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themockingjay
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posted July 8, 2012 at 9:09pm UTC tagged with
vent
more quotes by themockingjay
Perfectly Flawed. Chapter 1 I stare at the messy 97 scrawled on top of my math final and peel off the shiny gold star stickered to the exam. I sigh and stuff it into my bag. Three points away. Honestly, if I had taken more time, I could have gotten a 100. I hate not being perfect, not getting 100’s, not always looking like I came from a Hollister catalog. I can’t stand imperfection, and the 97 that I achieved felt like a cruel slap in the face. I know it’s not a bad grade, honestly it’s a great grade, but I studied for weeks for this exam, and I really hoped to get a better grade. “Eden Angela Carson! Don’t tell me—you got another 100!” My best friend, Ashley Medicci, appears behind me, proudly brandishing her 92. Ashley’s thick dark hair is curled and a waterfall braid graces both sides of her pale face. “No, I got a 97,” I tell her. “Nice job with the 92!” Math is Ashley’s worst subject. Ashley grins. “We’re officially sophomores! Hey, do you need any help setting up for the party after school?” “Actually yeah, that’d be great,” I answer, using my fingers to work through a knot in my hair. “Okay, I’ll stop by your house after school,” Ashley says just as the last bell of the school year rings. She disappears down the hallway towards her locker, and I turn the opposite way towards mine. When I get home, I race to my room and change into my new hot pink bikini and a see-through white cover up that I wore once on vacation to Orlando last year. I search through my perfectly organized closet and find scarcely worn gladiators. I slip them on my feet and step into the small bathroom off of my bedroom. I wash my face in the sink and reapply my makeup, put in meticulous order in a display on the bathroom counter. Brushing my hair, I turn around and stare out the window overlooking the view of my backyard. From where I stand, I can see Georgia suburbia fading as evening draws closer. The pool already has many decorations set up, but I still need to make final adjustments before people arrive at 6:00. I hear the doorbell ringing that signifies Ashley’s arrival and do a quick once-over of myself in the mirror. With my subtly tan Grecian-descent skin, sleek, straight blonde hair that almost reaches down to my butt, my wide blue eyes, and thin but curvy stature, a lot of my friends compare me to a Barbie doll, which I can’t say I mind. I rush downstairs, stopping to grab my dance bag that I had thrown haphazardly on the kitchen table last night after a particularly grueling dance class. I open the double French front doors and let Ashley inside. “Hey! I just need to put my bag away, then we can start working on preparations,” I say, glancing at Ashley’s outfit. She, as always, looks stunning in a pair of denim Abercrombie shorts and a purple crop top I helped her pick out at American Eagle. Her thick, Snow White dark hair and pale skin look amazing against what I can see of a blood red bathing suit. Her dark brown eyes glitter as she picks up my alphabetized guest list and crosses her name off. I rush to the basement-turned-dance studio and place my bag on the small shelf beneath the bench in the far corner of the room without bothering to turn on the lights. I climb back upstairs and find Ashley looking through my refrigerator for party refreshments. “Please don’t touch the punch, Ash,” I say in exasperation. She’s known for spiking beverages at almost every party she goes to. Ashley rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t going to,” she says, taking the refreshments and putting them on my kitchen table. I carry them over to the buffet-style table I had placed on my deck the night before and I am rearranging them when I hear the doorbell ring. “I’ll get it,” I say, checking the clock on my way to the foyer. Five minutes early. I open the door, expecting Talia, who was on the lacrosse team with me and came to everything early, but when the door widened, it wasn’t Talia who stepped inside. It was him. .................... Well i rewrote the first chapter but I still don't really like it ;/ hopefully it'll get better as i keep writingg... if not, sorrry bro. And ohhhhhh don't you hate cliffhangers? oh welllll. So yeah. Please fave or comment so i know i have readers... if you want to be on the list to be notified when i'm putting up the next chapter, comment on my quotee or my profile(:
Perfectly Flawed. Chapter 2 “S-Sean! Hey!” I open the door wider to let Sean in. His electric blue eyes pierce through me and I quickly turn away. “Um, the party’s outside, you’re a little early but people should be arriving soon…” My hands feel clammy. Stop it, I tell myself. Sean nods and heads towards the deck. I’m about to follow him when the doorbell rings again. I hear the grandfather clock chime six times as I open the door again. A steady flow of people enter, chattering and rushing to my backyard. Some of the people I recognize and I quickly cross them off the guest list, but most people are just blurry figures passing by me. I sigh and, giving up with the list, open the garage door and toss it into the recycling bin. About fifteen minutes later, most of the partygoers have arrived. Relieved I finally get to relax, I step into the muggy summer air and flop onto the swinging chair near the crowded pool. I kick off my shoes, close my eyes, and try to drown out the noise of people shouting and music blasting. It’s a wonder why the neighbor’s haven’t called the cops yet. Probably because they’re all here, I think. I have an awful headache and I’m about to go back inside and find some aspirin when I feel someone sit next to me. I open one eye and see Sean sitting next to me with two cups of punch in his hands. He holds one out to me. I immediately straighten up and accept his offer. “Tough night?” he asks, the water reflecting his blue eyes and casting an eerie shadow on his face. I shrug, moistening my lips and chewing on the inside of my cheek like I do whenever I get nervous. “It’s just, with the party preparations and all… and I have a dance competition in a few days, so my teacher’s really pushing us,” I explain in what I hope is an even tone. Sean looks out at the mass of people crowding the entire back of my house. “Well you sure do know how to throw a good party.” Do I detect sarcasm in his voice? I just laugh, a little too loudly. “Seriously, it’s like the whole state of Georgia is packed into your backyard,” he announces. “Yeah, I don’t even know half of these people!” I take a sip of the punch and wince. I sniffed the liquid to confirm my suspicions. Somebody managed to spike the drink stand. I stand up. “I uh, have to go dump this punch. I really don’t want to be cleaning up vomit tonight,” I explain with a sigh. Sean nods. “Okay. Hey, um, if you need any help cleaning up afterwards, I can stay until like 2:30.” “Oh, really? Thanks, I could really use the help,” I reply with a grateful smile before rushing to sort out the drinks puzzle. It is almost one when the last stragglers finally leave my house. Sean is busy picking up soda cans and the occasional beer cans while I put away the pool accessories and try to fish all of the garbage out of the pool. I step into my room to grab a hair tie and almost miss the couple getting some third base action on my bed. “Excuse me,” I say, standing in the doorway and wrinkling my nose in disgust. They don’t look up. “The party’s over,” I almost shout. They break apart. “Ashley! On my bed? Really?” her face turns red and I can tell she’s drunk. “Wait, let me make you coffee before you go home. Your parents are going to kill you,” The guy with Ashley—a college kid, from the looks of it—slips past me and down the stairs, grabbing his shirt from the night table. I sigh. I glance at the alarm clock by my bed. 1:49. My parents should be back from their surgeon’s convention in Texas in half an hour. I hope their flight gets in late. The entire house is still a disaster area. Ashley stumbles downstairs after me and chugs the steaming mug of black coffee I place in front of her without question. I shake my head as she rushes into the bathroom to vomit. Sean walks inside with two full bags of garbage just as Ashley sits back down, looking a little more alert. “Thanks for helping, Sean,” I say, taking the bags from his hands. “I have to walk Ash home though. Is everything out there back in order?” “Yeah. And I can take Ashley home, she lives a few doors down from me.” Sean’s eyes linger on the visible rings under my eyes. “Are you sure?” I am reluctant at first, in case Ashley’s parents catch her I want to have her back. Sean shrugs. “No big deal. Come on, Ashley.” I walk them to the door and wave as Sean and Ashley get into Sean’s brother, Caleb’s car— I didn’t realize he had come, how long was he sitting there? The second I close the door, fatigue sets in and I slump against the sturdy door. The party was a success, I suppose, but I’m not sure if it’s worth all of this effort. I slowly climb up the narrow staircase and exhaustedly step into my old lacrosse shirt and favorite Victoria’s Secret pajama shorts. I slip into bed, turn out the ceiling light, and close my eyes, but darkness can’t conceal the electric blue eyes that pierce my thoughts. .................... Okay, a little boring, but i've got major writer's block and i'm trying to do the work anyway. i had this chapter already written, along with another version of chapter 1 and those were like terrible so hopefully these are at least slightly better. I SWEAR ill try harder on the next few chapters. dont give upp on me(: haha if you want to join the notification list, comment on this or my profile, as always:)
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We met in kindergarten. We were best friends. She always told me she loved my eyes. I didn't quite know why. I was in love with her, so of course my face lit up immensely whenever she said it. She was beautiful, kind, and extremely funny. We'd be talking about nothing, and she'd turn to me and whisper, "I like your eyes." One day, I was playing basketball, waiting for her to drive over to my house to have a game with me. Suddenly, I got a phone call. It was her mom. She was in a panic. I couldn't quite understand what she was saying. It sounded like, "Aaron, come quick! Kelsey, accident, Main Street! Blood. Come now!" I had no clue what happened, so I ran to Main Street with my basketball shorts and a tee shirt on. I saw Kelsey's mom helplessly crying, waiting for the ambulance to arrive. I saw a totaled car, blood everywhere. Then I saw her, Kelsey. My heart stopped as I frantically ran over to her. "Kelsey? Kelsey!" She was unconscious. I started crying. I know it isn't very manly, but I couldn't help it. Before I could say anymore, the medics took her away, the main source of blood coming from her head. I went to the hospital that night, I went every night. in fact, the only time I left was to go out to eat, but that's it. The doctors tried getting me to leave, but I refused. It was all my fault. If it wasn't for me, wanting to play basketball with her, she wouldn't be going through this. It was already four days, and she hasn't woken up. On the fifth day, I saw her eyes gently open. "Kelsey?" I called. She wasn't quite awake yet. Suddenly, doctors came rushing in, telling me I had to wait outside. I did, for a few hours. One of the doctors finally came out saying, "I understand that you're Kelsey's friend, Aaron?" "Yes," I whispered. He bit his lip. "She woke up, she's fine, but I'm afraid she has long term memory loss." "Are you serious?" I almost shouted. "I'm afraid so." I didn't meet his gaze. I couldn't. I wasn't going to say anything, so he spoke again. "You can go see her if you want, but she doesn't remember anything, not even her mom." I walked in, trembling in horror. I saw her. She looked helpless as she slept. I waited a few hours, until I saw her eyes opening gently again. I expected doctors to run in, rushing me out. Instead, she looked me straight in the eyes, and whispered, "I don't know you, but I like your eyes."
I want a person who comes into my life by accident, & stays on purpose.
When guys get jealous it's kinda cute (': When girls get jealous World war III is about to start.
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