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blondemoment22

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<div style="border:1px #ccc solid; background-image:url('/images/ray.gif'); font-family:arial; width:200px; padding:5px;"><center><div style="font-size:20px;"><a href="/story/blondemoment22/35921">Honestly, I Hate You {1}</a></div><table><tr><td width="50"><div style="color:#2CC362; font-size:15px; padding-top:4px; background-image:url('/images/profratebg.gif'); background-repeat:no-repeat; width:44px; height:26px; text-align:center; font-weight:bold; vertical-align:middle; padding-top:8px; padding-left:1px; " valign="top">22</div></td><td><div style="height:100px;width:100px; padding-top:9px; background-repeat:no-repeat; background-image:url(/images/storyCover.png);"><a href="/story/blondemoment22/35921"><div style="margin-left:9px; __padding:0px; height:90px; width:70px; background-repeat:no-repeat; background-image:url('http://www.testriffic.com/storyfiles/35921.jpg');"></div></a></div></td></tr></table></center></div>

+ 15	Honestly, I Hate You {13}
+ 21	Honestly, I Hate You {12}
+ 17	Honestly, I Hate You {11}
+ 16	Honestly, I Hate You {10}
+ 19	Honestly, I Hate You {9}
+ 11	Honestly, I Hate You {8}
+ 7	Existence #2
+ 7	Existence #1
+ 15	Honestly, I Hate You {7}
+ 15	Honestly, I Hate You {6}
+ 20	Honestly, I Hate You {5}
+ 20	Honestly, I Hate You {4}
+ 15	Honestly, I Hate You {3}
+ 18	Honestly, I Hate You {2}
+ 22	Honestly, I Hate You {1}
+ 25	*sigh & growl*
+ 21	At the Crack of Dawn
+ 16	Random Thoughts of a Slacker
+ 26	Daydreaming
+ 16	Getting Into You

My body rocked in time with the deep pulsing of Tom’s bass, the distortion set on high. Jared trickled in quickly and let his riff fade out in a whine. I took a low breath, waiting for Gavin’s snare. As the noise reached my ears, I started in on the first verse.

 

            “Shadows fight the iridescent glare,” I sang, holding back a smirk when I read Gavin’s lips—“Finally”—referring to everyone coming in on the right beat, “of an ice cold star.”

 

            Gavin leaned into his microphone to scream, “Falling! Breaking! Burning you alive!” with me.

 

            “I stare,” I continued, letting my voice sway lower, “as if the void in your eyes will console me.”

 

            Tom fell out and Jared hammered the strings impossibly fast as I went on to the refrain.

 

            “The pulse never halted, the looks never died…” They came in softly, timing the crescendo perfectly together. “You were only exalted from the air that I cried…” I closed my eyes in anticipation of the vibrations that were hastily approaching. “In loneliness I hold still, anxious for wings—” A heavy clash of cymbals broke through, and Tom and Jared finally reached full volume, all the noise creating a heart-skipping thrum in my chest. “—that won’t ever teach me—” Tom’s bass was the only sound left as I hissed, “—to fly…”

 

            Jared suddenly let out a high-pitched shriek. I burst out laughing, watching him lower himself onto the floor, strumming madly at the 3 highest strings.

 

            Gavin stopped and raised his arms up. “What the fuck, man?” he yelled incredulously. I could tell he was struggling in his attempt to be angry, and I laughed harder. “We finally get the intro right and you fucking… don’t even…” he trailed off, sputtering random words into the air.

 

            Tom was still repeating his bass line over and over like the rest of us hadn’t stopped.

 

            “Shut up, Tom,” I commanded between fits of giggles. My eyes were beginning to water. I ran a finger under my eyes and came away with a thick line of tears.

 

            He slowed down, lowering his messy head of white-blond hair, and finally set his bass against the wall. A sad puppy frown was plastered across his face as he curled up in the corner of the garage. “Why don’t you shut up, Plain Jane?” he mumbled.

 

            Plain Jane has been my nickname since the beginning of time for all I know. No one calls me Jane, besides teachers and my angry parentals. I am the prototype girl. Brown hair, brown eyes, 5 feet 5 inches tall, etc. The only thing slightly extraordinary about me is my metabolism. I could literally eat like the guy in Super Size Me and not gain an ounce, although my liver probably would dissolve. My best chick friend Kaelyn is insanely jealous of me for it, but I’d trade for her ass any day.

 

            For as long as I can remember, I’ve fought to prove my nickname wrong. It usually results in punishment, like the time in 7^th grade I shredded all my jeans and put them back together using the bulk package of safety pins my mom had bought at Costco for the sewing class she’d joined for a couple months until she got bored and moved on to painting. My father barred up my window and hauled my bed into the rafters of our garage and only allowed me a bottle of water and a piece of toast every day. Not really, but he did throw out my punk pants and made me mow lawns all summer to buy myself some “decent” jeans.

 

            Needless to say, I’ve been keeping my tattoo a secret.

 

            Gavin clicked his drumsticks together, over his little bout of frustration. “Hey PJ,” he called to me.

 

I rubbed my finger on my jeans. “Yeah?” I answered.

 

“You gonna come to my party tonight?”

 

“Why do you keep having these things?” I groaned. “You know all those girls only show up because they want in your über tight jeans.”

 

He grinned and Jared cut in to grumble, “Man whore…”

 

“Fuck you,” Gavin chuckled. “What else is a spoiled teenage boy supposed to do on the last weekend before school?”

 

“Oh, I haven’t a clue,” I replied sarcastically. “Maybe get all your materials organized and go buy some fancy new calculator and maybe review a bit before the semester starts.”

 

“That’s disgusting.” He smirked at me, eyes glinting beneath his thick black eyelashes. “But you never answered my question. Are you coming or not?”

 

Jared snickered and muttered, “Coming…” under his breath.

 

I rolled my eyes. “Fine, I will.”

 

Gavin and I have known each other since freshman year when we were lab partners in Mr. Fatass’s physical science class. We had a good time screwing up labs that semester, and somehow we managed to get out of there with A-‘s. I think it might have been due to Gavin’s expertise in brown-nosing. Anyway, Gavin’s birth dad walked out on his mom and him when he was seven, and his mom got remarried a few years later to this rich guy named Bartholomew Richard Pickerton the 27^th and ¾’s or something like that.

 

So, Gavin lives in a huge snobby house with his huge snobby step-daddy and his chronically skinny mother. His parents are usually guaranteed to be out at some silly cocktail party or a gallery opening every few weeks, so Gavin throws parties at every opportunity. Mostly they’re not too bad, as long as he doesn’t inform too many people about them, but once in a while they get wild; keggers via one of his cousins in college, speakers getting blown, hormone-crazed people having sex in every room… you get the idea.

 

Those are the ones I leave early from, if I bother showing up at all.

 

“Should we work on one of our covers?” Tom suggested, still sitting off in the corner.

 

“Mhm,” I agreed. I let songs drift in and out of my mind for a moment, then, smiling, took the microphone in my hands, and sang, “Wait a minute man, you mispronounced my name.” Jared groaned dramatically. “You didn’t wait for all the information before you turned me away,” I continued loudly, trying to drown out Jared and Gavin complaining. “Oh, come on,” I begged. “We really screwed it up good last time, please could we do it?”

 

Grudgingly, Jared let off a screech down the strings and began strumming away. Our band, which so far remained nameless, refused to play anything resembling a ballad. It was either acoustic or it wasn’t, easy as that.

 

“Thank you!” I mouthed at him and he mouthed back, “I hate you.”

 

Alanis songs are always the most fun to sing because her lyrics are so honest that they’re insanely funny. I caught Gavin laughing as I sang, “You took me out to wine dine 69 me, but didn’t hear a damn word I said.”

 

Jared went on to his mini solo he’d made up the last time we played “Right Through You,” which was enough to make him happy no matter what the song.

 

I finished with a second run of the refrain, grinning.

 

“Christ, we’re done now, I hope?” Jared said.

 

I glanced at my Pokemon watch and flicked off the microphone. “Yeah, I gotta ditch,” I replied, running my fingers through my hair.

 

I lived a few blocks down from Tom and Jared, so it would only take a couple minutes to get home, but my control freak of a father would go savage if I was 3 seconds late. He might as well have given me a time card and made me punch in at the front door. It would make sense, seeing as I slave away like freaking Cinderella whenever I’m there.

 

Gavin hit the garage door opener to let me out. The disgustingly harsh sun of August blinded me.

 

“Later, guys,” I said, bracing my arms over my eyes as I stumbled out onto the driveway.

 

“We’ll come get you around, like, 10?” Jared asked.

 

“Yeah, yeah.” I turned on my heel and started walking backwards. “I’m gonna have to sneak out, so keep the tunes turned down!” I raised a finger to my lips, wiggling my eyebrows. Jared pulled a face at me.

 

“You naughty child,” Gavin teased. “What did you do this time?”

 

“I’m getting a C in English.”

 

“But you love English,” Tom noted, seeming confused.

 

“I do,” I told him. “But Mrs. Larken doesn’t appreciate my work. She says it ‘lacks basic reasoning.’ Whatever that means.” I exhaled to wash out my anger in a very yoga-like gesture. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

 

The twins said goodbye as I headed left down the sidewalk and I waved my arm high over my head.

 

“I don’t get a hug?” Gavin called from the end of the driveway. “Get back here, slut-face.”

 

Scowling, I turned around and stood facing him.

 

He bobbed his head at me before pulling me into his arms and squeezing hard. “See ya, PJ,” he said.

 

“Bye, Gavin.” I smiled into his shoulder.

 

I hate that skinny clump of cells. God must have been feeling a bit generous when he decided to make him; he’s so damn sexy it’s almost painful.

 

 

(abrupt ending, I know. there will be more soon!)

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