|posted on 6-Dec-2001 9:31:38 PM by SpAcEgUrL370|
|Title: Becoming More|
Summary: Well, Max and Liz are best friends, but they eventually will become more than that... (hence title...)
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.
Author's Note: Yeah, I know. I really should not be starting another fic, but what the hell. I took a break from all that heavy romantic crap to write this. And, tada! If it goes over well, I already have a sequel planned. I didn't originally plan it that way, but it would fit that way.
Today is not a good day.
My hair’s a mess, I spilled coffee on my shirt, and I CAN'T FIND MY GODDAMNED BIOLOGY BOOK.
I am currently digging though the black hole that is my locker. It sucks things up. Take last week for example. I threw my favorite lipgloss in here after 3rd period, and when I come back to get it, BOOM, gone. It’s either a black hole, or the rumors about the Locker Bandit are true.
Aha! Success. I stand up and immediately fall back down, having hit my head on the door.
This supports my theory of TODAY SUCKS.
“Parker,” says a deep voice above me.
“Evans,” I respond as Max helps me to my feet.
Meet my best buddy, Maxwell Phillip Evans. Possibly the most screwed up guy ever to grace the halls of West Roswell High. Not that I’m one to talk. Perhaps this is why we’re friends.
The funny thing about us is, we don’t drink or smoke, we aren’t deformed or ugly or stupid, we don’t have wild and crazy monkey sex in the eraser room. But we have a certain attitude. To sum it up in five words or less, we think life sucks.
“One of those days?” he asks, grinning.
This happens to me on a regular basis. I have a lot of sucky todays.
“Whole damned world’s fucked up,” I mutter. He nods in agreement.
We've been doing this since middle school, where we first both began to openly express our hatred for the world and everyone in it. We hung out casually in 6th grade; by 8th we were eachother’s extra arm or leg or whatever they say.
Our days usually go as follows:
We meet at my locker where I swear and he nods.
Then we go to bio where he swears and I nod.
After that we go to lunch where we both bitch about school, people, life in general.
Following school, we go hang somewhere and make fun of things.
Then he drives me home and the next day we start all over again.
You get the picture.
“Oh, look. Here comes Kyle and Company,” I mutter.
Kyle and his extra arms and legs are walking toward us. “Liz, Max,” he says, “I’ve got something completely new today. Wanna give it a try?”
Kyle and his buddies are constantly trying to recruit us for their merry band of druggies. Just because we are depressed, sullen weirdos does not mean we do drugs, Kyle.
Max and I launch into our speech, based on the ‘just say no’ lecture given by every kid’s parents at one time or another.
“No thanks, I don’t do drugs,” I say
“I do not put impurities into my body,” Max adds
“Weeds are for whacking,” I put in, trying not to laugh
“I don’t want to end up like you.”
“I prefer my brown eyes to your red ones.”
“I hafta go do my homework.”
“GET LOST, WEIRDOS!” (That one’s my favorite)
They slink off. Max and I can’t risk looking at eachother; we might start laughing. Laughing is not acceptable for our depressed, sullen, bad attitude-ed selves.
The bell rings and Max says goodbye.
As he walks away, I notice something.
The guy has a really nice ass.
[ edited 15time(s), last at 2-Sep-2002 10:56:35 PM ]
|posted on 11-Dec-2001 6:48:30 PM by SpAcEgUrL370|
|Thanks for the fb. Isabel is the same Isabel but not related to Max, so I named her Anderson instead of Evans.|
“C’mon, retard, you have to pick.”
“You know, I’m feeling really abused right now.”
“Fine. If you don’t choose someone, I’m telling everyone you’re gay.”
I grab the nearest kid by the shoulder. “Hey, you see my friend Max, here? He-”
Max stops me. “Liz! I pick… Isabel.”
I look. Ahh, yes. Miss Isabel Anderson, Prom Queen. Blonde and blue, tall… Obvious guy choice.
“Isabel, eh? So, go ask her out.”
“Liz, that’s not part of the game.”
You see, there’s this game we’ve been playing since middle school. It’s called Pick The Girl Or Guy You Would Go Out With If You Absolutely Positively Had To. (We’ve been meaning to shorten the name up a bit.)
It’s really entertaining if you run out of things to make fun of.
“I’ll go for you,” I reply and before he can stop me, I march right up to her and tap her on the shoulder.
She looks at me and frowns. She looks a little like a turtle when she does this, I have no idea why.
“Do I normally associate with you?” she asks.
I pretend not to notice. “Hi, I’m Liz Parker, and my friend Max,” I gesture to Max who seems very absorbed with his sandwich. “He wants to go out with you.”
Isabel looks at him for a moment, considering. “Well, his clothes suck, and he obviously has no manners. But he’s not bad looking. Maybe with a little work…”
“Great, he’ll pick you up at 7,” I say. Then I leave. The estrogen level at that table is making it hard to breathe.
I return to Max and sit down again. “You’ll pick her up at 7 tonight. And for heaven’s sake, change your fucking shirt. You’ve been wearing the same one for 4 days straight.”
“Oh, so you’re whoring me out now? And for your information, I’m breaking it in,” he says.
He can be such a dork sometimes.
I turn to tell him so, but he’s gone.
You know what I just realized? English is the most boring subject on the planet.
I mean, seriously. Could I care a little less? No.
“Zzzzz zzz zzzz,” says Mr. Hanks. “Zzzzzz zzzz zzzzzzzzzz zzz, Miss Parker?”
“Liz, there’s something I have to tell you,” Max says.
“Uh-huh…” I answer. Kyle is trying to stuff a pool cue up his nose and I want to watch. This could get interesting.
“Well- Liz, are you listening?”
“Forget it,” he mutters.
I look up in time to see him walk out the door.
What’s his problem?
|posted on 11-Dec-2001 11:05:04 PM by SpAcEgUrL370|
|hehehe, I'm having a liz parker-ish day... and I seem to be living 3 days into the future...and I totally cried for the first time over tv...EOTW totally got me this time.|
|posted on 16-Dec-2001 7:27:21 PM by SpAcEgUrL370|
|Here I have the elusive part 3. It's 4 pages typed instead of my usual 2 1/2. Consider yourself lucky|
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
I must be having some freakish nightmare or something, cuz this is really getting weird.
Here’s how I think it happened…
Boy, does he look pissed, I note
Max is storming up to me, in full brooding vampire mode. “Liz, we have to talk,” he says
I give him a big cheesy smile. “How was your date?” I ask. He just glares at me.
Liz Parker: 267, Max Evans: 0
And that’s just for this week.
“She has the mental capacity of a turtle.”
Okay, that was too funny.
So here I am, doubled over laughing. Max is still glaring at me. You’d think it would start to hurt after awhile.
“Liz, I really don’t appreciate what you did to me.”
I stop laughing. Since when are we serious?
“Wha-what do you mean, Max?”
“Liz, I really have something very important to tell you.”
“Wait, let me guess, you knocked her up.”
“Sorry! Jesus, if you need to borrow some Midol, just ask.”
And there he goes with the glaring again.
Liz Parker: 268, Max Evans: 0
He opens his mouth to say something, but Isabel walks up and links her arm through his.
“Hi Max,” She says, batting her eyelashes.
“Oh, uh, hi Isabel,” he returns.
I feel this is my cue to exit.
Hey, I can be civil.
“Bye Max, Bye Isabel, see you later,” I say
“Wait, don’t go,” he says.
Oh, I’m gone.
Later, I sit against our usual wall waiting for Max. (The tables seat, like, 10 people and we don’t play well with others.)
Finally, he hurries over and sits down, panting. “I think I finally-”
“Hi Max!” says Isabel as she sits down very close to him.
“Lost her,” he finishes as he stifles a groan.
“Hey, Iz,” I say to her.
“No one calls me Iz,” she returns, glaring in my direction.
I raise my eyebrows and proceed to ignore her.
“So tell me all about your day!” she squeals at Max
“Mine was just fantastic so far,” she interrupts.
“We caught Pam Troy smoking in the bathroom, and you’ll never guess who was in the Eraser Room,” she pauses.
“Go on, guess!”
“Kyle Valenti and Abby McDowell!” she exclaims.
“Oh,” he says. “Look, Isabel, Liz, I gotta go.”
“Okay,” I say.
“Aww, so soon?” Isabel makes her sad face.
“Umm, yeah. And Liz?”
I look up.
“I got you a date with Paulie Robertson tonight.” He announces. Then he runs for his life.
Liz Parker: 268, Max Evans: 1
“MAX EVANS, I’LL KILL YOU!!!” I yell after him.
Five seconds later, I notice the silence and look around to find the entire student body staring back at me.
“Wear black underwear,” says Isabel nonchalantly. “Paulie loves black underwear.”
I’m just wondering when the whole world got together and decided to make my life miserable.
So here I am, wearing a dress. With my hair up. And here’s Isabel putting some junk on my face, telling me how almost socially acceptable I look, and how I should really do this more often.
Did I die and just never notice?
This is sooo not cool.
[ edited 1 time(s), last at 16-Dec-2001 7:29:52 PM ]
|posted on 22-Dec-2001 9:14:33 PM by SpAcEgUrL370|
|Hi again, hope you all remember me! lol. I should really work on getting these out faster!|
Sorry if this turned out terribly, I didn't even re-read it cuz I didn't want to end up rewriting the whole thing.
“You look pretty,” Paulie says to me
“Umm, I’m really glad we got to go out, I’ve been wanting to talk to you for awhile,”
I know it’s not polite, but the guy took me to a bowling alley for heaven’s sake.
Here we are, sitting at a table at Alien Bowl, Roswell’s best and only bowling alley. He thought it might be fun to take me somewhere to have a ‘good time’. This is far from my idea of a good time. I mean, hello, did he not notice I’m wearing a dress. I cannot begin to tell you how difficult it is to bowl and at the same time not let anyone have a look up my skirt.
Plus, these shoes they make you wear totally clash with my outfit.
Wait, did I just say that? Eww.
“Liz? Are you ok?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well, you’re looking at your shoes an awful lot.”
“Oh,” I meet his eyes. “Sorry.”
He smiles. “Don’t be.”
And I’m thinking, Maybe he’s not so bad.
He leans over and whispers, “How about we go somewhere more…alone.”
And I’m thinking, Never mind.
And then there’s the whole creep factor…
I don’t know why this date is pissing me off so much. When Max and I come here, it’s actually kind of fun. I can kick his ass from the comfort of pants.
You know, I kind of wish he was here right now.
“Sorry I took so long,” Paulie says as he places a basket of fries and a Coke in front of me.
I hadn’t even noticed he was gone.
“Liz, I understand if you’re not having a good time. I can take you home if you want.”
I pick at the extremely greasy fries. “No, it’s okay, really.”
Yup, being at another cheesy alien-themed institution with a fucked-up nimrod who is trying to clog my arteries is exactly what I’ve always dreamed of doing.
Hey, at least I’m not being hit by a bus or something.
It’s all about context.
I really wish Max was here.
The bell on the door jingles and I look up to see who’s come in.
Oh my God, my wishes were granted. Max walks in with Isabel hanging off of his arm.
You’d think she was some kind of parasite, always on him like that.
She smiles at him, and he smiles at her. I think I might be sick. It’s disgusting, it’s depraved, it’s just weird. I’m really regretting doing this to him. He is not supposed to be enjoying this.
Then I notice Isabel pointing toward us. Before I know what’s going on, Isabel and Max are seated next to us, smiling like they won the Publisher’s Clearing House thingy.
I bet they had sex.
“Hi! I didn’t know you guys would be here!” Isabel squeals.
I give her a weak smile and glare at Max.
“Hey,” says Paulie.
“Hey,” says Max.
Why are they okay with this??
I bet they all got together during that big Turn The World Against Liz convention and plotted this out.
“I’m soo excited to go bowling! Isabel exclaims. “I haven’t since I was like, 10, and I just know it’ll be so much fun! And we can…”
At this point, I let her fade out and turn to Max who is already looking at me. I raise my eyebrows at him. This means What the hell are you doing here?
He shrugs. This is body language for I don’t know.
Well go away! I tell him by glaring.
When you’re friends this long, you can have conversations with your eyes.
Sometimes you can string more than one motion together to make other phrases. Like this: He makes a sad face and shrugs. (Sorry, can’t.)
I glare harder.
So does he.
We continue for a few minutes, having a ‘YES! NO!’ fight with our eyes.
Then he crosses his eyes and wiggles his ears. I’m not sure I know how to translate that one.
We both look over at our dates, Isabel still chattering and Paulie trying to get a good look down her very low-cut shirt.
“…So, can we bowl now?” she finishes.
This could get interesting.
Okay, this is starting to get away from what I set out to write. But next part, I'm going to get back to where I want it. Promise.
[ edited 1 time(s), last at 22-Dec-2001 9:20:26 PM ]
|posted on 26-Dec-2001 8:36:34 PM by SpAcEgUrL370|
|Here we go. Not as good as I'd hoped, but oh well. I know many of you are asking, 'When will we see M&L as a couple?' well, I'm working on it. this part will get things rolling. Oh, and about wanting Iz out of the picture, I do too. She's extremely annoying to write, especially considering all the AMB code you have to use.|
“This is bowling?” Isabel asks as Max hands her a ball, nearly causing her to fall over.
The 3 of us nod. Her eyes get real big.
“But it’s stupid! Not to mention disgusting! You people want me to put my fingers in there??
Paulie and I roll our eyes. Max is just laughing. “Go ahead, Isabel,” he says. “Roll it on down there.”
She does, or tries to anyway. The ball rolls into the gutter right away and gets stuck. Max giggles.
Yeah, that’s right, giggles.
Does he not remember the rules?
She tries again a few times. Max is practically rolling on the floor, he’s laughing so hard. I’m still not seeing the humor in this situation.
Then it’s my turn, so I go up to the lane, taking a ball on the way. I step back and-
“I see London, I see France, I see Lizzie’s UNDERPANTS!!!” Max sings.
I grab him by the sleeve, bowling forgotten, and drag him over to a corner.
“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?”
He grins. “Nothing, nothing mommy,”
“Did you just call me-”
He interrupts me by singing Jingle Bells.
“Max, what’s going on?” I demand.
He pulls a little silver flask out of his coat pocket. “Vodka,” he says, seemingly proud of himself.
Well, this would certainly explain the laughing, not to mention the singing. Fan-fucking-tastic. He’s drunk!
“Want some?” he asks, holding the bottle out toward me.
“No,” I say.
He stars making these clucking noises and flapping him arms around.
He looks like such a retard. Yet…so happy…
“Gimme that,” I say, snatching the thing away from him.
After drinking a little, I start to feel tingly all over. Everything goes wonderfully fuzzy. I barely notice Paulie coming over and taking the bottle from me.
“Hey, alcohol,” he says, taking a swig. “Want some?” he asks Isabel, who just showed up.
“Dear God, yes!” she exclaims.
We pass the bottle around a few more times before going back to our game. It’s instantly become twice as fun and five times as amusing.
Paulie tries to bowl, but instead he’s sent himself rolling down the lane. Five minutes ago, I would have been mortified to be seen with him. Now it’s hilarious. Rolling on the floor hilarious. Pushing eachother into the pins hilarious.
Long story short, we got kicked out and banned for life.
So we’re walking down the street at midnight, singing, screaming, breaking noise ordinances in general.
“Y’guys wannago buuurn somtin’?” Isabel asks.
We give it a moment of thought. “What’d you have in mind?” Max asks.
“Oh! I know!” I shriek, raising my hand. “Let’s go torch the principal’s car!”
“Nooo…he jus’ gotsa new one,” Isabel drawls. “Seniors jus’ burnit las’ week.”
A squad car passes, and the cop must have seen us, cuz he stops.
“Shouldn’t you kids be home?” he asks.
“I can handle this one,” says Paulie. But instead of explaining, he throws up all over the guy.
We all laugh. The guy looks at us and says, “Have you kids been drinking?” We laugh harder.
He makes us all walk on a straight line while touching our noses and singing the alphabet backwards. I go first.
“Z…Q…D…” I start, missing my nose twice. “K…L…C…Ow! I poked my eye!” This is a lot harder than it sounds.
The policeman just shakes his head. “Underage drinking is a serious offense. You should be thankful you weren’t in a car. I’m gonna have to take you all downtown-”
“Run!” Isabel yells and we all take off.
Isabel and Paulie head for the UFO Center, Max and I run toward my house. We climb up the fire escape and dive through the window.
“I think…we lost him,” I say, breathing hard. “What…do we do…now?”
He holds up a deck of cards. “Strip poker?”
The drunk thing is kinda cliche, I know, but I needed it to...(makes edited references to next part here)
[ edited 1 time(s), last at 26-Dec-2001 8:41:10 PM ]
|posted on 29-Dec-2001 8:57:31 PM by SpAcEgUrL370|
I'm supposed to be writing my application right now, but it's so HARD! I keep switching over to the document where I have the beginnings of part 6, staring blankly at the screen, typing, erasing, and closing it. It's kind of difficult to do, cuz I want it just right and not dissapointing. You get what I mean?
So anyway, just wanted to warn you all it might be a long time coming. Hopefully no more than a week, but DAMN is it hard to do right!
|posted on 22-Jan-2002 8:54:12 PM by SpAcEgUrL370|
|Uhh... part 6 got deleted. it's not on my comp anymore either. I'll go hunting for it, but I'm not sure if it'll be there...|
|posted on 22-Jan-2002 9:24:25 PM by SpAcEgUrL370|
|OH MY GOD.... THANKYOU SARAHDREAMER!!!!!!!!!|
“What have you got?” I ask, trying hard not to laugh. Poker face, Liz. Concentrate.
“Pair of tens. You?”
Max really sucks at this game. He takes off his socks, making a big show out of it.
Sitting here in just my underwear is making me a little nervous. I mean, I’ve known this guy for 9 years, 6 of those spent as best friends. But the way he’s looking at me, it’s a little eerie. He’s looking at me like he wants to …eat me. Eww. He’s just really drunk is all. Yeah, that’s it.
Okay, this is making me uncomfortable. I’m going to end this. “Max, what do you say we raise the stakes a bit?”
“What do you mean?”
“Just take off your boxers.” Shit, where did that come from?
His eyes snap up to meet mine and his ears turn red. “What?!?”
“I mean, umm, here, just take your sex- I mean socks . Get your socks off of the cock- uh- clock.”
“Liz, are you alright?”
“Yeah, fine. Deal.”
“What happened to raising the stakes?”
“I got one. You win, and I’ll run up and down the hall naked. I win, and you have to kiss me.”
Looking at my cards, I have to smile. No way can he beat this.
“Start stripping,” I say, “Cuz-”
“Four of a kind,” he interrupts.
He grins at me, pulling me to my feet. In my alcohol-induced haze, I forget to fight it. He leans close to me, until our foreheads are touching. Then he stops.
And I realize: He’s waiting for me.
Now, you should know that Liz Parker never backs down. No. Liz Parker does what she says she’ll do when she says she’ll do it. (With the exception on homework, of course.) So it’s rather obvious what I have to do here.
I planned on getting the job done fast, but there was something that happened when our lips touched. Electric, almost. I didn’t want to stop.
I expected kissing to be gross. Actually, I never expected to kiss anyone, ever. But I’d seen it done. I’d seen Kyle stick his tongue down Pam Troy’s throat one too many times.
We stood there for a minute, a day, a year; I’m not quite sure. Finally he pulled away.
There’s only one answer to that. I pull him back toward me…
I'd like to thank everyone who left me fb before this part got deleted, especially izzylizzard! (glad you like it )
[ edited 2 time(s), last at 23-Jan-2002 9:11:56 AM ]
|posted on 4-Feb-2002 9:07:14 PM by SpAcEgUrL370|
|I'm tryin', guys. I really am. But this is the most mind-blocking, hardest to write, suckiest part I ever wrote. I'm thinking wednesday night, k?|
|posted on 6-Feb-2002 8:42:05 PM by SpAcEgUrL370|
|Hey guys. This part sucks, not at all funny. I hate it. After this, things will get better (I hope) FEEDBACK PLEASE!!!|
I’m trying to open my eyes, but my eyelids feel like lead. When I finally do succeed, I almost scream, the light hurts so much.
Why is this happening?
Suddenly everything that happened last night comes rushing back. I remember getting ready, Paulie picking me up, eating, Max and Isabel, and how weird Max was acting… The last thing I can remember is Max pulling the little silver flask out of his coat…
I think I’m gonna be sick.
After throwing up more than I ever thought I could, I stagger back to my room, collapsing back into bed. I land halfway on this huge lump.
The lump makes a moaning noise.
Holy shit, it’s alive!
I feel around for the baseball bat I know is under my bed. I put it there when I was 9, so I could beat the crap out of the closet monster without getting my hands all bloody.
My fingers finally wrap around my metal bat. Rolling slowly out of my bed, I raise it over my head to strike.
At least, that was the plan before the lump goes, “Liz?”
It rolls over and I look at its face. Oh no.
“Okay. Okay, okay, okay. Okay.”
“Why are you in my room, Liz?”
“Wait, this isn’t my room. This isn’t even my house!”
“Okay, okay.” I can’t seem to stop saying that.
Max turns this weird greenish color. He turns over and throws up all over my floor.
“You are sooo cleaning that up.”
“What’s happening?” he moans.
Max looks under the sheets, like he’s lost something. He turns toward me and goes, “Liz?”
“What happened to my clothes?”
Oooh, things just got a thousand times worse.
Make that two thousand.
“Okay. We can figure this out. Do you remember what happened?”
“Neither do I.”
“Oh. Max, you don’t think we…” I gesture to our lack of clothes.
“What? Oh, no. NO.”
“You’re right.” I hope.
Sitting down next to him, I wonder exactly how badly we fucked this up. We can’t ever go back to the way we were. Everything is ruined when you wake up naked in bed with your best friend.
“Hey, it’s gonna be ok,” he says, touching my shoulder lightly. I remember us sitting here, kissing. It doesn’t come as a huge shock, I was expecting that. And luckily, I don’t have any other memories.
“Did you see that?” I ask him.
An awkward silence follows. But it’s not your average awkward silence. This is the mother of all awkward silences. I mean-
“We should probably put some clothes on now, you think?” he says.
“Oh, definitely.” I move to get up, but he pulls me back down.
“Liz, I… I want to kiss you…once when I’m not drunk.”
No way is this happening. No, no no no no.
I can’t. It would make everything come to pieces. We can’t. I won’t.
And then, it hits me. I want this.
I tell you, I’ve had some serious lack of kissing experience. I almost laughed at myself. I’m usually a very secure person. Not right now, though. I don’t know what to do with my hands.
As soon as his lips touch mine, though, instinct takes over. It feels like I’m bursting into a million pieces. Lame, huh?
But being here, with him, only a sheet separating us, it’s, wow.
It feels so…right.
|posted on 11-Feb-2002 10:08:54 PM by SpAcEgUrL370|
|Araxie HRH: Yup, he did. But she just threw up too, so neither noticed. |
Thanks to all who fed back!!! Here's something different, cuz I was in a weird mood today. I'm working on a couple of new fics and the mood is different.
I step into the shower, letting the icy spray wash over me. Yeah, I’m taking a cold shower. Get over it.
God, I am such an idiot for letting this happen. What was I thinking? Max and I can never be together. The social torment, ugh. Sometimes I wish I were one of those types who didn’t have to put on the bad girl face every day. If I was one of them, having a boyfriend would be fan-fucking-tastic.
But no, I’m too far-gone. This is me now, and I’ll have to deal with it.
Most people assume not caring what everyone thinks of you is part of being this way. But that’s completely untrue. You just want people to see you differently. It’s a cry for attention.
Hey, at least I tried to be something.
Like I told you before, I don’t drink or do drugs. I reserve my rights not to be hassled by the principal all the time. I’m kind of a loner. Don’t like to be bothered by people.
I try to scrub all the dirt off. Real dirt can be solved with soap, but I’ve learned the kind all over me can’t be. Reputations don’t come off with soap and water, folks. So save the time and effort.
Giving up, I turn the shower off and step out. I wrap up in a nice towel and try to forget Max is downstairs.
I look around the room, trying to clean up any reminders of last night. After making my bed, I put my deck of cards where it belongs, right next to my journal. Technically, it’s the only one who understands me.
I can barely remember how I came to be what I am. It was the summer after fifth grade, I know that…
----- ----- -----
June 8, 1995
Today was my very last day at Roswell Elementary. Gosh, I’m soo glad it’s finally over. I kinda felt bad for Principal Phelps, though. He cried when he handed me my diploma.
I’m so sick of being exactly what these adults want all the time. Miss Perfect Parker, teacher’s pet. Everyone assumes I don’t know they think that. How stupid can they be? I mean, it’s written all over the walls of the girls’ bathroom.
Remember when I told you how Maria and I ‘drifted apart’? Well, I lied. She dumped my ass when Isabore and The Gerbil came ‘round. She didn’t want to be the wonky friend of the genius anymore. She’s rather be popular. Bitch.
No one likes me anymore. I should have quit while I was ahead.
July 4, 1995
Ah, Independence Day. While everyone else is out enjoying the barbecue, I shut myself up here to write in this book.
You should have seen the look on Maria’s face when her mom dragged her in. You’d never believe we once were best friends. She’s going through Isabel withdrawals, I can see it.
Max is here, though. We sat next to eachother in class last year, but we never really talked. He’s really quiet. Tess claims they’re ‘dating’. Riiight. Max has better taste than that (I hope). Maybe I should tell her he kissed me while she was at Isabel’s. I bet I could get him to sit with me during fireworks later, in plain sight of Maria, of course.
August 13, 1995
I really need a new image. I’m definitely not going through another 7 years being teacher’s pet. I start middle school in two weeks. It’ll be the perfect time for a fresh start. No one will know me! There’ll be kids from North Roswell Elementary there, and from Desert West Academy, not to mention all the private school kids and transfer students.
But what should I be? Gosh, I’m only 11 and already I’m having an identity crisis. I have to go shopping!!!!!
August 28, 1995
Today was my first day at Roswell Middle School. I wore my new black cargo pants, this gray sweater I have, and some old sneakers. I even tried some black eyeliner. A lot of the kids seemed to think I looked really cool. And some of the Roswell Elementary kids didn’t even recognize me! It was great.
You should have seen Isabitch, Tess, and Maria today. They all wore identical skirts and blouses, just in different colors. Sickening.
I hung out with Max today a lot, mostly to spite Tess at first. He’s really nice, and he wore black. I think he wants a new image too.
Well, I’ll see you later! I have to learn to like rock music now. Yick.
----- ----- -----
I see a drip fall on to the page, and another, and another. I can’t tell where my wet hair ends and the tears start. All I know is, I’m failing.
“Liz, can I-” Max walks in, to the sight of me in a towel, crying all over my journal.
“Liz, what’s wrong?” he asks, dropping to his knees in front of me.
“I – I - ” I can’t continue, I’m crying so hard. It feels like everything I’ve held in over the past 6 years is coming out. I just fall down in front of him and bury my face in his neck. It seems like the only thing to do.
“It’s ok,” he whispers to me, running his hand up and down my back, over and over. “It’s ok.”
Even though I know it’s not, I’m trying to believe it.
He’s there, holding me until I can get myself under control. Finally, I look at his shoulder. He’s got six years of feelings on it.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I got your shirt all wet.”
“I didn’t like it anyway.”
“I’m sorry,” I repeat.
“It’s ok,” he says.
heh heh... don't kill me?
[ edited 1 time(s), last at 11-Feb-2002 10:44:36 PM ]
|posted on 4-Mar-2002 9:26:48 PM by SpAcEgUrL370|
|Ha! look who updated! Ha! Ha!|
I don't particularly like this part, it's transition and more brooding. next part will have a lot of M/L interaction, though. So, leave me some fb and I might get part 10 out before Christmas...
I hate Isabel, I hate Max, I hate Maria…
It runs in an endless refrain in my head. To the theme song from Happy Days.
So, I go downstairs and try to make breakfast in the Crash’s kitchen. Toast and coffee sounds really good, but I can’t find the bread. So, just coffee.
Watching the coffee machine do its thing is downright tedious, so I’ll go look for the bread some more.
I hate Max, I hate Maria…
Now, the toaster is one of the few appliances you’d think anyone could work, right? Wrong. Our toaster caters to the entire breakfast crowd every morning, and it is industrial sized. Translation: BIG. And if you don’t want to set the place on fire, you have to make about 12 slices.
I’ve got my industrial sized stack of toast and a coffee mug to match, which I’m just about to enjoy, before being so rudely interrupted.
Oh, it’s Harold. The Crashdown’s oldest patron and longest-time regular. He’s knocking impatiently at the Crash’s front doors. I’d love to ignore him, but he spotted me. Now he’s waving madly at me. Let me tell you, a senile 90-year-old man is the last thing I want to deal with right now, but I get the feeling he won’t leave. So I let him in.
“I’ll have toast and coffee. Black and black,” he says, taking up residence in his usual booth. “And when you come back I want you in your uniform, young lady.”
I give him my best happy waitress smile. “I’m so sorry Harold, but we’re closed today. My parents are at a convention in Albuquerque.”
“Nonsense. Coffee. Now.”
“Harold, I’m very sorry, but we’re not in business today. But we’ll be open tomorrow. You should come back then,” I say, trying to stay cool. Very difficult when you have a headache the size of Texas.
Unfortunately for me, Harold is doing his Rosa Parks impression. I decide it might be ok to share some of my toast with him, seeing as I have plenty. But he ain’t getting my coffee.
I hate Paulie, I hate Harold, I hate Max…
Why do I hate Max? In your opinion, Max is a nice guy who loves me. Me! And I should be jumping out of my skin because I have a chance with him. Right?
Max is an evil little person out to ruin my life so I can be even more miserable. Look at it this way: He set me up with a jerk/retard/guy with underwear fetish and then brought his
date along to throw in my face! And as if that wasn’t enough, he got me drunk and took advantage of me!!
He still seem like a nice guy to you? No? Didn’t think so.
I hate Max, I hate Harold…
Harold just has to ruin my self pity time. It’s bad enough that he had to come in the first place. All I wanted was some coffee before I went to sleep off my hangover in peace. But he has to-
“What?” I snap at him.
“The kitchen’s on fire.”
“Well, I never-”
“Shut up, Harold!” I yell on my way to the kitchen.
Two hours, five fire trucks, and one very pissed off Harold later, I’m finally alone.
Lucky for me, the Crash is just fine, only the kitchen’s got a new color theme, charred black.
But Mom and Dad can deal with that one. And if they yell at me, I’ll tell ‘em Maria did it.
I wonder why this is so natural now. Being me. Nature versus nurture, I suppose. I made myself into something I thought I wanted to be, only it turns out I don’t want to be it anymore.
But you’re tired of hearing about this.
I hate Paulie, I hate Isabel…
I wonder what life would be like if I was still Miss Perfect Parker. I kinda miss the little chick. I could have glasses and a 4.0. Hmm…
I could be in the science club.
Most likely to succeed.
Well, maybe not Max’s girlfriend. I mean, who’d want to date me? Geeky me, that is. Well, regular me probably isn’t on the hot list either.
But I did go out with Paulie. Even if it was against my will.
You probably wonder why I let Isabel force me into that, anyway. I must seem like a ‘My way or the Highway’ type. But I’m not. I’m a fucking pushover.
Another Miss Perfect Parker quality. Oh, hell.
I hate… Me.
|posted on 5-Mar-2002 6:00:51 PM by SpAcEgUrL370|
|hi guys, sorry to bug ya, but I've got a few questions...|
A) Where do you think this should go... as in, do u care what happens to Paulie and Isabel, do you want M/L together, and should I pull any of the other characters in?
B) How much longer would you be interested in this? I'm trying to decided how and when this'll end. Keep in mind, I'm writing a Max POV as a sequel/prequel/companion thing.
and...C) Can I have some feedback? Please?
|posted on 8-Apr-2002 9:40:07 PM by SpAcEgUrL370|
|A quick AN: Thanks VERY much to all who left fb. I love the stuff. welcome to all new readers, and thanks for the bumps, Lucky Star!|
I know I promised some M/L in this part, and there is some, but not as much as you probably expected. Max is REALLY HARD to write lately.
speaking of lately, my life has been kinda screwy and it's hard to find time to write. Plus, I wanted this part to be GOOD, so it took a while.
Where is he?
You’d think it wasn’t enough he had to go ruin my life, now he’s screwing with the routine! Some people have no respect.
I bet he’s too embarrassed to come near me. The loser. He wouldn’t have to look me in the eye, anyway. He never does. No one does. They risk getting one of my Looks. No, it’s not a death glare (I’m still working on those). More of an inquisitive stare, while tilting your head ever-so-slowly to the side. It really freaks people out.
But that’s off the subject.
Where is he?
He should know better.
Third period. I haven’t found Max yet.
But I have found something very interesting.
Max’s fan club.
I know, ewww. I didn’t even know he had a fan club. It’s mostly freshman and sophomore giggly-girls who like to stare at him in the halls. I gotta start noticing these things more often.
So anyway, they came running up to me today, apparently having heard he spent the night at my house. They started pressing me for details and stuff. I blew them off, which they took to mean we had sex. So they all started squealing and jumping around, telling me how lucky I was and how much they hated me for it.
If they hate me so much, why won’t they leave me alone?
Well, bio starts in 10 minutes. He’ll have to see me there. Unless he cuts…
Out on the quad, I’m having lunch alone at the wall. As usual, I’m people-watching. One kid is pointing at me and whispering. This is one of those perfect moments to use The Look.
Are you taking notes?
I look up to see who so rudely interrupted my thoughts. It’s Max!
“We have to talk about Friday night.”
No, we really don’t. We can take a trip to denial land. And then we can go back to the routine.
“Max, it was an accident. Shit happens. Can we get back to reality now?”
“Yeah. I mean, we were both drunk, you suggested we play that game, and, you know, one think lead to another…”
Ugh, that came out wrong.
“What I meant to say is-”
“I get it.”
So we just look at each other for a moment, having another one of those mother-of-all awkward silences. This is bordering on pathetic. No, it is pathetic.
Once again, off topic, I know.
“Liz, I just don’t understand you,” he says. “You’re so… closed off.”
No shit, Sherlock.
“Maybe it would be good for you to, you know, open up sometimes.”
“Since when are you my psychiatrist?”
“I’m not, I didn’t think-”
“That’s your problem! You DIDN’T THINK!”
I don’t know why I’m so mad all of a sudden.
“You know what? What you did to me was COMPLETELY unacceptable! You got me drunk and seduced me! What about the public disturbance? The cop? What if MY PARENTS HAD BEEN HOME? Then what, Max? Shit, we could be in so much trouble! If Isabel hadn’t been so fucking stupid, we could have been in JAIL! And then-”
He interrupts my rambling by grabbing the back of my head and pressing his lips to mine. It takes me a few moments to react to this, it being the last thing I’d expect. But he’s that kinda guy lately, I guess.
He pulls me closer to him, and it’s all I can do not to put my hands under his shirt. He runs his tongue over my lips, asking permission to deepen the kiss. I eagerly allow him entrance. For a few moments, I get that happy floaty feeling.
Then, as abruptly as it started, it ends. He pulls away and sprints across the quad, toward the school entrance.
“Hey, I’m not finished with you!” I yell after him. “Come back here! MAX!”
With a quick wave at the staring student body, I chase after him. But a swarm of people swallow him up, and I can’t get through, curse my shortness.
“I bet you liked that, didn’t ya?” I yell at some bystanders. “You sick voyeurs!”
Not that it’s their fault. They probably just assumed we were some kind of exhibitionists. Like Kyle and Pam. Or Kyle and Vicki. Or Kyle and Abby. Or Kyle and…
Am I the only one who thinks Kyle is a whore?
I know, stupid question.
But anyway, I look down on people who make out in public. I’m not supposed to be one!
Oh no. It’s them again.
“So, I just saw you with Max,” says Thing One. “He is like so totally cute!”
Other Things nod in agreement. “You are so totally lucky!” exclaims Thing Two.
Thing Three continues, “Do you think he’d give me a signed photo?”
For no apparent reason, all the Things start squealing and jumping around. Again. I think it’s just repressed sexual frustration.
“Listen, I got class, so I’m just gonna-”
Then I pull an Isabel and run.
sorry about the M/L kissing scene, it's REALLY hard to write that stuff in first person, present tense!
which is, sadly, why there will be no smut, Care_Bear. but check out my coming soon fic, I think the title will be A Timeless Love. It'll have some NC-17, plus an actual plot for those who like that kind of thing.
[ edited 1 time(s), last at 8-Apr-2002 10:05:53 PM ]
|posted on 23-Apr-2002 8:51:01 PM by SpAcEgUrL370|
thanks SO much for all the feedback! You people gave me much more than I usually get! If you can't tell, I'm psycho-obsessed with FB.
Well, once again, my only defense is the fact that I haven't even been ON this board for a solid two weeks. Life's been, well, interesting lately. And, surprise! My family is moving! Ugh.
In honor of the return of Roswell, I think I'll start a new part tonight. Finishing it is a whole different story!
Thanks again for all the wonderful feedback and bumps!!!
|posted on 16-Jun-2002 11:28:43 PM by SpAcEgUrL370|
|OH MY GOSH!!!!|
hey, it's me, the long-lost SPACEGURL....
things have been happening lately and I haven't had time for this board. with roswell ending and all, I just didn't have the heart to make time to post and read and stuff. but now that I have a whole, almost-free summer ahead of me, I WILL write another part to this story.
thanks soo much for all the bumping, I appreciate it.
|posted on 16-Jun-2002 11:31:32 PM by SpAcEgUrL370|
I know how u feel! since december, I've been writing with myself and a guy friend in mind. although I doubt things will work out this way for us, this is SOO my little fantasy!
|posted on 1-Jul-2002 11:28:15 PM by SpAcEgUrL370|
|hey! how are you all? so nice to se you again... well, I suppose you're all wondering about that part I promised, what, 2 weeks ago now? well you see-|
|posted on 2-Sep-2002 10:55:25 PM by SpAcEgUrL370|
|MY BIG EXCUSE AND A PROMISE|
well, hello there. long time no see, eh? ok, here's my excuse...
As you all know, Roswell died. *sob* And in doing so, my interest in Roswell stuff dropped. Severely. So, I had a harder time writing.
But now, I find myself working on a new part. Why, you ask? I'm not entirely sure....
let's just say the past few months were my sabbatical. I'm back now, and I intend to put out a new part.