5
I was the first out of science and went straight to chorus, which was just a holding ground for a group of aspiring singers who go into the music room and sing a bunch of pop-songs and music videos and make it as whimsical and happy as they possibly can. Problem? It's total shit. And I'm not talking about my class, no. I'm talking about this national group that resides in our school to bring media attention to young teens with so-called "talent" when all they can do with music videos is auto-tune the shit out of it and call it a "fresh beat."
I never liked the group. I choose never to mention or block any names related to it as when anyone says, it makes me want to smack the person so hard, I'd kill the fucker by breaking their neck when it went all around too fast, and too hard.
Oh well, idiots' fault for bringing it up to me.
While going through the halls, I kept seeing these teddy bears pop out of nowhere—one came out from the locker, one from the girls' bathroom (don't know if they washed their hands), one from the boys bathroom (definitely sure he didn't wash his hands or just got a massive ass-beating, whichever works best) and even from behind as they stroll down the hall like a goddamn plastic doll, thinking they're Miss Perfect, when they're far from perfection. For the love of God, I've seen girls criticize thighs—thighs, mind you—and will tear any girl's self-esteem if they are not, in most rational terms, "perfect" or don't reach "perfection." Even if they are to criticize, you can't pick on them since they got to you first, those horse-looking twigs.
It made me smile to know that I can still insult people and be a bitch about it.
All of a sudden, I saw Masami and Molly walk by me. They didn't say anything, and yet I think this was one of the rare occurrences they actually didn't see me. Maybe it's just my eyes playing around with me, or I'm simply denying the truth.
Regardless, I went on.
I saw our teacher Mr. Vincent talking to us about this and that and about the melody and blah blah blah. Honestly, I didn't care too much about this class, and yet it feels so forced that I have succumbed to boredom because of this.
I was next to Rachel, another good friend of mine. She was different, though. I knew her for a while, since freshman year. She kept on talking about her boyfriend named Jamie. I never figured how the hell he looked like, but I didn't care to know. All I wanted was some space, and peace and quiet, and she would do that. We were good friends, and she only talks about him when we're totally bored and…yep, that's about it.
Still, she was way better than Masami or Molly. I hated them both equally. Though it wasn't all like that.
I remember when we were in sixth grade we were good friends. I knew this. They knew this. We were good friends, but they thought of us three as great friends. I truly believed that. They would always want me in their trio, and yet they never really gave a second thought whether or not we were friends. I saw them talk about what they're going to do and such and by God…
Things leave themselves to be a mystery when forgotten. I feel this is what happened now. I thought I knew, but no more. The very sight of the three of us being friends actually seems surreal like a body horror movie.
Back to Rachel—I don't believe she's a bad person, yet she's misunderstood.
Mr. Vincent called me up and told me to sing in D flat (or something, I don't know). I sang saying "Why God? Why?" and he didn't appreciate the effort—he said I sang in E minor. I won't argue who's right, and I don't think I ever will with him. He knows his shit, and that's good enough for me.
Rachel laughed afterwards—delayed, yet still worth it. I appreciate the gesture coming from her.
She then came close to my ear and said, "You know, Jamie and I broke up."
I felt bad, yet I knew relationships in high school weren't going to last. Hell, the whole friends-with-benefits relationship last longer. At least you do it.
"What a shame," I said politely.
"Yeah, and I was wondering if you, by any chance, have a Valentine."
What the…
"No, I don't."
Don't you dare…
"Because," she began, wearing that plastic smile that spells I'm-ready-fuck, "I was wondering if you and I were to go on a date, would you accept?"
I was—Fuck! I hate my limited vocabulary, uh—dumbstruck—you dumbass—when she said that. I mean, for God's sakes, I thought she had a boyfriend…wait….
"Well, uh, I don't—Are you thinking clearly? I mean, what would Jamie say?"
"Jamie would be okay if we went out. She wouldn't mind."
Oh, you got to be fucking kidding me. We were playing the Pronoun Game.
"Listen, I got to be honest. I thought Jamie was a guy."
"You did?" she said, almost looking as if I have been mispronouncing something wrong this whole time and didn't know about it. "I thought you knew?"
"Oh, no, I haven't. Hell, I haven't even seen Jamie. You know? Jamie? That Jamie we've talked about. The 'Jamie' that we never said was a 'he' or a 'she' or even a 'him' or 'her.' It was always just Jamie. Fucking Jamie, just one name, Rachel."
"Well, look, I'm sorry. I just thought you, well, didn't like guys."
"What the fuck gave you that idea?" I asked, even though I knew why. I mean, I'm no…beauty queen, I guess, and I do have a tendency to play around roughly and hang out with guys more, but in this day and age it has never come across people that I might, just might be, a tomboy (GASP!), or I wasn't interested at all in dating.
"Please, be quiet," she said softly, "you're making a scene."
(WIDE ANGLE SHOT: THE WHOLE CLASSROOM!)
"HAHAHAHAHAHA! AM I MAKING A SCENE?" I yelled out, almost as if I was trying to get some attention (if you can't pick up what I'm trying to do, your idiot bus has arrived), "ALL I DID WAS SAY NO TO YOUR PROPOSAL TO GO ON A DATE! MAYBE YOU SHOULD RECONSIDER WITH SOMEONE ELSE. YOU KNOW, A GIRL! ANY GIRL INTERSTED IN GOING OUT WITH A GIRL!"
Some girl, I think her name was Mary, said if I could just be quiet and stop making this into a big deal.
I punched her in the nose and was taken out of class. I later realized that day Rachel had asked her out. She said yes. The fucking sympathy trick. That vixen. (Hey, I do know a smart word.)
Hello, my name is EvelioandZgroup, but you probably knew that (hell, that's also my username here). Anyway, I am not dead. I'm still here. Yeah, and this should have finished back in February. Again, this is embarrassing. Still, I'm writing. And I'm happy doing what I do.
And I have saw that Agent BM is writing here. I'll be honest, straight-on, he sucks as a writer, but I look up and respect what he does. The amount that he writes, whether it's bad or not, he keeps going on, writing stories left and right, mostly based off something else, but hey same goes here. From That's My Boy and Shane Dawson's music video Superluv, and yes, my stories based off those are awful. Yeah, I admit it: My fan fictions are horrible, horrendous, pretentious, and downright silly.
Can the same be said about Intermission? Actually, the answer is no. Yeah, Carrie is pretentious, vulgar, and even a bitch here and then. But, she's a bit closer to real life. We can all believe we are better than other, simply because we stray away from acts of stupidty and popular media, but that doesn't make us better or worse. We have let ourselves believe that the world we live in is simply the way we see it. No, there's more depth to it than meets the eye. We just haven't seen it yet. Carrier represents something a bit closer in our realm, kind of like me. I don't do things like vine or online gaming videos. I do what I do, but not totally like Carrie.
Friends and family still strand strong as examples as outlooks to a better world, and even a hopeful future.
Lexboss, a true friend, has stood behind my back for the longest and I owe her a lot... which means (clever-Segway) The Love is stilt alive and we re-releasing it. We're toning it down this time for censorship, and, on account of that, Lexboss's keyboard is currently not working. But hey, I'm her beta, I'll fix that.
NeoNimbus and Terrence Orson are great friends and I express great gratitude towards them. They've helped me out through some bad times, and I can't thank them enough.
Flynn Roswell, a good friend, has helped me manage my writing better and, get this, I have allowed him to remake one of my stories. I won't tell you which one, but let the hype begin. I know it, and believe me, I saw the outline... If he can write this the way I hope he does, I will hands-down call this the best story of the archive (but that title goes to either My New Family, The Loop, or The Newcomer).
Speaking of which, I actually do plan to remake five stories or at least fix them up and get ready to post them out again. You can recommend any story you'd like to see me do, so don't feel restrained. My five picks are:
1) The Circle—It's pretty obvious why. It's one of my personal projects, and it deserves to be wrapped. I got the whole story now, I just have to write it.
2) I Killed Penny Fitzgerald—Again, pretty obvious. This can be way better than expected. It was written by an amateur writer, now maybe this time I can hit a bullseye with it.
3) In Time, We'll Lose Him—Jack requested this a long time ago, and it's definitely a story I would love to continue. Plus, I can do it better than expected, maybe even more.
4) Gumball—Let's face it, this hits a lot of jokes straight on, left and right, but it doesn't show it well in the first two episodes. It definitely needs a reboot.
5) True Love—Why? The way I see it, Gumball and Stephen need this, and I love the way I see this story coming out. If Yprockcid read this, he'd deem it a true love story, but not for these two lovebirds.
I also own the rights to Love Circle, so I may do that as well.
Another side, I'm reading soon my 50th story. That's a big milestone, but I'll admit that if I kept at my pace in 2012, I'd be at my 500th right now. But still, 50th not bad either.
I have one story, which I'm physically writing, called Split Track. It's about Gumball going to the future to meet his 18-year-old self, but also focuses on deeper ideas of both nostalgia and even the consequences of our choices (luckily, this will be a comedy, so thumbs-up there). It's vague right now, but trust me it gets better.
One last thing I want to say is I just want to say thank you for all the readers that have stuck by me through all this time. From The First Blood to Intermission. You guys rock. I can honestly say I wouldn't be here if it weren't for all you guys reading. And I'm serious, really tell me what story you want me to do. I'm more of a mature writer than I was back then. Say which story I should do and I'll see what's left of my brain that I can conjure up.
My name is EvelioandZgroup, and I'm signing off.
~ EvelioandZgroup