MIKE NEWTON, THE KING OF EMBARRASSMENT
I don't own anything. All copyrights go to Stephenie Meyer ©
Name: Secrets Revealed
Summary: Some secrets are meant to be hidden forever. The other secrets are always revealed, whether it being the next hour, or the next week, or thirty years later.
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I told my therapist I was having nightmares about nuclear explosions. He said don't worry –it's not the end of the world.
-Jay London
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Character Point of View: Mike Newton
Jesus Christ.
What have I don't to deserve this hell? Let me tell you one thing. There are many, many ways to end up being the Loser Dude of Forks High. It's simple as gnat. All you have to do is to have a number of bladder problems in the hall, call your Biology teacher a whole hell of names, perform a food juggling-bath show in the cafeteria, have people think you have a crush on your Spanish teacher, who by the way, looks totally ancient. Oh, and did I mention barging out of your shower stall straight into the overpopulated locker room, flash everyone, and then start babbling about fire alarms and insurance?
Shit. I've got to see a therapist.
Wait, did I say that? No way. I am not going to see a shrink. End of story.
"Mike!" Mom screamed from downstairs.
Oops. Maybe it's not the end of the story after all. Mom had been yelling at me every five goddamned hours. I wondered what she wanted to blame on me this time. Whenever Dad finds something to blame on Mom, she then dumps all the blame on me. Sucks, doesn't it? I tell you, being the youngest member of the household has its disadvantages, since you don't get to blame anyone.
"Mike!" Mom hollered again. Jeez, she has a pair of lungs stronger than that of a banshee. "Come down!"
I followed her command like the diligent son I was, and soon I came to be standing in front of her, unbelievably dwarfed by her towering and menacing form.
"What," she began, her face rapidly turning purple. "is the meaning of this?"
And with that, she shoved a piece of paper. Confused, I took it, and opened it. When I saw the contents, my heart nearly stopped.
"Explain," she spoke through gritted teeth.
"It's not true," I said feebly. "It really isn't."
"Oh, really?" she exploded, and spit flew everywhere. "Have you ever thought about what this would do to your poor, old momma? Have you thought that-that the fact that you wrote a...love letter to your Spanish teacher yesterday...well, do you even know what it'll do to my reputation?"
"I..." I trailed off. How the heck would I explain this to her, without revealing my evil scheme about Rosalie to her? I sighed, and wiped my forehead.
Time to get this off my chest.
"Alright," I said wearily. "I'll explain everything."
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