly wet—with Chris it didn't matter.
"Er—can I help you?" I asked, when he continued to groan.
"I—I'm tired," he answered, sounding quite out of breath and exhausted.
I turned over on my side and propped my head onto my arm. I looked over at him and he turned his head slightly to face me.
"Why are you tired? Did you run here or something?"
He laughed lightly and continued to pant, thought not as dramatically. "I wanted to see you."
"I'm flattered, really." He smirked and I rolled my eyes. Guys and their egos. He ran a hand through his dampened hair and flecked water droplets onto me.
"Ecchh! Stop it," I demanded, hiding behind my pillow. He laughed and pulled it from me, throwing it on the floor. I sighed and leaned my head back to look at him.
"You know," he began. "You look pretty with your hair down, Lark. Why don't you wear it like that more often?"
I rolled my eyes. I had been bored that day and honestly just too lazy to do anything with it, so I let it down and actually it curled quite nicely, falling passed my shoulders.
"I hate my hair," I grumbled, pushing a stray curl out of my face.
"It's pretty," Chris continued. "It's different than other girls' hair. Everyone's hair is straight." I laughed, mostly to cover up how awkward I felt. It wasn't really anything new—Chris always told me I was pretty when he was in the mood. I never took is seriously before—I always just thought he wanted to sugar me up before pouring his heart out for hours on end about his latest fling. But with these new feelings I had been acquainted with over the past few days, I immediately blushed at his sweet comments.
"You know," I began. "You're sweet when you want to be. Why don't you stop acting like a dick all the time?"
He rolled his eyes and rolled onto his back. "Most girls take compliments well, you know. A simple 'Thanks' would have been nice."
I laughed and sighed. "So..." I said, wanting to change the subject away from me. "Are you and Amanda like a couple now?"
Chris shrugged. "Not really. Turns out she just wanted to use me as a 'trophy boy'. You know, to show me off I guess." I frowned.
"I'm sorry," I said. No matter how much I hated Amanda and Chris together, I did care about Chris' happiness, and if that meant being with her, so be it.
He shrugged. "You know, I actually don't care that much. I've realized something—she wasn't that great. Sure she was hot and everything, but she wasn't funny. She wasn't sweet or nice and I couldn't really talk to her about stuff. She just wouldn't listen. I know it's kind of lame. I mean, if she was a little bit more compatible I would have stayed with her, you know, just because she was hot. But after awhile, it got annoying."
I rubbed my head in frustration. "Chris my dear, how long have I been telling you this? You don't go for looks alone! Looks fade—personality doesn't."
He shrugged. "I know, I know..."
I laughed and turned over on my back also. We both laid there on my bed, staring at my ceiling. It was nice—quiet, peaceful. Sure, the fact that we were both in my bed was a plus, but still.
I wanted to tell him how I felt—right then. It seemed like the right time. I wanted to pour my heart out to him, I could feel it screaming to get out. I was screaming now, myself, wanting to just hold him, feel his touch. I wanted to know what it would be like to have his lips upon mine—his body graze mine. I would probably never know—but I wanted to know. I really did, it was all I wanted. I wanted him to look at me and think I was the one for him, the one who could brighten up his day with a single smile. Because I knew he was my smile in the day.
"Chris?" I asked suddenly. He looked at me and knit his eyebrows together.
"Hm?"
"What do you think of me?"
"What d'you mean?"
"Like...what do you think of me...as a girl."
Chris scratched his head and sighed. "Hm...well I think you're funny. And you're fun to be with. And I can tell you just about anything without feeling stupid."
I sighed. "I know all that...but...what do you think of me as a girl?"
"Ohhh...er...I don't know. You're my best friend..."
I rolled my eyes. "That's it then? Best friend?"
"What—you're my best friend!"
I rolled my eyes and sat up. "I know that dumbass. But I mean—like—do you think a guy could ever like me?"
Chris grinned. "Sure. It's just—well...you're amazing Lark. It's just..."
"What?"
"Well...the guys just think of you as their sister," he said, somewhat tentatively. "They all think you're really boss."
I rolled my eyes. "I don't want to be 'boss!' Chris, something's wrong with me, there's something wrong with me, isn't there? Am I really that ugly that I can't even have a boyfriend?"
Chris laughed. "No, there's nothing wrong with you. You're very pretty."
"You think so?"
Chris nodded. "Sure. You have nice eyes."
"You think my eyes are nice?"
Chris smirked. "Yeah...their cute." I grinned.
"Yay!" He laughed and I laughed...but secretly, inside, I could have died and been okay with it. I knew better than to take it seriously—he was just being the best friend.
But as I turned my head and went back to staring at my ceiling...I didn't see Chris looking at me with a new light in his eyes.
* * *
* * *
* * *
* * *
[Okay, the ending of that chapter is NOT meant to be clichéd. Chris does NOT suddenly fall in love with Lark, that'd be too unreal. It's merely foreshadowing. It's saying that maybe Chris is finally taking notice that Lark is a young blossoming woman—it's merely natural. Honestly, they're teenagers for Pete's sake, they have HORMONES. So don't worry—it's not clichéd in that manner. I know I've said that this story won't be clichéd, however, it IS a romance. I take after Lark, and I'm expressing the way I feel through this story. I mainly wrote this because I wanted the 'best friend', the shadowed character, the person who isn't beautiful to have some love. It's not fair that we live in a stereotypical world where looks is everything. I really wish we didn't, but that's life. So while this story IS going to stay true to the real world, it will also be uplifting, hopeful and it will let everyone who reads this know that love truly is blind, and everyone has someone out there for them. And personality is MUCH more important than looks!!]
I looked at my mother sitting across the table from me and actually scoffed. She had to be kidding right? That line was always only used in movies—she couldn't be serious. Then again, my mother was like that. Very old-fashioned. The apple-pie baking, home crafter, fresh wine kind of mom. She always wore that cheesy apron you saw on sitcoms and was always baking it seemed, all hours of the night.
"Honey, did you hear me?"
I snapped out of my train of thought and shook my head. "What—oh, yeah sorry."
My mom nodded and smiled. "It's fine dear."
I inwardly rolled my eyes. How come my mother couldn't be normal? It was like she put on this act constantly—the over happy mother. How could she be...so perfectly together all the time? It's not like I wanted parent's like Chris'—but why did she have to be so fake? I wasn't stupid...I'd seen her crying alone in her room some nights, thinking no one was there. Why did she have to be like that? It made me sick—it made me feel so full of flaws.
I looked across the table at Lucy and cringed. She was so perfect compared to me. Lucy had pretty eyes. Life was easier if you were pretty. I would never admit it to anyone, but I envied her so much. I was always the quirk of the family. Dan was good-looking, tall and dark haired. I sighed...the gene pool just didn't work out for me.
My father took a sip of his drink and cleared his throat. I looked at him questionably.
"So, Lark," he began, cutting his steak in half. "How was your day today? Anything new?"
"No."
"Oh, come on," he said, smiling at me. "Anything? Any new—boyfriends?"
Lucy laughed and I glared at her. "Right...Lark have a boyfriend. That'll be the day."
I looked at her angrily and set down my fork. "Oh, and heaven forbid someone was actually attracted me."
Dan laughed from across the table and I kicked him hard in the shins. "Oww!"
I grinned satisfied, but my mother scowled at me. "None of that horse play at the dinner table. I don't want you to upset your stomachs."
I rolled my eyes. "I'm finished anyway...may I be excused?"
My father frowned. "Lark, honey, you've barely touched your peas."
I smiled sarcastically. "What a shame. I'm leaving now." I picked up my plate and exited the dining room. Not a second after I left had the room buzzed back with normal conversation. Alas, I was non-existent.
* * *
* * *
* * *
* * *
In the confines of my bedroom I finally felt safe, isolated from the world around me. And that was the way I liked it best—where no one knew who I was and no one looked upon me and labeled me. I was my own person. And I wished I could be like that my whole life.
I laid down on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the faint 'drip drop' of the rain outside the window. It was weird, but I loved the rain for some reason. More so, I loved the smell before the actually rainfall. It was a pure smell, very honest and refreshing. Rain always brought sunlight, a new day, and it washed away all of my inequities. I felt solitude when it rained. A security—my haven. My place.
Unfortunately, I also had a very short attention span. My mind quickly raced onto other things—more like someone. I couldn't help but think about Chris. Why did I always think about him? It annoyed me to no end...but for some reason I wanted to always think about him. I was afraid I would lose him and I would regret every second I didn't think of him. I wanted to love him before it was too late—before I lost him forever, forever into the palm of Amanda Bradshaw's everywhere hands.
Why did I even bother? Why? I didn't understand it. Chris obviously didn't like me in a romantic way—he thought of me as no more than a sister figure. He was evidently very into the Amanda Bradshaw type, very stereotypical. I wondered for a moment why he ever bothered to be my friend. I sighed. It wasn't like I was this hideous beast—in fact, I'm sure if I tried sometimes I would look pretty decent. It's just—I was boring. Boring, boring, boring. There was nothing special about me—no heads turned when I walked down the halls, I didn't have this 'glow' around me like some girls did. I wasn't charismatic. People didn't have this strange desire to know me. I was just another face in the crowd. But I didn't want to me—I didn't care about the appearance part as much as I wanted people to actually love the real me. For people—Chris—to love and care about my mind, who I was as a person, not just as a high school girl who was dubbed a 'geek.'
What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I just get my act together and run some gel through my hair? Why couldn't I just throw on a skirt, put some blush on . Why? Because I didn't want to...because that wasn't me. And no matter how much I loved Chris, I wasn't going to change the person I was. Even Chris couldn't make me do that.
I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't even hear the knocking on my door. I was finally forced, however, to take notice when my door burst open and Chris himself came into my room, flopped himself down on my bed, and groaned, deep and long. I didn't care that he was slightly wet—with Chris it didn't matter.
"Er—can I help you?" I asked, when he continued to groan.
"I—I'm tired," he answered, sounding quite out of breath and exhausted.
I turned over on my side and propped my head onto my arm. I looked over at him and he turned his head slightly to face me.
"Why are you tired? Did you run here or something?"
He laughed lightly and continued to pant, thought not as dramatically. "I wanted to see you."
"I'm flattered, really." He smirked and I rolled my eyes. Guys and their egos. He ran a hand through his dampened hair and flecked water droplets onto me.
"Ecchh! Stop it," I demanded, hiding behind my pillow. He laughed and pulled it from me, throwing it on the floor. I sighed and leaned my head back to look at him.
"You know," he began. "You look pretty with your hair down, Lark. Why don't you wear it like that more often?"
I rolled my eyes. I had been bored that day and honestly just too lazy to do anything with it, so I let it down and actually it curled quite nicely, falling passed my shoulders.
"I hate my hair," I grumbled, pushing a stray curl out of my face.
"It's pretty," Chris continued. "It's different than other girls' hair. Everyone's hair is straight." I laughed, mostly to cover up how awkward I felt. It wasn't really anything new—Chris always told me I was pretty when he was in the mood. I never took is seriously before—I always just thought he wanted to sugar me up before pouring his heart out for hours on end about his latest fling. But with these new feelings I had been acquainted with over the past few days, I immediately blushed at his sweet comments.
"You know," I began. "You're sweet when you want to be. Why don't you stop acting like a dick all the time?"
He rolled his eyes and rolled onto his back. "Most girls take compliments well, you know. A simple 'Thanks' would have been nice."
I laughed and sighed. "So..." I said, wanting to change the subject away from me. "Are you and Amanda like a couple now?"
Chris shrugged. "Not really. Turns out she just wanted to use me as a 'trophy boy'. You know, to show me off I guess." I frowned.
"I'm sorry," I said. No matter how much I hated Amanda and Chris together, I did care about Chris' happiness, and if that meant being with her, so be it.
He shrugged. "You know, I actually don't care that much. I've realized something—she wasn't that great. Sure she was hot and everything, but she wasn't funny. She wasn't sweet or nice and I couldn't really talk to her about stuff. She just wouldn't listen. I know it's kind of lame. I mean, if she was a little bit more compatible I would have stayed with her, you know, just because she was hot. But after awhile, it got annoying."
I rubbed my head in frustration. "Chris my dear, how long have I been telling you this? You don't go for looks alone! Looks fade—personality doesn't."
He shrugged. "I know, I know..."
I laughed and turned over on my back also. We both laid there on my bed, staring at my ceiling. It was nice—quiet, peaceful. Sure, the fact that we were both in my bed was a plus, but still.
I wanted to tell him how I felt—right then. It seemed like the right time. I wanted to pour my heart out to him, I could feel it screaming to get out. I was screaming now, myself, wanting to just hold him, feel his touch. I wanted to know what it would be like to have his lips upon mine—his body graze mine. I would probably never know—but I wanted to know. I really did, it was all I wanted. I wanted him to look at me and think I was the one for him, the one who could brighten up his day with a single smile. Because I knew he was my smile in the day.
"Chris?" I asked suddenly. He looked at me and knit his eyebrows together.
"Hm?"
"What do you think of me?"
"What d'you mean?"
"Like...what do you think of me...as a girl."
Chris scratched his head and sighed. "Hm...well I think you're funny. And you're fun to be with. And I can tell you just about anything without feeling stupid."
I sighed. "I know all that...but...what do you think of me as a girl?"
"Ohhh...er...I don't know. You're my best friend..."
I rolled my eyes. "That's it then? Best friend?"
"What—you're my best friend!"
I rolled my eyes and sat up. "I know that dumbass. But I mean—like—do you think a guy could ever like me?"
Chris grinned. "Sure. It's just—well...you're amazing Lark. It's just..."
"What?"
"Well...the guys just think of you as their sister," he said, somewhat tentatively. "They all think you're really boss."
I rolled my eyes. "I don't want to be 'boss!' Chris, something's wrong with me, there's something wrong with me, isn't there? Am I really that ugly that I can't even have a boyfriend?"
Chris laughed. "No, there's nothing wrong with you. You're very pretty."
"You think so?"
Chris nodded. "Sure. You have nice eyes."
"You think my eyes are nice?"
Chris smirked. "Yeah...their cute." I grinned.
"Yay!" He laughed and I laughed...but secretly, inside, I could have died and been okay with it. I knew better than to take it seriously—he was just being the best friend.
But as I turned my head and went back to staring at my ceiling...I didn't see Chris looking at me with a new light in his eyes.
* * *
* * *
* * *
* * *
[Okay, the ending of that chapter is NOT meant to be clichéd. Chris does NOT suddenly fall in love with Lark, that'd be too unreal. It's merely foreshadowing. It's saying that maybe Chris is finally taking notice that Lark is a young blossoming woman—it's merely natural. Honestly, they're teenagers for Pete's sake, they have HORMONES. So don't worry—it's not clichéd in that manner. I know I've said that this story won't be clichéd, however, it IS a romance. I take after Lark, and I'm expressing the way I feel through this story. I mainly wrote this because I wanted the 'best friend', the shadowed character, the person who isn't beautiful to have some love. It's not fair that we live in a stereotypical world where looks is everything. I really wish we didn't, but that's life. So while this story IS going to stay true to the real world, it will also be uplifting, hopeful and it will let everyone who reads this know that love truly is blind, and everyone has someone out there for them. And personality is MUCH more important than looks!!]