18 - HCW

   I'm sitting in my last Honors Creative Writing class. Today was donut day, and we ate krispy kreme on the veranda as we watched cars go by. I can't believe that this is the last day of school. I just can't believe it.
   Once I've reached twenty posts, I will no longer need to update this blog. It will be the end of my mandatory participation. I will still continue to write stuff and post it on here regularly, but I won't update it as much as I have been. Ha, like I update on a regular basis. Anyway - yeah. I want to keep the blog running throughout the rest of my high school years, and perhaps throughout my time in the places beyond. 
    One of my friends - well, three - skipped school today to go to that convention thing I'm going to tomorrow, and Ash left me alone here in creative writing. I'm really going to miss this class. ("We're not even having class right now!" cried my teacher when I told her this. It's kind of true - we're wandering around the classroom taking pictures and eating donuts and playing paper basketball.)
     I'm going to go now so I can take part in the festivities. Adios.

17 - the catscratch bunker

   Ace always liked to take the railing instead of the stairs. It was faster and more thrilling - and he was extraordinarily balanced, not like Luci, who had recently attempted to leap onto the railing, had sharply misjudged and had fallen to the dusty floor, a sprawling heap of limbs. Luckily, Ace had been nearby, and he'd been able to help her when she couldn't put weight on her ankle. He'd been able to support her feeble frame as they made their way to the room where they had first met. 
   The house was crumbling, but it'd been that way for as long as Ace and Luci could both remember. He'd first taken refuge in the place during an acid rainstorm, and had been crouching in one of the left wing rooms when Luci appeared, shakily pointing a blaster at him. She'd scared him at first, but he soon realized that she was just as afraid as he was, and that it'd be better to get on good terms with one another instead of being in conflict. So over the days, she'd allowed him to stay in the old place that had once belonged to her and her brother, despite the dwindling food supply. They called it the Catscratch Bunker. It was their home now - both of them.
    Ace helped Luci onto the couch, then went digging around the room for the bandages. "What exactly made you think that you could perform a flying leap from the top of the staircase and end up sliding down the railing without a hitch?" he inquired, casting her a glance and giving a small smile that let her know she wasn't being too serious.
    She scrunched up her face at him, holding her ankle. "Because you do it all the time," she said indignantly. "And because it looked like fun."
    He snatched a nearby roll of gauze with a spurt of triumph, then looked at it for a moment. Was gauze good for sprained ankles? Eh, it'd have to do. He turned back to Luci's couch. "But I'm a trained pilot, remember? I'm balanced." He grinned at her, then crouched down and motioned to her ankle. She moved it toward him.
    It was certainly swollen. Excessively swollen. The sight made Ace kind of queasy, but he steeled himself and tried to think of a solution. Floundering, he said, "I don't really know what to do here."
   Luci smiled. "Well, I'm the one who knows about medicine." She winked and opened her palm towards him. He plopped the gauze in it. "Get me something to elevate it on," Luci commanded, sticking her tongue out as she began to wrap the injury. Ace shrugged and stood up, ducking through the doorway to find a box or something.

16 - more guard probs

   It's 8:45 and by tomorrow I have to finish an AP Bio project complete with drawings and look at the anatomy of a pig and write five more of these blog posts and study for a Spanish test that I feel like i will fail.
    I want to write stories, but I feel like I am too stressed at the moment to carelessly cast my imagination out very far. By tomorrow at this time it will all be over. Tomorrow is my last day of school. I have made it this far, and I can make it for 19 more hours. 19 hours.
    Then on Saturday I'll be going to a convention, cosplaying Rose Lalonde! It'll be a lot of fun, but I haven't quite had time to think about it yet. I actually still need to finish my costume. 
    Also, after school tomorrow is the first time the color guard and band will be practicing together, therefore becoming the unified marching band. I am really nervous. I'm afraid I'm going to mess up the spins we learned yesterday. We attempted marching and spinning at the same time, and I had difficulties with it. The main problem I'm having with color guard is that I know I suck and I also know that everyone else knows I suck. I don't like feeling sucky about myself and my abilities and I want to stop feeling sucky but that will take time and effort, which I am entirely willing to put forth, but for now I still feel sucky, and the fact that I won't feel sucky in the future isn't helping. 
   And some people at school didn't help today. I was trying to explain my problems to them and they're like, "Well, yeah, you kind of are the worst of the three new guard members…" and then "your windmills are really crooked, by the way!" Geez, thanks for giving me such a confidence boost when we're not on the floor and I therefore can't improve upon what you have just suggested of me. 
   Ajkdsjkadnj. I just want today to be over, basically.

15 - DHSADOHSA MY BACK HURTS

    I am finally coming to realize that school is about to end. Friday's my last day, save for exams. There will be no more trekking to the Bio lab after art class, and no more chillaxing in the computer lab during Honors Creative Writing. I will no longer have my favorite English teacher! I've had a class of hers every year since I came to this school, and next year will break that streak. :( 
    Anyway - no more of my perfect Spanish class and no more stupid Algebra II and no more of many things. I'm wondering what will happen at lunches next year - as juniors, we'll be able to go off campus for lunch if we want to. I don't think I'll be seeing much of my friends at lunch anymore. I'm one of the few who doesn't drive - not yet, at least. I won't be getting my license until senior year. 
    I really need to finish these blog posts, but I also really need to take a shower and finish a math review sheet and study for a Spanish test tomorrow that I haven't even attempted to study for yet. So adios. 

14 - enjolras/flag. i ship it.

  This week is almost over, thank goodness. Color guard has been fun so far, but I suck at it. I blatantly suck. There are so many things I'm having problems with. Everyone says I'll get better at it, but during practices I tend to panic and then I forget what I'm doing. My instructor has to keep calling me out because I do stuff wrong, and I'm okay with learning, but I hate feeling scrutinized. I hate how everyone turns to look at me when my name gets called out. I almost burst into tears a few times today, but everyone else says that when they first started out in guard they cried every day of practice. I just want to get better so that I don't feel so out of place. 
   I'm considering buying a flag so I can practice periodically during the summer. I found a bunch of websites that have cheap practice flags. I'd like to get a pure red one so that I can be like Enjolras.

  Yes, this is a thing that's going to happen.
  We are currently dissecting pigs in AP Bio, which is the last thing we'll be doing this year. It was okay for the first day, when we went over lab procedures and pulled our piglets out of their plastic vacuum coffins. The enjoyment factor dropped dramatically in the two days that followed. I find the task rather tedious and grotesque. It doesn't gross me out or make me feel sick, it just seems inherently wrong. I also hate the smell, but everyone does.
   I'm looking forward to the end of this year, but I will miss my Spanish class. Best class of the day, right there. There are only about 16 of us in seventh period, and it feels like a little family by now. ^u^ 

13 - fsaf;;

   Yesterday was my first color guard practice. It was really fun, but now I am really sore. When I got home I was exhausted and wanted to go to bed, but I couldn't because this is literally the most stressful week of my life. I have so much work to do that I don't really know what to do with myself, and I actually got basically nothing done last night. Not to mention the convention geek thing I'm gong to is on Friday, and I'm still going that evening, right after color guard practice. I'm still not done with the cosplay of Rose Lalonde I'm supposed to do, and I don't know how in the heck I'm going to find the time to do so within the next three days. headsmash
    I learned a lot yesterday, though. We did stuff like spinning and standing at attention and this one thing where you swoop the flag over your head and then down around your feet. We actually started doing tosses. That was fun. It was all fun. Seriously I don't even know what I'm writing at the moment and I should be doing homework rn so I'm just going to go

12 - Half, pt. 9

  She scanned the room, not seeing anyone. It was the same room that Doc had led her to the previous day - where they had examined her wind-ups, which were still scattered on a nearby table. It seemed as if all of that had taken place ages ago, and she could hardly believe that it hadn't even been a full day. She walked over to the table, stepping over a dirty rag and a toolbox, and picked up one of her wind-ups - this one a mouse. She touched its wire tail. Twenty-four hours ago, she'd been at home with her mother, getting ready for her job. Now her mother was dead, she had the job, and she was living in an entirely different place. She felt as if she'd aged a decade in only a few hours, and although she liked her new home, she didn't think that being there felt right.
    Something clanged behind her, and she whirled around to see Silas enter the room. He hadn't noticed her yet, and she stood frozen, still holding her mouse. She sat down abruptly in a chair because standing up felt too conspicuous and busied herself with the constructed rodent. She heard him grab something off the shelf - a wrench. He turned around.
   "Oh, you're awake!" said his voice in slight surprise.
   She looked up at him. He looked just the same as yesterday - leather jacket, tousled dark hair. He held the wrench easily in one gloved hand, watching her earnestly. She figured he wanted her to say something in reply.
    "Yeah," she said, then added reluctantly, "thank you for the tea."
    He pulled over a chair next to her, twirling it around with a flick of his wrist and plopping down in it. He stared at a bookshelf across the room for a moment, as if captivated by it; then he looked at her seriously and said in a soft voice, "I'm terribly sorry. About your mother."
     Eve met his gaze and lifted her shoulder in a shrug. "Thank you," she said, looking back down at the mouse. She felt the threat of tears in the back of her throat and didn't really know what else to say.
     They sat in silence for a little while longer, and the lump in Eve's throat eventually dissolved. She felt awkward in Silas' presence, and the mention of her mother brought everything she'd felt the previous night back to her. She remembered, for a moment, being in the hovercar after she'd discovered her mother's body - how Silas had been there with her. She stole a glance at him and realized that he was looking intently at her wrist. A stab of shame went through her, like fire, and she straightened her back and folded her arms, cheeks turning red. She looked away.
     After a moment, Silas asked, "Would you like something to eat?"
     "I honestly don't think I could stomach anything," she replied, wondering what he was thinking about her wrist. He didn't seem perturbed by it. Hadn't he noticed it in the hovercar the previous evening? 
     He was looking at her with an apologetic look, and she glanced at him as he stood up. "I hope you feel better soon," he said automatically, growing awkward all of a sudden. "Tell me if you need anything." He started walking towards the door he had come in from.
     Eve didn't want him to go. She wanted him to stay and talk with her, and she wanted him to tell her that everything was going to be okay even though she felt like it wasn't, and she wanted to decide whether he made her feel better or worse, comfortable or awkward, but she let him go. 

11 - Half, pt. 8

  When Eve woke up, awoken by the sound of a door closing, she felt almost hung over, like she'd been hit by a bus. She couldn't remember anything for a moment; but then the realization slammed into her, and she lay in bed, eyes open to the ceiling, holding back fresh tears.
   She forced herself into a sitting position and slipped her legs out from underneath the covers, placing them on the floor. She stood up uneasily and shook her head to clear it. When she glanced at the nearby bedside table, she noticed that something had been placed on it - a chipped teacup filled with brownish liquid. Tea. She reached for it, wrapping her fingers around it. It was still hot, and steam rose from the surface. 
   About a foot away from the bedside table was a tall black room divider. One end was against the wall, and it stretched a little ways past the edge of her bed. Directly across from the foot of the bed was a window, heavily curtained. After taking a sip of the tea, which was prepared well for her liking, she walked to the window and pushed the curtain open a little. The sun had risen long ago. It appeared to be late in the morning. In the distance, she could see the city, all chrome and glass and heat, and she had no desire to go there, like she always had when she was little. 
   She closed the curtain, turned on the lamp, and sat back down on the bed, still holding the tea. Although she felt exhausted, she was restless in the room. She let her mind wander and thought about Doc and Silas. She wondered if Doc had returned and who had placed the tea on her nightstand. 
   She suddenly recalled that she had been woken up by a closing door. She looked at the door nearby. She should venture out, see who was home. Or maybe they'd come to check on her. 
   Instead of leaving, she decided to explore the room. It was a good size, but she hadn't seen what was beyond the room divider. After putting her tea down and rubbing her eyes, she stepped around it and flicked on a light switch that her fingers grazed when she placed her hand on the wall. In the corner was a bookshelf, full of old tomes and volumes. Near that was a desk cluttered with papers and writing utensils. She walked over to it excitedly to examine the items. They were nearly all blueprints, intricate designs etched onto the paper with tiny block letters labeling each component of the structure on the paper. They were intriguing. Eve thought she'd like to learn how to make them. 
   She looked up from the desk. A few other odd items lay at points throughout the room, like an obviously ancient computing device on a pedestal, but it was all done together in a way that made the room seem cozy and welcoming. Everything in the house, it seemed, was substantially behind the most recent technological advancements. Everything was old - old lights, old wallpaper, old furniture, old home. But Eve liked it, everything about it - even the strange musky smell. 
   Restless, she looked toward the door. She would continue exploring the room later; for now, she was too interested in seeing where Doc and Silas were for her to concentrate. 
   She laid a hand on the cool doorknob and turned it sharply. It resisted slightly, but then easily gave, and she pushed open the thin door. She had hoped to make a silent entrance, but the sound of the creaky doorknob paired with the whine of the door hinges hat probably abolished that idea.

10 - brighter

you know what really sucks?

when your lifelong best friend's father leaves her family without a word, and she breaks and you try to help her. you stand by her side for each passing day and you watch her grow stronger and stronger and you don't even care if you'll make it out of this okay, you just wish she would be okay and you wish she would be happy again. even if everything else is going wrong, you know you'll always be there for her, because she's your best friend and you love her.

it really sucks when she's 100% better and things are looking up and you don't spend as much time with her as you used to, but you don't mind because you're so glad that she's finally okay. it's okay that she's stopped inviting you over to her house and never calls anymore. maybe she just needs space.

it really sucks when, after a near seven months of having been apart, you show up at your old school during lunchtime so that you can surprise her. when she sees you, she tackle-hugs you, and you suddenly feel full again, and stupid for having doubted her friendship. you think her excitement at seeing you again is proof enough that she's never stopped caring about you. until you see that boy standing behind her. you know the one - the one you knew in elementary school, whose hat you'd steal and race around madly on the playground with. she'd complain that he was gross, but you'd never say anything in reply because you kind of liked him. but that was so long ago, and she tells you that she's dating him now.

it really sucks when you haven't yet realized what that means. you're happy for her at first. she lights up around him, and he obviously cares about her a lot. but when you've heard all their cute stories and the day is over and you're driving home, it slowly dawns on you that the reason she hasn't stayed in touch with you is because she was busy with him. something about that irks you, but you brush off the feeling. it's only an infatuation, right? she's always been the kind of girl who grabbed the nearest person when something went wrong. it was always you, but now it's him. surely it won't last. surely she'll come back to you.

it really sucks when two more months pass and she still hasn't called. you barely know of her existence anymore, and you wonder if she knows of yours. christmas goes by. snow falls outside, covering up everything that used to exist between the two of you. when it melts there's nothing underneath but coldness and wetness and dead things. in january you hear that your old school's homecoming is tonight. you remember that she's a cheerleader. she'll be there. since you aren't doing anything at the moment, you text her. are you at the homecoming game? she replies, yeah. you say, i'm coming. she says, okay. you run downstairs and tell your mom that you're going to visit your best friend at school. you miss her so much it's like a physical ache. you are sure that this time it's going to work. it'll be better.

it really sucks when you get there and she gives you another flying tackle-hug, but this time you don't really put your arms around her in response. you wait until she lets go, flouncing into the gymnasium, and you follow. you walk behind her as you head to the bleachers. you see many familiar faces. of course the spot that she provides for you is next to him, while she sits in the row in front of you with the other cheerleaders. you feel awkward, but you make conversation with him, and he shows you pictures of red pandas on his phone. you start talking about doctor who. people who are listening in get really confused as you rant about the perils of time travel. the basketball game is almost over. the homecoming reps are sitting in a row across the gym. you recognize the female rep from your grade - you used to be friends with her. she's wearing a form-fitting golden dress that looks gorgeous on her. your friend catches you looking and makes a remark about how "skanky" the dress looks, and you close your mouth in surprise, casting her a glance. he laughs and pokes her shoulder. "you're such a slut. you're naked under all those clothes."

she laughs, but you are shocked into silence.

it really sucks when the game ends. the gym begins to clear out. you realize that you need a ride home. you left your phone sitting on your dresser. she tells you happily that she and him are going to some restaurant, but the rest of what she says is lost on the noise. before you know it they're on the other side of the gym - she and him - and you race over, slightly bewildered as to what's happening. you tap her on the shoulder. she gives you a quick hug, tells you it was nice seeing you. all around you, little groups of people are chatting and milling about. you pause to say hi to someone you used to know, and when you turn around they're walking out the door, arm in arm. just like that.

it really sucks to stand outside in the cold darkness, but your mother is the type of person who always stays on top of things, and she knew what time the game was ending. she's waiting for you, her car lights blazing through the darkness. you are silent on the ride home. something inside you feels wrong.

it really sucks to cry yourself to sleep. you don't know exactly why you're crying, but at the same time you do. you've been replaced.

it really sucks how you text her the next day anyways. by now you should have realized that she's not going to answer, but you're naïve and you believe that you can still work this out. she doesn't reply to your texts very often, but when she does the conversation lasts two or three replies before she says she has to go, as if she can't take her stupid phone with her wherever she's going. you don't remember what your old inside jokes were, but you remember what your favorite songs were - the ones you shared eternities ago. the good life by onerepublic. sparks fly by taylor swift. you can't listen to them anymore. your mom keeps setting dates for you to get together, but her mom keeps canceling. eventually you stop trying altogether. the lines on both sides are still.

it really sucks how time passes and she's not around, and it's a sunny day in march when you attend the birthday party of one of your best friends in the world. not her - this is a different group of friends. a group that you later realize is more true to you than she ever was. you run wild playing cops and robbers on her cul-de-sac, eating icing out of the container, and watching studio ghibli films. you notice that howl talks like batman. you all laugh when you realize he was played by christian bale. the next day, after you've all slept in the attic, parents come and go and your numbers dwindle until a few select friends remain - just four, including you. you all go to the mall, and she is the farthest thing from your mind. you raid the little accessory shops and peek in all the fancy clothing stores. then you're heading toward american eagle. you've never shopped there before, but your one friend says it's her favorite store, and she grabs your wrist and drags you in, your other two friends ahead of you. they melt into the racks as you enter the store, loud music pulsing over the speakers. someone says hello to you, and you look up in surprise. it is her. good lord, she is here. why the heck is she here? your thoughts scramble. you are not smiling, but she is, and you hate her for it, and suddenly you want to grab her and shake her and scream at her and cry. but you don't. your face is expressionless and your hands are trembling at your sides. her mother is here, acting all jovial like nothing is wrong, and you hate her, too, for never answering your mom's calls. and of course he is here as well. he doesn't say a word to you, but he watches you with some sort of detached interest. she speaks like a whirlwind - sorry i haven't gotten back to you, my phone is broken! my brother dropped it! the dog ate it! it fell in the bathtub! ha! it was nice seeing you! what? you think. but have said not a word in reply, and you turn and watch as they leave. you stare at their retreating heads as if lasers will shoot out of your eyes and send them far away from here, but they're already heading in that direction with no help from you because they want to. they want to get away from you. she wants to do her important shopping and spend time with a boy who is more important to her now than you ever, ever were.

you turn back around and face the store. you can't breathe. you pull out your phone. you put a hand to your head and scrape it across your face. your mind whirls. you walk to where your friends are, and they look at you in concern. are you okay? they ask. i'm going to cry, you declare, and that is exactly what you do. your fingers shake as you dial your mom's number, and you can barely get the words out. it was her. i saw her here and she was with him and she brushed me away like i was nothing. your mom doesn't understand, and she tells you to not let it ruin your time with your friends and that you'll talk about it when you get home and that it'll be okay, and when the conversation is over you cry and cry as your friends give you hugs and reassuring murmurs in the middle of american eagle.

it really sucks that it's may now and that you haven't seen her since then. your wounds are still open, and nothing can close them, even though you are surrounded by people that love you and people whom you love. she doesn't know that you like to draw now and that you have a new phone and new friends and that you got a haircut a little while ago. last time you went on facebook, you saw pictures of him on her profile, in place of pictures that used to be of you. you see a photo of her pushing him down a hospital corridor in a wheelchair, but they both look happy. he was suffering from dizzy spells or headaches or some other ailment that you really don't care about. she puts her life online for all to see, but you are far more reserved, and she will never know that your great aunt, who you love like a grandmother, is sick in the hospital and not doing well. she will never know that your father works in new york for weeks at a time and you miss him desperately. she will never know that your brother just graduated and is leaving early and that you don't know what you'll do with yourself when he's gone. but her life is hers, and yours is yours, and you are not so sure that your friendship could ever come out of this unscathed. in fact, you are sure that it won't. everything is one-sided now. all of the pain lies on you. and that's not how things are supposed to be.

it really sucks how long it took you to realize that you deserve people better than her, and that's why you won't reconcile things if you ever get the chance. you are hoping to finally snag a lunch date with her and her mom soon, simply so that you can say to her face every time that she wronged you. you will cry. maybe even yell a bit, because every time you think of her that's what you want to do - break things. you will make her realize that she can't treat people this way. you will make her realize that one relationship to sacrifice another is not right.

it really sucks that something you thought was beautiful would have to end this way, but some things crash and burn. some lives end in tragedy. some relationships dissolve into heartbreak, and this is not the last time you will experience it. but it is the last time when you will take crap from someone who you used to call a friend. this is the last time that you will allow yourself to get hurt so badly. when this is all over, and you hope that it will end soon, you will finally come out of this brighter than you ever were before.

9 - old sport

 Yesterday was the AP Bio exam. Let's not talk about it. 

  I also got a haircut. My hair was past my shoulders before, but it now comes up to the middle of my neck and is all fluffy and stuff. I'm waiting for it to loose the freakishly perfect hairdresser-ness, because I don't really like it that way, so I haven't really begun to like it yet. Meh.
   After I got a haircut, we went to see The Great Gatsby. The book is one of my favorites, so I knew it was going to be sad, but that movie was heartbreaking. It was so awful to watch Gatsby's whole dream deteriorate. I cried really hard. I almost never cry in movies, and I've never cried as hard during a film as I did in Gatsby.
   It sure was beautiful, though. It was really true to the book, and I think Baz Luhrmann nicely captured what the novel was trying to convey. Everything was so gorgeous and shiny and extravagant. 

 One thing I found surprising was Jordan Baker. Book Jordan put on a careless air that covered an enthusiasm and intelligence she had for things. Movie Jordan seemed less interesting, but I actually think she was my favorite character in the film. I loved the way she moved. Does that even make any sense? I don't know. I just liked Jordan and Gatsby omg Gatsby was so earnest and cute when he was all worried about seeing Daisy and omg fjsdfdhsjfkhdksf 

Here's a gif of his stupid adorable face. Gosh, I really love Gatsby as a character. I am, like, emotionally invested in his well-being. I think that's why I cried so much in the theater.

   

8 - Starlighters, pt. 1 - Fletcher Gives a Necessary Inroduction

  In the beginning, there were ten of us. Now, there are five. Our job is not light, and we do not take it lightly. 

  My name's Fletcher. I'm #7 - thank God they gave us names. I don't know that there's much to say about me. 10, 9, and 8 are all dead, so I'm last in command now and always will be. 

   #6 is Avalon. She's probably the brightest of all of us - not in intellect, but in behavior. always smiling and laughing and cheering us all up with her antics. She's got hair like sunshine and eyes nearly the same color, like light going through a glass of whiskey. Her weapon of choice? Acorns. She's got these little glass acorns that she makes herself, swirled with gorgeous colored patterns, and when she throws them they explode and stuff happens. I think it involves magic of some sort. Avalon would do that.

   #5 is Roman. Even though we were told not to form close relationships with each other, how could we not? We're all we know, and Roman's my best friend. He has brown hair streaked with dark red that he always keeps cut short, but with this long, thin braid in the back, like he's some sort of jedi. He always has been one for those epic stories. He's quite focused and an excellent fighter. When he unsheaths his sword, you better run. He's a bit of a prankster, though. He and Avalon are always trying to mess us up. 
    #4 is Lyra. She's short, with dark hair, tan skin, and luminous blue eyes. She's fast and moves like a bird. She can sing like one, too, on nights when we're sitting around the fire and Roman feels like playing his little flutey instrument thing. She usually doesn't talk much - she's the kind of person who's eternally thoughtful and deep. In battle, she whirls around with her curved twin blades, like a little tornado. 
   Then there's Vu. #2. When Z died, she took over. She was obligated to, being second in command, but it worked - she's the kind of person you want to follow. Capable and strong, her brow is nearly always furrowed into a calculating gaze. She's of medium height - taller than Lyra but shorter than me, and she has short white hair. Her green eyes are always fierce. She's agile and well-muscled, but still thin. Her voice is hard and sharp. Everything about her puts you in your place, makes you want to please her, but she's still good to us and considers us to be her equals. 
    So that's us. The Starlighters.

  

6 - Improbable Goings-On in the Burgess Stop n' Save, Part 4

- Sparrow - 

    The warnings come in mid-afternoon. My history teacher shushes the class and turns up the volume on the TV so that we can hear the news. Heavy snowfall is expected, and schools are dismissing early. 

     My desk is in the drafty spot next to the window. I look away from the TV and stare at the ground outside. The light snowflakes that have been falling on and off today have become fatter, lining the windowpane with crystalline bits of snow and thickening the layer already on the ground. 

     After class lets out, everyone begins rushing to their cars to beat the storm. I stand idly at my locker in the midst of the noise. I usually get picked up by my mom, but she's working right now. My attempts to call her fail. I decide to catch a ride with one of my friends. Oh, wait - I don't have any friends. Rather, the few acquaintances of mine have already left, and there's no way I'm getting in a car with anyone else from this stupid place. Unsure of what to do, I flee into the deserted library and hide among the shelves until most everyone has left. The hallways have finally grown silent, and the snow is falling quickly outside. 

     Curled up on one of the beanbag chairs, I try to decide what to do. I could spend the night here, but I don't like that idea. I don't want to have to talk to anyone. I'm not going to the principal, even though I can see from my vantage point near the library door that the light in her office is still on. I try calling my mom again, but she doesn't pick up. The storm must be affecting the phone lines.

      I'll walk home.

      My house isn't far from here. Only a few miles or so. I'm wearing my tallest boots and warmest jeans, and my coat is plenty warm. Plus, my favorite lavender scarf is here to protect me from the elements.

      I'll be fine.

      I'm so stupid.

      Leaving the school isn't so bad. I'm used to this sort of cold weather. I stay away from the road and start towards the fields instead. Stupid Sparrow. Stupid, stupid. I can't make friends who actually care about me. I can't even muster up the courage to ask my school principal for help in a snowstorm. 

       I'm cold.

       This sucks.

       I'm so stupid.

       After walking for a little while, the wind has begin to pick up. It stings my eyes so badly that I can barely see, and I try drawing my scarf up, but all that does is blind me. I wrap it around my cheeks and leave a space for my eyes, pulling up my hood and baring against the wind. This is getting dangerous, and I don't know if I'll be able to make it home.

       Which is when I notice the lights of the halfway point not too far away - the Burgess Stop n' Save. I breathe a sigh of relief, which the scarf spreads up to my face, providing my cheeks with some warm air. I'll stop there for a little while. Maybe the storm will die down.

- Caspian - 

   Every day I hope I will see Sparrow, and every day she is not there. She must be running out of food. She hasn't come back here in two weeks. Maybe she and her mom have a basement where they stockpile edibles for a zombie apocalypse - weapons lining the walls, revealed with the touch of a button. 

    No one else is as exciting as she is. There's something about her - the way she smiles, maybe. The way she talks and how she always wears tights with interesting patterns, like lightning bolts or birds. Even though she didn't speak much those first two times I saw her, no one else who ever comes in this grocery store has such a crackling, gorgeous energy about them.

     The weather is still suffering under a horrendous cold spell. Today the radios blare weather warnings, interrupting the music that usually plays from the tinny speakers throughout the grocery store. The weather people or whoever are advising that everyone try to get somewhere safe and stay there, because the snow is getting heavier and the wind is getting stronger. Half an hour ago there was no wind, but now I can hear it whistling as I heave boxes around in the storeroom. Several of my coworkers who live farther away have already left, but I live five minutes away from here, and the drive wouldn't be so bad in any situation, so I stay to take stock of our recent arrivals. What can I say? I'm a dedicated employee. And it's not like there's anything better for me to do. 
      I have just paused in my work to stretch my back when Necita comes in. Her dark eyes are always serious. "Go home," she tells me. "We're closing."
      I do not want to go home. I am possibly the only employee of the Burgess Stop n' Save who has ever felt as such. "Drive safely," I call to her retreating back. 
      With that, she leaves, turning out all the lights save for a few in the front and back. She tells me to lock up. And then I am alone in the grocery store. 
       I leave the storeroom and head to the front to get out of the darkness, shrugging on my coat because it's so cold. At the doors, hazy light filters through the glass and lands gloomily on the floor. And I'm just walking past them when a form appears there - someone bundled up in a dark coat. I catch a flash of purple as they bang on the door and I start in surprise. For a moment I'm frozen in place, ready to defend myself if need be. But then the person tears off their scarf and hood, leaving their head and face exposed to the air. My gosh, it's Sparrow. Her light-colored hair stirs in the wind.
      What is she doing out in this weather? Staring at her incredulously, I unlock the door and pull it open for her, shutting it swiftly as soon as she gets inside. "Sparrow! What the heck are you doing here?" I ask immediately, touching her arm. She's shivering.

- Sparrow - 

       "I'm so sorry, Cas," I say apologetically, struggling to regain some semblance of warmth. "They let us out of school early, and I my mom couldn't make it, and I figured I'd walk home - "

       "Don't be sorry," interrupts Cas. "Just get warm." He keeps looking at me nervously, like he feels like this is his fault. One hand on my back, he leads me off somewhere away from the door, down by the cash registers. "There's this place my manager likes to go sometimes, but we're usually not allowed there. Hold on," he explains. We're standing at a door a little ways down from the pharmacy. Cas fiddles around with a lanyard that has a bunch of keys dangling from the end before choosing one and sticking it in the lock. He pops open the door and turns on the light. The room is like some sort of lounge - small, but crowded with couches against the walls and a coffee table in the middle. In the corner there's some sort of water dispenser and another door. It's warmer in here - I can already feel it. 

        "Cas, thank you, but I don't think I can - " I begin, feeling guilty.

        "Sit down. I'll get you something to drink," he commands, already disappearing beyond the other door, which I now see leads to a kitchen. I hang up my coat near the door and sit down awkwardly on one of the couches.

     

5 - and so begins the beginning of the end

   I will rejoice when this school year is over. Rejoice, I tell you. In fact, not even then - when I come out on the other side of the AP Bio exam, that is when I will rejoice. After that, I'm pretty much home free. Taking all the other exams after that monster will be a breeze.

   Today is May the first. 23 more days until this is all over and I can do other things. I'm going to actually use my drawing tablet and go out with friends and not be on the internet so much. I'm going to read the books of mine that I own but are still waiting to be read - The Amazing Adventures of Kavelier & Clay, Game of Thrones, and the fully unabridged Les Misérables. Hopefully I'll be able to volunteer at the library during the summer. And I'm going to go to camp and see all my fraaands and then I'll get to visit my cousin in Canada and wow how am I supposed to wait 23 more days

   This week, I have lost all motivation. I still haven't gotten started on the massive Bible assignment due tomorrow, and I still have to look over my notecards for a test also taking place tomorrow, and the bottom line is that I shouldn't be making a blog post and I shouldn't be constructing run-on sentences. 

    You know that sucky feeling where there's something you want to attend but it's completely impossible for you to be there so you just sit and frown as the date of the event swooshes by? Well, that's happening on Friday when mister Aaron Tveit - broadway actor and professional life ruiner - is having this fancy performance thing at a tiny venue place in New York City. He's having four other performances throughout the month, and I don't know why I'm even thinking about it because the possibility of my existence colliding with the existence of those four shows is completely impossible in any universe ever, because I'm here studying for exams and crawling through the passing days and I live here and New York is, like, wayyy over there and how the heck would I even get there and no one would even allow me to go and I mean I'm not even a legal adult. But everyone else is over there at Aaron Tveit's show or whatever. And it all kind of really sucks. 

   There's this other actor called George Blagden. He did a wonderful job portraying Grantaire in Les Mis (I'm sorry that this is the post of Showbiz Actor Fangirling). George Blagden is the kind of person who is so remarkably talented and handsome and such a nice person in general that it doesn't make any sense and probably is not legal on any planet. But here's a song of his that's really awesome and that will probably cheer you up if you're having a bad day. It's called Mr. Bojangles. JUST LISTEN TO THE GRUMBLY VOICE HE USES NEAR THE MIDDLE DOESN'T IT MAKE YOU WANT TO DIE FROM FEELINGS?!