Indie Ink: Colors Change for No Good Reason

"This is possibly the worst day of my life," I pause to sigh dramatically for effect and pout in Mike's general direction.  I continue before he can interrupt me though and say, "And yes, that includes the day that my bicycle crashed into the ice cream vendor at the pier."

Mike laughs and I hate him a little bit.  He chucks my chin and says, "I warned you to get the brakes on that death trap of a bike fixed."

I sit down on the front steps of the school and shake my head.  "That is not helping."

Mike wraps his arm around me and I'm inundated with smells that are so Mike - soap and wintergreen and pencil shavings.  I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes.  In this moment, everything is okay and I can forget how my life has fallen apart in front of me."It'll be okay, Elaina.  You always land on your feet."

I keep my eyes shut, but I'm back in my guidance counselor's office.  Instead of guidance, he stomps all over my dream and tells me there is no way I'll get into Yale without animal sacrifice.  He says it so easily, like it doesn't matter that every conversation with my father since I was five has been about Yale and following in his footsteps.  He says it with crumbs stuck in his beard between hacking coughs and shrill phones ringing.  Sucks to be you, Elaina.

"You didn't even want to go to Yale."

I roll my eyes and laugh mirthlessly.   Mike nudges me in the side and says, "You'll figure it out."

"You seem so sure of that."

"Because I know you.  You're relentless to a scary degree and you'll figure out what you want to do and where you want to go and god help anyone who stands in your way."

I smile reflexively.  "Thanks, I think."

He slides a few inches away and turns to face me and suddenly we're in this moment where time slows down and my heart hammers in my chest and my head is screaming to move away, but I can't do it.  All these feelings that I've been sitting on for months are bubbling up to the surface and the soft, endearing expression on Mike's face is all it takes for me to kiss him.

Logic and every reason best friends should not hook up begin to run through my head, but they're thwarted as Mike's fingers curl in my hair and he pulls me closer until I'm almost on his lap.  He tastes a lot like he smells, less the pencil shavings, and I feel like I will never get enough of this.

He pulls back and caresses my face which freaks me out because he's Mike, but also makes me shiver in a way I'm not used to.  He smiles and says, "I've been hoping you would do something like that for over a year."

I arch my eyebrow.  "What?"

"I figured you knew how I felt about you, but didn't want to ruin our friendship...and I didn't want to mess things up, so-"

"-so you were a big chicken?" I say with a laugh.

He rests his forehead against mine and holds my hands in his.  It's something we've done millions of times over the years, but it's different and exciting, my skin tingling.  "Are you freaking out on me, Elaina?"

"Surprisingly no."

"Are you sure?"

"Surprisingly, yes," I say and I kiss him again.  Maybe finding out I had no chance at Yale broke my brain and I no longer have impulse control.  It's a brief kiss and I pull back to look at him, making sure that this is really happening and I'm not having hallucinations brought on from a nervous breakdown.  I wouldn't be the first teenager to go crazy on the quest for the Ivy League.

"It really happened.  No take backs," Mike says.  He always can read my mind.  He stands up and extends his hand to me, lifting me up onto my feet.  He pushes back a stray piece of hair from my face and says, "We should get you home."

"Want to stay for dinner?"

"You need support when you break the news to the parents?"

I shrug and try to sound casual. "Well, yeah, but I also just want to hang out with you."

He grins and squeezes my hand, "Sure."

"Good," I respond, even though it hardly does justice to how I feel.  In the span of one afternoon, I've gone from having one dream destroyed, but another one, one I was so scared of for so long, has been realized.  And who knows what will happen, but I'm definitely enjoying the moment.

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This week’s IndieInk Challenge came from transplantedx3, who gave me this prompt: "For every dream that's shattered, another one comes true." I challenged Amanda with the prompt "I can’t get you off my mind."

Note:  This is a scene that features one of the characters I like to revisit, Elaina.  Other pieces with her can be found here.  Happy Thanksgiving to those that celebrate!

Fiction: Careful what you write...

It's that time of week where I post my Indie Ink writing challenge.  Remember the days I used to be mad at myself for not posting until Wednesday?  Ha, I've sure learned my lessons about procrastinating.  I wrote about three different things before settling in with my other ongoing character, Elaina, for this week's prompt.  This week I challenged Runaway Sentence, whose great response is posted here, and was challenged by Sherree.  My prompt was "It's not what you said, it's how you said it."  This was such a great prompt and it sent my mind spinning in many different directions.  This is the one I've chosen to share tonight.

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I entered the cafeteria with a fake stride of confidence in my step.  The past twenty-four hours had been a life lesson in humility, or humiliation, maybe both.  My fellow students and a few adults, who clung to the greatness that was high school, were a little angry with me for something I had recently written.  Who knew stating the obvious would create such drama?

Note to self:  no one is ready to hear the obvious stated, which is probably why it's always so obvious in the first place.

I’ve decided to blame my latest foray into loserdom on Mr. Jenkins, one of my school’s English teachers and the faculty advisor for the Cougars newspaper.   “The pen is mightier than the sword, Elaina” and “There's a great amount of power in a few well-placed words, Elaina.”  Why wouldn’t I take that as a sign to write a scathing op-ed piece on the uselessness that was the Homecoming Dance?  Life isn't like Sixteen Candles and our football team hasn't won a game in twenty years.  Homecoming alienated a large portion of the high school population and turned the rest into dance-crazed lunatics.

The words had to be said and Mr. Jenkins didn’t stop me.   I’m guessing it was one of those he-wants-you-to-learn-that-fire-burns moments adults are so fond of forcing on you. 

“I don’t know what you were thinking,” Mike said as he sat down across from me at our usual lunch table.  He was very cool about not acknowledging the dirty looks people had been sending my way.

“I expected this sort of reaction from the rah-rah crowd, but even the persona non grata freaks are giving me the evil eye.  You'd think I slaughtered a puppy in front of toddlers." 

Mike shook his head as he dumped the contents of his brown bag on the table.  He said, "You're demented."

"And a social pariah."

He cocked his head to the side and shot me an appraising glance, the same one he'd been shooting my way since kindergarten.  He was probably wondering what God he had pissed off in a former life to end up with me as a best friend.  "It'll pass eventually."

I shrugged and said, "I hope I live to see that."

"I think you're overreacting a bit."

"I'm overreacting?   Principle Henry called me into his office and said that I was a rabble rouser.  He told me that I had to write an apology in the next edition of the newspaper and threatened to force me to join the social committee to show me the error of my ways.  I really hate high school.”

“I know, and thanks to your This Cougar Knows column, everyone knows.”

“Newsflash - it's your job to keep me from doing stupid things like this.  You know how I get.”

He rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, I do know how you get and would’ve stopped you if you bothered to mention it to me.”

“And that’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“Do you hear yourself sometimes?” he asked with an exasperated sigh. 

I waved him off and said, “That’s not the point.  The point is the entire school is angry with me for saying what we all know to be true.”

“If it’s any consolation, I don’t think it was what you said, so much as how you said it,” Mike replied.  He shoveled a banana into his mouth and off the look on my face, added with a full mouth, “You basically referred to the popular kids as power-hungry ninnies and the rest of us as cowardly losers.”

“I was talking about myself in that cowardly loser bit.”

“I know that, but the rest of the school does not.”

“Idiots.”

“I wouldn’t use that in your apology.”

I glanced down at my sandwich, pretending not to feel a hundred sets of eyes watching me with disdain, but made no effort to eat.  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, feeling out of place in a way I hadn’t since the first day of high school, and tried to put on my brave face.  The problem I’ve always had with the brave face is that I’m terrible at hiding how I feel and people know I’m not brave or confident.

“Hey, don't get that look.   I'm sure something much more interesting will happen soon and you'll drop off the school radar.  I just wouldn’t plan on getting nominated for Homecoming Queen this year.”

“Are you telling me there isn’t a massive yearning to have a bitter, sarcastic sixteen year old wear the crown? I'm shocked.”

“You’re too young to be so cynical, Elaina.”

I grabbed a chip from Mike’s brown bag and popped it into my mouth.  “My father is in politics, Mike.  I’ve been cynical since the womb.”  I turned my head and caught a group of cheerleaders glaring in my direction.  I groaned and said, “I guess I should refrain from sharing my thoughts on prom and stick with scathing reviews of the hot lunches."

an amazing blog entry by a hopefully never famous girl

After taking a break for a week, I once again am participating in the Indie Ink Writing Challenges. I decided to continue with the character I introduced in my last piece.  I wrote three different drafts with three different characters before coming back to Elaina.  This week I challenged the awesome xtinabosco (the response is here) and my challenge - it amazes me still - came from Beth Hegde.

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Blog Entry One

Amazement.

I've decided this will be the theme for my first entry of this blog as it seemed to be the theme of my day.  Like I'm amazed that my teacher thinks his students have something of importance to say.   Like my best friend is amazed that I know how to walk.  Like I'm amazed by how growing up changes so many things in the slightest ways and I never know whether to hold on tight to the way it was or let go and see what happens.

Mostly, I'm amazed that I'm not waiting until three hours before this project is due to start my journal.  

Procrastination, thy name is Elaina.

Anyway, my English teacher has decided that the best way to get today's youth to embrace writing is by sharing with us the allure of social media.   Unfortunately, Twitter and Facebook won't cut it.  Same with email.  He wants us to take the art of journaling and bring it into the twenty-first century and maybe someday our journal will touch millions of people. Blah, blah, blah.  Call me crazy, but even if I become some important historical figure, I can't see why anyone would care that my German teacher smells like mothballs and grandmas or see the genius in my ode to pop music that I dashed out when I should've been studying Chemistry.  Honestly, I don't think I would want anyone to have access to those sorts of thoughts if I were famous.

Not that I plan on being some important historical figure.  That seems like a lot of work for an underachiever like myself.

Despite the best efforts of our class in opposition to a project like this, Mr. Griffin's mind could not be swayed, so here I sit.  Amazed by the whole notion of blogging as important.  I wonder if one day there will be a whole generation of people who have documented so many mundane moments that they see no beauty in anything extraordinary.   Mostly, I wonder how I can do the minimum work and still get an "A."

After class, I rushed off to my locker to meet Mike.  He needed help with a Spanish test and I needed some books on famous diarists and the library seemed like the perfect solution.  Continuing with the theme - I'm amazed that I didn't know better than to be wary of anything that seems perfect.   

Things had fallen back into a fairly innocuous routine between us over the past week.  I had decided to stop freaking out about the feelings I didn't understand and concentrate on what I did know.  Mike was my best friend, my partner in crime, and whatever other weird junk my mind was creating or acknowledging or whatever, didn't really matter if it cost me my friendship.  So I decided to do what I do best, outside of procrastination, and avoid the entire thing.

I knew it didn't solve anything, but it had allowed my some room to breathe in my own head.  Well, most of the time.

Like not when I was walking across the library parking lot and Mike's hand casually brushed against my side, causing my head to short circuit and me to fall on my butt.

For his part, Mike didn't laugh.  Too much.

"You okay?"

I groaned in response.

"Elaina?"

"Nothing bruised but my ego."

He extended his hand and said, "It amazes me still that you have managed to survive this long without being relegated to life in a plastic bubble."

I huffed and grunted and not-so-politely swatted his hand away.  I propped myself up on my AP Calculus book, finally seeing how it could positively affect my life in the future, and stood up on wobbly legs.  I wasn't hurt, just had the wind knocked out of me, but I went into total spaz mode and couldn't seem to function properly.  I could feel the eyes of patrons of the library watching me through the windows, their expressions changing quickly from worry for the poor girl in the parking lot to amusement at my expense.  With my luck, some random passerby caught it on his Iphone and uploaded it to YouTube.  I'll be the new Rebecca Black, except I won't even have a crappy song as my claim to fame.

"I need a new best friend," I muttered.  I brushed off the bits of gravel sticking to my palms and knees off against my skirt - my mother would kill me if she saw such unladylike displays - and stepped out of the parking lot, dropping onto the first bench I could reach.

"Seriously, how are you even still alive after all these years?  Shouldn't Darwin's Theory of Evolution kicked in at some point?  Are you made of Teflon?  It's an amazing feat, Elaina.  We should have you join the circus and let a clown throw knives at you."

I glared at him.  There were many profound things I could offer up, but instead, I chose simple.  "You suck."

He laughed as he sat down next to me and stared at me.  I had long ago learned and catalogued away most of Mike's facial expressions, but this was a new one he had been throwing my way recently.  It was part endearing and part what the hell because he was my best friend and should not be looking at me like that.  Not that I wasn't convinced it wasn't all in my head - some sort of psychotic manifestation that only I saw.  I mean the best-friends-to-more is something out of a romantic comedy.  Not real life.

Yeah, try telling that to my heart that started hammering in my chest because he was still staring at me like I was the only thing that mattered. 

I twirled a lock of my hair around my finger, focusing intently on the brown wisps, and said, "Three falls in one week.  I'm trying to break my own personal best since I learned to walk."

"I'm not really sure you've got it down pat yet."  He tilted his head to one side, trying to mentally gauge my reaction as he asked, "Are you sure that you're okay?"

"Define okay," I replied with a shrug.  I let go of the strand of hair and started with a new piece, twirling it around my pinky as I stared off in the distance.  The sun was in its final encore for the day, the sky lit up with hues of orange and red, and it was perfectly framed by the blue sky and verdant green trees of the park.   I wasn't a big nature person, but this was one of those bits of time where everything else but the beauty fell away.

Mike's arm draped across my shoulder and he pulled me against his chest.  He breathed into my hair and said, "I worry about you."

I closed my eyes and tried to stay locked in this moment for as long as possible. 

"Did you hear me?"

"Yeah," I said weakly.  I forced myself to meet his gaze, creating some distance between us, and asked, "I'm fine.  Really."

I wish I could say that I blurted out what I was really feeling, that I went Sandra Bullock on the situation and pulled him into a kiss, not worrying about the aftermath.  But that wasn't who I was, so I stood up, clutching my messenger bag tightly and walked into the library. 

Yeah, I know.  I, too, am amazed by what a big coward I am.  If you can't randomly tell your best friend that you might be in love with him, who could you tell?

Already reeling from emotions that I couldn't articulate, even to myself, I tried to slip in the door of my house and make a beeline for my room, but to no avail.  My father cornered me in the kitchen and I had to endure another talk about my future.  He was like a guidance counselor, except he had no guidance to provide except that if I didn't get into a good college and become a doctor or lawyer, my life would have no meaning, I would die impoverished and alone, and basically the world would end. 

No pressure.

So I decided to make Mr. Griffin happy and shock the world by starting a project on the day it was assigned.  I figured if I couldn't make sense of everything swirling around in my head, maybe writing it down would help.  So far, I have to say, I'm not impressed.  Mostly horrified at myself for not using fake names because I am not ready to have any Disney Movie talks with my best friend who stumbles upon my journal.  No thank you.

At least that part of the day can be rectified fairly easily.

Amazing.

Writing: I hope this isn't as good as it gets

I participated again in the Indie Ink Writing Challenges. For some reason, this week's writing was a difficult task.  I was having one of those writing moments where every word was like pulling teeth and I would go back over it four or five times, but still found myself unsatisfied with the end result.  I loved the prompt and had all these ideas, but I couldn't focus properly this week.  I tried, though, and pushed through, no matter what, and that's definitely something.  This week I challenged the awesome MyPlaidPants (the response is here) and my challenge - it just doesn't get any better - came from Barb Black.

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Conversations with my mother should be outlawed. The woman had an uncanny knack for taking an already-frustrating situation and making me feel ten times worse about it. Her pep talks ended with me wanting to slit my wrists because she didn’t get it and I became even more convinced that I was a freak of nature. Maybe someday I would appreciate her efforts to bond and be there for me, but today wasn’t that day. I was too busy trying to make sense of our most recent conversation.

“Laney, when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade,” my mother said, leaning in close to me as though she was imparting some great wisdom instead of throwing random clichés at me until one stuck.

“Right. Okay,” I said. I wasn’t sure how that helped me with my current situation, but it was best to smile and nod where my mother was concerned.

“You worry too much. You’re sixteen! High school is the best time of your life! You need to enjoy it!”

I stared at my mother blankly because really, what could I say to something like that? If it was true, my future was obviously doomed – filled with contracting the plague and driving a Volvo – because I couldn’t wait for high school to be done.

“Seriously, sweetheart, it just doesn’t get any better,” she replied. She brushed her hands through my hair and added, “You’re such a pretty girl. Why do you always hide behind this mop of hair? Why don’t you wear make-up?”

“Mom,” I groaned. “You really need to work on your pep talks.”

She shook her head and said, “Just think about it.”

I nodded and plastered a small smile onto my face until she left my room. Once the door shut behind her, I grabbed my pillow and screamed into it. My day had already been crappy enough, what with humiliating myself in the cafeteria and realizing that I might have creepy-weird-lovey-dovey-feelings for my best friend, but I was even more depressed at the idea of having reached the pinnacle of my existence. Was my mother right or insane? Did she really think life didn’t get any better than Calculus tests, stupid jocks, and cheesy dances where said stupid jocks got drunk and felt up anyone with a pulse?

The familiar sounds of Lady Gaga filled my ears. I dropped the pillow and reached for my cellphone without thinking about it. “Life sucks and then you die. How can I help you?”

“This bodes well,” Mike said.

I sat up on my bed and glanced around the room as though someone was there to help me through this, but I was alone.  I knew I was being ridiculous.  I had a million conversations over the years with Mike and even when we fought, I was never at a loss for words.  But I was scared.  I had known Mike since pre-school and if I wasn’t careful he would figure out why I was avoiding him. I would have to move to Russia and I didn’t look good in fur hats. I took a deep breath and silently repeated that I was not in love with my best friend. I tried to make my voice sound cheery, “What’s up?”

“What is going on with you? First, you face plant in the middle of the cafeteria and run off like a lunatic—”

“—I wasn’t looking where I was going and an idiot football player tackled me and my skirt went up and everyone was staring,” I said in one quick breath. It was another reason to hate school uniforms. It was never pleasant for girls when they fell down or a strong breeze hit.

“So you thought you’d make it better by running off?”

“Shut up. I’m already humiliated enough.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you would avoid me.”

“I wasn’t avoiding you, dooface.”

“I know you heard me calling to you after school, but you ran off before I could catch up.”

“I didn’t hear you,” I said. I was totally lying, but there was no need to go into that at the moment. There was no reason for both of us to feel weird.

Mike sighed, the kind where I knew that he knew I was lying, but he wasn’t going to push. He was always good like that. My mother used to say his mellow personality was a good match for my histrionic one. He said, ““I wanted to check on you.”

“I’m fine, but I can’t talk right now. I’m pondering my existence.”

“Again?”

“My mother wanted to talk,“ I replied. When Mike laughed, I said, “It’s not funny. She told me that this was as good as it gets. High school is the ultimate and everything else is crap.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“I sincerely hope not.”

“It sounds like your mother is projecting her nostalgia for her lost youth onto you.”

“That’s the problem with nostalgia. It makes you forget the bad and then you ruin your daughter’s evening,” I said, letting out the breath that had been stuffed into my chest since my “talk” with my mother.

“Always bites you in the ass.”

I laughed and my stomach churned slightly and, ugh, when the hell did this happen to me? I wasn’t this girl and I definitely wasn’t this girl when it came to Mike. He was my best friend, not some momentary high school fling. I shook my head, silently berating myself and trying to get a grip, and said, “Thanks Mike.”

“You’re still a spazz.”

“Takes one to know one.”

I didn’t have to be in the same room to know he was rolling his eyes at me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just stuck on repeat play in my head - it doesn’t get any better than high school. Ew,” I replied with a shudder. “High school should never be the highlight of anyone’s life. That’s like looking back on your life and be excited about waiting in line at the grocery store.”

“It’s not all bad.”

“I’d like to think that there’s much more to the world than ugly plaid uniforms and homework.”

“Taxes and mortgages?”

“More like traveling the world.”

“Don’t forget the kids and nine-to-five job.”

“I prefer marrying a rock star and saving the planet,” I replied. I tried to swallow down the fear and unease I was feeling, but I was never good at hiding things from Mike. I continued, “Do you ever freak out when you realize we’re right on the cusp of a whole new time in our lives? It felt like it took forever to get to high school and some days it feels like it will never end, but lately, I dunno, it’s all moving way too fast. Everything's changing and I can’t keep up.”

“You’re losing it.”

“Slightly. I blame my guidance counselor and his it’s-time-to-make-the-most-important-decision-of-your-life spiel I got yesterday about choosing colleges to apply to.”

“How about we get you through junior year without injury before freaking out about college applications?”

“I guess.”

“And not everything has to change, Elaina,” he said.

Mike was lucky I couldn’t reach into the phone and hug him because I might not ever let go. Even if I wasn’t in love with him – stupid feelings I didn’t understand – I loved him. He always knew how to talk me down and make me feel better. I hoped I did the same for him.

I said, “Thanks for checking on me.”

“It’s what I do.”

“And thanks for reeling me back in. I was coming unhinged.”

He snorted. “That’s one word for it. Are we still on for tomorrow night?”

“Not even death by humiliation or panic attacks interrupt our cheesy movie night,” I replied.

“Try not to take out any football players between now and then.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow at school, klutz.”

“Seriously. So funny,” I replied.

“Night Elaina.”

“Night Mike,” I replied. I dropped my phone on the nightstand and collapsed on my bed. I shut my eyes and smiled. I couldn’t explain it logically. I was no closer to understanding what was going on with me and everything in my life was changing as adulthood quickly approached, but I felt optimistic about the future. No matter what happened, whether this was as good as life got or not, I had a friend who could make me laugh and that had to be worth something.