TITLE: Excuse me…who are you?
AUTHOR: William Rayne
RATING: PG-13
SPOILERS: Memoria
DISTRIBUTION: FanFiction.net, email me
DISCLAIMER someone else owns 'em, I'm just taking them out to play. Don't sue me, I have no money
FEEDBACK: Desired like none other.
A/N: Yeah, I haven't posted on my other stories. So many ideas, so little time plus block on some and on dial-up now. %sad face% Thinking fanfiction still may hate my asterisks so using % for now. Have outlines done for other stories and will write when I can. For now, enjoy.
As always: bold italics for stressed, italics for thoughts or voice-over, and underlines for sarcasm or disgust.
110
Excuse Me…Who Are You?
Chapter 1
You walk through the halls and wonder what the fuss is about. Looking at the sea of people, you wonder who your friends are as well as enemies. Do I even have either? They all look at you with sympathy and a part of you says you should feel something, yet you remain apathetic.
It took a few days, but your Mom convinced Jonathan that you might get better if you went back to school, back to things more familiar and normal. It feels natural to call her 'Mom' now but the man who you should call 'Dad'…you feel no bond. Perhaps it's because you know he's keeping things from you and somewhere deep inside you is a voice that detests secrets. I wonder why I hate secrets. Was I betrayed? You have listened to them argue, you know the man is afraid for and perhaps of you. You know he wants to protect you from a lot of things and this time, he's trying to protect you from yourself. They never say anything aloud, but you know that there is some burden they are keeping from you.
They speak about you and your condition in hushed tones yet you can still hear them. You know that isn't natural, yet you have since given up on the how's and why's of it all and just accept that you it is something you can do. Is this part of the accident that made me forget everything? Or maybe the voices are just in my head. Better to not mention it, I don't need to be committed…things are bad enough as is. Though they haven't indicated anything verbally, their actions and expressions betray them. They think your current condition has effectively rendered you with the mentality of a child. You don't blame them for that. After all, your reaction to the life you had led and all things that encompass that is very much akin to that of a child. So it is no small wonder, considering observations based on that, they have come to that conclusion. Let them think you are functioning less than you are. It gives you more time to figure out what's going on. Or perhaps I was 'slow' before all this. Maybe that's what they mean when they say I'm special. At least I managed to ditch that Pete kid that's been shadowing me all morning. I know he's supposed to be my best friend and all but the way he looks at me…
Your thoughts are interrupted by a cute, hyper blond. Well, hello nurse. Daddy could use a sponge bath. She calls you by name and asks how you are. Her manner is very familiar. Maybe we're already fooling around. You interrupt her tirade of questions, "Excuse me, who are you?"
She frowns and apologizes. Sometimes she gets ahead of herself, she says as well as something about being a reporter. The latter sounding incredibly boring to you, yet you put on a smile and act like it's fascinating. The things a guy must do to scam some. Somewhere in her babble, you find out her name is Chloe and then you go back to your daydreams. She pours forth her sympathies about your condition as you imagine her naked and are surprised by how vivid your imagination can be. The bell for class rings and you wonder, as she walks away, why you would imagine a birthmark on her cheek.
You go to your Math class and a brunette waves you to a seat she has apparently saved for you. Yeah, baby, you know you want this. The class is simple for you. This allows you the opportunity to steal glances at the girl. She is amazingly beautiful, the type of girl you can tell would be a shoe-in for any kind of beauty contest. Wouldn't be surprised if she was Homecoming or Prom queen. Of course, that type of girl probably has some jock of a boyfriend and would never have anything to do with a guy like me. She probably feels sorry for me, wonder if I can work that to my advantage. Even if she has a boy, she isn't married and therefore, free game. Class drags on and you notice her noticing you noticing her. Luckily, she just smiles a sweet smile that seems to suggest that she was noticing you as well.
Class ends and you chat her up, spitting as much game as you can. Much to your dismay, she says you two already know each other. You recover from the faux pas, "No, that can't be. You must be mistaken." She looks at you quizzically and you pour on some charm and state solemnly, "I don't think there's anything in this world that could make me forget a girl as beautiful as you, Lana."