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vagrantblvrd · 5 years

Text

Skies So Blue (1/1)

Summary: There’s always a problem when it comes to the crew.

Always.

Said problems range from minor inconveniences like a diet eCola shortage in the penthouse to life-threatening injuries. (Sometimes one leads to the other because the ones with an addiction to the stuff are certifiable, but that’s another problem altogether.)

Notes: An Anon wanted my thoughts on this GTA V video. :D?

(Read on AO3)

There’s always a problem when it comes to the crew.

Always.

The current problem is that Geoff’s out of town for business and he took both Alfredo and Matt, arguably the last two sane members of the crew left besides Trevor himself. And while Trevor is in charge these days, you wouldn’t notice by the way they act.

(Geoff warned him though, when he and Lindsay handed the reins over. Told him all about how they were horrible human beings and, “God have mercy on your soul, because the bastard sure as hell had none for mine,” and left for what he insisted was a long overdue vacation from the crew. Lindsay had laughed as she patted him on the cheek with a “You poor, stupid bastard,” before going off to rain chaos on the unsuspecting now she was free to do so.)

Geoff is out of town, the crew treats Trevor like a substitute teacher in an 80s/early 90s movie, and to make matters worse? It’s been a while since the crew’s pulled a heist or a job that requires more than the bare minimum from them.

They’re bored.

They’re bored and Trevor’s learned that a bored Fake AH Crew is a dangerous Fake AH Crew because they make their own entertainment.

While some good things have come out of their shenanigans in the past – improved team morale for starters – said shenanigans also draw unwanted attention from local law enforcement that’s no good for future plans they may have.

So.

“You...want me to kidnap you.”

Trevor grins, nice and friendly and holds up the wad of cash he’s offering as payment to a fine young gentleman.

New enough to Los Santos that he hasn’t heard (too much) about the Fakes aside from a few key points. (Big crew, don’t fuck with them or you’ll be sorry, yaddah, yaddah, yaddah.)

Hasn’t heard about their more outrageous exploits or what they like to do to blow off steam for their own enrichment. (Pack of idiots rolling a pumpkin around their enclosure and all.)

Most importantly, he’s just stupid enough, greedy enough, to be blinded to the amount of money Trevor’s offering for an afternoon of driving him around.

“Well I mean,” Trevor says, goes a little singsong. “’Kidnap’ is such an ugly word, you know. All these connotations to it. No, no.”

Goodness no.

“I want you to steal a car for me.”

The guy – Frank? Jimmy? Trevor doesn't remember, and if he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t care.

See, Trevor asked around, got a short list of potential candidates for this little task that might need a reminder of how things work in Los Santos. A quick little tutorial for the ones new to town like this fine fellow who’s already ruffled a few feathers.

“...The car you will be in,” Lyle? Kyle? says, nice and slow, like he’s solving one of the world’s greatest mysteries. “That one.”

Trevor tips his head to the side.

“If you don’t want to earn some pocket money, I can always find someone else who will,” Trevor says.

Because Los Santos.

Chock full of people like this one.

The guy squints at Trevor.

Big guy. Somewhat imposing, if you happen to be easily imposed. Nose that’s been broken at least once and rough around the edges (aren’t they all, though?). Scruff going on to make him seem older and admirably suspicious because it is an odd request.

“What’s the catch?”

Trevor doesn’t mean to laugh, but he does.

“Oh, you know,” he says, big, big smile. “The usual.”

========

Gerald, Trevor’s going to call him Gerald, takes the offer.

“Sure, why the fuck not?”

It’s a lot of money just to steal a car, and Trevor was reliably informed Gerald would do just about anything for the right price.

Sold a lot of people out for less, or so Trevor’s heard. Has a habit of screwing over his partners and so on and Trevor is delighted the man’s greed has gotten the better of him yet once again. Makes having to send one of the others to pay him a little visit unnecessary later.

Birds and stones, and a delicious touch of karma because some of the people Gerald’s fucked over were theirs and that simply won’t do.

Gerald doesn’t seem to have caught on just yet, but Trevor’s sure he’ll figure it out along the way.

========

There are rules to this, of course.

The others may use any and all vehicles at their disposal, but weapons aren’t allowed.

If, for example, one of them were to get their hands on a Lazer from Zancudo, they’re not allowed to use missiles (homing or otherwise) or the cannons. (If they get their hands on tank, just. No.)

Gerald is likewise forbidden from using weapons. In case he were to get ideas, what with Trevor riding along in the backseat of their vehicle and all. (Trevor’s wearing his favorite clothes and would just hate to get blood on them.)

Other than that, it’s a free-for-all, which in Trevor’s experience always goes smoothly with this bunch.

========

“Oh, my,” Trevor says, watching a Cargobob overshoot them. “That was a close one, wasn’t it.”

Gerald swears, anger and something like panic creeping into his voice and for good reason. The crew is out in force today, Cargobobs overhead and stolen police cars behind. A generous smattering of other stolen vehicles all over the place and they’ve only been at this for twenty, thirty minutes at the outside.

Very dramatic, all of it.

Pulse-pounding adventure and danger. High-speed chases and the car’s engine is making this distressing noise, smoke coming from its engine.

Trevor waves as an SUV goes screaming past, and snaps a picture with his phone – it’s bound to turn out blurry and out of focus, but he’s sure Jeremy will appreciate the thought behind it.

“What the fuck is wrong with you people?” Gerald demands as he puts their poor car in reverse, aiming for a side street they passed. “I mean, seriously. What the fuck?”

Trevor grins and takes a picture of Gerald as he scowls at Trevor in the rearview.

For memories.

“Creative types,” he says, which isn’t stretching the truth at all. The others come up with the most...inventive heists and all sorts of shenanigans. “Wacky.”

========

After the Tank incident several years back, about the time Trevor got dragged into the madness that is the Fake AH Crew, they’re forbidden from bringing a tank into the city.

APCs and the like, however, are not tanks.

“Holy shit,” Gerald whispers, the very image of a broken man. “Holy shit.”

Trevor hmms, and checks to make sure his seat-belt is secure.

“Indeed,” he agrees, and it’s such a shame he ran out of physical room on his phone for videos because their tiny little car facing a line of Brickades is a stunning sight.

Gerald makes this noise in the back of his throat, and Trevor can see the moment he throws all caution to the wind and has his fuck it, what the fuck moment as he puts his foot to the pedal and they shoot forward.

While there are several Brickades present, there aren’t enough to create an effective blockade. More to intimidate than anything else, and Gerald squeezes their car through the narrow gap left open to them with inches to spare. (At least two, possibly three.)

========

There’s a small flock of drones buzzing around them and a Terrorbyte bearing down on them at the other end of the runway. (Not great odds, but Gerald is proving to be quite resourceful or just incredibly lucky.)

“Are those goddamned blimps?”

There’s also a parachute in the air, and by the rainbow pattern it has to be Gavin.

“They’re faster than you’d think,” Trevor says, “and surprisingly maneuverable.”

He smiles, bland little thing, when Gerald gives him an incredulous look.

========

“Why the hell do you people have so many vehicles?”

Trevor glances up from his phone.

“Sorry, what?” he asks, and Gerald repeats himself with a skosh more emphasis this time.

Trevor shrugs, glancing out his window at the freight train they're keeping pace with, occasional flashes of color as the others tries to land on one of the flatcars. They look like dolphins swimming alongside ye olde sailing ships.

Beautiful and graceful even in failure.

They’re being (gently) herded back to Los Santos, although Gerald seems to think he’s still in control of their destination and not the other way around.

“Well I mean,” he says, and shrugs again. “Nice things.”

Shiny, shiny things. Like a kid in a candy store, his crew. See something flashy, shiny and have to have it. Come up with an idea for a heist to get their hands on it or some form of shenanigans or what have you.

Gerald stares at him in the rearview mirror as though he’s realized they’re all a bunch of lunatics.

========

Like all good things, this merry little chase Gerald’s been leading the others must end.

Unlike all good things, it ends with a blockade created with a handy-dandy rocket launcher, several parked cars, and a crashed ultralight as several Cargobobs hover overhead. (They really do love their Cargobobs.)

Also, Ryan hauling poor Gerald out of the driver’s seat where he’s in the process of beating the everloving shit out of him.

Trevor can’t hear whatever Ryan’s telling Gerald as he teaches him a lesson using violence – he’d be a terrible teacher – but he can guess.

Winces as Ryan drags Gerald in for one last doozy of a punch before dropping his unconscious body to the ground, shoulders heaving a little from exertion. Sees Ryan take a moment to compose himself before he makes his way back to the battered car that’s somehow survived the day’s activities.

He unlocks the door and smiles up at Ryan when he wrenches it open like a brute.

“Hello, Ryan,” he says, bright and cheerful. Flattens a hand against his chest and bats his eyes up at the strong, burly man who rescued him from the clutches of the vile kidnapper. Says, with a terrible Southern accent, “My hero.”

Ryan stares at him for a long, long moment, and then he sighs.

All dramatic about it too, the way Geoff gets sometimes as though life is an endless bout of pain and suffering and woe is him, woe is him.

“I hate you,” Ryan says, matter-of-fact, just a simple little declaration.

Trevor smiles.

“I’m sure you do,” he says. Tips his head to the side. “But the real question is, are you still bored?”

There’s a (literal) trail of crashed and ruined vehicles behind them marking the meandering path Gerald took and who knows how much in property damage.

Chaos, panic, and so on. (Par for the course for them.)

Ryan opens his mouth, and pauses.

Unconsciously mirrors Trevor by tipping his head the opposite direction as he considers Trevor’s question. Makes this annoyed sound when he finds his answer.

“...No,” he admits.

Trevor beams at him.

“Well there you go, then!” he says.

The crew had an exciting day and Gerald got his comeuppance for fucking over one of theirs. (Most likely he hasn’t connected the dots, but if he hasn’t there’s always next time.)

“You’re a lunatic,” Ryan says, as though a sane man would be in Trevor’s position with the crew.

Trevor laughs, because yes, but also -

“Thank you, Mr. Vagabond. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Ryan snorts and steps back to let Trevor out of the poor battered car that’s somehow survived everything they threw at it today.

Trevor looks around at the destruction, random people gawking far too close for their own safety. Looks up, and smiles at the Cargobobs circling the area.

The lone Frogger, because Lindsay.

Back down at Ryan who’s got his hand pressed to his earpiece as he talks to the others to let them know Trevor’s “mugger” has been neutralized and Trevor himself is unharmed and so on and so forth.

He feels something a lot like fondness as Ryan keeps shooting him these little looks, giving that up t some point to stand beside him. Shoulder touching Trevor’s because then at least, he’ll have some warning if Trevor slips away to start a bonus round to their little game.

Overhead one of the Cargobobs separates from the pack and looks for a good place to land to ferry them back to the penthouse, and the faint sound of sirens sound in the distance.

Good old LSPD and various emergency services leaping into action now that the Fake AH Crew has finished another one of their games and it’s safe for people to come out to deal with the mess left behind. It’s an odd agreement, understanding, they have, because this kind of game isn’t about body counts the LSPD’s learned it’s better in the long run if the crew get to have their fun.

Trevor laughs at the absurdity of it all because they’re all a little mad here, aren’t they? Keeps things interesting.

“Madman,” Ryan says with a little shake of his head and something like amusement in his voice. “Let’s go home.”

Well, the penthouse, really.

Celebratory drinks, and takeout set to embellished recounting of the day’s adventures. Plans for future rounds with a few tweaks thrown in, and this overall sense of accomplishment on Trevor’s part because the damn pumpkin worked.

#ragehappy #fahc au #Anon #Kings of Nowhere #vagrant fic #can be shippy if you want???#i'm all for it #\o/#(also thank you so much anon! XD <333!)

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ofallingstar · 6 years

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First lines from the books I read in 2018

Hawksmoor by Peter Ackroyd: Thus is 1711, the ninth year of the reign of Queen Anne, an Act of Parliament was passed to erect seven new Parish Churches in the Cities of London and Westminster, which commission was delivered to Her Majesty’s Office of Works in Scotland Yard.

Métamorphose en bord de ciel by Mathias Malzieu: Les oiseaux, ça s'enterre en plein ciel.

Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen: The family of Dashwood had been long settled in Sussex.

Le plus petit baiser jamais recensé by Mathias Malzieu: Le plus petit baiser jamais recensé.

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll: Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, “and what is the use of a book,” thought Alice, “without pictures or conversations?”

Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There by Lewis Carroll: One thing was certain, that the white kitten had had nothing to do with it -it was the black kitten’s fault entirely.

Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson: Ba-room, ba-room, ba-room, baripity, baripity, baripity, baripity-Good.

The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin: Dear James: I had begun this letter five times and torn it up five times.

The Secret in Their Eyes by Eduardo Sacheri: Benjamín Miguel Chaparro stops short and decides he’s not going.

At the Mountains of Madness by H. P. Lovecraft: I am forced into speech because men of science have refused to follow my advice without knowing why.

The Minds of Billy Milligan by Daniel Keyes: This books is the factual account of the life, up to now, of William Stanley Milligan, the first person in U.S. history to be found not guilty of major crimes, by reason of unsanity, because he possessed multiple personalities.

The Bad Beginning by Lemony Snicket: If you are interested in stories in happy endings, you would be better off reading some other book.

Puckoon by Spike Milligan: Several and a half metric miles North East of Sligo, split by a cascading stream, her body on earth, her feet in water, dwells the microcephalic community of Puckoon.

Piercing by Ryu Murakami: A small living creature asleep in its crib.

The Reptile Room by Lemony Snicket: The stretch of the road that leads out of this city, past Hazy Harbor and into the town of Tedia, is perhaps the most unpleasant in the world.

And the Mountains Echoed by Khaled Hosseini: So, then.

The Shape of Water by Guillermo Del Toro and Daniel Kraus: Richard Strickland reads the brief from General Hoyt.

Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell: He’d stopped trying to bring her back.

Down and Out in Paris and London by George Orwell: The Rue du Coq d’Or, Paris, seven in the morning.

We Were Liars by E. Lockhart: Welcome to the beautiful Sinclair family.

The Book Thief by Markus Zusack: First the colors. Then the humans. That’s usually how I see things. Or at least, how I try.

The Wide Window by Lemony Snicket: If you didn’t know much about the Baudelaire orphans, and you saw them sitting on their suitcases at Damocles Dock, you might think they were bound for an exciting adventure.

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson: No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream.

Battles in the Desert by José Emilio Pacheco: I remember, I don’t remember.

The Miserable Mill by Lemony Snicket: Sometime during your lifetime -in fact, very soon- you may find yourself reading a book, and you may notice that a book’s first sentence can often tell you what sort of story your book contains.

The Age of American Unreason by Susan Jacoby: The word is everywhere, a plague spread by the President of the United States, television anchors, radio talk show hosts, preachers in megachurches, self-help gurus, and anyone else attempting to demostrate his or her identification with ordinary, presumably wholesome American values.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream by William Shakespeare: Theseus, duke of Athens, is planning the festivities for his upcoming wedding to the newly captured Amazon, Hippolyta.

Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert: We were in study hall when the headmaster walked in, followed by a new boy not wearing a school uniform, and by a janitor carrying a large desk.

The Austere Academy by Lemony Snicket: If you were going to give a gold medal to the last delightful person on Earth, you would have to give that medal to a person named Carmelita Spats, and if you didn’t give it to her, Carmelita Spats was the sort of person who would snatch it from your hands anyway.

Lord of the Flies by William Golding: The boy with fair hair lowered himself down the last few feet of rock and began to pick his way toward the lagoon.

The Taming of the Shrew by William Shakespeare: Christopher Sly, a drunken beggar, is driven out of an alehouse by its hostess.

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee: When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow.

Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro: My name is Katy H.

Hear the Wind Sing by Haruki Murakami: “There’s no such thing as a perfect piece of writing.”

The Ersatz Elevator by Lemony Snicket: The book you are holding in your two hands right now -assuming that you are, in fact, holding this book, and that you have only two hands- is one of two books in the world that will show you the difference between the words “nervous” and the word “anxious.”

Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare: Two households, both alike in dignity, (In fair Verona, where we lay our scene), From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.

Adventure Time: The Enchiridion & Marcy’s Super Secret Scrapbook!!!: My Devoted Evil Daighter, Marceline, I admit we’ve had a somewhat volatile father-daughter relantionship ever since the regrettable Fry Incident.

A Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin: Ser Waymar Royce glanced at the sky with desinterest.

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley: You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the commencement of an enterprise which you have regarded with such evil forebodings.

Pinball, 1973 by Haruki Murakami: I used to love listening to stories about faraway places.

The Vile Village by Lemony Snicket: No matter who you are, no matter where you live, and no matter how many people are chasing you, what you don’t read is often as important as what you do read.

Dracula by Bram Stoker: 3 May. Bistritz. –Left Munich at 8:35 P.M., on 1st May, arriving at Vienna early next morning; should have arrived at 6:43, but train was an hour late.

The Merchant of Venice by William Shakespeare: I know this hartred mocks all Christian virtue, but They I loathe: their very sight abhors me.

On the Road by Jack Kerouac: I first met Dean not long after my wife and I split up.

A Wild Sheep Chase by Haruki Murakami: It was a short one-paragraph item in the morning edition.

The Hostile Hospital by Lemony Snicket: There are two reasons why a writer would end a sentence with the word “stop” written in entirely in capital letters STOP.

The Most Beautiful: My Life with Prince by Mayte Garcia: The chain-link fence around Praisley Park is woven with purple ribbons and roses, love notes, tributes, and prayers for peace.

Hamlet by William Shakespeare: Who’s there?

A Clash of Kings by George R. R. Martin: The comet’s tail spread across the dawn, a red slash that bled above the crags of Dragonstone like a wound in the pink and purple sky.

Out of Africa by Isak Dinensen: I had a farm in Africa, at the foot of Ngong Hills.

Carrie by Stephen King: News item from the Westover (Me.) weekly enterprise, August 19, 1966: RAIN OF STONES REPORTED.

The Carnivorous Carnival by Lemony Snicket: When my workday is over, and I have closed my notebook, hidden my pen and sawed holes in my rented canoe so it cannot be found, I often like to spend the evening in conversation with my few surviving friends.

Forgive Me, Leonard Peacock by Matthew Quick: The P-38 WWII Nazi handgun looks comical lying on the breakfast table next to a boal of outmeal.

The Turn of the Screw by Henry James: The story had held us, round the fire, sufficiently breathless, but except the obvious remark that it was gruesome, as, on Christmas Eve on an old house, a strange tale should essentially be, I remember no comment uttered till somebody happened to say that it was the only tale he had met in which such a visitation had fallen on a child.

Carmilla by Sheridan J. Le Fanu: Upon a paper attached to the Narrative which follows, Doctor Hesselius has written a rather elaborated note, which he accompanies with a reference to his Essay on the strange subject which the MS. illuminates.

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson: No one has ever suffered as I have.

The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka: One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin.

House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski: I still get nightmares.

Othello by William Shakespeare: In the streets of Venice, Iago tells Roderigo of his hatred for Othello, who has given Cassio the lieutenancy that Iago wanted and has made Iago a mere ensign.

Dance, Dance, Dance by Haruki Murakami: I often dream about the Dolphin Hotel.

The Slippery Slope by Lemony Snicket: A man of my acquaintance once wrote a poem called “The Road Less Traveled,” describing a journey he took through the woods along a path most travelers never used.

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou: “What you looking at me for? I didn’t come to stay…”

A Most Haunted House by G. L. Davies: The house first came to my attention a few years ago.

Ghost Sex, The Violation by G. L. Davies: I met with Lisa at her home in Pembroke Dock.

Any Man by Amber Tamblyn: Am I in a body?

A Head Full of Ghosts by Paul Tremblay: “This must be so difficult for you, Meredith.”

A Storm of Swords by George R. R. Martin: The day was grey and bitter cold, and the dogs would not take the scent.

Macbeth by William Shakespeare: When shall we three meet again in thunder, lightning, or in rain?

You by Caroline Kepnes: You walk into the bookstore and you keep your hand on the door to make sure it doesn’t slam.

The Grim Grotto by Lemony Snicket: After a great deal of examining oceans, investigating rainstorms and staring very hard at several drinking fountains, the scientists of the worlds developed a theory regarding how water is distributed around our planet, which they have named “the water cycle.”

Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys: They say when trouble comes close ranks, and so the white people did.

Mansfield Park by Jane Austen: About thirthy years ago, Miss Maria Ward, of Huntingdon, with only seven thousand pounds, had the luck to captivate Sir Thomas Bertram, of Mansfield Park, in the country of Northampton, and to be thereby raised to the rank of a baronet’s lady, with all the comforts and consequences of a handsome house and a large income.

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Brontë: My name is Gilbert Markham, and my story begings in October 1827, when I was twenty-four years old.

The Tempest by William Shakespeare: Boatswain!

Lucky by Alice Sebold: In the tunnel where I was raped, a tunnel that was once an underground entry to an amphitheather, a place where actors burst forth from underneath the seats of a crowd, a girl had been murdered and dismembered.

The Penultimate Peril by Lemony Snicket: Certain people had said that the world is like a calm pond, and that anytime a person does even the smallest thing, it is as if a stone has dropped into the pond, spreading circles of ripples further and further out, until the entire world has been changed by one tiny action.

#books #books 2018 #long post #like... really really long

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themurphyzone · 6 years

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Haunted Ch 4

Ch 4: The World Moves On

Roger didn’t speak to Heinz anymore. Over time, Roger shot up in height. Soon he towered over all the other boys in the village. Mother fussed over his handsome looks, proudly bragging about him to anyone who’d listen. There was no shortage of girls tailing him from a distance. They practically worshiped the ground he trod on.

It was kind of gross.

To fill in the time, Heinz practiced levitating heavier objects. He’d managed to lift the cabinet full of gifts and family heirlooms a foot off the ground. And only felt slightly bad about destroying the vase that had been on Mother’s side for five generations.

He also noticed that people shivered uncontrollably when he floated close to them. Mother and Father had taken to wearing heavy shawls and thick coats, even in the middle of the summer heat.

Rumors cropped up all over the village about the Doofenshmirtz family and their strange habits. Some said they were vampires who immigrated from Transylvania, seeking fresh blood following a famine in their homeland. Others declared they were servants of a mysterious creature in the forest, posing as humans in order to lull the village into a false sense of security before slaughtering their livestock under the darkness of the new moon.

Even Roger wasn’t immune to the gossip and stares. However, most people continued to be charmed by his handsome face and compelling voice.

They always referred to Heinz as an evil spirit. Never by name. Just an evil spirit to be lumped in with a multitude of other evil spirits.

And he was fine with that.

The laughter Heinz and Roger once had was nothing more than a distant memory. The plump kid who once enjoyed kickball and doonkleberry cookies had long been replaced by a broad-shouldered young adult. He spoke eloquently, with emphasized ‘t’s and a strange inflection at the end of his sentences.

The language of Drusselstein was harsh and curt and rude. It was nothing like the melodious river of syllables that flowed out of Roger’s mouth.

Roger had been practicing a bunch of funny phrases in front of the mirror lately. Heinz felt like he would burst if he had to hear stuff like ‘economic budget’ and ‘it is my pleasure to welcome the French ambassador’ again. He’d given up on making funny faces behind Roger while he did that.

Annoying his targets wasn’t nearly as much fun when they didn’t react.

Heinz didn’t see what was so appealing about America. What was wrong with the village? There were gardens to protect here! Father wasn’t so keen on the idea either. He and Mother had shouted nonstop at each other ever since Roger had announced a desire to study political science at Danville University. They practically had to wade through the enormous pile of acceptance letters that Roger collected like candy.

“Roger is offering to set us up in a nice apartment,” Mother argued. “He’s being generous with that fortune Great Uncle Frederick left him. I have no idea where he got his charity from, because it did not come from your side.”

Father huffed.

“Well, I could use a change from this cheap plot,” Mother said as she plopped a bowl of bran mash in front of him. Then she sprinkled a red powder over the kitchen counter, muttering something in a language Heinz didn’t understand. “The evil spirits won’t reach my precious boy there.”

Heinz would just have to do spooky evil spirit stuff in America then. It couldn’t possibly be that different from Drusselstein.

Turned out America was completely different than Drusselstein. Heinz had never seen so many colors in his life, much less an enormous city. Blazing neon green lights hung off shops that had a strange assortment of scarf-wearing teenagers. The sky changed from blue to orange-pink to black, and healthy grass lined the paved streets.

Father didn’t know what he was missing when he stayed behind.

People exchanged friendly pleasantries on the streets, even if they were complete strangers.

He spent a lot of time observing people when he wasn’t following Roger around the college campus. His classes were boring and dry, just some stuffy old man at the front droning on about the ‘bigger picture’, whatever that meant.

It was more fun to pick a target and tie their shoelaces together when they weren’t looking, drop acorns on kissing couples, and make people drop their heavy, expensive textbooks to the floor.

There were ups and downs to life (could he even call it that?) in America, but he was starting to enjoy it. Mother seemed happier too. She’d made friends with several women and they spent a lot of their time walking around the apartment complex with clipboards. Yesterday she’d gone up to Mr. Harrison’s door and told him off because his roses were a fourth of an inch past regulations.

Yeah, he didn’t really get how she noticed that without measuring it first.

But the thing he hated most was how the toddlers always ran to their moms when they got scraped from a fall.

He hated how the toddlers tugged at their mothers’ skirts.

He hated how the mother would bend down, giving them a hug and kiss on the insignificant cut. Then they’d reach into their purse and pull out a cheesy band-aid with rainbows and dinosaurs.

He hated how the toddlers would dry their tears and smile back, then run back to the slide or jungle gym and the process would repeat all over again.

Heinz could never explain the hollowness he felt when he saw those moments.

The banquet celebrating Roger’s graduation from Danville University was a boisterous affair. As the head of the Alpha Delta Epsilon fraternity, the star player of the Danville University Dolphins tennis team, and the valedictorian of his graduating class, Roger had amassed so many connections and admirers that the Danville Convention Center had included valet parking for guests.

Heinz sent another set of keys flying, giggling as the valet guys screamed and scrambled after it.

“Why, with your charming personality, I bet you could even convince the entire Tri-State Area to break off the rest of America and form its own country!” Mr. Aquino roared, clapping Roger on the back as he addressed the adoring crowd.

“Thank you, Mr. Aquino. But I would like to allow my constituents the final say on such an important matter,” Roger said politely. He waved to a young woman in a crimson dress, who bounced on her heels like a puppy as Roger smiled pleasantly at her. “Valerie, you look marvelous tonight.”

Valerie squealed, and her friends suppressed their laughter behind her back. Heinz stuck his tongue out at them. Girls were weird. They all squealed like baby Goozims when Roger was nearby.

“I can’t tell you how proud I am of you,” Mother beamed brightly at Roger. He’d pulled some strings with the rich kids he’d befriended to give her a rather expensive black dress. She even had a necklace imported from some famous diamond mine.

Heinz covered his eyes and groaned when Mother embraced Roger. Cameras flashed and girls placed their hands over their hearts at such a cute scene. Somehow that managed to be grosser than the girls fawning over him.

“Please, Mrs. Doofenshmirtz. There’ll be plenty of time for bragging later,” Mr. Aquino laughed as he extracted Roger from her embrace. “Will everyone please make their way to the banquet hall? I believe Roger has a lot of things to say.”

He elbowed Roger in the ribs playfully as they headed to the stage area. Heinz followed them, glad that he didn’t have to hang around a large crowd anymore. “Especially to a certain someone,” Mr. Aquino winked knowingly.

Roger patted his coat pocket. “You’ll make me blush,” he laughed.

While Roger was busy with last-minute preparations, Heinz flitted around the banquet hall to look for anything he could use to disrupt the celebration. He noticed that a lot of women were carrying purses around. There was sure to be something in those!

Then he spotted an open purse on a chair, its owner obliviously chatting with a group of people nearby. It was ripe for the picking. Heinz zipped between the various cliques, his eyes set on his target.

But a shrill screech caused Heinz to lose focus, and he mentally kicked himself for not paying attention. He must’ve flown straight through Mother in his haste.

She shivered wildly, her teeth chattering as if she were trapped in a blizzard. It didn’t take long for the other women to notice. They led her to a table directly in front of the stage, helping her sit down and checking to make sure she was comfortable.

Someone even lent her a shawl to wrap around her shoulders.

“Are you alright, Mrs. Doofenshmirtz?” someone asked.

“They’re following us,” Mother said quietly. “I don’t-no, impossible. Yes, yes I’ll be alright. This is Roger’s night. Don’t worry about an old woman like me. Thank you. It’s a lovely shawl.”

Her helpers backed off, but still looked uncertain.

Before anyone could question her further, a light clinking sound came from the stage. Everyone took their seats immediately, and Heinz used the opportunity to steal a zipped flowery bag from the open purse.

Mr. Aquino tapped a glass with a small spoon several times before setting it on the podium in front of him. Roger sat on a chair nearby, next to two older men in tuxedos. He was perfectly poised on the chair, his back not touching the cushion and his hands folded neatly in his lap.

Out of curiosity, Heinz tried to mimic his position, but gave up within a few seconds. It just seemed more natural to cross his legs.

“May I have your attention please?” Mr. Aquino called. The entire hall fell silent, gazing at the stage expectantly. “Hello. My name is Manuel Aquino, and some of you may know me as your local district representative.”

He paused to allow the audience to applaud before continuing.

“We’re here to honor one incredibly accomplished individual tonight. One whose stunning intellect, brilliant wit, and undeniable charm has captured the hearts of many in Danville University,” he said, winking towards a table full of female graduates. “Perhaps you don’t even know how much you’re charmed by him.”

Instead of listening to the rest of the speech, Heinz levitated the bag’s contents onto the steel beam next to him. It was mostly makeup with names he couldn’t pronounce, but it was more interesting than the ceremony below.

Why did they need to take so long to say thank you? Just say it and move on! Heinz played with the makeup as another guy in a tuxedo droned on, smearing red streaks all over the steel beams.

As he worked on a large, goofy mustache to his Roger drawing, the audience clapped and whistled loudly as Roger finally took center stage. Curious, Heinz set the brush down. Like everyone else, he also wanted to know what Roger had to say for himself.

“Tonight will be a night to remember,” Roger announced. “Though we’ve graduated, our learning will never stop. Danville U has instituted a winning spirit and a can-do attitude onto each of us, so we must pass that onto the next generation to the best of our ability. When one moves into the next stage of life, one must ask themselves ‘What are we going to do?’ Some of you may have figured out the answer. Some of you are still searching. Both options are equally valid. But I suppose you’re also wondering what I want to accomplish.”

The audience nodded earnestly, hanging onto his every word.

“And I would like to thank Mr. Aquino here for mentoring me,” Roger said, with a polite nod towards the man. You see, he was rather charmed by the story of a fellow immigrant to this golden land of opportunity. We were both raised in poverty by hard-working parents, you see. Then as young adults, we found Danville, a city with such a colorful and vibrant culture. My dream is to give back to this lovely community, to allow everyone to flourish, to improve all aspects of education for our children, and their children as well. Mr. Aquino has generously offered me a staff position in his political office, which I’ve accepted. This will serve as my stepping stone so I may learn the issues each of you face, and I hope to be trustworthy in your eyes when you next see my name in the local newspaper.”

Heinz was starting to understand why Roger wanted to start his career in America. The Gimmelshtump elders would never have allowed a kid to upstage them when it came to decision-making.

Roger poured a glass of wine, holding it high in the air. “Before the appetizers are brought out, I would like to propose a toast in honor of Mr. Aquino. Let us drink to his good health and his successful career!”

“For Mr. Aquino!” the audience cheered.

“A toast in honor of my mother, Olga Doofenshmirtz,” Roger continued. “Without her loving support and careful guidance, I would not be the man I am today.”

Mother smiled and nodded. Several women whispered their congratulations to her.

“And lastly, an acknowledgment to a person in this room that I would like to make myself. Everyone, please set your cups down.”

What did that mean? Heinz circled above the stage, wondering what Roger was talking about. Why couldn’t he just say it on the stage like everything else?

His fists clenched. And Roger didn’t even mention him! Heinz played with him, he kept watch for monsters, he even comforted Roger! And after all these years, Roger never mentioned him to anyone! If he could thank Mother, he could thank Heinz too!

Heinz focused intently on what looked like a fluffy pom-pom, making sure that every centimeter of it was coated in a fine powder from a nearby case. Then he held up his hand, waiting for the right moment to send it hurtling down towards Roger.

“Charlene, I was privileged to have met you three years ago in a debate match. You were kind yet bold, not afraid to challenge anyone in a verbal spar. Now I only have one thing to ask,” Roger said. He knelt down, opening a small box which contained a golden ring.

“Will you marry me?”

Charlene smiled graciously, allowing Roger to slide the ring on her finger. “Yes, yes I would,” she replied as she leaned in for a kiss. Roger’s fingers cupped her short, black hair as he kissed her back.

Heinz stuck his tongue out at the gross kissing, forgetting that he was still levitating the pom-pom.

Somebody shrieked below him, and Heinz quickly ducked behind a thick pole. before remembering that nobody could see him.

Mr. Aquino was trying to rub the powder out of his hair, but it just smeared all over his hands. Heinz laughed at the ridiculous sight.

Some people stared at Mr. Aquino, and others glanced nervously at the ceiling as if expecting more makeup powder to rain down upon them. Mother’s finger shook as she pointed at the politician. “You must sprinkle poppy seeds on your pillow tonight to ward off the evil spirits!” she shouted.

He blinked at her. “Of course, ma’am. If the rest of you will excuse me, I’ll clean up in the restroom. Be back momentarily!”

“Ah, good ol’ Aquino,” Roger chuckled. “Nothing ever keeps that man down.”

Charlene took her seat next to Roger, smoothing out her dress. “It’s still a little strange though. Maybe a prankster hung powder from the rafters before we got here.”

Heinz liked her already. Sure, she didn’t know him by name, but her guess was close enough.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Bon appetit, everybody!” Roger called as the workers began passing out baskets of bread and cheese.

The room filled with the sound of chatter and dinnerware clattering against the tables, and the incident was quickly forgotten.

*holds out trash bin for all of you gagging at the Mrs. Doofenshmirtz’s ‘loving support and careful guidance’ bit*

#phineas and ferb #heinz doofenshmirtz #roger doofenshmirtz #heinz's sucky bio parents #haunted #ghost heinz au

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wordsmusicless · 2 years

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As around the sun, the earth knows she's revolving and the rosebuds know to bloom in early May... Just as hate knows love's the cure, you can rest your mind assure that I'll be loving you always. As now can't reveal the mystery of tomorrow but in passing, will grow older every day; just as all is born is new, do know what I say is true that I'll be loving you always.

Did you know that true love asks for nothing? Her acceptance is the way we pay...

Did you know that life has given love a guarantee to last through forever and another day?

Just as time knew to move on since the beginning and the seasons know exactly when to change; just as kindness knows no shame, know through all your joy and pain

That I'll be loving you always.

As today, I know I'm living, but tomorrow could make me the past, but that, I mustn't fear for I'll know deep in my mind the love of me I've left behind 'cause I'll be loving you always

We all know sometimes life's hates and troubles can make you wish you were born in another time and space. But you can bet your life times that and twice its double that God knew exactly where he wanted you to be placed. So make sure when you say you're in it, but not of it, you're not helping to make this earth a place sometimes called Hell.

Change your words into truth and then change that truth into love, and maybe our children's grandchildren and their great-grandchildren will tell I'll be loving you

Until the rainbow burns the stars out in the sky; until the ocean covers every mountain high; until the dolphin flies and parrots live at sea; until we dream of life and life becomes a dream; until the day is night and night becomes the day; until the trees and seas just up and fly away; until the day that eight times eight times eight is four; until the day that is the day that are no more; until the day the earth starts turning right to left; until the earth just for the sun denies itself; until dear Mother Nature says her work is through; until the day that you are me and I am you; until the rainbow burns the stars out in the sky; until the ocean covers every mountain high; until the dolphin flies and parrots live at sea; until we dream of life and life becomes a dream; until the day is night and night becomes the day; until the trees and seas just up and fly away; until the day that eight times eight times eight is four; until the day that is the day that are no more; until the day the earth starts turning right to left; until the earth just for the sun denies itself; until dear Mother Nature says her work is through; until the day that you are me and I am you; until the rainbow burns the stars out in the sky; until the ocean covers every mountain high; until the dolphin flies and parrots live at sea; until we dream of life and life becomes a dream; until the day is night and night becomes the day; until the trees and seas just up and fly away; until the day that eight times eight times eight is four; until the day that is the day that are no more; until the day the earth starts turning right to left; until the earth just for the sun denies itself; until dear Mother Nature says her work is through; until the day that you are me and I am you...

(Text from lyrics written by Stevie Wonder. Picture Otto Preminger's Porgy & Bess (1959)).

youtube

#Youtube #song lyrics #stevie wonder #love #god #aretha franklin

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bwicblog · 7 years

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Over in #highbloods, Bijoux, Vadaya, Kua, and Merrem sit and discuss pale promiscuisity, the risk of getting scabies, Kua's horrifying teeth, Merrem's horrifying dining habits, and if anyone is allowed in on Bijoux and Vadaya's in-jokes. (No.)

#fantrolls #c:vadaya #c:bijoux #c:kuanfu #c:merrem

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inkyardpress · 7 years

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Read a sneak peak of IF THERE’S NO TOMORROW

PROLOGUE

I couldn’t move, and everything hurt—my skin felt stretched too tight, muscles burned like they’d been lit on fire, and my bones ached deep into the marrow.

Confusion swamped me. My brain felt like it was full of cobwebs and fog. I tried to lift my arms, but they were weighed down, full of lead.

I thought I heard a steady beeping sound and voices, but all of it seemed far away, as if I was on one end of the tunnel and everything else was on the other.

I couldn’t speak. There...there was something in my throat, in the back of my throat. My arm twitched without warning, and there was a tug at the top of my hand.

Why wouldn’t my eyes open?

Panic started to dig in. Why couldn’t I move?

Something was wrong. Something was really wrong. I just wanted to open my eyes. I wanted—

I love you, Lena.

I love you, too.

The voices echoed in my head, one of them mine. Definitely mine, and the other...

“She’s starting to wake up.” A female voice interrupted my thoughts from somewhere on the other side of the tunnel.

Footsteps neared and a male said, “Getting the propofol in now.”

“This is the second time she’s woken up,” the woman replied. “Hell of a fighter. Her mother is going to be happy to hear that.”

Fighter? I didn’t understand what they were talking about, why they thought my mom would be happy to hear this—

Maybe I should drive?

Warmth hit my veins, starting at the base of my skull and then washing over me, cascading through my body, and then there were no dreams, no thoughts and no voices.

CHAPTER ONE

Thursday, August 10

“All I have to say is that you almost had sex with that.”

Scrunching my nose, I stared down at the phone Darynda Jones—Dary for short—had shoved in my face five seconds after walking into Joanna’s.

Joanna’s had been a staple in downtown Clearbrook since I was knee-high to a grasshopper. The restaurant was kind of stuck in the past, weirdly existing somewhere between big-hair bands and the rise of Britney Spears, but it was clean and cozy, and practically everything that came out of the kitchen was fried. Plus it had the best sweet tea in the entire state of Virginia.

“Oh man,” I murmured. “What in the world is he doing?”

“What does it look like?” Dary’s eyes widened behind her white plastic-framed glasses. “He’s basically humping a blow-up dolphin.”

I pressed my lips together, because yep, that was what it looked like.

Whipping her phone out of my face, she cocked her head to the side. “What were you thinking?”

“He’s cute—was cute,” I explained lamely as I glanced over my shoulder. Luckily, no one else was within hearing range. “And I didn’t have sex with him.”

She rolled dark brown eyes. “Your mouth was on his mouth, and his hands—”

“All right.” I threw up my hands, warding off whatever else she was about to say. “I get it. Hooking up with Cody was a mistake. Trust me. I know. I’m trying to erase all of that from my memory and you’re not helping.”

Leaning over the counter I was standing behind, she whispered, “I’ll never let you live that down.” She grinned when my eyes narrowed. “But I understand. He has muscles on top of muscles. He’s kind of dumb but fun.” There was a dramatic pause.

Everything about Dary was dramatic, from the often abhorrently bright clothing she wore to the super-short hair, cropped on the sides and a riot of curls on the top. Right now her hair was black. Last month it was lavender. In two months it would probably be pink.

“And he’s Sebastian’s friend.”

I felt my stomach twist into knots. “That has nothing to do with Sebastian.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re so lucky I actually like you,” I shot back.

“Whatever. You love me.” She smacked her hands down on the counter. “You’re working this weekend, right?”

“Yeah. Why? Thought you were going to DC with your family this weekend.”

She sighed. “A weekend? I wish. We’re going to DC for the whole week. We leave tomorrow morning. Mom can’t wait. I swear she actually has an itinerary for us, like which museums she wants to visit, the expected time in each one, and when we will have our lunches and dinners.”

My lips twitched. Her mom was ridiculously organized, down to labeled baskets for gloves and scarves. “The museums will be fun.”

“Of course you think that. You’re a nerd.”

“No point in denying that. It’s true.” And I had no problem admitting it. I wanted to go to college and study anthropology. Most people would ask what in the hell would you do with a degree in that, but there were a lot of opportunities, like working in forensics, corporate gigs, teaching and more. What I wanted to do actually involved working in museums, so I would’ve loved a trip to DC.

“Yeah. Yeah.” Dary hopped off the red vinyl bar stool. “I got to go before Mom freaks. If I’m five minutes past my curfew, she’ll call the cops, convinced I’ve been abducted.”

I grinned. “Text me later, okay?”

“Will do.”

Waving goodbye, I grabbed the damp rag and ran it along the narrow countertop. Pots clanged together, echoing out from the kitchen, signaling it was close to shutting down for the night.

I could not wait to get home, shower off the scent of fried chicken tenders and burnt tomato soup, and finish reading the latest drama surrounding Feyre and the fae courts. Then I was moving on to that sexy contemporary read I’d seen people talking about in the Facebook book club I lurked in, something about royals and hot brothers. Five of them.

Sign me up for that.

I swore half the money I made waitressing at Joanna’s went to buying books instead of filling my savings account, but I couldn’t help myself.

After wiping around the napkin dispensers, I lifted my chin and blew a strand of brown hair that had escaped my bun out of my face as the bell above the door rang and a slight figure stepped inside.

I dropped the lemony-scented rag with surprise. A breeze could’ve knocked me flat on my face.

For the most part, the only time anyone under the age of sixty came into Joanna’s was on Friday nights after the football games and sometimes Saturday evenings during the summer. Definitely not on Thursday nights.

Joanna’s made its bread and butter off certified AARP members, which was one of the reasons why I started waitressing here during the summer. It was easy and I needed the extra money.

The fact that Skylar Welch was standing just inside Joanna’s, ten minutes before closing, was a shock. She never came in here alone. Never.

Bright headlights pierced the darkness outside. She’d left her BMW running, and I was willing to bet she had a car full of girls just as pretty and perfect as her.

But nowhere near as nice.

I’d spent the last million years harboring a rabid case of bitter jealousy when it came to Skylar. But the worst part was that she was genuinely sweet, which made hating her a crime against humanity, puppies and rainbows.

Tentatively walking forward like she expected the black-and-white linoleum floor to rip open and swallow her whole, she brushed her light brown, blond-at-the-end hair over her shoulder. Even in the horrible fluorescent lights, her summer tan was deep and flawless.

“Hey, Lena.”

“Hey.” I straightened, hoping she wasn’t going to place an order. If she wanted something to eat, Bobby was going to be pissed, and I was going to have to spend five minutes convincing him to cook whatever she wanted. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing much.” She bit down on her glossy bubblegum-pink lip. Stopping next to the red vinyl bar stools, she took a deep breath. “You’re about to close, aren’t you?”

I nodded slowly. “In about ten minutes.”

“Sorry. I won’t take long. I actually wasn’t planning to stop here.” I silently added a sarcastic Really? “The girls and I were heading out to the lake. Some of the guys are having a party, and we drove past here,” she explained. “I thought I’d stop by and see if...if you knew when Sebastian was coming home.”

Of course.

I clenched my jaw shut. It should’ve been obvious the moment Skylar walked through those doors that she was here about Sebastian, because why else would she be talking to me? Yeah, she was sugary sweet, but we didn’t operate in the same circles at school. Half of the time I was invisible to her and her friends.

Which was okay with me.

“I don’t know.” That was a lie. Sebastian was supposed to come home from North Carolina on Saturday morning. He and his parents were visiting his cousins for the summer.

A twisty pang lit up my chest, a mixture of yearning and panic—two feelings I was well acquainted with when it came to Sebastian.

“Really?” Surprise colored her tone.

I fixed a blank expression on my face. “I’m guessing he’ll be back this weekend sometime. Maybe.”

“Yeah. I guess.” Her gaze dropped to the counter as she fidgeted with the hem of her slinky black tank top. “He hasn’t... I haven’t heard from him. I’ve texted and called, but...”

I wiped my hands along my shorts. I had no idea what to say. This was so incredibly awkward. Part of me wanted to be a total bitch and point out that if Sebastian wanted to talk to her, he would’ve responded, but that just wasn’t me.

I was the kind of person who thought things but never said them.

“I think he’s been really busy,” I said finally. “His dad wanted him to check out some of the universities down there and he hadn’t seen his cousins in years.”

Someone out in the BMW slammed on the horn and Skylar looked over her shoulder. My brows rose while I silently prayed that whoever was in the car stayed in that car. A moment passed, and Skylar tucked bone-straight hair behind her ear as she turned back to face me. “Can I ask you one more thing?”

“Sure.” Not like I was actually going to say no even though I was picturing a black hole appearing in the diner and sucking me into its vortex.

A faint smile appeared. “Is he with someone else?”

I stared at her, wondering if I lived through a different history of Sebastian and Skylar.

From the moment she moved to Clearbrook, population meh, she’d attached herself to Sebastian. Not that anyone would blame her. Sebastian came out of his mom’s womb stunning and charming everyone around him. Those two got together in middle school and had dated all through high school, becoming the King and Queen of Coupledom. I’d resigned myself to the fact I’d have to force myself to attend their wedding at some point in the future.

But then spring happened…

“You broke up with him,” I reminded her as gently as I could. “I’m not trying to sound like a bitch, but what does it matter if he’s with someone else?”

Skylar curled a slender arm across her waist. “I know, I know. But it matters. I just... Have you never made a huge mistake?”

“Tons,” I replied drily. The list was longer than my leg and arm combined.

“Well, breaking up with him was one of my mistakes. I think, at least.” She stepped back from the counter. “Anyway, if you see him, can you tell him that I stopped by?”

That was the last thing I wanted to do, but I nodded because I would tell him. Because I was that person.

Eye. Roll.

Skylar smiled then. It was real, and made me feel like I should be a better person or something. “Thanks,” she said. “I guess I’ll see you at school in a week or so? Or at one of the parties?”

“Yep.” I fixed a smile on my face that felt brittle and probably looked half-crazed.

Wiggling her fingers goodbye, Skylar turned and walked toward the door. She reached for the handle but stopped and looked over her shoulder at me. A strange look crossed her face. “Does he know about you?”

The corners of my lips started to turn down. What was there to know about me that Sebastian didn’t already know? I was legit boring. I read more than I actually talked to people and was obsessed with the History Channel and shows like Ancient Aliens. I played volleyball, even though I really wasn’t that good at it. Honestly, I would’ve never started playing if it hadn’t been for Megan conniving me into it when we were freshmen. Not that I didn’t have fun, but yeah, I was as stimulating as white bread.

There were literally no hidden secrets to uncover.

Well, I was scared to death of squirrels. They were like rats with bushy tails, and they were mean. No one knew that, because that was super embarrassing. But I doubted that was what Skylar was talking about.

“Lena?”

Jarred out of my thoughts, I blinked. “What about me?”

She was quiet for a moment. “Does he know you’re in love with him?”

My eyes widened as my mouth dried. I felt my heart stutter and then drop to the pit of my stomach. Muscles locked up in my back and my gut churned as that wall of panic slammed into me. I forced out a wheezing-sounding laugh. “I’m...I’m not in love with him. He’s like a...like a brother I never wanted.”

Skylar smiled slightly. “I’m not trying to get up in your business.”

Sort of sounded like she was.

“I saw the way you would look at him when we were together.” There was no bite to her tone or judgment. “Or maybe I’m wrong.”

“Sorry, you’re wrong,” I told her. I thought I sounded pretty convincing.

So there was something that I thought no one knew about me. One hidden truth that was just as embarrassing as being afraid of squirrels but completely unrelated.

And I’d just lied about it.

CHATPER TWO

I lived about fifteen minutes from the center of downtown Clearbrook, in a neighborhood that was within walking distance of the elementary school where I used to spend my time daydreaming. The streets had a mixture of small and large homes and all sizes in between. My mom and I lived in one of the medium-size ones—a house that Mom could barely afford on her own with her insurance-agent salary. We could’ve moved into something smaller, especially now that Lori had gone away to college and I’d be doing the same in a year, but I didn’t think Mom was ready to let go of the house. Of all the memories and all that should have been instead of what was.

It probably would’ve been for the best for all of us if we had moved, but we hadn’t, and that was a flood under the bridge now.

I pulled into the driveway, passing the used Kia that Mom had parked on the side of the street. I turned off the engine and breathed in the coconut-scented interior of the decade-old silver Lexus that had once belonged to Dad. Mom hadn’t wanted it, and neither did Lori, so I ended up with it.

It wasn’t the only thing Dad had left me.

I grabbed my bag off the passenger seat and climbed out of the car before quietly closing the door behind me. Crickets chirped and a dog barked somewhere on the mostly silent street as I looked over at the larger house next to ours. All the windows were dark and the limbs of the thick maple in the front swayed, rattling the leaves.

A year from now I wouldn’t be standing here, staring at the house next door like a bona fide loser. I’d be away at college, hopefully at the University of Virginia, my top choice. I was still going to carpet-bomb other colleges in the spring just in case I didn’t get in on early admission, but either way, I would be gone from here.

And that would be for the best.

Getting out of this town. Moving away from the same old same old. Putting much-needed distance between the house next door and me.

Tearing my gaze away from the house, I walked up the flagstone sidewalk and went inside. Mom was already in bed, so I tried to be as quiet as possible as I grabbed a soda from the fridge and made my way upstairs to take a quick shower in the hallway bathroom. I could’ve moved into Lori’s bedroom at the front of the house after she left for college. It was larger and had its own bathroom, but my bedroom had privacy and it had an amazing second-story deck that I wasn’t willing to give up for a multitude of reasons.

Reasons I didn’t want to think about too much.

Once inside my bedroom, I set the soda on the nightstand and then dropped the towel by the door. I pulled my favorite sleep shirt of all time from the dresser and slipped it over my head. After turning on the lamp on the nightstand and flooding the bedroom with soft buttery light, I picked up the remote and clicked on the TV, turning to the History Channel with the volume on low.

I glanced at the scribbled-on world map tacked to the wall above my desk. The map to everywhere I planned on eventually visiting. The red and blue circles drawn all over it brought forth a grin as I grabbed a massive red-and-black hardcover from my desk, which was pretty much used only to stash books now. When we first moved in, Dad had built shelves lining the wall where the dresser and TV were, but those bookshelves had been overflowing for years now. Books were stacked in every spare place in the room—in front of my nightstand, on both sides of the dresser and in my closet, taking up more room than the clothes did.

I’d always been a reader and I read a lot, usually sticking to books with some sort of romantic theme and a classic happily-ever-after. Lori used to make fun of me nonstop for it, claiming I had cheesy taste in books, but whatever. At least I didn’t have pretentious taste in books like she did, and sometimes I just wanted to...I don’t know, escape life. To delve headfirst into a world that dealt with real-life issues to open my eyes, or a world that was something else, something completely unreal. One with warring faes or roaming vampire clans. I wanted to experience new things and always, always, reach the last page feeling satisfied.

Because sometimes happily-ever-after existed only in the books I read.

Sitting down on the edge of my bed, I was just about to crack the book open when I heard a soft rapping coming from the balcony doors. For a split second, I froze as my heart rate spiked. Then I hopped to my feet, dropping the book on my bed.

It could be only one person: Sebastian.

After throwing the lock, I opened the doors and there was no stopping the wide smile from racing across my face. Apparently there was also no stopping my body either, because I propelled myself through the threshold, arms and legs moving without thought.

I collided with a taller and much, much harder body. Sebastian grunted as I threw my arms around his broad shoulders and practically face-planted on his chest. I inhaled the familiar fresh scent of detergent his mom had been using since forever.

There wasn’t a moment of hesitation from Sebastian as his arms swept around me.

There never was.

“Lena.” His voice was deep—deeper than I remembered, which was strange, because he’d been gone for only one month. But a month felt like an eternity when you saw someone nearly every day of your life and then suddenly didn’t. We’d kept in touch over the summer, texting and even calling a few times, but it wasn’t the same as having him here.

Sebastian hugged me back as he lifted me up so my feet dangled a few inches off the floor before he settled me back down. He lowered his head as his chest rose sharply against mine, sending a wave of warmth all the way to the tips of my toes.

“You really missed me, huh?” he said, fingers curling through the wet strands of my hair.

Yes. God, I did miss him. I’d missed him way too much. “No.” My voice was muffled against his chest. “I just thought you were the hot guy I waited on tonight.”

“Whatever.” He chuckled against the top of my head. “There was no hot guy at Joanna’s.”

“How do you know?”

“Two reasons. First, I’m the only hot guy that ever steps one foot into that place and I wasn’t there,” he said.

“Wow. Real modest, Sebastian.”

“I’m just speaking the truth.” His tone was light, teasing. “And second, if you thought I was someone else, you wouldn’t still be attached to me like Velcro.”

He had a point.

I pulled back, dropping my arms to my sides. “Shut up.”

He chuckled again. I always loved his little laughs. They were infectious, even when you were in a bad mood. You couldn’t help but smile.

“I thought you weren’t coming back until Saturday,” I said as I stepped inside my bedroom.

Sebastian followed. “Dad decided I needed to be back for the scrimmage game tomorrow night, even though I’m not playing. But he’d already worked everything out with the coach. You know how Dad is.”

His father was the stereotypical football-obsessed father who pushed and pushed and pushed Sebastian when it came to playing ball. So much so that I was downright shocked when Sebastian announced that they would be out of town while there was football practice. Knowing his dad, I bet he had Sebastian up every morning at the butt crack of dawn running and catching.

“Your mom’s asleep?” he asked as I closed the balcony doors.

“Yeah...” I turned around and got a good look at him now that he was standing in the light of my bedroom. As embarrassing as it would be to admit, and I would never admit it, I completely lost my train of thought.

Sebastian was... He was effortlessly beautiful. It wasn’t often you could say that about a guy...or about anyone, to be honest.

His hair was a shade somewhere in between brown and black, cropped close on the sides and longer on the top, falling forward in a messy wave that nearly reached dark brown eyebrows. His lashes were criminally thick, framing eyes that were the color of the deepest denim jeans. His face was all angles, with high cheekbones, a blade of a nose and a hard, defined jaw. A scar cut into his upper lip, just right of a well-formed Cupid’s bow. It had happened our sophomore year during football practice, when he’d taken a hit that had knocked his helmet off. His shoulder pads had caught him in the mouth, splitting the upper lip.

But the scar fit him.

I couldn’t tear my gaze from his basketball shorts and a plain white T-shirt as he glanced around my bedroom. When he was younger, back in middle school, he’d been tall, all arms and legs, but now he’d filled out in every way, with muscles on muscles and sculpting that rivaled Greek marble statues. Years of playing football would do that to a body, I imagined.

Sebastian wasn’t simply the cute boy who lived next door anymore.

We’d been doing this for years, ever since he figured out it was easier than going to my front door. He’d head out his back door and come into our backyard through a gate, and then it was a short walk up the steps that led to the balcony deck.

Our parents knew he could get to my bedroom this way, but we’d grown up together. To them—and to Sebastian—we were like brother and sister.

I also suspected they didn’t know the visits occurred at night. That hadn’t started until we were both thirteen, the first night my Dad was gone.

I leaned against the door, biting the inside of my cheek.

Sebastian Harwell was one of the most popular guys in school, but that wasn’t surprising. Not when he was gorgeous. Talented. Funny. Smart. Nice. He was in his own league.

He was also one of my best friends.

For reasons I didn’t want to examine too closely, he made my bedroom appear smaller when he was in it, the bed too tiny and the air too thick.

“What in the hell are you watching?” he asked, keeping his voice low as he stared at the TV.

I looked at the screen. There was a guy with bushy, crazy-looking brown hair waving his hands around. “Um...Ancient Aliens reruns.”

“All righty, then. Guess it’s less morbid than the forensics show you watch. Sometimes I worry...” Sebastian trailed off as he faced me. His head tilted to the side. “Is that...my shirt?”

Oh. Oh my God.

My eyes widened as I remembered what I was wearing: his old freshman practice shirt. A couple of years ago he left it over here for some reason or another, and I kept it.

Like a stalker.

My cheeks flushed, and the blush raced down the front of my body. And there was a whole lot of body on display. The shirt hung off one shoulder, I had no bra, and I fought the urge to tug on the hem of the shirt.

I told myself not to freak out, because he’d seen me in bathing suits a million times. This was no different.

But it was.

“It is my shirt.” Thick lashes lowered, shielding his eyes as he sat on my bed. “Wondered where that went.”

I didn’t know what to say. I was suddenly petrified, plastered to the door. Did he think my wearing his shirt to sleep was weird? Because yeah, it was kind of weird. I couldn’t deny that.

He threw himself down on the bed, then immediately sat up. “Ow. What the hell?” Rubbing his back, he twisted at the waist. “Jesus.” He picked up my book and held it out. “You’re reading this?”

My eyes narrowed. “Yeah. What’s wrong with that?”

“This thing could double as a weapon. You could hit me over the head with this thing, kill me and then end up on one of those shows you watch on Investigation Discovery.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s a bit excessive.”

“Whatever.” He tossed the book to the other side of the bed. “Were you getting ready for bed?”

“I was getting ready to read before I was rudely interrupted,” I joked. Forcing myself away from the door, I slowly dragged my way over to where he was now stretched out on his side, lying there like it was his bed, cheek resting on his fist. “But someone, no names mentioned, is now here.”

His lips kicked up at the sides. “Want me to leave?”

“No.”

“Didn’t think so.” He patted the spot next to him. “Come talk with me. Tell me everything I’ve missed.”

Ordering myself not to act like a complete dork, I sat on the bed, which wasn’t easy because of the shirt. I so did not want to flash him. Or maybe I did want to flash him. But he probably didn’t want that.

“You haven’t missed much,” I said, glancing at my bedroom door. Thank God I’d closed it already. “Keith’s thrown a couple of parties—”

“You went to them without me?” He pressed his hand to his chest. “My heart. It hurts.”

I grinned at him as I stretched my legs out, crossing them at the ankles. “I went with the girls. I didn’t go by myself. And so what if I did?”

The grin went up a notch. “Did he have any down by the lake?”

Shaking my head, I tugged on the hem of my shirt as I wiggled my toes. “No. Just at his place.”

“Cool.” When I looked over at him, his lashes were lowered. His free hand rested on the bed between us. His fingers were long and slender, skin tan from being outside all the time. “You do anything else? Go out with anyone?”

I stopped moving my toes, and my head swung back toward him. That was a random question. “Not really.”

An eyebrow rose as his gaze lifted to mine.

I quickly changed the subject. “By the way, guess who stopped in at Joanna’s tonight, asking about you?”

“Who wouldn’t stop by asking about me?”

I shot him a bland look.

He grinned. “Who?”

“Skylar. Apparently she’s been messaging you and you’ve been ignoring her.”

“I haven’t been ignoring her.” He reached up, knocking the flop of hair off his forehead. “I just haven’t been responding.”

A frown turned down the corners of my lips. “Isn’t that the same thing?”

“What did she want?” he asked instead of answering.

“To talk to you.” I leaned back against the headboard and grabbed the pillow, thrusting it into my lap. “She said... She asked me to tell you that she was asking for you.”

“Well, look at you, doing as you’re told.” He paused, his grin increasing. “For once.”

I chose to ignore that comment. “She also said she thought breaking up with you was a mistake.”

His head jerked back and that grin faded. “She said that?”

My heart started pounding in my chest. He sounded surprised. Was that a happy surprise or bad one? Did he still care about her? “Yeah.”

Sebastian didn’t move for a second and then shook his head. “Whatever.” His hand moved lightning fast, snatching the pillow out of my lap. He shoved it under his head.

“Help yourself,” I muttered, tugging the shirt back up my shoulder.

“Just did.” He smiled up at me. “You have another freckle.”

“What?” I turned my head to him. Since I could remember, my face looked like it got hit with a freckle cannon. “There is no way you can tell if I have another freckle.”

“I can tell. Lean over. I can even show you where.”

I hesitated, eyeing him.

“Come on,” he coaxed, hooking his finger at me.

Inhaling a shallow breath, I leaned toward him. Hair slipped over my shoulder as he lifted his hand.

That grin was back, playing over his lips. “Right there...” He pressed the tip of his finger to the center of my chin. I sucked in air. His lashes swept down. “That’s a new one.”

For a moment, I couldn’t move. All I could do was sit there, leaning toward him with his finger touching my chin. It was crazy and stupid, because it was just the softest touch, but I felt it in every cell of my body.

He lowered his hand to the space between us again.

I exhaled a shaky breath. “You are... You are so stupid.”

“You love me,” he said.

Yes.

Madly. Deeply. Irrevocably. I could come up with five more adverbs. I’d been in love with Sebastian since, jeez, since he was seven and brought over the black snake he’d found in his yard as a gift. I don’t know why he thought I wanted it, but he’d carried it over and plopped it down in front of me like a cat bringing back a dead bird to its owner.

A really, truly weird gift—the type of gift one dude would give another dude—and that pretty much summed up our relationship right there. I was in love with him, painfully and embarrassingly so, and he mostly treated me like one of his guy friends. Had since the beginning and always would.

“I barely tolerate you,” I said.

Rolling onto his back, he stretched his arms out above his head, clasping his hands together as he laughed. His shirt rose, revealing his flat lower stomach and those two muscles on either side of his hips. I had no idea how he got them.

“Keep lying to yourself,” he said. “Maybe one day you’ll believe it.”

He had no idea how close to the truth he was.

When it came to Sebastian and how I felt about him, all I did was lie.

Lying was another thing Dad had left me.

It was something he’d also been so, so good at.

CHATPER THREE

It was too early for this crap.

Standing behind Megan, I was hoping I could just blend into the wall and be forgotten. Then I could lie down and take a nap. Sebastian had stayed till three in the morning, and I was way too tired to do anything remotely physical.

Coach Rogers, also known as Sergeant Rogers or Lieutenant First Class Jerk Face, crossed his arms. His face held a permanent scowl. I’d never seen him smile. Not even when we made it to the playoffs last year.

He was also the ROTC drill instructor, so he treated us like we were in boot camp. Today was going to be no different.

“Hit the bleachers,” he ordered. “Ten sets.”

Sighing, I reached up and tugged on the tail of my hair, tightening the ponytail as Megan bounced around, facing me. “Whoever finishes last has to buy the other a smoothie after practice.”

The corners of my lips turned down. “That’s not fair. You’re going to finish first.”

“I know.” Giggling, she tore off toward the indoor bleachers.

Reaching down, I tugged on my black practice shorts and then resigned myself to death by bleacher.

The team hit the metal seats. Sneakers pounded as we worked our way up. At the top row, I smacked the wall as expected. If we didn’t do it, we’d be starting all over. Back down I went, gaze focused on the rows in front of me as my knees and arms pumped. By the fifth round, the muscles in my legs burned, along with my lungs.

I almost died.

More than once.

Once it was over, my legs felt like jelly as I joined Megan on the court. “I’d like a strawberry banana smoothie,” she said, her face flushed pink. “Thank you.”

“Shut up,” I muttered breathlessly as I glanced over to the bleachers. At least I wasn’t last. I twisted back to her. “I’m getting McDonald’s.”

Megan snorted as she fixed her shorts. “Of course you are.”

“At least I’m eating eggs,” I reasoned. I’d probably have a hell of a lot toner legs and stomach if I got that smoothie after practice instead of the Egg McMuffin and hash brown I was planning to do bad, bad things to.

She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think those kind of eggs count.”

“That’s sacrilegious to even utter.”

“I don’t think you know what that word means,” she replied.

“I don’t think you know when to shut up.”

Tipping her blond head back, Megan laughed. Sometimes I wondered how we’d become such close friends. We were polar opposites. She didn’t read unless it was flirting tips in Cosmo or the weekly horoscopes in the magazines her mom had around the house. I, of course, read every book I got my hands on. I was going to be applying for financial aid, and she had a major college fund. Megan ate McDonald’s only if she’d been drinking, which wasn’t often, and I ate McDonald’s so much I was on a first-name basis with the lady who worked the window in the morning.

Her name was Linda.

Megan was more outgoing than me, more willing to try new things, while I was the person always weighing the pros and cons before doing something, finding more cons than there were pros to almost every activity. Megan seemed years younger than seventeen, oftentimes acting like a hyper kitten climbing curtains. She was downright goofy half the time. But what seemed like cluelessness was only surface deep. She was an ace at math without even having to try. On the outside, she appeared to take nothing seriously, but she was as bright as she was bubbly.

We both planned—or hoped—to get into UVA, prayed that we’d get housed together and strived to give Dary the hardest possible time, with love, every day of our lives.

Deciding I was going to order two hash browns and eat them right in front of her face, I cut in front of her as we walked to where our captain was waiting.

Practice was grueling.

Since it was preseason and a Friday, it was all calisthenics. Lunges. Squats. Suicide sprints. Jumps. Nothing made me feel more out of shape than these kinds of practices. I was dragging ass by the time we wrapped up, sweating in places I didn’t even want to think about.

“Seniors, I need you guys to stick around for a few minutes,” Coach Rogers called out. “Everyone else can head out.”

Megan shot me a look as we lumbered to our feet. My stomach ached a little from the sit-ups, so I concentrated on not bending over and crying like a teething baby.

“Our first game is a couple of weeks off, as is our first tournament, but I want you all to make sure you realize how important this season is.” Coach straightened his cap, pulling the bill down. “This isn’t just your final year. This is the time that scouts will be coming to the tournaments. Many of the colleges here in Virginia and surrounding states are looking for freshman players.”

Pressing my lips together, I loosely crossed my arms. A volleyball scholarship would be sweet. I wanted one. Was going to gun for it, but there were better girls on the team, including Megan.

The likelihood of both of us landing positions at UVA was slim.

“I cannot stress how important your performance will be this season,” Coach droned on. His dark gaze lingered on me in a way that made me feel like he’d noticed just how crappy my sprints had been. “You’re not going to get a do-over. You’re not going to get second chances to impress these scouts. There isn’t a next year.”

Megan’s gaze slid toward mine and her brows lifted about an inch. This was a wee bit dramatic.

Coach went on and on about good life choices or something, and then he was done. Dismissed, our group made our way toward the remaining burgundy-and-white gym bags.

Megan bumped her shoulder into mine as she reached to grab her water from the top of her bag. “You kind of sucked today.”

“Thanks,” I replied, mopping the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand. “I feel so much better after hearing that.”

She grinned around the rim of the bottle, but before she could respond, the coach yelled out my last name. “Oh crap,” Megan whispered, widening her eyes.

Swallowing a groan, I pivoted around and jogged over to where he was standing near the net we often had to repeatedly jump in front of. When Coach used your last name, it was a lot like your mom using your full name.

Coach Rogers’s neatly trimmed beard was more salt than pepper, but the man was fit and more than intimidating. He could run those bleachers in half the time Megan could, and right now he looked like he wanted to order me to do another set of ten. If he did, it would be RIP Lena.

“I was watching you today,” he said.

Oh no.

“Didn’t look like your head was in practice.” He crossed his arms, and I knew I was in for it. “Are you still working at Joanna’s?”

Tensing because we’d had this conversation before, I nodded. “I closed last night.”

“Well, that explains a lot. You know how I feel about you working when you have practice,” he said.

Yes, I did know. Coach Rogers didn’t think anyone who played sports should work, because work was a distraction. “It’s just during the summer.” That was kind of a lie, because I planned to work weekends during the school year. I needed to keep my McDonald’s fund fluffy, but he really didn’t need to know any of that. “I’m sorry about practice. I’m just a little tired—”

“A lot tired by the looks of it,” he cut in with a sigh. “You were forcing yourself through every set.”

I guess I wasn’t going to get credit for that effort.

He lifted his chin and stared down his nose at me. Coach was a beast during practice and the games, but most days I liked him. He cared about his players. Really cared. Last year, he organized a fund-raiser for a student whose family lost everything in a house fire. I knew he was against animal cruelty, because I saw him wearing ASPCA shirts. But right now, in this moment, I did not like the man at all.

“Look,” he continued, “I know things are tight at home, especially with your father... Well, with all of that.”

Clenching my teeth until my jaw ached, I fixed a blank expression on my face. Everyone knew about my dad. It sucked living in a small town.

“And you and your mom could use the extra cash—I get that—but you really need to look at the big picture here. Take these practices more seriously, dedicate more time, and you can up your playing this year. Maybe catch the eye of a scout,” he said. “Then you get a scholarship. Less aid. That’s what you need to be focused on—your future.”

Even though I knew he meant well, I wanted to tell him that my mom and I and my future were really none of his business. But I didn’t say that. I just shifted my weight from one foot to the next, picturing the greasy hash brown in my head.

Oh my God, I was going to smother that baby with ketchup.

“You have talent.”

I blinked. “Really?”

His expression softened a bit as he clapped a hand down on my shoulder. “I think you have a shot at landing a scholarship.” He squeezed gently. “Just keep your eye on tomorrow. Work for it, and there’ll be nothing standing in the way. You understand?”

“I do.” I glanced over to where Megan waited. “A scholarship would be... It would help a lot.”

A way lot.

It would be nice not to spend a decade or more after college working myself out of student-loan hell I’d already been warned about.

“Then make it happen, Lena.” Coach Rogers dropped his hand. “You’re the only person standing in your way.”

* * *

“I don’t care what you say, Chloe was the better dancer!” Megan shrieked from where she was perched on the edge of my bed. I expected her hair to rise and turn into snakes at any given moment, to snatch out the eyeballs of anyone who disagreed with her.

Okay, maybe I was reading way too much fantasy lately.

“We seriously can’t be friends if you disagree!” she added vehemently.

“It’s not a question of who is a better dancer, but I personally think you’re going with the ‘blondes have to stick together’ route.” Abbi was sprawled on her belly on top of my bed. Her hair was a mess of tight, dark curls. “And honestly, I’m Team Nia.”

Megan frowned as she threw up her hands. “Whatever.”

My phone rang on my desk, and when I saw who it was, I sent the call to voice mail without even thinking twice.

Not today, Satan.

“Y’all really need to stop watching reruns of Dance Moms.” I turned back to my closet and restarted my search for a pair of shorts to wear on my shift. Smothering a yawn, I wished I had time for a nap, but Megan had come over after practice and I had only about an hour before I had to head to work.

“You look tore up from the floor up,” Abbi commented, and it took me a moment to realize she was talking about me. “Did you not sleep last night?”

“Wow. Thanks,” I responded, frowning. “Sebastian came home last night, so he stopped over and stayed for a while.”

“Ooh, Sebastian,” cooed Megan, clapping her hands. “Did he keep you up all night? Because if so, I’m going to be upset that you didn’t mention this earlier. I’m also going to want details. All the dirty, juicy details.”

Abbi snorted. “I seriously doubt there is any juicy or dirty details.”

“I don’t know if I should be offended by that statement or not,” I said.

“I just can’t see that happening,” Abbi replied with a lopsided shrug.

“I don’t know how you spend so much time with him and not want to jump on him like a rabid mountain lion in heat,” Megan mused. “I wouldn’t be able to control myself.”

I leaned my head back. “Wow.” My friends were kind of weird. Specifically Megan. “Aren’t you back with Phillip?”

“Kind of? Not sure. We’re talking.” Megan giggled. “Even if I were back with him, it doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate that fine specimen of a guy living next door to you.”

“Have at it,” I muttered.

“Have you noticed how hot people flock together? Like all of Sebastian’s friends—Keith, Cody, Phillip. All of them are hot. It’s the same with Skylar and her friends. Kind of like birds migrating south for the winter,” Megan continued.

Abbi murmured under her breath, “What the hell?”

“Anyway, I’m not ashamed of my not-so-friendly thoughts toward Sebastian. Everyone has a crush on him,” Megan said. “I have a crush on him. Abbi has a crush on him—”

“What?” shouted Abbi. “I don’t have a crush on him.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You have the hots for Keith. My bad.”

I twisted halfway to see Abbi’s reaction to that and I was not let down.

Abbi lifted up onto her elbows, turning her head toward Megan. If looks could kill, Megan’s entire family would’ve just died.

“I might seriously hit you, and since you weigh, like, eighty pounds wet and I have about a hundred on you, I’m going to snap you like a KitKat bar.”

I grinned as I turned back to my closet and dropped to my knees, rummaging through the books and jeans on the bottom of the narrow closet. “Keith’s cute, Abbi.”

“Yeah, he’s hot, but he’s also the school bike and everyone has had a ride,” she commented.

“I haven’t,” Megan said.

“Me neither.” Finding the cutoffs, I snagged them off the floor and rose. “Keith has been trying to get with you since you developed breasts.”

“Which was, like, the fifth grade.” Megan laughed as Abbi threw my poor pillow at her. “What? It’s the truth.”

Abbi shook her head. “Y’all are crazy. I don’t think Keith is into girls darker than your lily-white asses.”

I snorted as I dropped into the desk chair. The back bumped into the edge of the desk, rattling the stack of books. “I’m pretty sure Keith is into girls of all skin tones, shapes and sizes and then some,” I said, bending over and grabbing the pens and highlighters that had fallen from the desktop.

Abbi huffed. “Whatever. We are not talking about my nonexistent attraction to Keith.”

I turned to Abbi. “You know, Skylar stopped into Joanna’s last night and asked if Sebastian knew I was in love with him.” I forced out a casual-sounding laugh. “That’s crazy, right?”

Megan’s blue eyes widened to the size of planets. Not Pluto...more like Jupiter. “What?”

Abbi was also paying attention. “Details, Lena.”

I filled them in on what Skylar had to say last night. “It was just really weird.”

“Well, obviously she wants to get back with him.” Abbi looked thoughtful. “But why would she ask you that? Even if it was true, why would you admit that to her, his ex-girlfriend?”

“Right? I was thinking about that earlier.” I toed myself around in a slow circle on the chair. “I’ve been around her a lot because of her dating Sebastian, but it’s not like we’re friends. I wouldn’t admit my deepest secrets to her.”

Abbi tilted her head to the side and looked like she wanted to say something but kept quiet.

“Oh! I almost forgot,” Megan exclaimed as she dropped her feet to the floor, clearly on to the next topic. Pink flooded her heart-shaped face. “I heard that Cody and Jessica are seeing each other again.”

“Not surprised.” Cody Reece was the star quarterback. Sebastian was the star running back. Friendship made in football heaven right there. And Jessica was, well... She wasn’t particularly the nicest person I’d ever met.

“Didn’t Cody try to get with you at Keith’s party back in July?” Abbi asked, rolling onto her back.

I shot her a death glare more powerful than the Death Star’s laser. “I had forgotten all about that, so thanks for bringing that back up.”

“You’re welcome,” she quipped.

“I remember that party. Cody was super drunk.” Megan started twisting her hair in a rope, which she’d loved doing since we were kids. “He probably doesn’t even remember hitting on you, but you better hope Jessica doesn’t find out. That girl is territorial. She will make your senior year a living hell.”

I wasn’t really worried about Jessica, because, logically, how could she be that upset over Cody hitting on me at a party when they weren’t even together? That didn’t even make sense.

Megan cursed, jumping to her feet. “I was supposed to meet my mom ten minutes ago. She’s taking me back-to-school shopping, which really means she’s going to try to dress me like I’m still five.” She picked up her purse and then her gym bag. “By the way, it’s Friday, and don’t think I’ve forgotten my weekly reminder.”

I sighed heavily. Here we go...

“It’s time for you to get a boyfriend. Anyone really, at this point. And a real one, too. Not a book boyfriend.” She walked to my bedroom door.

I threw up my hands. “Why are you so obsessed with the idea of me having a boyfriend?”

“Why are you so obsessed with me?” mimicked Abbi.

I ignored it. “You do remember that I had one, right?”

“Yes.” She raised her chin. “Had. As in past tense.”

“Abbi doesn’t have a boyfriend!” I pointed out.

“We’re not talking about her. But I know why you aren’t interested in anyone.” She tapped the side of her head. “I know.”

“Oh my God.” I shook my head.

“Heed my words. Live a little. If you don’t, when you’re thirty and living alone with a ton of cats and eating tuna fish for dinner, you’ll regret it. Not even the good tuna fish. The generic kind steeped in oil. All because you spend every waking minute reading books while you could be out there, meeting the future daddy to your babies.”

“That’s a little excessive,” I murmured, side-eyeing her. “And what’s wrong with generic tuna fish in oil?” I looked over at Abbi. “It tastes better than when it’s soaked in water.”

“Agreed,” she replied.

“And I’m really not interested in meeting my future baby daddy,” I added. “I don’t even think I want kids. I’m seventeen. And kids weird me out.”

“You disappoint me,” Megan stated. “But I still love you, because I’m that good of a friend.”

“What would I do without you?” I gave myself a twirl in the chair.

“You’d be a basic bitch.” Megan gave me a cheeky grin.

I pressed my hand to my heart. “Ouch.”

“I’ve got to go.” She wiggled her fingers. “Text ya later.”

Then she flounced out of the room. Literally. Head back, arms flailing and prancing like a show horse.

* * *

“Talk about basic.” Abbi shook her head as she stared at the empty doorway.

“I will never understand her fascination with my singleness.” I looked at Abbi. “Like, at all.”

“Who knows with her.” Abbi paused. “So... I think my mom is screwing around on my dad.”

My jaw dropped. “Wait, what?”

Abbi stood and planted her hands on her hips. “Yeah. You heard me right.”

For a moment I didn’t know what to say and it took a couple of seconds to get my tongue to work. “Why do you think that?”

“Remember how I was telling you that her and Dad had been arguing more lately?” She walked over to the window that overlooked the backyard. “They try to keep it quiet so my brother and I don’t hear it, but it’s been getting pretty heated and Kobe is having nightmares now.”

Abbi’s brother was only five or six years old. Rough.

“I think they’ve been fighting over her working so late at the hospital and, you know, why she’s working so late. And I mean late, Lena. Like, how often are there call-ins that make other nurses stay? Is my dad that stupid?” She turned from the window, came back over to the bed and plopped down on the edge. “I was still up when she came home Wednesday night, four hours after her shift would’ve ended, and she looked a hot mess. Her hair was sticking up in every direction, clothes all wrinkled like she rolled out of someone’s bed and came home.”

My chest squeezed. “Maybe it was just a rough night at work for her.”

She shot me a bland look. “She smelled like cologne, and not the kind my dad wears.”

“That’s not...good.” I leaned forward in the chair. “Did she say anything to you when you saw her?”

“See, that’s the thing. She looked guilty. Wouldn’t look me in the eye. Couldn’t get out of the kitchen quick enough, and the first thing she did when she got upstairs was shower. And the whole showering thing might not be abnormal, but when you add all of that together...”

“Damn. I don’t know what to say,” I admitted, twisting my shorts in my hands. “Are you going to say anything?”

“What would I say? ‘Oh, hey, Dad, I think Mom is slutting around on you, so you might want to check on that’? I don’t see that ending well. And what if, by a snowball’s chance in hell, I’m wrong?”

I cringed. “Good point.”

She rubbed her hands over her thighs. “I don’t know what happened between them. They were happy up until about a year ago and it’s just all gone to shit.” Pushing her curls out of her face, she shook her head. “I just needed to tell someone.”

I toed my chair closer to her. “Understandable.”

A brief smile appeared. “Can we change the subject? I really don’t want to deal with this longer than five minutes at a time.”

“Sure.” I got that more than anyone else. “Whatever you want.”

She drew in a deep breath and then seemed to shake out all those thoughts. “So... Sebastian came home early.”

That wasn’t necessarily the conversation I wanted to go back to, but if Abbi wanted to use me as a distraction, I could be that for her. I shrugged and let my head fall back at the same moment my stupid heart did a giddy little flip.

“Were you happy to see him?” she asked.

“Sure,” I replied, going for my usual bored tone when talking about Sebastian.

“Where’s he at now?”

“At the school. They’ve got a scrimmage game tonight. He’s not playing, but they’ve probably got him practicing.”

“You’re working this weekend?” she asked.

“Yeah, but this is my last weekend for a while, since school starts. Why? You want to do something?”

“Of course. Better than being stuck on babysitting duty at home and listening to my parents bitching at one another.” Abbi nudged my leg with her sandaled foot. “You know, I hate to even point this out, but do you think Skylar might’ve had a point asking—”

“About me and Sebastian? No. What? That’s stupid.”

A doubtful look crossed her face. “You don’t love Sebastian at all?”

My heart started pounding in my chest. “Of course I love him. I love you and Dary, too. I even love Megan.”

“But you didn’t love Andre—”

“No. I didn’t.” Closing my eyes, I thought about my ex even though I really didn’t want to. We’d dated almost all last year, and Abbi was right: Andre was awesome and nice, and I felt like a jerk for ending things with him. But I tried, really tried, even by taking it to the next level—the level—but my interest just wasn’t there. “It wasn’t working out.”

She was quiet for a moment. “You know what I think?”

I let my arms fall to my sides. “Something wise and sage?”

“Those two words mean the same thing, idiot.” She kicked my leg again. “If you’re not being entirely honest with yourself about Sebastian, then applying to UVA is a smart idea.”

“What does he have to do with UVA?”

She tilted her head to the side. “Are you saying it’s a coincidence that the one school that’s not high on his list is the one school you’re gunning for?”

Stunned into silence, I wasn’t sure what to say. Abbi had never insinuated that I was interested in Sebastian beyond being friends before. I was confident I’d kept that embarrassing yearning desire well hidden, but obviously not as well as I believed. First Skylar, who really didn’t know me, and now Abbi, who did?

“UVA is an awesome school and has an amazing anthropology department.” I opened my eyes and my gaze fixed on the cracked plaster of the ceiling.

Abbi’s voice softened. “You’re not...hiding again, are you?”

The back of my throat burned as I pressed my lips together. I knew what she was talking about, and it had nothing to do with Sebastian. It had everything to do with the missed call earlier. “No,” I told her. “I’m not.”

She was quiet for a moment and then said, “Are you really going to wear those shorts to work? You look like a low-rent Daisy Duke in them.”

* * *

At Keith’s. You coming out?

The text from Sebastian came just as I was pulling into my driveway after my Friday shift. While I normally didn’t pass up an opportunity to hang with Sebastian, I was feeling a little weird after the whole conversation with Abbi. Plus I was exhausted, so I was ready to climb under the covers and lose myself for a little while in a book.

Staying in tonight, I texted back.

He promptly replied with the smiling poop emoticon.

Grinning, I replied with Turd.

The triple dots appeared and then, You going to be up later?

Maybe. I climbed out of the car and headed toward the front door.

Then maybe I’ll swing by.

My stomach dipped as it twisted. I knew what that meant. Sometimes Sebastian snuck over really late, usually when something was going down at home he didn’t want to deal with...that something usually being his dad.

And I knew, I knew deep down, that even with all the years he’d been dating Skylar, he’d never done that with her. When something was troubling him, he sought me out, and I knew I shouldn’t have been thrilled about that, but I was. And I held that knowledge close to my heart.

I followed the low hum of the TV, passing through the small entry room that was overflowing with umbrellas and sneakers and the small table piled with unopened mail.

The glow of the TV cast soft, flickering light over the couch. Mom was curled up on her side, one hand shoved under a throw pillow. She was out cold.

Stepping around the love seat, I grabbed the afghan off the back of the couch and carefully draped it over Mom. As I straightened, I thought about what Abbi had told me earlier. I had no idea if her mom was cheating on her dad, but I thought about my mom and how she would’ve never cheated on Dad. The mere thought almost made me laugh, because she loved him like the sea loved the sand. He’d been her universe, her sun that rose in the morning and the moon that took over the night sky. She loved Lori and me, but she had loved Dad more.

But Mom’s love wasn’t enough. My and my sister’s love was never enough. In the end, Dad still left us. All of us.

And, God help me, I was a lot like my father.

I looked like him, except I was more of an...average version. Same mouth. Same strong nose that was almost too big for my face. Same hazel-colored eyes, more brown than any other interesting shade. My hair matched his, a brown that sometimes turned auburn in the sunlight, and it was on the long side, falling past my breasts. My body was neither thin nor overweight. I was somewhere stuck in the middle. I wasn’t tall or short. I was just...

Average.

Not like my mom, though. She was stunning, all blond hair and flawless skin. Even though life had gotten way harder in the last five years, she persevered and that made her all the more beautiful. Mom was strong. She never gave up, no matter what, even if there were moments where she looked like she just might want to pack it all in.

For Mom, our love was enough to keep going.

Lori got the blessed side of our genetics, taking after Mom. Blonde bombshell to the max, with all the curves and pouty lips to back it up.

But the similarities ran deeper than the physical for me.

I was a runner, too, and not the healthy kind. When things got too rough, I checked out, just like Dad had. I made an art form of looking toward tomorrow instead of focusing on today.

But I was also like my mother. She was a chaser. Always running after someone who didn’t even realize you were there. Always waiting for someone who was never going to come back.

It was like I ended up with the worst qualities of my parents.

Heaviness settled in my chest as I went upstairs and got ready for bed. This November would be four years since Dad left. I couldn’t believe it had already been that long. Still felt like yesterday in a lot of ways.

Throwing back the covers on my bed, I started to climb in but stopped when my gaze fell on the doors leading out to the balcony. I should lock the doors. Sebastian probably wouldn’t stop by, and besides, even if he did, that...that wasn’t good.

Maybe that was why no one else interested me

Why Andre hadn’t kept my interest.

Scrubbing my hands down my face, I sighed. Maybe I was just being dumb. How I felt about Sebastian couldn’t change our relationship. It shouldn’t. Putting a little distance between us, setting up some boundaries, wouldn’t be a bad idea. It was probably the smartest and healthiest thing to do, because I didn’t want to be a runner or a chaser.

I was moving off the bed before I realized what I was doing.

I walked over to the doors and unlocked them with a soft click.

Want more? Click here to order a copy!

#book excerpt #ya books #bookworm #ya reads #jennifer l. armentrout

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eriquebittle · 7 years

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part 2 of 3rd grade teacher nursey?? yes?? ok

(part one)

calls all of his kiddos “little bro” regardless of gender. the occasional “little dude” or “little man”

the first time he wears a short sleeve dress shirt to school all the kids are obsessed with his tattoo

“mr n has a forever drawing on his arm :000″

hes the ultimate kid whisperer. anything these kids throw at him? hes got it covered

kids are fighting about who gets the 64 pack of crayons. jeremy got them yesterday and now he wants them again?? theres like 4 other kids who want to use them jeremy dont be a dick

nursey’s like “can i give you guys a special project? i need a big drawing to put up on the wall. but you all have to help and you all need to use the crayons”

jeremy, immediately distributing the crayons and getting a big ass piece of paper: ok mr n!!!!!!

his kids are so funny theyre all like little adults and that’s exactly how he treats them!! miss him with that corny “singing songs about sharing and rainbows” bullshit thats for kindergarteners and he knows they all know that

if the kids are fighting they turn the class into a courtroom and head straight to arbitration. jenny pulls the receipts from lunch yesterday when kate said her butterfly scrunchie was ugly. nursey is impressed

one kid is super into reading and writing poetry and reminds him of when he was a little 9 year old poetry ho, so he brings in some of his own poetry books to let her borrow and she reads them in like 2 days

some of the other kids are into it too and ask to read the books, so he brings in some of his lighter poetry collections from home and the kids set up a “mr n’s library” shelf where all the classroom books are

most of his books are from high school/college so they’re too hard for 3rd graders, but he prints out some of his favorites that his moms read to him when he was little

they have recess inside when it snows and they start reading poems to each other out loud, nursey is like !!! bc holy shit theyre really showing an interest in this!! it’s like a mini poetry slam and its the coolest thing hes ever seen

a lot of the classrooms have little bulletin boards outside with a picture of each kid and nursey’s board is all self portraits he had them draw, but the only rule was they had to draw themselves doing what they want to do when they grow up

so he has a bunch of princesses and racecar drivers and dolphin trainers (and one real estate lawyer...marcus knows what he wants)

he gets so may drawings of him and he saves all of them

he has a little folder in his desk with lie 15 drawings of him at the beach, in a hockey uniform, riding a shark in space (his personal favorite) etc

also strict no name calling policy

the kids p much adhere to this bc disappointing mr. n feels like disappointing your dad except 4000x worse bc mr. n is also like ur dad and best friend and your older brothers cool friend all in one

hes that Cool Teacher that everyone has an inside joke with

he loves it

goes on insane vacations during winter break (this year his mom had a conference in dubai so he and his other mom surprised her there) and the kids make him show the pics he took from the trip

this clumsy fuck leaves his lesson plan at home so Hero Boyfriend justin oluransi saves the day and drops it off in nursey’s classroom 15 minutes after class starts, and gives him a kiss on the cheek before leaving

nineteen 9 year olds all at once: awww

watching nursey lead his kids through the hallway and out to the buses is so cute bc he looks like hes herding a bunch of little ducklings around

thursdays are his days out on the playground as a monitor and he starts a co-ed game of street hockey

by the third week, most of the playground is either playing in or watching the game

nursey is the ref but will play occasionally; when he plays he ends up with a kid sitting on each of his feet clinging to his leg to slow him down

“this is definitely a penalty, little man”

also he always brings extra juiceboxes and snacks in his bag in case he sees anyone without a lunch/snack

one kid always sits alone at lunch and reads, so nursey sits with her and they talk about whatever book shes reading that day

he lives in the same town he teaches so he’ll run into kids and parents at the grocery store, park, etc

before he even sees them he can hear a little “mr n!!!” from a few yards away and his heart does a lil flip bc!! kiddo!!

(oh shit what if he wasnt dating ransom yet but had his kid in class so he was just Hot Dad At Stop & Shop...interesting concept)

ANYWAYS parent teacher conferences were hella stressful his first year (”what if they dont like me what if they get mad at me for teaching wrong”)

by his second/third year? hes every parents fave and he knows it

hes also super pumped for them now bc he has the chance to tell these parents how awesome their kids are

the end of the school year? exciting but also sad as hell bc hes so close with these 20 little humans who trust him to teach them multiplication and how to write haikus

they surprise him with a big ass scrapbook of pics of them on field trips and stuff and add little letters at the end about how awesome 3rd grade was with him

he cries and says he’ll keep it forever (they made him pinky promise)

tldr: you know miss honey from matilda? thats nursey as an elementary school teacher. thank u for your time

#this was wayy longer than the first part but THERES SO MUCH TO COVER #im writing my graduate thesis on nursey as a teacher bye #nursey #omgcp #jordan.txt

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millie-cooper · 6 years

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Tahiti – Welcome to paradise.

Descending into the French Polynesian capital, Papeete, we were greeted to the strumming ukuleles and garlands of heavenly scented flowers. The general arrival time in Papeete is around 5am, which means in addition to our tropical welcome from the locals, the island bestows its own gift of colour upon us. The fiery tangerine sunrise. As the famous painter Gauguin once said of the island, “Everything in the landscape blinded me, dazzled me” and he couldn’t have been more accurate.

Tahiti has become somewhat of a beautiful stepping-stone for travellers heading to the more remote French Polynesian islands, the outer islands. If there is a paradise on earth today, that’s where you will find it. Tahiti, however, is worth a tour. The mighty forest-cloaked mountain island and the black-sand beaches are just the beginning. Gracefully positioned way above sea level and tucked so perfectly within the clutches of the rugged mountains, waterfalls hide. You have to be prepared to explore the inner depths of the island if you want to witness theses hidden gushing spectacles. Once found, you will find yourself succumb to the magic of Tahiti.

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Moorea

In the distance from Papeete, Moorea rises majestically out of the ocean. Crowned by clouds, this enchanting island is a combination of emerald green pinnacles and lagoons with fifty shades of blue. Home to stingrays, sharks and turtles, the enchanting beauty Moorea possesses is truly unforgettable. The journey across from Papeete via the fast ferry was as-though Moorea had summoned her most beautiful and wild marine life to personally escort us across the south seas. Humpback whales danced in the distance as dolphins played carelessly alongside us. The life force and spirit that surrounds and connects all living things in the Islands of Tahiti, known as ‘Mana’ to the Tahitian people, consumes us. You can see it, touch it, taste it and feel it, and we knew as we made our way across the sea we had surrendered to its effortless magic. As we approached the pass its soon became apparent the spirit of Moorea was just as welcoming as the lucky Tahitians that get to call this island home.

As we drove around the islands edge with each bend unravelling a new and alluring sight, we had the opportunity to fully immerse ourselves in true Tahitian culture. Tattooed locals walked barefoot along the roadside, usually with a brood of smiling children skipping along in toe. Quaint villages, boutiques and restaurants lined the roadside with fresh brightly coloured, exotic fruits sprawled across stalls. Uninhabited beaches and secluded coves seize the edge of the shady lagoon adding to Moorea’s unique charm. We also couldn’t help but be transported through the luscious smell of the islands flowers. A combination of the locally known ‘Tiare

Tahiti’ (Tahitian Gardenia), Frangipani, Hibiscus and Jasmin (just to name a few) fill the air with their sweet perfume.

We decided to rent a villa directly on the beach as we were joined by family and friends to celebrate the birthday of my boyfriend Jean, who is actually native Tahitian. We spent our weekend snorkelling the picture perfect lagoon, free-diving with the local black-tip sharks and spearfishing for our supper. While French Polynesia is more typically identified as the place of scorching romance and delicious Mai-tai cocktails, it quite evidently offers so much more. An adventure packed tropical paradise that consists of 118 islands screaming out to be explored. With the advantage of travelling with native Tahitians, I was able to experience authentic Polynesian life in its most natural form.

With the overwhelming desire to see more of what Moorea possessed, we made our way inland to the foot of Mount Rotui, to saddle up and explore the pineapple fields and Opunohu Valley. Trekking through the unspoilt setting, surrounded by nature via horse-back is undeniably transcending. The volcanic mountains, cascading waterfalls and panoramic views are as bewitching as the legend of the pierced mountain. According to ancient myth, the pierced hole which can still to this day be seen at the top of Mount Mouaputa, is a result of Hiro, God of thieves, planning to steal one of Moorea’s three mountains, Rotui, and take it to Raiatea. When warned of Hiro’s evil intent, Pai – who was half god, half man and known to have incredible strength – decided to keep close watch from Point Tata’a on Tahiti. When the thieves attempted to steal the mountain, Pai threw his spear through the top of Mount Mouaputa, awakening the roosters who sounded the alarm and drove away the unwelcome visitors. However, the thieves still managed to steal a piece of Mount Rotui and with it, some toa trees, which can be found isolated on a mountain on Raiatea. Moorea’s timeless beauty and virtually untouched scenery are what have lead to her obtaining her status as the ‘Enchantress’.

Bora Bora

50minutes North-West of Tahiti, lies the ‘Jewel of the Seas’, Bora Bora. From the moment we began descending, the love-affaire with the island started. The views of the translucent lagoon caressing the barrier-reef were merely the welcoming party for the main star, the iconic Mount Otemanu. The remnants of the extinct volcano which rises in two peaks from the centre of the island are as bewitching as the colour-saturated dream Bora Bora haemorrhaged. Emeralds, jades and sapphires at dusk to the bleeding apricots and pinks of dawn. We made our way from the tiny airport via boat transfer to our hotel. Slicing through the lagoon as if it were silk, mesmerised by the unravelling shades of glistening turquoise and teal, Jean and I were like a pair of giddy teenagers as we were overcome with pure ecstasy. Nestled away on Motu Piti Aau, lied the Intercontinental Resort and Thalasso Spa, which was to be our home for the next 3 nights. Water-villas perched on stilts stretched out into the distance as

if reaching out to Mount Otemanu. Each suite with a floor to ceiling window at the end of a king-size bed, as if a huge piece of art were hung ensuring you woke to the sight of the sun piercing through the lagoon. The glass opening set into the floor allowed you to fully capture the remarkable city of brightly coloured marine life right below. This idyllic retreat was as though someone was vicariously photoshopping every angle right before our eyes. How is it possible that somewhere so incredibly flawless actually exists?

Taking a moment to simply stand still, we were certain our eyes must have been deceiving us. The mesmerising beauty of which Bora Bora radiated so effortlessly was exactly what dreams of paradise consisted of.

This ultra luxurious slice of heaven wasn’t perhaps, the luxurious which you would expect from the Maldives or the French Riviera, this was the luxury of total isolation, freedom and connecting to the spirit of living things in a totally natural and unspoilt speck in the South Seas, this paradise was truly spellbinding. It also offered so much more than sipping fresh coconuts and basking under the tropical sun. Diving with sharks, feeding stingrays, snorkelling, exploring the lagoon and reef via kayak or Va’a (outrigger canoe) are merely a few of the more adventurous pursuits which are on offer. We spent our mornings, after overindulging in the breakfast buffet on the local delicacy, ‘Poisson Cru’, fresh raw fish in citrus juice and coconut milk, paddle boarding and snorkelling with the the rainbow coloured marine life. We decided I would experience my first Scuba dive here in Bora Bora, Jean being somewhat of a professional merman, having grown up in Tahiti was adamant I experience the world below the waves. This underwater city was overrun with giant napoleon wrasses, hawksbill turtles, eagle rays, angelfish, banner fish, parrotfish and pink soft anemones. The marine life was as friendly as the locals on land. Intrigued by our presence they joined us as the current gently washed us along the powdery sand of the lagoon floor. We could feel ‘Mana’ was just as alive down here as it was up above. As I glanced up I could see the sun rays shooting through the glass-like water, it was then I felt a surge of emotion. This wasn’t a fairy-tale this was real.

We drifted through each day on Bora Bora time. Consumed with happiness and love, could life get any more romantic?

Tikehau

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to go completely off the grid and enter a world of pure serenity that is totally unspoilt? Tikehau is exactly that. Conveniently placed as one of the small atolls closets to Tahiti and accessible by daily flights. The preserved charm of simplicity is what makes this extraordinary island so unique. Tikehau, meaning ‘peaceful landing’ consists of one resort, ‘Pearl Beach Resort’ and is one of only two inhabited islets in the fifty-five kilometre circumference of dots in this part of the Tuamotu group.

With a reputation of being the most bountiful fish destination in the French Polynesia, it came at no surprise this was the last stop of our seventeen day trip. This coconut palm lined motu was not only a new experience for me, but one for Jean too. At first glance, it looks very similar to the other islands we had visited previously, over- water bungalows, sandy shores and ridiculously blue lagoons. However, approaching just a few metres off the reservation, the seclusion became apparent. Wandering along the rose-golden sands, which have been dyed from the coral we soon had our very own paradise. Not a sole to be seen just pristine waters nuzzling the edge of the scattered motu’s. All of which are accessible either by kayak or some via walking at low tide. Sunsets here are also a work of art. The sky totally drenched in shades of fiery oranges, reds and pinks. We watched from our kayak as the sun slowly set into the distance, leaving a backlit feature beyond the clouds of dazzling indigos and violets. As the sky reflected onto the waters edge the colours began to dance with the twinkling of stars which were soon to blanket the night sky. We slowly made our way back to shore with a trail of black-tip sharks frolicking

just below the surface. In the distance we could hear the crashing of the ocean waves as they found themselves at the mercy of the reef. For most, this could be somewhat frightening, however, the magic that Tikehau possessed made this scene all the more transfixing and an experience we wouldn’t forget.

Diving in Tikehau is a must. The high-visibility waters around the coral reefs host an astonishing variety of marine life. The manta rays are huge, the fish so colourful they look superimposed and the reef sharks plentiful. However, the real expedition is the Tuheiva pass, an underwater coral playground for eagle rays, turtles, dolphins, tuna, barracudas, sharks and smaller technicolour fish. The volume of fish is so much that Jacques Cousteau’s research crew dubbed it “the most fish abundant Tuamotu atoll.” So naturally, this is where I would be doing my second dive, and my first ocean dive.

This tranquil world of both peace and plentiful above and below the water is a personal playground. We found nothing but absolute serenity on the calm and graceful shores. However, if you find yourself craving more you can also take a boat to the centre of the lagoon to visit Motu Puarua at the northeastern end. This small islet, known as ‘bird island’ is a natural avery for numerous colonies of sea birds. You also have the option to venture to the main village of Tuherahera on the Southern side. Tuherahera is been labelled as one of the most attractive villages in the Atolls. We found ourselves far too engulfed in the gifts of Tikehau that we didn’t drift further afield this time.

It was the perfect end to a profoundly extraordinary trip and I felt incredibly lucky to have been able to experience even a slice of the magnificence the French Polynesia has to offer.

Next Stop – The French Alps where I will learn to Snow Board!

You can follow all of our adventures on Instagram @samanthajoannewilson

Samantha’s Travel Diary Tahiti - Welcome to paradise. Descending into the French Polynesian capital, Papeete, we were greeted to the strumming ukuleles and garlands of heavenly scented flowers.

#Bora Bora #luxury #Samantha Wilson #travel

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donnafmae · 6 years

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What do dolphins eat? Lessons from how kids search

I recently came across a couple of fascinating papers (here and here) all about how kids search. I found it fascinating in its own right, and also found it thought-provoking in the new ways of searching it showed that had simply never occurred to me. Here are some of the most interesting things I found (though it’s remarkably accessible, and you should totally read the whole thing).

The researchers studied children aged 7-11, and of varying degrees of experience and comfort with the web and with computer-based research. In the course of their study, they identified seven “search roles” (almost like personas) that children display when seeking information:

Many of these are fairly self-explanatory on the surface (though it’s always interesting to read the details) and you may even identify with some of them yourself, as an adult. One of the most interesting to me was what they called the visual searcher.

People don’t all think like you

This was a mode of search that I had rarely found myself in, and had barely even considered could be a thing outside of certain forms of specific image search (e.g. [microsoft logo]). What they found was a cohort of children who turned first to image search for a wide range of their information-gathering needs. In some cases, this appeared to be motivated by discomfort with text and with reading, or at least with scanning and reading fast. In others, though, it seemed to be about veracity and trusting only what you have seen with your own eyes. For those of us who know people who write on the internet, maybe this isn’t the craziest instinct.

One example that has stayed in my mind since I read about it is the experience of certain kids when asked to answer the question what do dolphins eat?

The anecdote that stood out for me was the child who not only turned to image search to answer the question, but did the one-word image search [dolphin] and then scrolled down through pages of results until, having found a picture of a dolphin eating something, turned to the researcher to declare triumphantly that dolphins eat fish.

The lesson here is clearly about the power of observing real-world users. This is the kind of insight that is hard to glean from the raw data of keyword research. Even if you figure out that there is image search volume for [dolphin], you’re some way from the insight that someone is searching for information about what they eat.

This era (the research was published in 2010) was marked by a wide range of qualitative research coming out of Google. I might dive deeper into some other research in another post, but for now, onto the next insight.

There are searches that are hard, and people are failing to complete them

In my presentation and post the next trillion searches, I talked about the incremental search volume available in the coming years as technology progresses to the point that it can satisfy intents, and answer questions that current technology cannot:

One of the things I didn’t talk about in that post was the times that current searcher intent is not fulfilled even though the information is out there and today’s technology is more than capable of finding it. To understand more about what I mean here, let’s take another look at search challenges for kids:

For a start, it’s worth noting that Google can’t answer this query outright. Unlike with more and more factual queries, Google is not able to return a one-box with any answer, never mind the correct answer.

Unsurprisingly, kids struggled with this one (as I suspect would many adults). It tests their ability to string together a sequence of queries, each one building on the last, to discover the answer at the end of the rainbow. And along the way, they have to be sceptical of the information they come across and not get distracted by the pots of fools’ gold:

At certain points along the way, our intrepid searcher may come across pages that purport to give the answer, but which in fact do not for a variety of reasons (not least, as with the example above, that this information can fall easily out of date).

So it combines the ability to break down a question into structured thoughts, achieve complex stringing together of queries, and avoid pitfalls of incorrect and misleading information along the way. How many adults do you know who might trip up on this?

Amazingly, some of the older kids in the study managed to find the correct answer.

If you have kids in your life, try this out

If you have kids, or you have younger siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews, etc. I’d strongly encourage anyone interested in search to sit and watch them take on relatively undirected searching tasks while you watch. I think it’s pretty educational (for them!), but I also think there’s a good chance you will learn a good deal. In particular, since this research was done in 2010, it appears to have been entirely desktop-driven. I’d be interested in the mobile-first version if anyone wants to run it and write it up!

Anyway, it turns out my kids are (roughly) in the right age range - at the time of experimenting, my daughter was just turned 8, and my son was 5. My daughter was therefore in the age range, and it was interesting to see how she fared:

Rachel aged 8

She found it fairly easy to find out what dolphins eat. Google coped fine with her misspelling of “dolfin” and she wasn’t fazed by the results coming back for the correct spelling. She didn’t bother reading the “showing results for…” section (nor the paid ad, natch) and skipped straight to the one-box. She scanned it without reading aloud and then answered the question: telling me some things dolphins eat. In the process she went from an unmotivated searcher to a motivated searcher: she got intrigued by what a cephalopod is (it is mentioned in the one-box) and set of on an unprompted search to find out.

The next task was too much for her. She’s British, so I decided to go with prime minister, as I didn’t think she’d know what or who the vice president was. It turns out she wasn’t entirely clear on what a prime minister is either, searching for primeinister. She composed a search that could have worked as a stand-alone query: Google corrected it to [when is the prime minister’s birthday next year]. In fact, Google couldn’t answer this directly, and since it wasn’t quite the actual answer to the question as asked, she got stuck at this point, unable to structure the query quite how she wanted it.

Actually, she probably went slightly too far in the first jump. She probably should have gone with something like [when is the prime minister’s birthday] and followed with [what day is <date> next year] but she didn’t make that logical leap unprompted.

Even though my son was a little young, we thought it’d be fun to see how he fared on the “dolphin” question. The date one was a little too much of a stretch:

Adam aged 5

Interestingly, he spelled “dolfin” the same way as his sister (this must be our failing as parents!) but also went with the phonetic “wat” instead of “what”. Nonetheless, Google was quite happy interpreting his search as [what do dolphins eat] so he got the same one-box as his sister.

Just like her, he skipped everything else on the page to go straight to the one-box. This is probably not that surprising in either of their cases - it’s most likely what adults do, and it’s clearly designed to draw attention with the bright image high up on the page.

What was interesting and different was that he didn’t read the whole thing. At the time of the experiment, he was obviously a less confident reader, and preferred to read aloud rather than in his head. He didn’t scan the one-box for the answer and report it, but interestingly, nor did he read the one-box aloud. Instead, he read only the words in bold.

This isn’t the most obviously crazy strategy (at least in the mind of a 5 year old): it isn’t crazy to think that Google would have bolded the words that are the answers to the question you asked, though search professionals know that’s not what’s really going on here. It started okay but then went a little bit off the rails. Here’s what he read out as the answer to [what do dolphins eat?]:

Fishes

Herring

Killer whales

Mammals

He got a bit confused at “killer whales” and knew he was off-track, but wasn’t sure what had gone wrong.

I think the lesson here is that even though people may primarily use the obvious tools and affordances presented to them, they will also make potentially incorrect assumptions and risk being led astray by well-intentioned sign-posts in the UI.

Some other kids’ misconceptions

One child apparently thought that the autosuggest was a list of answers to the query he was typing. That doesn’t always work perfectly:

But to be fair, it’s not immediately obvious that UX like “people also ask” (which does come with embedded answers where possible):

Is entirely different to related searches which are not necessarily even suggested sensible questions:

And finally, to end on a light-hearted anecdote from the research, probably my favourite story was the child (not mine!) who looked for both dolphins and information about the Vice President of the United States on the SpongeBob SquarePants website.

Presumably unsuccessfully, at least in the case of the VP’s birthday.

If you liked this post, check out the whole session from my recent SearchLove talk in San Diego (all you need to do is create a Distilled account to access it for free). You can also check out the slides from my presentation below. Enjoy!

WATCH THE VIDEO

SearchLove San Diego 2018 | Will Critchlow | From the Horse’s Mouth: What We Can Learn from Google’s Own Words from Distilled

from Marketing https://www.distilled.net/resources/what-do-dolphins-eat-lessons-from-how-kids-search/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

#Digital Marketing

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davidrsmithlove · 6 years

Text

What do dolphins eat? Lessons from how kids search

People don’t all think like you

One example that has stayed in my mind since I read about it is the experience of certain kids when asked to answer the question what do dolphins eat?

There are searches that are hard, and people are failing to complete them

Amazingly, some of the older kids in the study managed to find the correct answer.

If you have kids in your life, try this out

Rachel aged 8

Even though my son was a little young, we thought it’d be fun to see how he fared on the “dolphin” question. The date one was a little too much of a stretch:

Adam aged 5

Fishes

Herring

Killer whales

Mammals

He got a bit confused at “killer whales” and knew he was off-track, but wasn’t sure what had gone wrong.

Some other kids’ misconceptions

One child apparently thought that the autosuggest was a list of answers to the query he was typing. That doesn’t always work perfectly:

But to be fair, it’s not immediately obvious that UX like “people also ask” (which does come with embedded answers where possible):

Is entirely different to related searches which are not necessarily even suggested sensible questions:

Presumably unsuccessfully, at least in the case of the VP’s birthday.

WATCH THE VIDEO

SearchLove San Diego 2018 | Will Critchlow | From the Horse’s Mouth: What We Can Learn from Google’s Own Words from Distilled

0 notes

ronijashworth · 6 years

Text

What do dolphins eat? Lessons from how kids search

People don’t all think like you

One example that has stayed in my mind since I read about it is the experience of certain kids when asked to answer the question what do dolphins eat?

There are searches that are hard, and people are failing to complete them

Amazingly, some of the older kids in the study managed to find the correct answer.

If you have kids in your life, try this out

Rachel aged 8

Even though my son was a little young, we thought it’d be fun to see how he fared on the “dolphin” question. The date one was a little too much of a stretch:

Adam aged 5

Fishes

Herring

Killer whales

Mammals

He got a bit confused at “killer whales” and knew he was off-track, but wasn’t sure what had gone wrong.

Some other kids’ misconceptions

One child apparently thought that the autosuggest was a list of answers to the query he was typing. That doesn’t always work perfectly:

But to be fair, it’s not immediately obvious that UX like “people also ask” (which does come with embedded answers where possible):

Is entirely different to related searches which are not necessarily even suggested sensible questions:

Presumably unsuccessfully, at least in the case of the VP’s birthday.

WATCH THE VIDEO

SearchLove San Diego 2018 | Will Critchlow | From the Horse’s Mouth: What We Can Learn from Google’s Own Words from Distilled

from Digital Marketing https://www.distilled.net/resources/what-do-dolphins-eat-lessons-from-how-kids-search/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

#digital marketing

0 notes

anthonykrierion · 6 years

Text

What do dolphins eat? Lessons from how kids search

People don’t all think like you

One example that has stayed in my mind since I read about it is the experience of certain kids when asked to answer the question what do dolphins eat?

There are searches that are hard, and people are failing to complete them

Amazingly, some of the older kids in the study managed to find the correct answer.

If you have kids in your life, try this out

Rachel aged 8

Even though my son was a little young, we thought it’d be fun to see how he fared on the “dolphin” question. The date one was a little too much of a stretch:

Adam aged 5

Fishes

Herring

Killer whales

Mammals

He got a bit confused at “killer whales” and knew he was off-track, but wasn’t sure what had gone wrong.

Some other kids’ misconceptions

One child apparently thought that the autosuggest was a list of answers to the query he was typing. That doesn’t always work perfectly:

But to be fair, it’s not immediately obvious that UX like “people also ask” (which does come with embedded answers where possible):

Is entirely different to related searches which are not necessarily even suggested sensible questions:

Presumably unsuccessfully, at least in the case of the VP’s birthday.

WATCH THE VIDEO

SearchLove San Diego 2018 | Will Critchlow | From the Horse’s Mouth: What We Can Learn from Google’s Own Words from Distilled

What do dolphins eat? Lessons from how kids search was originally posted by Video And Blog Marketing

#Video And Blog Marketing

0 notes

trendingnewsb · 7 years

Text

30+ “Pics Or It Didn’t Happen” Moments When People Had Images To Prove Their Impossible Stories

How Is That Even Possible?

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It’s As If It Was Meant To Be

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I Walk Through The Park And Suddenly I Saw This

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Kansas City Fire Department Saves Kansas City Police Department From Elevator

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“When Your Three Year Old Tells Man At Mcdonald’s That His Pants Are Falling Down.” Friend’s Photo

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When I Was 11 I Played Chess With Morgan Freeman

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Upon Arriving To Help Get My Keys Out Of My Car, The AAA Guy Locked His Keys In His Car And Had To Call AAA

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A Gorilla Flipped Me Off, So I Flipped Him Off In Return And He Was Very Offended

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My Aunt Got Some New Neighbors Who Came By To Introduce Themselves Today.

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I Go Walking, After Midnight, Out In The Moonlight

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Sorry Class, My Dog Ate Everyone’s Homework

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Photo My Mom Took Today. Deer Slipping On Ice

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Paddling In The Middle Of Monterey Bay, And This Guy Needed A Break

Sandwich Shop Offers Liam Neeson Free Food, Liam Neeson Show Up

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I Think A Squirrel Fell Off My Roof

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Girlfriend Saw A Rainbow Pigeon In London

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On The Boat With My Family And I Was Sitting On The Edge To Get A Good Photo Of The Water And Me And Two Dolphins And It’s Calf Jumped Out Of The Water And This Image Was Caught At The Perfect Time

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I Love Retail

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My Bus Driver Looks Almost Exactly Like Walter White From Breaking Bad

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Hadn’t Seen My Bff In A Couple Of Years. After An 8 Hour Drive, I Got Out Of The Car As She Walked Out Of The House. In The Same Damn Shirt

My Buddy Went To A Wedding Last Weekend And This Swan Wouldn’t Stop Staring At Him Through The Door

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Mom Told Me The Rooster Was After Her Today. Had To Check Security Camera To Verify

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An Owl Flew Into My Car Once, In Las Vegas, While The Car Was Moving With The Windows Open. I Spent A Solid 3 Hours Figuring Out How To Get This Out Of My Car

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When I Was A Young Comedian, Robin Williams Stopped In To Do A Surprise Set On A Show I Was Hosting. Talked To Him For 20 Minutes After The Show. Then I Handed My Friend A Camera (Not A Phone, That’s How Long Ago It Was) And Asked Robin For A Picture. He Gave Me A Huge Bear Hug And Said “How About Now?” What A Sweet Guy

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Buddy Of Mine Calls Me To Tell Me He Just Rolled His Jeep Through A Telephone Pole. I Said Pics Or It Didn’t Happen. He Sent Me This

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So This Happened In Northern Wisconsin

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Heard Something Going On In The Kitchen Then Heard Screams Of Bloody Murder. Walked In And Saw This. A Goat Stuck In My Trash Can

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I Went Away To Nerd Fitness Camp And Really Took To The Archery Portion. In Some Freak Shot, I Managed To Shoot The Edge Of A Balloon Without Popping It. The Instructor Never Saw Anything Like It

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My Friend Texted Me Saying She Was Watching A Squirrel Eat A Pizza In A Tree. I Said, “Pics Or It Didn’t Happen.” She Replied With This

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Went To An Ax Throwing Booth At A Regional Highland Games And Threw An Ax Into Another Ax That Was Already On The Target

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My Girlfriend Happened To Catch All 3 Stages In A Ladybugs Life Cycle On A Single Leaf

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I Snuck In To A Volcom Release Party By Wearing A Grocery Store Receipt

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Chuck Norris Pinned By My Dad

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I Had 3 Different Colored Squirrels In My Yard

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After Sixteen Years Of Driving Past This Sign, It Finally Happened

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I’ve Been Looking For This Forever. Finally Found It At My Parents House. Here’s My Twin Brother Eating Pizza With Some Famous Twins In 1991. When I Was In 10th Grade My High School Friends Didn’t Believe That Mary Kate And Ashley Olsen Used To Be Friends With My Twin Brother And I

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I Was Taking Fresh Air At The Window When Suddenly

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Proposed To My Girlfriend And Realized There Is A Heart In Our Shadows

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Saw This Caterpillar At Work Today That Has Little Penguins On Its Back

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After Eight Hours Of Balancing Stones On The Beaches Of Lake Superior Yesterday, I Was Exhausted. Then I Saw This Big White Rock, Got Re-Inspired, And Created One More Piece, The Favorite Of The Day

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Johnny Depp Was In My In-Laws’ Wedding Band, 1982

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This Happened Unexpectedly To My Dad’s Friend In Idaho Circa 1980 While He Was Leaning Into His Car To Get Something

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I Once Bought A Disposable Camera. There Was A Picture Taken Already

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I Was Mowing My Lawn And Came Across This Pink Grasshopper

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Sitting On The Couch With A Headache And An Ice Pack On My Head When My Girlfriend Tells Me Not To Move

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Dude Just Picked Up A Goose And Casually Walked Away With It When I Was Feeding Ducks With My Kids. Turns Out He Raised The Geese From When They Were Babies And Just Holds Them About Every Day

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A Butterfly With ’89’ On The Side Of Its Wing Landed On My Shorts

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I Was Playing With My Cat When This Happend. She’s Sucking Her “Thumb”

I Threw A Dorito On The Ground And It Landed On Its Side

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Found A 94 Year Old Dollar On The Ground

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Normal Day In Australia… Just Witnessed The Local Police In Hot Pursuit Of Two Emus

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My Dad Was Petting A Tiger And Taking Pictures. The Tiger Didn’t Like That Apparently And Got Ahold Of His Wrist. He Thought To Himself “I Might As Well Take The Last Picture Of Hand While It’s Attached To My Arm.” He Was Able To Free Himself

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Just Happened To See A Rainbow On Rainbow Blvd

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I Was Buying Coffee At The Gas Station This Morning When I Noticed This

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Saw An Owl Hanging From One Wing On A Barb Wire Fence. I Ran In Rescue Of The Owl. It Was Tangled In One Of The Barbs So I Had To Cut The Wire With A Shears. When Finally Freed, It Practically Fell Into My Arms As If I Was Its Guardian. From There I Brought It To The Local DNR Office

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Someone Pretended To Be Tom Cruise In A Small Chicken Shop In North Eastern Thailand And Is Remembered There Forever

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I Was Eating Lunch In The Local Park When I Heard A Rustling Sound Under The Bench I Was Sat On. Then A Squirrel Ran Out From Underneath It Carrying A Full Doughnut, Sat On The Grass In Front Of Me And Proceeded To Eat The Entire Thing

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2 Steps Into Walking Down The Aisle. He Said ‘Goddamit Jeri, Did My Pants Just Fall Down?’

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Looked Out My Window At Work And Saw This

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So This Just Happened

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Today Is The Proudest Day Of My Life. I Successfully Took A Picture Of Me High Fiving Myself

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My Husband Left For Work One Morning, Took The Train. When He Got Back To The Car After A Long Day At Work He Found Our Bunny Sitting Under The Car In The Parking Lot. The Train Station Is A 20min Drive From Our Home, No Idea How It Got There! He Managed To Catch The Bunny, And Bring It Back Home

My Mom Rehabilitates Large Cats, As In Lions Tigers Jaguars Cougars Etc… She Always Has Scratches On Her Arms And Legs And No One Ever Believed Our Family When She Told Them Why

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Spotted This Little Guy Holding On For Dear Life On My Way Into Work This Morning

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So This Happened To My Neighbor Last Night… Don’t Drive Drunk

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It’s So Cold Right Now That I Can’t Even Flush The Toilet

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I Crawled Into A Bear Cave With Two Cousins To Video Tape Hibernating Bears When I Was A Teenager…they Were Not Asleep. Our Parents Destroyed The Tape In Hopes That It Would Prevent Future Stupidity, But These Pictures Survived

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A Little Over Two Years Ago I Took A Selfie With A Google Car And It Ended Up On Googlemaps

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So I’m In The Taco Bell Drive Through And He Jumps Through My Car Window And Into My Lap. Meet Jose

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A Buck Decided To Lay Down By My University’s Library Windows

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from Viral News HQ http://ift.tt/2CguHwY via Viral News HQ

#IFTTT #Viral News HQ

0 notes

wellmeaningshutin · 7 years

Text

Short Story #97: Nature as an Abusive Mother.

Written: 4/13/2017 Interwoven Week

When Patrice saw all of the reports about deer killing people in the woods, going absolutely berserk and cutting them open, spilling their guts all over the forest floor, she decided that she was right, nature was evil. It was a suspicion she had back when she was a child, and got lost in the woods. When she was trying to find her way through the cold, dark, nightmarish scenery, she felt as if it wasn’t a part of our world, the real world, and instead belonged to some awful creature of pure evil. Sure, later people told her that the idea was foolish, and she later believed them, but it stayed in the back of her mine, festering, refusing to leave. In her adolescence she would go, with friends, so see horror movies in the theater, having to buy tickets for some PG-13 movie they didn’t care about, just to get inside of the theater, where they would go and see the rated R gore fest that they wanted to see in the first place. A friend of hers once refused to do this, calling it either “illegal” or “immoral”, Patrice couldn’t remember, and she never understood why it was such a problem for that kid, why the problem wasn’t watching people get murdered and dismembered, it was breaking the rules to do so. Sometimes those movies would take place in the woods, in some deserted cabin or campground, one time it was a river full of hicks, and her childhood idea started to nag at her, she started to wonder if there was a reason that so many of these movies would take place in the woods, there had to be a reason, she just tried not to believe that the reason was her own. Then, only a couple months back, there was the incident where police found a large amount of bodies buried in the same area in the woods, left over from some serial killer, there was the three girls who had been found shot to death in a makeshift cabin, and she remembered that, when they finally caught that fucked up taxidermist, it turned out that animals practically loved him, he was basically one with nature, in Patrice’s opinion, and if that wasn’t a sign, she didn’t know what was. And lets not forget some of nature’s fucked up creations, like blood sucking butterflies, or spiders, any spider really. No matter how often she tried to tell herself that her theory only existed because of her childhood’s imagination, it seemed like the world was ready to prove her theory right.

After having to come to terms with this realization, after a lifetime of denial, she tried to figure out how she was supposed to escape from nature, especially since the forest was only seven and a half miles away from her house, but she eventually decided that it would just be best to get a bus ticket to the big city and never look back. When she would arrive, she figured that she could probably go into the heart of the city, where everything is man made and safe, and if she couldn’t afford a house there she could live in abandoned factories, subway tunnels, places where evil could never reach her.

The night before she left, when she lied on her couch, stared at the television, and tried to will herself to sleep, Eraserhead had played on the channel that she was watching, and when she saw that movie, for the first time, she knew that was where she wanted to go. It was as if the setting of the movie had been displaying all of her hopes and dreams.

Patrice didn’t really know what to do with her house when she left it, so she just locked the door and left, hoping that it was the proper etiquette. She only brought two suitcases with her on her journey, and also wore more layers of clothing than she needed, since there wasn’t much room, which led her to wait at the bus station with a thick, magenta sweater underneath a yellow raincoat. It made her feel as if she were a child running away from her parents, but she assumed that it was true, since nature had been the parent of humanity, but had also turned out to be an abusive and malicious one, the kind of parent that would electrocute their children when they wet the bed, or would lower their children into boiling water as a punishment. Those were her own comparisons, but never once did she realize that people also had the potential to be incredibly fucked up, nature had become the scapegoat for all of societies ills. While she mulled this over, an older man had sat down next to her, and said, “Its good that you are doing your environmental duty by taking a bus, instead of greedily using your own car, which would burn up large amounts of gas, pollute the air, only to get yourself somewhere. There’s not-”

“What?” She asked, not having heard him at first, while she vaguely remembered a man who killed a family and had some obsession with leaves. Could the leaves have made him do it?

“I was commending you on the way you are helping the environment. Its a tough time nowadays for the poor girl, now that all of her protections are being gutted, and-”

“Look, who ever you are, I don’t fucking want to help the environment.” Her tone was much more hostile than the man expected, and he worried that it seemed as if he was trying to hit on her.

Trying to apologize, “I’m sorry if I offended you in some way, I didn’t mean-”

“You can’t say you didn’t mean it.” Crossing her arms, staring him down, “You can’t walk up to me and start going on and on about how great nature is, how we should fucking go out of our way to please the environment, and not mean it. You sack of human garbage. What is so fucked up in your head that makes you want to help the environment, to help nature?”

“What? I don’t, I-” he couldn’t tell if she was serious, or just fucking with him.

“I’m only at this bus station because I’m trying to get as far away from nature as I possibly can. Have you seen the shit that nature causes, have you ever been in a forest at night? That shit isn’t right.” Looking at the other people who were waiting, the man tried to make eye contact with somebody, to try to nonverbally check if he was hearing all of this right, but the people around him were experts at ignoring strangers. “You’re some sort of environmental activist or something, right?”

Finally a question that he could answer, “Yeah, I-”

“Well that’s just fucked up. If anything, you should be an anti-environmental activist. You should go around telling people to cut down all of the forests, to put oil pipelines where they can easily destroy water supplies, to build cities everywhere, to cover the Earth in concrete and metal, so that there is no longer a trace of nature. You should be telling people to pollute as much as we can, especially in the air so that we can eventually block out the sun, fill the world with harmful substances and live day to day in gas masks, in protective suits,” she was starting to make things up, mainly just because she wanted to watch this scummy hippy squirm in his seat, trying to have somebody agree with his shitty views, “and while we live that way, all of the animals and the plants will fucking die.” She started to realize that plants were alive, and that just made forests even worse in her opinion. “So the only thing that’s left is people, and the industrial wastelands and forests we will have created. Only then can-”

Finally, the guy had walked away from her, and she felt pleased with herself. When she was in college, she had a similar routine that she gave to anybody who would gripe about feminism, and the routine would include her talking about how there is enough stored semen to live forever without men, how all male babies should be thrown into the rumors, or eaten by women, and how only the really special babies would grow up to become house pets for the powerful female overlords. Sometimes guys were able to find out that she was just fucking with them, sometimes they walked away bewildered. She preferred the latter reaction.

The bus ride to the city took her through a lot of natural landscapes that she would have once considered beautiful, but now considered to be threatening. However, she knew that it wouldn’t be long until she could flee into the heart of the city where people lived in buildings that were tall enough to reach the clouds, where- “There’s nothing like watching the sunset over the river like that, is there?” Asked the girl sitting next to her, who seemed to look like an actual runaway.

“I don’t care much for rivers,” trying not to step on the girl’s emotional toes, since she felt that there was something young and weak about her, “I’m not much of a nature person.”

Gasping, then, “You don’t like nature? That’s one of the weirdest things I’ve ever heard! So, like, mountains don’t do anything for you? You don’t like deer, or sunsets, or rainbows?” Patrice shook her head. “What about, okay. Close your eyes and imagine what I tell you. So, like, a couple years back I was out in Hawaii on a vacation with my family, and we were on the ocean. The water was crystal clear, and it shined when the sun hit it just right, turning it into a beautiful color that looked like, uh, orange and pink were making out. You know what I’m trying to say?” Patrice didn’t, but she nodded anyways. “And, like, as it looked perfect like that, dolphins began to leap out of the water, all around our boat, and it was magical. Did you picture that, wasn’t it magical?”

“I’m sorry, but that sounded awful. The ocean just creeps me out.” Octopuses, angler fish, eels, the fact that it was so deep that the pressure alone would kill you before you could even reach the bottom, and at that point its also pitch black, preventing you from seeing a thing, but you know that terrible creatures are all around you. And lets not forget the mountain ranges that only exist under water, giving the thing a foreboding quality, showing that the water could just as easily rise up and consume entire countries if it wanted to. On top of all of that, what about all of the murder victims that are dumped out of sea, the boats that live in unprotected waters, with intentions that are never good, giant waves that could sink boats without a second thought, whirlpools, tsunamis that could kill a lot of people and damage cities, hurricanes, it was all terrible.

“How could the ocean creep you out? You’re so weird!” Patrice remembered that fucking sea spiders were a real thing. “So you don’t like nature at all? What about dogs?”

“Eh, I don’t really count dogs as nature. Humans kind of bred them into what they are, making them, like, just unnatural wolves.”

“Yeah, but aren’t humans a part of nature? So if you think about it-” but Patrice didn’t want to think about it, and she definitely didn’t want to think about what the girl had to say. All she wanted to do was to lie there and think about sewers, subways, taxis, alleyways, skyscrapers, factories, everything that would shelter her from nature. So, while the girl continued to talk, Patrice pretended to go to sleep, even if it seemed rude. However, this caused her to actually fall asleep.

She didn’t dream, so it was a little confusing when she suddenly woke up to screaming and some pain on her side. As she tried to take in her surroundings, she was able to notice that it was dark, that she was pressed against the window of the bus, meaning that it may have been on its side. Looking around for the girl who sat next to her, she noticed that some people were trying to get up, and some looked like they couldn’t. She wanted to ask what had happened, and when she turned to someone next to her, she almost got the words out before a window pane had cracked in, and water began to pour into the bus, at a very alarming pace. Looking at the window she rested on, she could only see darkness and bubbles rushing up at the window. If it was the river they fell into, then wouldn’t they have stopped moving eventually? Why hadn’t they hit the bottom yet? Another window broke in, she heard some people screaming, and she again looked for her sitting companion.

After realizing that this was probably happening because of nature, because of its inescapable evil, she was finally able to act, but was dismayed to realize that she didn’t know how to act. For some reason, she felt that it would be best to run towards the bathroom at the back of the bus, mainly since she hoped the door could block water flow, and was at least secured in the knowledge that the back of the bus did not have a window. She wanted to call to the girl she talked to, but she didn’t know the girl’s name, and didn’t know why she was so important at the moment. When she tried to climb over a chair, she looked behind her for a second and saw another window break open, sending a large shard of glass down and cutting an old woman’s throat open, right before the force of the water knocked her to the ground. Even though Patrice couldn’t see the woman, she could see the blood that was pooling, and felt that she needed to get moving faster, just to get away from the blood. The seat in front of her had a mother and her children by it, and she was trying to comfort them, but their combined weight ended up, when Patrice jumped over them, causing the window to cave from the pressure, and they were ejected out into the dark water below, and water had begun to come in from a different angle, causing the bus to begin falling vertically.

For a moment, Patrice wondered why she could only hear her own heartbeat, why she hadn’t heard people scream, or rushing water, but the need to keep climbing before the bus became too steep caused her to ignore this question. Later, she would realize that all of that sound was happening around her, she just was tuning it out, her fear had taken over all of her senses. Down the aisle the activist had tumbled, the water guiding him on his way down, and he landed against the front windshield with enough force to send the bone right out of his knee. There wasn’t enough time for the climber to process this, she had to survive.

When she finally arrived at the top, Patrice had a good view of the rest of the bus, and noticed that a good amount of passengers had been dead, but she didn’t know how they had died. The others had either been pulled out into whatever body of water they were in (the facts that she didn’t know, and that they were still sinking, made Patrice want to throw up from stress), or were weak, incapacitated, or were trying keep a good position on their seats. Crying was heard from the bathroom stall, and it was the first sound that Patrice had heard outside of herself, and it also allowed her to start hearing the rushing water, the screams, the groans, and she missed the sound of her heartbeat. The bus had finally hit something solid, and when the front had reached the ground, or what Patrice hoped was the ground, it fell to its left and landed against something else, keeping it mainly vertical. She wondered how long the inside lights were going to stay on, and wondered what would happen when they shut off. She wondered what was going to happen when the bus was filled with water.

By the time the water had stopped rushing in, all of the windows had caved under pressure, and the inner lights had gone off, so Patrice couldn’t see what it had looked like below her. If she dangled her legs off the end of the seat she was on, her knees would reach the water, where she could feel glass, and some solid objects, which she didn’t want to know what they were, and hoped that it was just luggage. Eventually the person in the stall cried out, “Hello? Did we stop? Hello?! Is anyone alright? Hello?! Please, somebody! Hello!” It was the voice of her seating companion.

“It stopped, no more water is pouring out!” Patrice had yelled back.

“Is, anyone, is, who else is there?! Is anyone else with you?”

“No.”

“Is-”

“Where the hell are we? How did this happen?”

“I-I don’t know how it happened.” Patrice had a feeling that she knew what was behind it. “I think, I don’t know. I wasn’t, I couldn’t see anything when it had.. Are you sure there isn’t anyone else?”

“I’m sure.”

“Are you-”

“Look, you’re going to want to trust me on this. There is no chance that anyone else is in here, and if they are, they sure as hell aren’t, well-”

“Oh God!”

“I mean-”

“Oh fucking God!”

For a while, Patrice decided to try not to talk to the girl in the stall, who seemed to be crying hysterically, and it sounded that it was with the kind of emotion that causes you to shake, that causes you to want desperately for things to be better, while knowing that they never will be. It made Patrice wonder why she wasn’t crying. Later that night (during what she assumed was night, since it was always dark down there) she broke down and sobbed, when the other girl finally stopped, and she was so fearful of her current situation, in such a despair, that her crying fit caused the other girl to start up again, so they joined each other in the dark, through sound, unable to see the other, or even reach out to touch the other. Somehow, it was lonelier than crying alone.

Eventually, after they fell asleep and woke up, the girl in the stall decided that she was going to try to open the door so that she could join Patrice, but the door opened inward, which required her to pull it up, and Patrice had to listen to her struggle to get the door open, to try to angle herself against the walls of the bathroom, so that she wouldn’t have to stand on it when she lifted it, and if Patrice wasn’t terrified of whatever the water held, whatever horrors were waiting in the dark, she would have tried to swim out of the bus, to try to reach the surface of the body of water they were in, because it was almost physically painful, the way that she had to listen to the girl’s embarrassment and discomfort with the door. There were no other sounds except for the struggling, there was nothing to look at to distract herself, so it was as if she could only experience the young girl awkwardly struggling for freedom, cursing herself, and had to feel every uncomfortable and embarrassed emotion that the girl had felt. “God damn it!” Patrice eventually yelled, unable to stand the banging around. “Quit it with that door already!”

Silence was the only reply, and it hung in the air pocket around her, carrying the angry outburst and the girl’s hurt feelings with it. After a couple minutes of soaking in those feelings, Patrice broke down crying again, it seemed to be the only thing that she was able to do.

An hour later, long after Patrice had stopped crying, after silence hung in the air since both girls were too tense to try to talk to each other, the banging had started up all over again, and it only went on for five minutes, five minutes of trying hard to ignore it, until Patrice shouted, “I told you to fucking stop it with the door! If it isn’t already bad enough that we have to sit and stew in our own impending death, you have to make me feel-”

“I’m-”

“What god damn it? There’s no excuse for you to do that, I swear. Its pissing me the hell off, and-”

“I’m not fucking with the door!” But the noise still persisted, and both of the girls listened closely to it. However, the girl’s hearing ability was dampened since she had to listen through a door and walls, causing Patrice to be the only one who could identify a more subtle sound that accompanied the banging, one that reminded of something that made her want to scream, but also made her too afraid to scream out loud, causing her to have to bury her face into her knees, just to muffle the inevitable sound. However, it wasn’t a very good attempt at muffling, causing the girl in the stall to ask, “What the hell was that sound”, and the banging noise to stop. Patrice froze as she heard the banging stop, and patiently waited for another noise to tell her things were better, or at least that she was safe, and her companion kept asking, “What’s going on? What’s happening?”, over and over, causing Patrice to want to scream at her to shut up, to wait for it to go away, but she didn’t want any attention drawn to herself. “Are you okay?! What’s happened to you?! Are you Alright?! Are you there?!” The girl kept asking, starting to worry that her only companion may have dove into the water to escape, to try and leave her alone, a concept that was more frightening than anything else: being left alone in the dark, waiting slowly to starve or dehydrate for days on end, not knowing what time it was or if anyone would ever come for you.

So, naturally, the girl decided to try to get the door open, but did so with a clarity of mind that she could only obtain through a strict determination to not have to die alone, to get as much distance as she could from that awful thought. It was a very productive feeling of fear. When Patrice heard the door moving, the slight banging on the bathroom walls, she wasn’t sure if it was what she heard earlier, or if it was the girl in the bathroom, but she too afraid to ask, because if it was what she heard earlier, she didn’t want it to pay any attention to her. With only three tries, the girl had finally opened the bathroom door, and yelled, “Hello?! Hello?!”, before dropping below, hoping that water wouldn’t be too far away, and she was relieved, at first, to find that it wasn’t a bad drop, when she hit the water, but that relief didn’t last for long. Patrice had to sit in silence as she heard the girl, nearby, in the water, call out to see if Patrice was there, then screamed when she felt the body in the water next to her, which she thought was her companion, and then screamed something much much worse, the kind of a scream you would only hear in a nightmare, when she felt something latch onto her side, and she felt herself get pulled under the surface of the water, no matter how hard she struggled, and Patrice had to hear her haunting scream as it became submerged, and it didn’t stop until a minute later, and Patrice had to try as hard as she could to not cry, to stay silent.

#Free Write #Short Story #Writers on Tumblr #Ocean #Nature

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