|posted on 23-Jul-2002 1:36:42 AM by Roswellgurl|
|Title: Mr Lightning|
Author: Y'all don't know me but... its Roswellgurl
Category: M/L... bonified dreamer here
Disclaimer: I didn't do it. Nobody saw me do it. You can't prove I did it.
Summary: Curious, Hmm? well you're just gonna have to read to find out...
I’m just sitting there, eating my usual PB&J when I get struck by lightening.
It’s the kind of catch-you-completely-unawares, make-your-tongue-stick-to-the-roof-of-your-mouth, get-your-heart-pumping-irregularly lightening. The kind that makes your hands sweaty, and makes you suddenly, inanely aware of the way your hair looks.
I believe around here it’s name is Max Evans.
He’s standing across the quad, talking to a guy with the most unruly hair I’ve ever come across. I was on my third bite of sandwich when I caught sight of him, and now, several minutes later, I realise I’ve had my mouth hanging open the whole time.
Great first impression, Liz. Advertise to the general population of West Roswell High that you can’t eat without looking like a retard.
I rip my attention away from that tall, built body and forcibly close my mouth. I gaze fiercely at the remains of my sandwich in the hopes it will erase his image from my mind.
I’m still practically glaring at my sandwich when a tall, lanky guy slides down beside me in what I assume he thinks is a casual manner. Banishing Mr. Lightning from my mind I focus on this newcomer. Hmm this is a new development. How long do you think it’ll take for this new school to dub me their official freak? Maybe I haven’t been giving off sufficient ‘Loner’ signals. I cock my head and raise my eyebrow quizzically. He shoots me a grin and gets out his lunch box. Wait a second. Who the hell has a lunch box anymore? What is this - 3rd grade? Would ya like some nice crayons to go along with that?
I aim a derisive look at the plastic box.
‘What?’ he says defensively in response to my unspoken ridicule ‘It has sentimental value, okay?’
‘Yeah’ a voice says behind me ‘All those fond memories of Peanut butter sandwiches and carrot sticks…’ the pixie-blonde pretends to wipe a tear from under her eye and smiles at me.
‘I happen to be a very firm supporter of the peanut butter sandwich’ I state ‘Although it’s never complete without jelly’ I muse.
The blonde grins and sticks out her hand ‘Maria’ she says ‘and the freak with the box is Alex’ He gives me a nod through a mouthful of carrot sticks.
‘Liz’ I say. And just like that. I’ve got two brand new best friends.
Well, at least until tomorrow.
During the course of that lunchtime, Maria gives me a crash course in West Roswell High.
‘Basically, if you’ve seen any teen movie made in the last three years and/or starring Freddie Prinze Jnr, that’s West Roswell. You got your freaks, you got your geeks, you got your populars. And, oh yeah, you got those scary quiet outsiders who you just know are gonna grow up to be either Paedophiles or brilliant computer businessmen worth millions who don’t wash themselves.’ She pauses to take a breath ‘We got your average crappy lockers that won’t close, classroom doors that won’t open, and scary science teachers who get excited about micro-organisms. Oh, yeah – sit in the back row of Mr. Seligman’s class… he spits. That’s basically it, I guess. West Roswell High.’ she takes a bite of a celery stick “Go Comets, Go!’ she adds as an afterthought.
As I finish up my gloppy sandwich, my gaze casually wanders over to Mr. Tall-and-built. Alex follows my gaze and nudges Maria ‘You forgot to tell her about Evans’ he finishes his soda and burps. Charming.
‘Oh yeah. Uh, Well that right there is this town’s finest example of your classic tall, dark ‘n handsome…’
‘Lemme guess’ I interject ‘Star football player? Mr All-American?’
‘Close. Basketball. But, yeah – word of warning. Stay away from the abyss. He doesn’t respond. Acts like he doesn’t even notice the hordes of freshmen that practically stalk him. This one time, he spoke to one of them – this girl called Tracey Spellman – and the word is, she was so happy she cried’ She sucks on her juice straw thoughtfully ‘Personally, I don’t see what the big deal is. But I wouldn’t mind a piece of his best friend – Michael Guerin. Though, of course, I would never sink to that level – the man barely speaks! I think he’s gay – and he has an ego the size of – ’
Alex nudges me gently ‘Yeah… and she’s off. Maria’s great, but when she gets lost in “Michael Land”-’
‘I get the picture’ I whisper back and smile.
‘So tell me – what’s your story, stranger?’ he begins to peel his banana.
‘Well, I just moved here from Conneticut. Before that, Baltimore. Before that, Palm Springs and before that, Chicago. Yeah… I’m your basic army brat. Typically wannabe-rebellious and loner-ish. I kinda cultivated this “Just-don’t-give-a-fuck” attitude, which you guys kinda screwed by coming over and actually talking to me’
‘Hello? Still talking here?’ Maria interrupts ‘And his hair! God, I’d just like to – ’
‘So what about you? Got any deep, dark, dorky secrets you’d like to get out in the open now?’ I grin conspiratorially.
‘Yeah… I enjoy cataloguing National Geographics for the Library in my spare time. While listening to Bach. Oh, and I like to wear loafers.’
I laugh. This guy actually cracks decent jokes. ‘I won’t tell anyone. Anyway, that fits perfectly with my compulsion for arranging my clothes by colour order. And my shoes by designer. Maybe you could help?’
‘ - Maybe if I could just get past that stone wall he puts up, I could really get to know him…’ Maria rambles on gaze distant.
‘Is she always so…run-on-ish?’ I question, eyes on Maria.
‘Yeah. Pretty much. She doesn’t really notice if you kinda drift off… to her, everything she says is fascinating and imperative to the survival of the human race’ he cracks a smile.
The bell rings. Joy. I’ve actually had fun this lunch period. Oh well, once the rumors start flying, my two new best friends won’t hasten to sit at this lunch table anymore. Which group will Maria neatly slot me into? Geeks? Freaks? Paedophiles? I dump my tray at the cafeteria and check out mu schedule for this afternoon. Yes! Biology! My FAVE! Hard as this may be for you to believe, I’m not actually being sarcastic. Well… maybe just a little…
After ten minutes of random wandering, I manage to stumble on the right section of classrooms. Damn. I love using the ‘I’m, uh, new to the school? So, uh, I don’t really know my way around…’ excuse. Good for three weeks and you can miss up to half a period without getting into trouble. Sweet. I take a deep breath and walk through the doors of AP Biology. Ahhh… Chloroform. Gotta love it. I walk up to the teacher
‘I’m, uh, new here?’(Insert shy smile) ‘So, uh, I don’t really have a partner…’ (Insert uncertain look around the room)
‘Ah, of course Miss’ he scans the list ‘Parker. I’m Mr Seligman’ (NB – aim for the back tables, this is the spitter) ‘Welcome to AP Biology. There appears to be only one student absent, so if you could take Miss Harding’s place next to Mr Evans, I’m sure we can work something more permanent out later – ’
His voice seems to fade away after the word ‘Evans’. The world slides to a standstill. Oh no. Oh god no. It can’t be him. Mr Dry-mouth. Mr. Irregular-heartbeat. Mr. Stay-away-from-the-abyss.
Mr Seligman smiles at me in a fatherly fashion ‘So if you’ll just take your seat Miss Parkson, I’m sure you’ll do just fine’
Reluctantly, oh so reluctantly, I turn around be met with his stare. Oh, there are thirty kids in the classroom, all of whom are fixated on my alternative style of dress and my shiny-new-ness. But for me, there is only one pair of eyes in the room that matter. They burn holes through my skin, penetrate to my soul. I’ve never been so naked in my life. Unbeknownst to me, my feet have carried me towards him. Stumbling, unsure steps that display my uncertainty. Our eyes meet. Frission crackles in the air between us, giving an edge to each breath I take. He breaks the moment, ripping his eyes away and focussing on the blackboard. And just like that. The moment is gone, shattered, swept away. The air is once more heavy and sticky. I sit myself down on the stool and lean my chin on my hand, trying to regroup. What in the hell just happened? Nothing I’ve ever felt before, that’s for sure. I dumbly tune in as Mr Seligman finishes up ‘So if you’ll collect your chemicals, I’m sure we’ll be finished by the end of the period’
Max practically leaps up to go and get them, leaving me sitting here, catching my breath. Am I about to be sucked into the alien abyss? Labelled a groupie? Become another of the apparently hundreds of girls that suffer in unrequited yearning for Max Evans?
Well, Fuck that. I’m better than it. Max Evans is just another guy – ultimately imperfect. All I’ve gotta do is find his flaw and I’ll be free.
Resolutely, I nod my head and lift my eyes. To be met with a pair of inquisitive, amber eyes. Why is he staring at me? Oh yeah… note to self – STOP TALKING TO YOURSELF IN PUBLIC. Really doesn’t do anything for the whole sanity image.
‘Having a nice little conversation with yourself?’ He asks, amused.
Oh God and his voice. Husky. And…There I go again. Time for survival tactics.
‘I’m surprised you noticed… like something you see? Or do you make a habit of watching unsuspecting girls for thrills?’
Okay… where the hell did that come from? I really need to learn to shut up.
He looks surprised. Wordlessly, he goes to the bench and begins to set up the equipment. Inwardly, I groan and hit myself. Repeatedly. I sigh and walk over to the bench, get out my handy black marker (useful for such things as writing, graffitying and sniffing to get high) and begin to write down my observations.
And this is how we carry on. Me, writing, him, indifferent. Until –
‘Do you always dress like that? It’s… interesting. Especially for Roswell ’ He’s casually bending over the test tube, a smirk playing along his lips. He turns to me and raises his eyebrows.
This time I’m too pissed to notice how straight his teeth are. Or how his biceps look in that shirt.
‘Yeah, well, I’m not surprised, considering the whole town seems to order from the same J. Crew catalogue. ‘ I do the indifferent thing too, bending over my notebook. This is too easy. ‘ Whoever said that pastels suit everyone must have been doing major uppers at the time. ‘
His mouth twitches and can see he’s trying to hold back a smile. He gently shakes the liquid in the test tube and places it back in the test tube holder. He pauses.
‘ Yeah, well, at least I wear different colors’ he teases, referring to my black miniskirt, boots and Metallica T-shirt. Today’s funky rebel clothing.
‘That was the best you could come up with? You had, like, five seconds there. Damn, and I’m so offended’ I give him a pat on the back and continue ‘ Anyway, I wear colors. Just not the Pepto-Bismol, where-the-hell-are-my-sunglasses pink the girls seem to favour around here. Really goes with the peroxide hair, boob job and vacant stare.’ I then go back to casually doodling over my notes.
Out of the corner of my eye I see his shoulders start to shake, and then he’s cracking up, trying his best to disguise his laughter with a coughing fit. I lean against the bench in satisfaction.
God he looks good when he’s happy. I wanna make him laugh again.
Unbidden, the thought slips across my mind. No… oh no, I can’t afford to do this. Step away form the edge, Liz. You’re precariously close to falling.
Thankfully, the bell rings, rescuing me from myself. I hurriedly jot down our findings and when I look up, Max is watching me again. He looks as if he’s about to say something, but I’m already outta there, stuffing my things in my bag and blowing a kiss to Mr Seligman as I breeze out the door.
[ edited 11time(s), last at 2-Nov-2002 3:51:00 PM ]
|posted on 24-Jul-2002 6:22:45 AM by Roswellgurl|
|Aww... shucks, you like it? you really like it? you're all so nice, why'd I have those nightmares of you rejecting my fic and shattering my hopes... newayz, much MUCH thanx to the following feedbackers...|
roswellluver - Yeah, Mr Seligman is getting quite the rep...
ISLANDGIRL5 - thanx!nice to know I can make ppl laugh with my dry jokes!
CRAZY 4 MAX - yep, I hope max'll keep ya guessing, thanks 4 the encouragement!
frenckiss70 - I thought I would be the only one laughing at my jokes... definately continuing, thanks!
salonica - love your name! thanks
JDreamer - I'm glad u liked it!
Scottie - yeah, that part was one of my faves to write. Love the Maria, Alex, Liz relationship ; )
clueless - so honoured to get a bump from u! the next part should be up soon!
MelodyCrsh47 - Aww, geez *blush*, just doin' my part to keep the dream alive
Mystical Light ML 4ever - I hope it stays interesting. Tell me if it gets boring, okay?Thanx!
Care_Behr - your feedback made me giggle and jump in glee (yes, in glee I tell you!) I love funny Liz, so I write her the way I would like to be if I had the guts.
sarah_copley - Yeah, I gave Liz some guts this time. I was afraid you wouldn't get my jokes and would be all "ummm... nice...nice try roswellgurl... really funny. Yeah."
narly21 - Thanks *ego slowly filling room* hope it stays great...
Again, thank you all for feedback it gave me tingles and a permanent grin. New part should follow shortly, hope you like it!
P.S Is this the right way to post new parts and stuff? tell me if you do it differently so I don't look like a dumbass for too long...oh... too late.
[ edited 1 time(s), last at 24-Jul-2002 6:24:16 AM ]
|posted on 28-Jul-2002 6:37:33 AM by Roswellgurl|
|Would somebody please tell me how the hell you change the title?!|
Okay, calm down roswellgurl, you're scaring the poor readers away...
Right, well, here's the new part, please excuse any weirdness - I blame it on the drugs. Always the drugs.
Hours, Days, Years later and it’s ten minutes to the end of school. The whole class seems to be simultaneously focussing on the clock. Ring, Damn you, Ring! If you ring before Mrs Barker finishes talking, she won’t have time to give us homework!
Lazily twisting a section of hair around my finger, I glance over at Maria, who seems to be furiously writing something. She looks up, meets my gaze and slides the note to me along the floor with the expertise of a long-time note-passer. It lands perfectly under my shoe. In the pretence of grabbing my bag off the floor, I quickly pick it up, and then open the note while Mrs Barker’s back is turned. It reads:
What did I say? Dammit, Stay away from the abyss, girl! Laughing with Max in Bio? I can see that dreamy look on your face a mile away. Strength, Liz, Strength! Lets cure your crush the only way I know how – My place, Friday night, Ice-cream and crappy teen movies.
The note is typically decorated with Maria doodlings – various hearts, flowers, ‘MG 4 MD’s and ‘M&M 4eva’s. I turn the paper over and scrawl quickly
He’s already forgotten. Sounds like a party… want me to bring the overly muscled male strippers?
P.S - I don’t think I’m the only one that needs strength
I screw it up, and the next time the teacher’s back is turned, I lodge it over to her, hitting her squarely on the forehead. She reads it and just as she directs a scowl my way, the bell rings. Saved by the bell! – Clichéd but true.
I stuff my books into my bag and head for the door past a bemused looking Mrs Barker who keeps trying to bring our attention toward her again. After several feeble ‘ Children! Homew- really now, settle down! Homework-‘ she gives up and collapses at her desk. I stroll out the front doors humming. Freedom! When I’m a-walkin’, I strut my stu-uff, and I’m so strung out – wait a sec… who the hell is blocking my way to milk, cookies and after-school television? And rudely interrupting my happy dance, might I add? Oh… Mr deep-and-soulful-staring-then-act-like-nothing-happened. He cracks a grin. ‘Need a ride?’
‘Good Boy. If I pat ya on the head and throw a stick, will you go away?’ I smile dismissively and sidestep him, moving on, getting over it, forgetting him. He looks a little shocked at this rejection. Awww… poor baby. Can I soothe your wounded ego?
‘How about tomorrow?’ He calls after me
‘ Possibly. Depending on the PMS.’ I yell back.
I shoot a glance at him, still standing there where I left him. He looks… confused. As do all the other W. Roswell High students milling around the parking lot. That oughta make an impression. Ah well, there is always tomorrow… and the day after that. Full of possibilities for Mr Lightning and me.
The next day, Alex and Maria are still at my lunch table. And the day after that. The day after that too. I don’t get it – the rumours are flying thick and fast: Drug Dealer. Roller blading stripper for Jason Behr. Goth. Vampire. Freak.
So why haven’t they left yet?
On Thursday I ask Maria what time I should come over for our little shindig on Friday. She says “ Oh, yeah, around nine. I would start earlier but that ass Michael won’t let me off -" at which point I stop listening and start thinking about which brands of cereal are truly superior. Special K or Fruit Loops?
Meanwhile Maria is doing a lot of dark muttering and rambling.
This whole week has been kinda… nice. Normal. Maria talking wildly about subjects that always seem to somehow focus around Michael and what an asshole he is. Alex quietly supplying barbed, hilarious comments that crack me up every time.
And Max. Loaded subject there. On my second day, the absent Miss Harding finally made an appearance, leaving me stranded – left to sit next to the tall, smelly and quietly freakish Lenny in the back row. Trust me, it would be heaps of fun, but I can’t get past his scary obsession with the Bunsen burner.
And Max has been… distant. Sends me a smile when I walk in the classroom. Greets me occasionally with a teasing comment in the halls – to which I quickly reply with a barbed insult, usually aimed at his rather repetitive dress style, or his little cult following – which are usually in evidence at the end of each one of his periods.
I swear, you go into any girls bathroom in this school and the inside walls are covered with such notes as ‘Max Evans is a Sex God’ or ‘Carrie Evans/Matthews-Evans’ surrounded by several hearts-and-flowers type doodlings. To all these I reply (with my trusty black marker pen, always handy for just these situations) with a suggestive comment relating to Max Evan’s unfortunate erectile problem, hitting exactly the right mix of concern and amusement that will soon have the grape vine a-hoppin’. Assuming, of course, that grapevines hop.
After exiting the bathrooms, past several confused and shocked freshmen (one asking, loudly “What’s Premature Ej–“ )
I triumphantly march over to my usual table. Fuck. I see it is already occupied… by none other than Mr Sex God himself. I raise an eyebrow questioningly as I come to a stop in front of him.
‘Get up Evans’ Tone flat, bored, dead. I examine my hair for split ends, acting as if I’ve got all the time in the world.
‘Make me, Parker’ He slowly takes out his sandwich and begins to unwrap it.
‘ Wow. That was original.’ I intone, rolling my eyes. ‘Better write that one down so you can re-use a great line like that again’
Choosing to ignore this, he slowly looks me up and down.
‘Nice attire. Alternative, yet again’
My current ‘attire’ is a pair of way, way overlarge khaki cargoes teamed with a T-shirt that says "Fuck you first".
‘Nice shirt’ - this is directed at me from the other corner of our lunch table. Its scruffy hair boy! Geez, how long can you go without brushing your hair?
‘Like I need your approval’ I shoot back. ‘ So, lets just get to the point, Max. Not content to keep out friendly “banter-slash-me shooting-you-down” to the lab, you decided to bring it out here and embarrass yourself in front of all these people?’ I smirk and fold my arms across my chest. He takes a slow bite off his sandwich, wipes his mouth and says:
‘Need a ride home? After school?’
Caught by surprise, I straighten and unfold my arms. I’m about to reply when an teeth-grindingly sweet voice intervenes –
‘Max? Why aren’t you at our usual table? I saved a seat for you, right by me…’
The high pitch and seductive lilt of her voice lets me know exactly who it is. Tess Harding. Max’s equivalent in popularity. Max’s opposite in everything else. They aren’t together, but like the rest of West Roswell High, you have to add in Tess’s given “…yet”. They are the - * restrain from vomiting * - perfect teen couple. Insert cheesy, fake smile. Only problem is, Max isn’t quite so eager – or so I’ve heard. Maybe my little fabrication in the bathroom wasn’t so far off…
Tess sidles over to where Max is sitting. He is suddenly concentrating on his sandwich really, really hard. She possessively loops her arm into his and gently drags him away, shooting me a dismissive, ice-blue gaze as she does so. Leaving me feeling about two inches tall.
Maria and Alex wander up. ‘We had visitors?’ she asks, her interest peaked. Her eyes bug ‘Oh…Oh My G- is that Michael Guerin? Walking away, with Max and Tess?’
‘Yep’ I say casually.
‘So?!?! What?! What did he say?! Was it about me?! Is he complaining again, that asshole –'
‘Looks like the Peroxide Queen got her hundred-dollar Victoria’s-secret panties in a bunch over something. Or someone’ Alex’s eyes are coolly assessing, non-judgemental.
Confidence restored, I straighten up and slam my lunch bag down.
‘Peroxide musta damaged a few brain cells... ’ I muse.
P.S - Liz's happy dance song is 'Blister in the Sun' by the Violent Fems. (I don't know if that's spelt right) It's a great song! newayz... hope it wasn't too horrible... and I'll take less time to update next time!!
|posted on 2-Aug-2002 7:57:49 PM by Roswellgurl|
|Okay...drumroll please... and here's part three!!|
Sometimes life is so disturbing you find you have to regress to childhood to find any kind of comfort.
So that’s what I’m doing. Vegging in front of the t.v in my comfortable Liz-shaped couch-hollow while Sylvester and Tweety battle it out in front of me. Got my milk, got my cookies, got my meaningless cartoon crap aimed at five-year-olds… I figure that’s about my mentality.
Hehe. Dumb cat. Doesn’t he know that every dastardly plan he hatches to get that bird is gonna end in a puff of dust at the bottom of a large cliff? Or under an impossibly huge Acme weight? He should have figured it out by know… even I have.
Shut up. I’m regressing, okay?
On my way from the kitchen after refilling my glass of milk, I catch sight of my school bag lying where I left it – haphazardly thrown into the corner of the hallway. I really should do my homework. Schoolwork is important. Teaches you responsibility and all that shit. Ah… screw it, Tweety is calling: come watch me, Liz!! You know you want to! You can’t resist my annoyingly cute voice and unfunny antics!!
I think I sense something looming, something inescapable and huge… is that… my first detention at this school for not doing homework?
Well… have I, or will I ever, care?
Sometime after the shadows have deepened and cartoons have switched over to new stories, my mom finally makes an appearance.
‘Hi sweetie how was your day?’ she says in the practised tone of someone who isn’t listening and doesn’t care.
‘ Boring. Pop quiz in history. Fell asleep during factorising in Algebra. Watched while Mr Seligman sodomised a goat in bio. Pretty standard. How about you?’
‘Oh, my day was fine, dear. A little hectic. I can’t believe no-one even bothered to think of pamphlets being put on display at the charity dinner… thank goodness I came along, huh?’
Resignedly, I turn off the t.v and begin to walk out.
‘ Did you say something about a pop quiz, honey?’
I sigh and continue walking.
I guess I’m used to it by now. Sitting here, locked in my room, I suppose an appropriate response to neglect would be to break a couple of things, maybe slit my wrists in a desperate but cowardly attempt to gain my parents attention. But… I don’t know. It’s always been this way as far as I can remember. Mom has always been ‘Super mom’. Involved in any and every project that each new city has to offer. Nine to five she’s out there, doing that extra canned food drive, volunteering for that extra hour at the soup kitchen. Going that extra mile. She’s always so tied up in that bullshit, I guess she just doesn’t have enough left over for me. You should hear the comments some of the other women make:
‘ I don’t know how she does it, never even thinks of herself – ‘
‘You are so lucky to have such a wonderful mother, Liz – so giving!’
‘Such a wonderful woman. Shame about her daughter though. I wonder where she went wrong?’
Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the never really being there – really fucks your kids up, huh? Stretches herself to the limit for any organizations that need help, but did she ever see me? I’m in need too… I needed a mother.
Oh well, I’m over it. Come graduation I’m leaving them in the dust of this tiny town. I’m outta here.
Next morning. First period Bio. I’m holding my eyelids open manually… they are still crusted over with sleep. Does anybody else think 8am is just a leetle TOO DAMN EARLY to be asked to be anywhere? I hate this fascist, evil way the authorities have devised to keep us out of our nice, warm beds in the morning... where we should be. I long for my Kermit sheets…
‘Anybody awake in there?’
It’s Max. Grinning. Ugh. It’s too early to deal with his bullshit. Plus, he looks clean, fresh and awake. Dammit, he’s one of those annoyingly chipper morning people, who bounce out of bed at 6am and come to school early to sit, smiling appealingly in the front row, while the rest of us humans drag our sorry, Starbucks-deprived carcasses in 10 minutes late. Sigh.
‘Stop talk. Brain work too slow for mouth move.’ I mumble
He laughs and sits down next to me. I rest my head on my hands and turn my face toward him.
‘Are you sure you should be sitting here? Won’t Perox-, I mean, Tess, get a little pissed? I mean, she probably saved you a seat and all…’
He grins sheepishly and looks away.
‘What, do you want me to move?’ He looks back at me ‘Don’t worry about Tess. I’ll take care of it.’
I raise an eyebrow sceptically.
‘What?’ He asks ‘I can handle her. She’s just a girl – and I’m a big manly-man’ He grins ‘Wanna feel my muscles?’
‘Oh Max… now you’ve proven your oh-so-manly masculinity to me, I find you irresistable!’ I say in a high, overly feminine voice ‘Color me swooning’ I add, dropping back to my usual monotone.
He is about to reply when an ‘oh-shit’ expression passes over his face. I know this expression well, as I use it at least twice a day – usually upon the approach of a teacher or similar authority figure. Thus I can identify the expression on Max’s face. He’s in Deep Trouble. Hehe. I turn to the door to see that the lovely Tess Harding has just walked through the door. And spotted us. And fixed an ‘I will obliterate you with my ice-blue gaze’ look on her face - aimed at Max. This should be fun.
‘Oh so you can handle Tess, can you?’ I tease
‘Shut up. Pretend like we were talking about yesterday’s lab’ he says out of the side of his mouth. Reeeeeeal smooth, Max. This is just getting funner by the second.
Tess storms over to our table and fixes her gaze on Max. ‘So, hey’ she asks in a neutral tone.
‘Hey’ I answer back. Max is too busy looking scared shitless.
‘What were you guys talking about?’ Subtle, Tess. Subtle
‘Ummm, Just…’ I begin, then I look over at Max. You can practically see the beads of sweat rolling down his forehead ‘…Yesterday’s lab?’
She looks somewhat comforted but still slightly suspicious ‘What about it?’
I start to answer but then Max jumps right ‘Um, Liz didn’t really understand it, y’know, about the reaction rates and she, um, she asked me about them, and I, I answered her and it was all completely innocent and there’s nothing going on.’ He says this in a jumble of semi-coherent words, and then stops to take a breath. He looks at us, staring at him with incredulous and suspicious looks respectively, and then ends with a lame ‘...yeah’.
Oh Max. You poor, poor soul. You cannot lie for shit. Sigh.
‘Yeah, I appreciate it so much. Max is so generous…so are you going to the party this weekend?’
Ahhh yes, watch the pro. Watch me smoothly verify Max’s story, act grateful and change the subject without missing a beat. Now I can sit back and smirk in glory.
Tess moves her gaze onto me, finally, and answers vaguely ‘Yeah, I think so… should be fun.’ Then she adds ‘Wait… are you going?’
Hmmm. Bitch. Should I rearrange my busy weekend schedule of lying around, playing couch commando and single-handedly keeping McDonalds in business to come to this lame-ass ‘fiesta’ you’ve got planned?
‘Me and Max are going’ Tess says in an adoring voice, her smile suddenly possessive.
Party prospect suddenly seeming a hell of a lot more interesting. Will Max go along with this?
‘Yeah, I’ll be there’ I answer. Damn. Did that sound bored enough?
Some blonde, Barbie wannabe suddenly shrieks across the room ‘Omigod! TESSIE!!’ and Tess is gone, into the arms and air-kisses of her fellow popular.
‘They probably have to discuss the latest developments in how their hair curled, or whether that skirt makes their butt look big. Y’know, vital information like that’ I joke
Max is staring at me. And yes, those are actually butterflies disturbing my digestive tract. Uggh… cue the swelling Mills-and-Boon type music and flowery sunsets. Max awakes from his undoubtedly drug-induced staring match.
‘Uh, so I guess… see you at the party?’
‘Maybe’ I have to stay ambiguous. With the whole expecting each other to be at the same place at the same time… this could turn into some sort of date-type-thing. And that would mean disaster.
He begins to slide out from the lab bench ‘Oh, and uh… thanks for the help, you know, with the…’ the gestures over to Tess and makes the cat-claws-scratching motion with his hand.
‘No problem, you big manly-man, you’ I grin.
He grins back and as he turn to walk away I loudly fake-cough ‘Ahem-WHIPPED-ahem’
He throws a scowl in my direction and takes his place next to Tess. Or, as I have affectionately nicknamed her: Evil-Wannabe-Satan-Cheerleader. I hope she goes to the part of hell that doesn’t sell hair bleach. Cue the evil laugh. Mwahahahaha!!!
I glance in her general direction (I can’t bear actually looking at her directly) and catch Max sneaking a look at me. Well I’ll be damned…looks like he’s not so whipped after all.
Then Tess smacks him on the arm to draw his attention back to her. Humph. Spoke too soon. Well, it’s not like I actually want Max to be interested or anything.
So why do I feel so hurt?
Um... so if that part sucked, I really want to know... and if you hate any thing at all about this story, please let me know...I'd rather change stuff than lose readers!
Anyways, have a great weekend y'all,
P.S Oh! I'm such retard, thank you all so much for the feedback!! it makes my day so much better to be able to log on and do my happy dance cuz of all you guys... you are so the best. I love you all, you're better than chocolate (and I mean that seriously... chocolate is my Messiah) Luv ya, bye!
|posted on 6-Aug-2002 6:40:39 AM by Roswellgurl|
|Hey peeps!! just a really short part to let you know I'm still alive...barely (exams suck ass)|
Friday. Is there a sweeter word in the English language? If there is, I can’t think of it. The glorious thought of 48 hours of freedom so close… yet so far. Only a few more hours and I’m liberated from this hell…
It’s halfway through third-period English when I suddenly remember that I’m supposed to go over to Maria’s house tonight for some sort of freakish female bonding ritual. Oh well, should pass some time until the party. And Maria’s always entertaining.
At lunchtime, Maria almost freaks out when I tell her that I’ve never seen ‘Clueless’. What can I say; I guess I’m not normally a kind of ‘lets-have-a-fun-sleepover-and-paint-each-other’s-nails’ kind of girl. I’m usually more a ‘Let’s-go-stick-pins-into-a-doll-of-Britney-Spears-then-paint-my-room-black’ girl. Oh well, I could use a change… I’ve run out of Britney voodoo dolls.
As I’m sitting in Bio, anxiously awaiting our next fascinating exploration of science. (Oh…I’m SURE…I’m such the ‘Go-Learning!’ Girl) Max wanders up to me in that oh-so-casual manner that suggests he’s been angling for the right approach for the last ten minutes.
‘Having fun?’ he asks. I’m currently doodling ‘Seligman must die!!’ on my lab bench with permanent marker.
‘Oh yes. Tonnes.’ I say in a flat voice. Then there’s this 30-second pause. As I know you’re all people who generally have conversations with people (assuming you’re not freaky psychopath people… hehehe…right?) you’ll know that this isn’t a normal occurrence. I glance up and he’s staring at me. Again. Is this turning into some kind of strange stalker ritual? I mean, people don’t usually stare at me that much. Well, not here in Roswell. Maybe I should get another piercing?
And…Max is still staring. Those annoying butterflies start flapping their goddamn wings and my hands are trembling. Okay. Time to stop this…I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.
‘Asphinctersayswhat?’ I ask
Max blinks, the moment broken. ‘What?’ he asks, puzzled.
I proceed to crack up. Gotta love that Wayne’s World.
Lenny is laughing too. Both Max and I turn to stare at him. He stops at the enquiring looks on our faces and mumbles ‘Sorry’ then bends over the Bunsen burner again.
Max is still confused ‘What’s so funny? I don’t get it’ he complains.
I chuckle and sigh. ‘Go back to your seat Sphincter’ I grin.
Max knits his eyebrows. ‘Wha….’ Then as realization dawns, Seligman enters the room in a fluster of paper and half-eaten food. Max gives me the evils and reluctantly slides in next to Tess. I smile and proceed to push those darn butterflies to the back of my mind. And stomach.
Class is torture. I’m stuck here, trapped in an endless kaleidoscope of meaningless words and unintelligible symbols. As Seligman begins one of those incredibly boring, long-winded lectures he favors, I groan and begin to hit my head repeatedly against the lab table.
About mid-way through the lecture, Lenny turns to me and says:
Lenny: ‘I like fire. Fire is bright.’
Lenny: ‘There are just so many things you can burn. Y’know, paper, wood…hair’ He quickly glances at my head
Me: shift slightly farther away from Lenny
Lenny: ‘And, y’know, Fire is just so versatile. And bright.’
Tess: ‘So… Mr Seligman? Uh, y’know I don’t really get any of this. About the genes? Uh… I’m like, total blank. (Insert girlish giggle) so if you could maybe explain again from the beginning…’
Me: Slide into a black pit of despair….
Next up...Sleepover! and a realization for Liz...
(Do I sound like the T.V guy? all "Next Week on Mr Lightening"...)
|posted on 13-Aug-2002 3:32:26 AM by Roswellgurl|
Well...since you're all just so gosh-darn nice, what with all the postings and the helping with the ego-inflation...
Serious, when I read your feedback, I get this little wrinkle in my forehead from doing the 'aww' face. Really guys, I don't give a shit about my complexion, give me more!!!more!!! (getting scary now)
Here y'all go!!
And… It’s Friday night. Sleepover time!!! Maybe after tonight, I could, like, dye my hair blonde! And then, like, maybe I could start wearing, like, pastels, and then – maybe I’ll, like, be cool enough to hang with Tess!!!
Totally. Sounds Killer. Ugh… Cheerleader speak?
So I stroll over to Maria’s in my slightly-less-than-killer tracksuit pants and a plain white t-shirt, clutching a bag of popcorn and a tub of Ben ‘n’ Jerry’s Double Fudge with chocolate chips - as per Maria’s orders. Mmm…calorie-licious!
I ring the doorbell and wait. And wait. I ring the doorbell again and wait. Do these people not understand the concept of a doorbell? Might be nice to come in sometime soon…
10 minutes later and I’m seriously concerned about the deteriorating condition of my Ben ‘n’ Jerry’s. I’m about to say ‘Damn you to hell’ and leave in a hissy fit that no-one will see, when the door is burst open and I am drawn into the loving but slightly wacky arms of Ms Amy Deluca.
‘So sorry to keep you waiting honey! Maria’s told me sooooo much about you…anyway, she’s due home in about 10 minutes, something about fascist dictator cooks called…Martin? Anyway, here‘s the lounge, there’s the bathroom, these are the videos and I’ll put this in the fridge’
And with that she leaves me there, mouth slightly open, popcorn bag dangled loosely in my hand. No! She has taken my beautiful, high fat, low nutritional value ice cream! Noooo! It was all a plan to get my ice cream, wasn’t it? Huh?
Okay… just, just ignore that… it was my paranoid schizophrenia kicking in. Gonna shut up now…
I sit down and depressedly pop open the popcorn. Get it, pop open? Popcorn? Little joke there…hehehe…sigh.
Just as I am about to drown my sorrows in a bag of fluffy goodness, Maria comes barrelling in the door, sighing apologies and flinging bags of high-calorie junk food right and left.
I put aside the popcorn and say ‘So let’s, like, break out the nail polish!’
Maria says ‘Omigod yes, I have the perfect color for you!!’
I was, like, so totally joking.
After staring at her blankly for about two seconds, I say in a loud and cheerful voice (designed to successfully change the subject) ‘So… what the hell is the “Clueless” movie about?’ Maria totally perks up and suggests that we put on the videos. Great idea.
So the movie is pretty good. Actually funny. Quite the disturbing look into the psyche of the apparent ‘normal’ teen. Scary.
At about midnight (blame the lateness of the hour for my apparent insanity) Maria throws on some of her mother’s old Abba records and we jump around singing and dancing. Well, Maria dances. I jerk spasmodically in a lame imitation of dancing.
After that (erase the mental picture) we grab the oh-so-delicious ice cream and sit around talking about our love lives… or lack thereof. No… that was not a misprint. Read that last sentence over, and it will not change. I… Liz Parker…rebel extraordinaire (or so I like to think)… had an Oprah moment. Shudder. Let us never speak of it again.
It basically went something like this:
Maria: ‘So Michael is an asshole. I don’t think I should acknowledge that cretins like him exist. It makes me worry about the future of the human race’
Maria: ‘And he acts like I don’t even exist. Our hook-up at Tommy Fueller’s party last year? it didn’t happen. That time he dragged me into the Eraser room? Consider it erased from his memory.’
Me: ‘Is there anymore Triple Cherry Chocolate Fudge?’
Maria: ‘Of course, an actual relationship would be unacceptable. Totally out of the question. I mean, I have standards. And… he would never ask me out anyway…’
And it continues on in such a manner until Maria actually takes the time to find out if I’ve scoped out the area for possibilities:
Maria: ’So, checked out the local babe factor yet? Anyone catch your eye?’
Me: (far too quickly, dammit) 'No. No, of course not. Why would you think that? Absolutely no one. Not even a possibility.’
Maria: ‘Still stuck on Max, huh?’
So now my secret is out. This means I may have to actually face up to it myself…
Okay, here goes (this may never happen again, so pay attention… you! In the corner! Wake up!!)
I… have feelings for Max.
And not just my usual death-to-you, I-hate-everyone feelings… nice ones. Ugh, so pathetic… I just can’t find any non-crappy-romance-novelish adjectives to describe how I’m feeling.
Like I’m nervous and scared whenever he walks into a room. Like when he talks to me I don’t want time to ever move on, because that would mean having to share this moment with someone else. Like when he smiles, I want to put that moment on repeat so I can replay it every second of every day. Like I want to smile too.
Okay, okay, okay… disregard that last paragraph totally. Complete bullshit. I am so full of crap. I sound so…mushy. And that is one thing I am definitely not. Can you see why I can’t lov- like him? He turns me into this, sickening, simpering little fool. And that’s one thing I can’t bear to be. I have to stay strong, hard, unflinching. I can’t afford feel anything other than hard and rough.
I can’t afford to be anything other than hard and rough.
Sigh. Love sucks.
Later, I lie in Maria’s lap while Maria plays with my hair. Tired and bloated, my tender new feelings for Max seem to keep bubbling to the surface. Or that could just be indigestion from four tubs of Ben ‘n’ Jerry’s.
Maria is doing a series of little plaits in my hair when I say quietly ‘Okay… so I’m still stuck on him’
Maria sighs ‘Okay, firstly, like that soooo wasn’t obvious, Chica.’
I grin wryly up at her and say ‘Okay, but its pretty obvious that you can’t stay away from the abyss yourself. Michael Guerin?’
She wrinkles her nose ‘No! Come on… I mean, him? Of all guys? That is so in your imagination. I mean, he has terrible hair, an even worse attitude…’ upon seeing my sceptical look, she drops the pretence ‘…and I’m totally in love with him’ she says sadly.
‘We’re hopeless’ I say, to no one in particular.
When Maria has finally fallen asleep in a crumpled mess of couch cushions and empty ice cream tubs, I lie awake, watching her and thinking. Somehow, without even realising it, I’ve changed. I have friends. I go to school regularly. I stay up until 3am doing hair and discussing boys. I’m happy.
I’m falling in love.
The realization dawns slowly… no thunderbolts, no flashes of lightning. How can you be in this deep after only knowing a person five days? It’s scary, and it’s wonderful, and a thousand other clichés that I can’t seem to remember. I don’t want it to end, but at the same time I know it can’t continue. I have to stop this. I have to fall out of love with Max.
Beginning tomorrow… Operation Fall Out of Love. This should be interesting.
The next morning, when I wake up, I feel like I never went to sleep. My mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton wool, and my eyes feel like 10-pound weights are tied to them. My neck is twisted in a funny position and my leg hurts from an accidental collision with the coffee table while Abba-dancing last night.
Maria bounces in from the kitchen, a bowl of Fruit Loops in one hand, and the t.v remote in the other. Oh for the love of God… it’s another morning person.
‘Wanna watch cartoons?’ she asks in a bright voice.
I mumble incoherently. She takes this as an assent.
I drag my ass onto the couch and grab the Fruit Loops from her. She laughs and heads back towards the kitchen saying “Ahhh… Morning-after-sleepover hangover. I know it well’
Three bowls of fruit loops, a glass of milk and a bag of m&m’s later, I feel like my old self. Granted, a little weirded out from my night of female bonding, but otherwise fine. After Sylvester has done his thing with the devious plotting against Tweety and the being crushed under a grand piano, I casually ask ‘So are you going to the party tonight?’
Maria says ‘Not planning to, no. They’re so boring, and they’re all the same: same music, same dramatic relationship break-ups, same drunken assholes trying to grab my ass.‘ She looks back toward the t.v before adding ‘And anyway, Michael‘s not planning on going.’ She smiles guiltily at me. I smile back.
‘Well, since it’s my first Roswell party, would you like to go with me? I’m sure we can somehow arrange for a certain fascist cook to make an appearance’
She quirks an eyebrow ‘Well in that case, how can I refuse?’
Right, now you just have to stay tuned folks...I think you're gonna like this next part (I did...warm, tingly feelings all round) so if you're real good and leave lots of feedback (or cocaine...either is good. Both is better)
I'll get back to ya real soon!
Y'all come back now, y'hear!
|posted on 20-Aug-2002 5:28:56 AM by Roswellgurl|
|Okay, okay...I'll say it. I'm you're Biatch. But you're all just so nice that I can't help it...|
So... uh...go ahead and read...what the hell are you still reading my ramblings for?!
Saturday night, one hour before the party. In other words, total chaos.
‘MOOOOOM! HAVE YOU SEEN MY BLACK, LACY CORSET TOP? IT’S NOT IN MY CLOSET!!!’
That’s Maria. Boy that girl has a pair of lungs. Cue us covering our ears and vainly searching for the requested top.
Alex emerges from underneath the bed clutching a black tank top. ‘Is this it? It’s black! Do I get a gold star?’
Maria grabs her tank top and thwaps him over the head with it. ‘No! That’s not it, you dumbass!! God, we’ve been friends for EIGHT YEARS! I thought you’d know the difference between tank and corset by now! Jeez!’
Alex crawls back under the bed, mumbling apologies.
I hide my smile and dig through Maria’s drawers, finally unearthing the much-sought-after top from underneath a pair of Mickey Mouse boxers. ‘Maria!’ I call to the pile of clothes under which she is buried ‘It’s your birthday! Just please, for the love of God, stop yelling!’
Maria grabs the top and, squealing her thanks she runs to the bathroom to put it on. Alex throws himself, exhausted onto her bed and gives me a double thumbs up ‘Nice work, Parker. Another five minutes and we would have been running from the house, ducking various objects while she yelled at us.’
I smile and perch myself on a pile of clothes.
Maria reappears looking stunning in her corset top, some black leather pants with zips and a pair of six-inch stilettos. Michael won’t know what’s hit him.
‘Skank-a-licious’ I say
‘If you weren’t my best friend…’ Alex says, pretend wistfully
Maria poses and pouts then says, with a gleam in her eye ‘Now…Makeup!’ with glee I might add.
‘Run. Now. It is your only chance of survival.’ Alex says, deadpan.
I’m about to cut him down with a witty remark of some sort, when I catch sight of the torture chamber Maria is preparing. Mascara. Various eye pencils. Tweezers!
So I prepare to run.
It turns out that Maria is freakishly strong. 30 minutes later, I can’t feel my face because of the vigorous rubbing, wiping, poking and prodding it has suffered. I also look pretty damn good.
Now, as you may have gathered, I’m not one of those narcissistic girls that think that the sun shines out of their ass. I never wear make-up. I don’t care which colors match. I barely know what a mirror is. So it is a pleasant surprise to see that I look…decent. Passable. Not total babe material, but all right.
Maria sighs in satisfaction. ‘Liz, babe… it is now time for you to realize how truly gorgeous you look. No doubt, you are going to blow Miss-Tess-Blow-up-Doll right out of the water’
Alex peers at me ‘Yeah. Yeah… you look fantastic!’ at my alarmed look he hurriedly assures me ‘Not that I’d ever be attracted or any thing, but serious Liz… you could get a guy drooling there’
I stand up and give them both sceptical looks ‘Right…now, before the drugs wear off… let’s get out of here’
As we’re walking out the door Maria comments ‘And might I say… you look quite the skankiness yourself’
I glance down at myself. The lacy white camisole and denim miniskirt that Maria picked out for me look foreign and strange on my too-skinny, underdeveloped body. Ugh… how teeny-bopperish. Anyhoo, the ripped black fishnets and knee-boots I added make me feel slightly more at home. Go the rebel-styles.
We arrive at the party fashionably five-minutes late. Well, it’s pretty much completely deserted…looks like everyone else decided to arrive fashionably half an hour late. Damn.
The three of us go and sit ourselves on the couch. Wow… happening party. Alex grabs him and Maria beers and offers me one. I decline. I don’t know what it is… I just hate beer. Smells like my father the morning after a drink-up with his buddies. Gross. Plus, I hate how people act when they’re drunk, so… out of control. So sloppy. So not me.
After 10 minutes of waiting and random conversation I’m fed up. I get up, go over to the CD player and sift through the CD’s available. Boring. Old. Boring. Undanceable-to. Soppy. Boring. N’sync?! Ugghhh…
I put on some Jimmy Eat World and grab Maria, pulling her into the centre of the dance-floor. The few people here stare curiously and Maria cringes ‘Liz?! What are you doing?’ she hisses. I begin to dance and she attempts to go back to the nice, anonymous couch she was sitting at. I grab her and say ‘This is so dead. Lets get some people moving’
Maria begins to move, at first self-consciously and awkwardly, but then as she loosens up that bold, sex-goddess from Abba last night begins to show through. I grab a random guy and his date off the wall and pull them into the centre, ignoring their protests and jumping around to the beat. Soon I’m laughing and talking, exhilarated and high, blood pumping with the beat of the music.
I’m talking with random guy number four and his girlfriend when Max arrives. I can see him searching for me as soon as he walks in the door. I turn my face away from him and concentrate on the guy I’m talking to. So far the conversation has revolved mainly around how great the party is, what a nice top that girl has and how great the party is. I can see the guy and girl staring at me curiously and I smile at them.
Guy: ’So… you’re Liz Parker, right?’
Me: ‘ Uh…yeah’
Girl: ‘So… are you really an ex pole-dancing nun?’
Guy: ‘Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I think it’s pretty sexy’
I stare at them for a second or two. Then I turn and walk away.
It’s about four hours later and I’m still on the dance floor. I haven’t left it. The lights swirl hypnotically, the music pumps through the floor, sending vibrations through my feet, reverberating though my bones. My body is slick with sweat, moving among what seems like a hundred other slick, sweaty bodies. I toss my head back and suck in lungfuls of air. The world is a spinning, flashing vortex. I never want to stop dancing.
The beat slows and a love song comes on. I decide to take a break and grab a drink. I turn around and run into a hard, warm body. Max’s hard, warm body. My stomach quivers violently and my hands tremble. My eyes lock with his and its one of those moments. Where time is suspended and the world slides to a halt. My heartbeat speeds up and he watches me, lazily. I can’t help it… I have to touch him. I gently lift a hand and bring it to his forearm, resting my fingertips lightly on his skin. Then I trail my fingers down his arm, along his veins and muscles, memorising what I see. I take my time, meandering softly. I can feel his skin quivering. It amazes me to be able to have this effect on him. When I reach his pulse, I can feel it pumping rapidly. I realize it matches my own.
‘Dance with me?’
His voice startles me, bringing me out of my daze. I nod, slowly. I’m under hypnosis…trapped in his spell. I gently clasp my arms around his neck and he wraps his arms around my waist, bringing our bodies together. Flush against his body, I can feel everything. Where our bodies meet. Where mine fits exactly against his. I gently rest my head against his chest. Oh my God. Is that his heart? It’s going… really, really fast.
Oh God. Are those my knees trembling? Pull away! A little voice in my head screams. Pull away now before it’s too late!! You’re supposed to be falling out of love with him, not getting caught deeper and deeper!
Damning my inner voices to hell, I raise my head up and gaze at Max again. His eyes draw me in. The corners of his mouth tip up in a smile and I smile back. The smile drops from his mouth and he’s concentrating really hard on my mouth. I lean in unconsciously and so does he. I close my eyes. He bends his head.
His breath feathers across my neck, sending shivers of feeling across my already sensitised skin. Gently, torturously, his lips touch my neck. Again and again. It’s more than a kiss; it’s a gentle caress of lips upon skin. His tongue tastes, his teeth rake gently. I have never wanted to kiss somebody so much. I moan, my vocal chords betraying me in a pure expression of need. I’m embedded in the sensation, my hands clutching, gripping. His lips move to the underside of my jaw, inquisitively, searching. Moving so slowly that I scream on the inside. He softly breaks away, and I sigh at the loss. I open my eyes and meet his. Kiss me, I cry silently. You know that it’s what I want. I slowly close the gap, moving my lips close enough to taste him. Our breaths meet, mix, mingle.
‘Max? What are you-‘
I jerk away, my body aching with frustration. It’s Tess. I meet Max’s eyes. It’s enough to make me cry.
Tess is standing, shocked. Her eyes latch on to me and she silently turns and walks.
‘Go to her’ I say in a toneless voice, all emotion carefully checked
‘No’ He says, voice strong, vibrant ‘I won’t leave you. Liz – we’re not-‘
‘Go’ I turn to him and say, flatly ‘It should never have happened anyway’
I don’t want to look at his eyes. I don’t want to see the pain I just caused. I stand still as he pushes past me, my teeth gritted against the hurt. It should never have happened anyway.
The song ends and I raise my head, sighing and moving off the dance floor, past an ensconced Michael and Maria, out into the fresh autumn air outside.
Killer party. Literally.
So...uh...*cough* yeah, feel free to say if you hate it...
Don't worry, Liz is just being a fuckhead right now, it will get better!!
Neways, Have a fantastic tomorrow!
|posted on 23-Aug-2002 3:47:42 AM by Roswellgurl|
|Oh My Goodness!*gasps and falls off chair in overdramatic gesture*|
Now... I know my maths is a little rusty...but bear with me here. I have TWO... count 'em TWO pages of feed back. Cue my spastic shaking-with-excitement doggy face (you REALLY don't want to know)
Yeah, just a l'il note to tell you that the next part might be a few days coming as I just got my new computer *sighs and strokes screen, sniffing the shiny-new smell* - it's one of those ones with those shaped keyboards and those cool keys...the clicky-but-soft-ones? Yeah, I love those, get a thrill every time I type...(BTW getting a life is on my to do list) but it's not hooked up to the internet yet, so I can't update...grr...
I'm currently typing on my old computer, so this is the last thing I'll type here...ever...sniff...no, no I'm fine...yeah, so my next update will be on my new comp *spastic doggy face* so lets just all say a fond farewell to this computer...all the good times we've had together...walking in the park...visiting porn sites...oh well, look out for a new part peoples, it's a-comin'!
Love y'all, you all realise that you're waaaaay cooler than me... (I'm not above shameless flattery)
Peace under a good groove
P.S - mpls muse, if you're reading this, I LOVE that song 'Creep' by radiohead, except I didn't know all the words, so when I sang it I was like 'I'm a creep....I'm a widuuh...' so now I can sing along loudly and properly and not shame myself in front of my friends! thanx!!
|posted on 12-Sep-2002 4:55:59 AM by Roswellgurl|
|I...got nothing. I WOULD make up some totally tear-jerking excuse like oh-my-grandpa-died-and-I've-been-wasting-away-so-I-couldn't-possibly-write, but Granpa is alive and well and...RL took hold of the steering wheel for a little while. You guys are fan-fucking-tastic, if I were you I would have said 'To Hell with you!!!' and left loooooong ago...but here I have come, offering cookies and pitiful excuses:|
I all told you about the momentuous computer move, right??? we all said the fond goodbye?? so that happened and then, oh yes, my father just HAPPENS to tell me 'by the way, if you had any files you wanted to continue on the other comp, you're basically screwed' AFTER they had unplugged and carted away my beloved other computer. Understandably, I was a little pissed (UNDERSTATEMENT!!!UNDERSTATEMENT!!!!) now, I had up to like part 10 already written, so after thoroughly screaming at anyone in range and sulking in my room refusing to eat anything except for chocolate chip cookies (my sister was selling them for her school and, understandably, I ate the lot...who wouldn't??)
I had to haul ass to the nearest computer store and get a new floppy disk. Well. Two weeks later, my brother hasn't even SET UP the other computer (23 and obsessed with my sisters retarded computer games. Lets all say it ppls...PATHETIC)and I practically had to wrench him away from this computer to even get on. On top of my comp troubles, I just had exams (oh, for the love of god DONT GO THERE. maths was like three hours of hell. I came out sweating heavily and traumatised) so I've been desperately swotting like anything for the past two weeks (cuz, you all know that I never actually LISTEN to what the teacher is saying. Its like 'blah, blah, blah trignometry blah blibbety blah pythagoras blah blah I swear if you aren't listening again - ' might explain my slight inability to actually work out anything math-related)
Plus, there's my obvious super-ability to procrastinate and my deathly allergy to anything work-related, so you can understand the vast length of time since I last posted. Now, I can see you looking at me sceptically and raising the pitchforks my mind has so kindly supplied you with, so um...there's my excuses, here's my apology:
I'M SORRY!! OH, SO SORRY! I WILL DO ANYTHING, EAT ANYTHING AS A DISPLAY OF MY ULTIMATE REPENTANCE! I PROSTRATE MYSELF (thats the right word right? right??) ON THE FLOOR IN FRONT OF YOU IN A SHOW OF MY COMPLETE UNWORTHINESS! YOU ARE THE GREATEST BEINGS ALIVE!! EVER!!! I LOVE YOU GUYS!! I WILL EVEN - GASP - GIVE UP CHOCOLATE- no, I really won't... nothing is worth that. Nothing - GIVE UP PEANUT BUTTER AS AN EXAMPLE OF MY COMPLETE...AND UTTER...(running out of breath) SORRY-NESS...
and thats all folks!! what you were expecting more?!? I gave up peanut butter for you!!
Neways, because there is no part now (but will be within the week) I am prepared to recommend to all you fabulous readers out there, some of the best fics I have read so far (BTW, if you are an author, PLEASE tell me about your work...I'd love to read it and praise you until you are ashamed and blushing) which I have bookmarked and read several times over SO without further ado:
IF I FALL and INNOCENT by mel? I think sooooooooo amazing, she is a fantastic author. Highly recommended
LESSONS ON BEING INVISIBLE
LONG TO BE
HOLLOW and COMPLEXITY (companion piece)
THE SUMMER OF SASSY (this one had me laughing soooo hard)
THE BRILLIANT DANCE
GIRL LIKE THAT...
SPIN and CORE (companion piece, both can be found at www.schurry.com - I think...don't trust me)
DISCOMBOBULATION (by the same person - incognito - who did spin and core, so fantastic but she hasn't updated in AAAAAAGES!!!!)
THE DENIAL GAME(I'm a long time fan of this one!)
THE WALLFLOWER SOCIETY and RENAISSANCE
there are many, many more, but I just cant remember them now (my memory sucks shit) so feel free to recommend fics to me ANYTIME!! I love all the authors on this site, these are just the few I've gotten to read and enjoy. I got this idea for recommending fics from Evelynn (The Denial Game, Accepting the Challenge and Harvest Moon, most notably) so I hope you enjoy the fics above...and if you don't, please don't throw things at me. me no like physical abuse. Hinders my part get-y out-y-ness. We all know you hate that.
So its about time to wrap this up, peoples (thank GOD they groan) so I hope you accept my apology and excuses and ifyou don't ...umm...my...grandad died..okay? y'all believe me, dontcha?suuure you do.
Peace under a spotlight jive,
|posted on 19-Oct-2002 7:14:28 AM by Roswellgurl|
|Okay, okay peoples...I know this may come as a shocl to uo, but...I'm back. Complete with no, not one, but TWO new parts.|
Stop with the heart attacks! Here's an asthma inhaler...
I would explain my mysterious abscence for which I DO have an excuse. But I know that all you really wanna do is just read the new parts, so here ya go...(excuses will follow)
It’s Sunday morning and I’ve been staring at my ceiling for 2 hours and twenty-eight minutes. I’ve managed to memorise every crack, every stain. I wish I knew my feelings as well.
I can’t think about last night. Whenever I do, my body quivers a little and I can feel my emotions swing wildly out of control. I hate it. Whenever I think about his eyes, bright against the soft dimness of the dance floor, and the way his body felt so warm and…safe, I can’t make the necessary brain processes work. I can’t connect each thought together properly. Hence the continuous staring at my ceiling. Oh God, I have to get out of here. Maria, I need Maria.
A hurried phone call to Maria’s mom later and I’m on my way to The Crashdown. Apparent place of joyful teen get-togethers, greasy food, and Maria’s place of work. Oh well…there’s always free condiments… we need some more ketchup. I’m just about to step out of the door when I realise that I’m still in my sexy (not) pyjamas. Walking down the street in check flannel pyjama bottoms and a shirt that says ‘Barney is my friend’ is not exactly a good look.
Then my mind flashes back on last night and I just don’t give a fuck. Watch out world, here come me and my jammies.
So I casually stroll down the street in my best unhurried manner, waving to a startled old lady walking her dog and a man mowing his lawn. Oooh, look at me. All badass, freaking out suburbia. Fun!
I make my way into the Crashdown and quickly grab Maria, who is currently staring at me with an expression that’s deciding between Oh-my-God-what-the-hell? And Shit-this-is-fucking-hilarious.
I drag her away from public view and promptly collapse on a piece of furniture that resembles a couch. I open my mouth and let the words flow forth.
‘ So last night Max kissed me and at first it was all wow this is great and oh my god it was so good but then there was the Tess and suddenly I was like all go away it never should have happened and then he left - why did he leave? - anyway, so now I don’t know what I’m feeling and I don’t know what to do. Help me, for the love of God!!!’
Maria, familiar with ramblings herself, sits down and places a comforting hand on my shoulder. ‘What do you need, Chica? Ice cream? Tissues? Uzi’s?’
The appropriate teen response to cure my current state of mind would be one or all of the above. But I, never being the norm, decide to take a different route.
Staring out at the decidedly overcrowded dining room which I stole Maria from, I muse ‘Need any help?’
Maria says in a dismissive tone ‘Liz, babe, you cannot be serious. You’re insane’
She stops and stares at me ‘Oh My God you are serious! And insane! Take some pills for God’s sake woman!!’
I smile and say, ‘So… when can I start?’
Maria finishes writing on the card and presents it to me with a flourish
‘So, here’s what you say…shouldn’t be too hard if you follow what’s written on the card. Even for someone as…uh…interesting as you’
I glance down at the card and rattle off ‘Hi-my-name-is-liz-I’ll-be-your-friendly-waitress-today-today’s-soup-is-little-green-pea-soup-can-I-get-you-anything-to-drink?’ I look at Maria questioningly
She nods in approval ‘Now if you perfect the appropriate bored tone, the guys don’t even grab your ass’
Hehe, if some guy grabs my ass I might just have to ‘accidentally’ spill his little green pea soup (geddit? Little green men? Hehehe…sigh) all down his front. Then beat him up.
Maria leaves me to my violent thoughts and 2 minutes later, something shiny, green and hideous is flying at me from a closet.
Maria lets out an evil laugh at the look on my face 'Yes, you too will know the pain' she cackles.
Sighing, I head towards the bathroom.
10 minutes later
I look at myself in the mirror. Shudder. I didn’t know that it was possible for a shade of green to make you look so awful. Love the little antennae though. Might wear them home tonight; see if they freak my mother out.
Okay Liz, time to steel yourself. There are hungry masses out there, and if they want greasy food by God it is our duty to give it to them – or die trying. Fixing the requisite apathetic expression on my face, I approach a table that looks like it could use some service. Manners don’t fail me now.
The old couple blink at their surroundings. They must have taken a wrong turn on the way to the veteran’s home. Poor dears.
I take out my card. No time for hesitancy, Liz. Straightening my back and with a cheery smile on my face I read off the card ‘Hi! My name is' check card '…Liz! I’ll be your friendly waitress today! Today’s soup is…uh…little…little green pea soup! Now, can I get you anything to drink?’
Looking up with a triumphant smile I see that halfway through the speech I have lost their attention. The elderly lady is scanning her menu and the old man has…actually…fallen asleep. I suck.
‘Marvin!’ the little old lady kicks him under the table ‘Marvin, wake up, you asshole!’
Gee Willikers…I wasn’t expecting that…
‘Um...hello…dear, yes…I think I’ll have a…Pod Person salad? And Marvin, that great ugly oaf over there will have a… Sig… Sigou… Sigourney Weaver’
‘Would you like fries with that?’
I dutifully note this down. Woohoo… look at my writing skills.
‘And to drink?’ face aching, but smile still firmly in place
‘Oh, he’ll have a coke and I’ll have…’ she glances over a t Marvin ‘Do you have anything with lots and lots of alcohol?’
20 minutes later and I’ve decided to become a little more…creative with Maria’s card. I approach a seedy looking man in a business suit, who has yet to remove his eyes from my boobs and actually look at my face. He comes complete with gold wedding ring.
‘Hi! I’m Liz! I’ll be your friendly alien abductee today! Today’s topic is men who cheat on their wives in seedy nowhere towns! Now, can I possibly get you to look me in the face?’
Without removing his eyes, he parrots ‘Yeah… I’ll have a, uh, Will Smith’
I smile and say ‘Would you like an anal probe with that?’
He looks vaguely in the direction of my face ‘Uh…yeah’
Well. He asked for it.
As I scribble on my neat little pad and walk away, I can hear him say ‘Wait – what? Anal…what?’
Ah, life is good.
Maria is watching me with a twinkle in her eye. From somewhere in the direction of the kitchen, I can hear Michael guffawing.
I grin and say ‘Wanna hear my Gestapo one?’
Sitting at my lab table, tapping my fingers and telling myself that I’m calm. I am. I so am. Is that…my eye twitching?!?!
In search of comfort, I reach for my all-time fave reading material. Sigh…Baby-sitter’s Club. You gotta love the way they so calmly handle crises with a smile and an almost saint-like serenity (so unlike the mass destruction and confusion I usually cause). And each book ends with a lesson on what they learnt throughout their wacky-but-oh-so-understandable mishaps. Plus, best of all, it includes fun ways for me to entertain myself, I.e. coloring books and stickers!! The perfect book.
Yeah… I know…I really, REALLY need to get something resembling a life.
Half-way through the daring exploits of Kirsty and the haunted beach house, I get oh-so-rudely interrupted by a hand roughly jerking away my metaphorical security blanket. I’ll give you two guesses who…and no, dumbasses, it wasn’t Larry.
Yep, good old, predictable, pain-in-my-ass Max. Fun.
He casts a questioning eye over my book and places it down. This is the first time we’ve faced each other since Saturday. I can see him preparing himself.
He’s about to say something big. Important. I steel myself.
He pauses ‘So…uh…which character do you identify yourself with? I personally consider myself a ‘Kirsty’ type…’
Oh. Well, hello anticlimax-ville. I raise an eyebrow ‘Dawn, of course. How can you even question? She is so the coolest’
‘I don’t know’ he deadpans ‘I always loved Stacy’s fashion sense’
I feel the corners of my mouth start to twitch. Damn him. Damn him to hell.
Larry enters, clothing mismatched and reeking of smoke.
‘Hey cool! Number 225! I haven’t even gotten this one yet!’ He intently reads the cover of my book ‘“Kirsty’s Beach Holiday”? Wayyyy cool, can I…borrow this?’
At this point, he glances at us to see we are regarding him with horror. He blushes, mumbles and walks over to the Bunsen burner. I turn back to Max. He’s staring at my neck. He’s staring at my… neck?
‘Max. Earth to Max. Come in Max. Earth is being taken over by aliens…Mr Seligman just announced he’s going to a strip club…’ hmm…no effect. Time for drastic measures ‘Coke is making a new flavor!’
Max snaps to attention
‘Wha…what?!? But I like original Coke!’
Hehe…gets them every time.
The bell rings. I spy Mr Seligman just outside the door, fumbling with the handle around a small mountain of papers and half-eaten doughnuts. Someone should go help him. Really. What? What are you all looking at me for?
‘Seligman’s a-comin’. You better scurry on over to your seat now’ He smiles at me. A long, slow grin. My stomach takes a queasy turn…what is he up to?
‘Oh…no need. I asked Mr Seligman if I could switch seats with Larry for the rest of the semester.’
Oh. My God. Ring the bells people…someone finally managed to stump me. Bastard.
After a few seconds of flabbergasted (yes, I just used the word ‘flabbergasted’) stammerings and fish-faces, I manage to get out ‘But…how…why…how…What?!?’
If the grin on his face were any wider I swear it would split his face in half. Well…I just...hope he gets premature wrinkles (gee…great comeback there, Liz).
At my alarmed stare he explains ‘Oh, I just told Seligman that Larry was…a little TOO interested in fire…and that if he sat anywhere near the class Bunsen burners he might get a little handsy’ Masterful. Truthful and utterly dastardly. It is moments like these I can truly liken Max to Sylvester…
Dammit, I’m relating my life to cartoons again…better up my dosage of pills.
‘Besides…I told him I work better with you. He took one look at my class book and agreed’ I look at him questioningly ‘You remember the first day I met you? How we worked together?’ Geez. How could I forget? ‘Well…that’s the only lab experiment Tess hasn’t somehow managed to screw up. Mostly because she wasn’t there’
Oh no. He’s…staying here.
He cocks an eyebrow at my silence and grabs his bag, sliding in next to me. After taking a long look at him, I sigh and grab my book. This is going to be one loooong period.
We’ve been sitting here for 20 minutes. So far I have
a) stared at Max’s hands
b) pretended to stare at my book (which was helpfully upside down) when he caught me staring, and
c) stared at Max’s hands again
Max has really nice hands. Strong, capable. Yet, at the same time, gentle. Almost…sensuous. Wow…I should so be a writer for ‘Mills and Boon’.
Another 10 minutes of Seligman’s lecture (read: droning monotone) and we’re all about ready to slip into a coma. Thank God that at that moment he realizes this and decided to take a new approach.
‘Alright peoples, Lab time!’ he announces. He uses terms like ‘peoples’ a lot. Something about trying to get in touch with us teenagers…? Keep trying, Spitty McSpit.
The class heaves itself to its feet with various mutterances of ‘Thank the sweet Lord’ and ‘So…which class is this?’
I immediately go to get the equipment and set it up. Look at me, all Science geek. That would really be a bad image, socially…maybe I should swear at the teacher? No, I decide. There is a time and place for swearing and that is right before a pop quiz when you need to get sent to the principal’s office immediately.
Swearing is offensive, donchaknow.
Max watches me while I set up, making sure that the Bunsen burner is exactly even with the bench top which is exactly even with the box of matches. What can I say, I like order. Order almost Nazi-like in its perfection. I glance at him surreptitiously.
‘So…how’s…things?’ he says, clearly searching for a ‘safe’ topic to begin with
I snort ‘You had half an hour and that was the best you could come up with?’ I ask, tone derisive. Max stares at me.
‘It was either that or “So, How ‘bout them Mets?”’ he says.
I don’t even dignify this with an answer. I can hear Max shifting uncomfortably.
‘Well… what am I supposed to say? How am I supposed to keep thinking up topics that won’t make you yell at me when all I really want to do is just talk about Saturday night? About how it made me feel?’
Uh oh. He talked about Saturday. That’s a forbidden subject. What, did he not get the memo?
Well, only one way to fix this situation, and fix it good. I wheel around and fix him with a stare.
‘And what if I told you that I felt nothing? That it wasn’t such a big deal? How would you feel then, Mr Evans? And don’t lie, cause you really, really suck at it’
And with that, I don’t even look at him. I race to the front desk and ask for a bathroom pass, then get the hell out of there. I spend the rest of the period locked in a bathroom stall, leaning my head against a wall and focusing on nothing.
The rest of the day is one long blur.
Well, that's all folks (but just for now)
Okay, I explained about the computer crisis? yea. Turned out that my computer problem had not ended. My new computer decided to randomly do this thing where it decided to not hook me up to the computer for, oh say, a month and a half. Then, when I finally did get on, it decided to be nice and helpful and replace all my fave websites (I.e fanatics, hotmail, pink pussycat club) with 'page not found' signs.
oops, gtg, it's waay past my bedtime
see ya kiddies, new part real soon