A/N: AND I'M BACK! Yes, 'tis I with another chapter of Rules. My university has begun (well it began in August), but it's starting to get tougher, so my updates/ posting/ even thinking about writing is going to get pretty erratic. It's fair warning, and to be honest, I just write as stress-relief. In other words, please don't hold your breath waiting for anything more from me – if I write more, that is. Also, I finally got around to reading the first chapter of The Indigo Spell. Mhm, looks like someone is in De-Nile, Egypt. Repressed feelings anyone? I think I called that first, just saying…. Here's Getting Over Break Ups!
Disclaimer: I own plot, and the two OC's. Other than that, I own nothing.
Rules: Of Getting Over Break Ups
Get a makeover. Or have a spa day
Angeline stared at the mirror. Kristen and Julia had assured a makeover would totally make Eddie like her more. She wasn't entirely sure that that would work, but she was okay with them doing whatever to her hair. It was only hair after all, and it would grow out. But she never expected this. She had been blonde before. She was okay with blonde, because blonde could be dirtied to look like beams of sunlight in the forest or used to mark a trail almost imperceptibly for someone to follow. Black or brown hair couldn't do that. But her hair.
Julia and Kristin grinned proudly from behind her. Kristin held up a mirror so that she could see the back and get an idea of the total effect. Julia spoke almost proudly, as if she expected Angeline to completely be in love with whatever they'd done to her hair, "So do you like it? It's totally fitting, we think. It's all kick- $$ and graceful, like you."
She touched a stripe of red-orange, it didn't look like they'd used exactly the same color twice. Her hair was peppered with stripes of red and yellow-orange and orange-yellow and orange-red and black and some bits were bleached platinum blonde. She swallowed back her nausea, not releasing her death grip on the sink edge, "What is it?"
Kristin piped up, chipper as ever as she put down the mirror, "We tiger-striped your hair! It's totally in fashion right now!"
Angeline didn't get a chance to say anything, Jill did all the reacting anyone needed to do as she rounded the corner into the bathroom: "OHMYGOD!? WHAT HAPPENED?!"
No contact. No ifs, ands, or buts.
Jill suddenly back tracked tray gripped tightly between her hands. "Uh, guys, can we sit somewhere else today?" The group had stopped, the early spring air whipping their skirts and hair.
Angeline spoke first, "But the guys have a personal space heater, a battery powered one. So it's warm." Sydney nodded, and Kristin warily agreed as well, but Julia eyed the conclave of bodies speculatively.
A look of sudden clarity passed over her features, "Oh. Jill honey, I understand. Shannon had that fashion magazine with her today, didn't she want to show us." Julia whipped around and practically hightailed it out of the courtyard.
Sydney and Angeline shrugged at each other, and followed. Kristin, who had paused to squint at the group jostling around the personal heater, suddenly caught up, "It's Rule #2, no contact." Then she too breezed past, her boots' wooden heels clattering across the cobblestones. Sydney turned to look, and then she caught a glimpse of Eddie and Micah and Adrian walking up to join them, shoving against one another, laughing. Then she sighed, no contact.
Alcohol = BIG NO NO. Makes everything worse.
Adrian woke up to a splitting headache. Hangover, he thought bitterly, then promptly gave up on thinking as his head split open via a lightning strike of pain. He closed his eyes against the bright sunlight – why didn't I close the curtains last night? – and gingerly felt around for his cell phone. He touched the power button, and the screen flared to life. His eyes, already sensitive to light, were seared by the light.
"What the –?" He mumbled, mouth dry and chalky. "27 unsent texts to …" he scrolled through the texts, all variations of love confessions, wondering why the receiver won't love him, or begging her to come back. Just as he thought, they were all to the same person, "F%^^&." He ran a hand through his hair, then along the stubble growing on his chin. Resolving himself, he picked up his discarded phone, and dialed the contact he'd been texting all night, "Hey, Sydney…."
Get rid of all pictures and things associated with the ex if you haven't already.
They held a bonfire for getting rid of past relationships' memorabilia, once a month because Julia needed them at least that often. Angeline was always the one who started them, because she could do it the fastest out of all of them, and she was the best at doing so. Julia and Kristin had a special spot staked out in the untamed flatlands far from the dorms, and everyone was welcome – the red-haired demoness Laurel showed up, to burn a letterjacket and some jewelry, a few more girls came trickling in. Pictures, teddy bears, notes, a dried out rose, and other articles were burned and everyone stayed to watch the embers burn out. "Catharsis," Sydney explained in a hushed whisper to Angeline, "They feel better by getting rid of the stuff with memories, get rid of their anger and hurt by burning the stuff."
Angeline cocked here head, staring up at the night sky, "So why haven't they burned down the school yet?"
No reading, talking, or thinking about said person.
Trey settled onto the bench at the bus stop besides Sydney, "You don't really miss him, do you?"
She looked up from her pages of Latin, "Who are we talking about?"
"Brayden."
"Oh, well, yeah, I don't really miss Brayden at all –" She was cut off by the sound of Adrian's car swooshing up to the curb. "Hey, Sydney, need a lift." He glanced at Trey, then looked at Sydney's face, "If Julia finds out you've been talking about him, she's going to throw that book at you again. And then worry about whether or not you're about to burst into spontaneous tears at any given moment, and subsequently put us all on high alert for such situations." He popped the door open. "Sydney, please don't make me carry around bags of chocolate again. My masculinity can't handle the pressure of have a satchel mistaken as a man purse repeatedly."
As Sydney climbed in, reluctantly, Trey snarked at Adrian "You still have masculinity left?"
Get rid of all texts. And get rid of his number.
Da-dun. Click, click. Da –dun. Click, click. Da –dun. Click, click. "Jill, what are you doing?"
"Sydney what do you think I'm doing?"
"Deleting a lot of stuff from your cellphone, but it's rather annoying."
"Yes, yes I am. That way, nothing is holding me back in the past and I can move on to a better relationship."
"Then why are you punching the keys so hard? It sounds like you're about to break your phone."
Go shopping.
Julia swept in, arms laden with bags and her eyes sparkling. "Hello, Amberwood Prep!" She called to the lobby, tottering on brand new heels like a super model.
Eddie leaned over to Trey, agog with shock, "It looks like she bought the whole shoe department." Trey, who was engrossed in the ESPN Swimsuit Edition, looked up and stared at the mountain of bags growing in the lobby. Then they saw who else was coming through the lobby doors, and they paled to the point of being ghosts.
In came Kristin, then Jill, then Sydney and Angeline, all buried under a small cave's worth of items. More so Sydney and Angeline, they looked as if they had been drafted as pack mules this time.
Trey, without peeling his eyes off the Mt. Everest of shopping bags quickly growing in front of them responded, "Eddie, I think they bought the whole store." They looked at each other, and without another word fled the scene.
A/N: And ta-da! Okay, it probably sucks, and I know it. That's okay though, because it's an update! Hurray! Umm, yeah, I feel like they're all being OOC, but I never did get Sydney's character right in any of my other works, but maybe that's just me. Anyone else like my fluffy bits? I enjoyed those, especially Rule #2, which isn't my favorite piece of writing in this particular work, but the Syridan fluff was nice to write. It was like finding your favorite fuzzy socks after a while, the same sort of easy warm fuzziness of writing a ship that you used to write a lot for. Review if you feel like it, don't if you don't. Until the next time I update, which might be a while from now, yours
ModernArt2012