Hello there. My attempt at getting more reviews didn't work...what's new?

Get A Room: The...best? Gee, I feel special! (Hey, that actually sounded sarcastic, but I'm actually being serious. It's sad isn't it?)

Stargazer-Lillies: Well, I'm glad that someone is interested...and reviewing at the same time. Well, read on and I hope this doesn't get boring any time soon because I hate those stories that get...uh, nevermind.

And now for...

Chapter 3: Ya Ya

After that night at Vern's, we became associates. I wouldn't exactly say friends; we didn't talk much outside of art class, just a wave or a quiet "hey" or something along those lines in the hall way. Although I was glad about meeting Vern, I was careful about becoming so chummy too soon. I reminded myself that that type of thing–having a nice time with a particular person–was fairly normal and that becoming clingy would most likely ruin the possibility of having a very good friendship with Vern.

Visual Arts wasn't quite so bad anymore. On the days that we worked together in class, Vern and I would spend the time doodling absent-mindedly while discussing the hilarity of Mrs. Kelly's physical features, the latest episode of The Munsters, my favorite television show, or who was to perform on American Bandstand the next night.

I was still keeping what I considered a healthy distance that Friday afternoon during lunch. I was sitting by the window at an empty table for six, as I usually did, writing, as I usually did. I was working on an alternative poem, as I referred to them. I hated poetry and yet, I was good at writing it (or so I like to think); therefore, my risque rhyme schemes were called alternative poems.

There once was a man

who could kill anything with one hand.

This cat's name was Lance

and he could kill anything with one hand.

When Lance was two,

his mother tried teaching him to tie his show,

but all Lance really could do

was say these two words: "fuck you".

I paused thoughtfully, trying to figure out how Lance's life would progress from there. It wasn't at all very great, but it was all for fun, regardless.

Maybe the it'd be better in prose, I thought and was just about to add another spicy line when Vern walked up to the table with a tray in his hands.

"Hey, Darla, how's it going?"

My pen relaxed in my hand as I looked up at Vern and there was a small "tiddle" sound as it dropped to the tile floor.

"Oh. Hey, Vern," I said, searching for my only writing utensil under the table, not daring to touch the germ-infested floor. After a while I sat up, realizing that I was not just a passing greeting that Vern was giving me, but subtly still continued to look for my pen around me.

"Can I sit here?" he asked, watching me intently, "My friends aren't here yet and you're alone, so..."

"Yeah, of course!" I said a little too eagerly, and I closed my notebook and set it in my lap.

He smiled and sat down across from me. We sat silently for a short while as I stared into space and Vern settled down in his new seat.

"So, how's it goin'?" I said and then thinking, God, why do I always have to say that? It seemed to be a habit of mine lately.

"It's going," he said with grilled cheese in his enlarged left cheek then, after a few moment's hesitation, "How come you sit here by yourself?"

I shrugged, wishing he hadn't brought it up. My lack of social skills wasn't exactly a comforting subject.

"'Cause there's no one to sit with elsewhere...besides, it's nice being on your own sometimes." It was true. I needed a break from the constant giggling and incessant dramatics of my peers every once in a while.

"What do you do?"

I didn't see why this was such an interesting subject, but I liked talking to Vern anyway. "I don't know...write, read...think."

"What do you write?"

Now, I really hated it when people asked that. I don't know why, but it's just sort of annoying. I was saved from having to answer an answer I knew would be extremely vague and unsatisfactory for Vern by two boys. They sat on either side of Vern.

"Hey, Vern," said the one on the left, a blonde-headed boy with a haircut which was later made famous by The Beatles and a red button-up shirt. Then, noticing me, he added, "Who's this, your girlfriend?"

The other boy laughed slightly and shook his head. I knew him: Gordie Lachance. He was in Geometry with me.

"Has wittle Vernie got a girlfriend? Aww, do you hold her hand and–"

"Shutup, Teddy!" Vern protested, but this only seemed to add fuel to the fire.

"Do you kiss her, and hug her, and wuv her all day long?" Teddy laughed and rocked back and forth, holding his stomach: eee-ee-eeee. That got me laughing, but I held it in and merely smiled...I don't know why, but I just felt like if I started laughing he'd stop and then they'd all turn to me and completely be like "what the hell are you laughing at?". It's weird, but it has happened at times.

"Her name's Darla and she isn't my girlfriend," Vern said grumpily, but good-naturedly. I was glad too, 'cause I couldn't count how many times people have been joking around like that and then the guy will get frustrated and say something like "why would I like her?" or something and then everyone starts laughing and...God, I'm depressing myself.

"Dahhla," said Teddy in a fake French accent, taking my hand, "Merci beaucoup, madame."

I would have laughed, but it was a little strange since I didn't know the guy. Besides, people didn't usually talk to me right off the bat like that.

"Um...hey," I said lamely.

Vern laughed heartily. "Yeah, that's Teddy and this is Gordie," he said, hitching a thumb over his shoulder.

"Yeah, I know," I said, quietly, not looking at Gordie.

Gordie looked up at me as if he was just noticing that I was there.

"You do?"

I nodded. "Yeah, we're in second period together."

He just stared at me for a while, trying to place my face.

"Oh yeah," he said, realizing who I was, "You sit, like...two seats in front of me, right?"

I nodded. Hell, I was surprised he knew me; in class he just always seemed to be in his own little world.

"So how do you two crazy kids know each other?" said Teddy, looking at Vern then at me.

"She's my partner for that art project thing I told you about," Vern said and then took a swig of apple juice. "Ah! Hits the spot!"

We all gave Vern a weird look.

"What, it's true!" he said, completely serious, "Apple juice is way sweeter at school. It doesn't even taste like apples."

"That's because it probably isn't," Gordie said, sounding bored with the conversation already.

"Yeah, it even says 'artificially flavored' on the back," I said quietly. Gordie and Teddy looked up at me, surprised that I had said anything, then looked at the back of Vern's juice carton.

"Well, well," Teddy said, looking at us all as if he had just discovered something amazingly ironic, "Proof that they're poisoning our precious young bodies."

"I'd rather have this than the grocery store kind." said Vern stubbornly.

"Yeah, whatever. Why am I even talking about apple juice?" Teddy shook his head and suddenly turned to me, "So, are you a new student here?"

I began to drum nervously on my notebook. "No. I've lived in Castle Rock my whole life." God, what was I, invisible? I mean, I noticed him in the hallways once or twice.

"So I'm guessing your life's as pathetic as ours, huh?" Gordie said, resting his head on his hand.

"Hey, my life is not pathetic," said Teddy.

"Hey, guys," came a voice from behind me. I turned around the face the infamous Chris Chambers, "Is this yours?"

He held out my pen to me. I nodded ever so slightly and took the pen from him slowly.

"Thanks."

A faint smile spread across his face and he looked up as if trying to remember something. "Your name's uh...Darla Thassel, right?"

I nodded, feeling unbelievably happy that he knew my name.

(Sarcastically) Whoah! Chris Chambers, play some scary music! See, people, I begin to hate my stories when people fail to reassure my confidence in them. I live off of reviews! I don't like the ending, but I didn't know how to end it and still be able to begin the next chapter with her talking about Chris...Chris, what a fox! They all are. Anyway, I'm rambling (but hopefully that's made you feel a wee bit sorry for me and maybe you'll review...? Well, I can hope, can't I?).