Beginnings...

Life Is...

• A story, a fable, a tale, a legend, a history.
• An artwork, invisible and powerful.
• An eternal change, still, resolute, yet different.

Tributes...

A Mix-Up, Mash-Up Patchwork

{Sometimes people just get the craziest notions... True friends are wrought forever in my books like diamonds and gems, while bad friends are like scattered leaves and raindrops... Good things are brief, and as they say, only "Lightens," then diminishes into a warm glow... Good friends are the ones who bail you out of jail. True friends are the ones sitting next to you and saying, "That was fun!"... Those who hate others hate themselves, and those who love others love themselves... Time is an illusion, but it is an illusion that is wrought from the nature herself, and from nature welded into our lives. Time is something we find, something that we use, something that we can create... The first, last, and only barriers are yourself... Water is special. It created us, it supports us, it's our way of living, but water can also kill us... You cannot create light, or darkness, good or bad. What you can create though, is love and hate... Curiosity killed the cat, there is no cure for curiosity... Things can contradict, yet compliment... One must learn from oneself before teaching others, but one must learn from others to teach oneself_ .. Life makes no sense, but yet is the most logical thing in the cosmos.... **This site is primarily made by Dessi with much help from web hosts and free domain names. It is filled with Dessi and Kassi's works. Enjoy it, but please, do not copy these works, for they are ours and we worked really hard, so please, please, please be courteous and don't copy our work. I have disabled the right clink function, but I know that the computer wizzes out there can find other ways to copy this, but please, DON'T. Thanks, and enjoy!!!!!!!! ~Note: All pieces by Dessi and Kassi are copyrighted under the Berne Convention and it is morally and ethically wrong to straight out copy work without permission from the author!!!!!!!~**} ** Story One: NOT-SO-PERFECT TRIANGLE OF LOVE, ENVY AND HATE The day was dismal, the sky was dark and cloudy. It was a rainy season, the ground was constantly moist, and the mist hung heavily in the air. Autumn had always been such a horrid season to Arizona, and she dreadfully hated it, for of all the seasons in the year, Autumn was when she was at the bottom of her Fortune’s Wheel. Today was no exception. It had all started out in the morning, when she was roughly shaken awake by her lifelong ‘friend’, Iris. Iris was not of a great stature, with her slumped shoulders, baby fat, and thick arms, thick legs, thick fingers topped with an itsy-bitsy head upon her clumsy shoulders. Her neck undulated under her barely visible chin and her plump, round face was hardly a beauty to recognize. Her eyes had a slight squint to them and her stub nose was anything from a ski-slope; her lips were just as deliciously vicious with them being a plump pink that, rather than being nice and delicate, was floppy and flabby. She was definitely not a vision of Venus, but that hardly mattered to Arizona; she simply made Zona look much more gorgeous in comparison, and a very good prop. Arizona, or "Zona" as she preferred to be called by was a runaway since the tender age of 10. Her old home was somewhere in the suburbs of Florida, where she slaved endlessly for her wicked stepmother and her equally awful father. When she had been younger, she liked thinking of herself as Cinderella, and her circumstances certainly matched with the Disney Princess situation. Her mother had passed away when she was only 5, and at times, she still blamed herself for her mother’s death. Stupid, stupid me, if only I had dialed! If only I had dialed! You see, her mother had died of a heat stroke combined with dehydration. Mother and daughter had been tending their garden when all of a sudden, the mother (whose name was Michaela) dropped down on the pebbly path and began convulsing and foaming. Her eyes rolled upwards, displaying the whites of her eyes and all Zona could do was watch her mother. Watch her suffer through pain. Watch her die. "Zona! Wake UP! Stop sleeping you lazy pudding, or we’ll miss school!" Iris complained loudly. Zona turned onto her stomach and then back onto her back and squinting up at the morning light, she asked, "Is it morning already? It can’t be this early. I barely had any sleep. Quick! Check outside. Is there any snow? A storm? A meteorite? Something?" She did not want to wake up, and especially did not want to wake up to get to school. It was one thing to wake up for something half-way interesting, but to wake up and to the prospect of something seeming so much more boring than even sleep, was a whole other story, and a disastrous one at that. Suddenly, she remembered. Zona sprang up from her well-slept in bed with the tattered and faded blue comforter and dashed outside to the nipping frost. It was one of those amazing days where (though it was still only 7 A.M.), the sky was a brilliant bluish-white without any clouds, and weak sun rays were trying to penetrate the ozone layer and dazzle everyone. It was slightly bitter-cold, where frost could be generated by a person’s own breathing, and icy dew hung precariously off of twigs, leaves, grass, anything and everything. The most amazing part was the air. It was like standing in front of a store’s refrigerator and it had a nice, refreshing ring to it, somehow different from the smell after a storm, but something else that hinted the coming of winter. Zona raced outside, barely noticing her surroundings and slipped into the outhouse she and Iris shared. Okay, so it may be the twenty-first century, but it was all two teen-aged youths could afford, which meant a ramshackled barn constructed of rusty metal slides and an outhouse filled with all sorts of disgusting varmints that a decent person would probably swoon at upon seeing. Yup, Zona and Iris lived a pretty awful life. The "house" was a barn made up of tin, like something the Tin Man in the Wizard of Oz would live in. It was rusted and stank of dead fish and salty sea water. Dimensions? Too small to be worth calculating. Inside the rectangular room was a torn up couch (savaged from the garbage dump) with it’s red satin covers ripped and foam spilling out like guts, two beds (twenty cents each from a garage sale) with two matching comforters, two stolen hospital pillows (from one of Iris’ stay there), a chewed up rug (also from the garbage dump), a wooden crate turned over to be used as a table (courtesy of the previous owner of the place) and a cracked mirror (from Iris’ dead aunt Margaret-Rose). The outhouse was no better. It was the size of two Honey Buckets pushed together and had a shower stall that sprayed yellowish-brown water, an out-of-service toilet (don’t even ask about how it was cleaned) and a sink with a small hand-held mirror nailed against a wall. The outside of the outhouse had red paint peeling off and smelled god-awful. Anyway, Zona had bolted into the outhouse, winced once as usual when she accidentally stepped on a nail that was apparently not very well hammered into the wooden flooring. Inside, it stank of, well, what an outhouse’s supposed to smell and what goes into toilets, but left in the heat for only too long. Zona quickly brushed her teeth and hair, and left, not bothering for a shower, knowing full well that during 5th period P.E., she could shower with clean water. Today, she could not be late. Today, she must catch the yellow school bus with the little sign taped on the window exclaiming, "Purple Pearl High rulz!" Today, she must meet Kelvin and Sharon and stop them before it was too late. Zona burst out of the stall and ran back inside, almost bowling Iris over. Luckily, Iris made a quick pivot-turn and barely avoided the collision of 96 verses 125 pounds of bones, skin and fat. "Come on Iris! You’re Little-Miss-I-Can’t-Miss-School! Let’s go now." "But hey, you bathroom hog! You hogged the bathroom so much that I couldn’t use it. Why don’t you just go first, you stupid mongrel-la while I pamper myself before school." Iris’ message was clear: go without me. Aww, how sweet. For Zona, at least. Now she could leave the dumbbell, who was most likely to ruin her plan anyway. With that, Zona sped away. "Catch you in class!" She began her plight down the hill and towards the bus stop near the littered parking lot on Evan Maine Street. When she had reached there, she found the whole place trashed up by the neighborhood hooligans. "Those slums," she muttered under her breath, kicking an aluminum can of Coke away from her path. She, herself, valued cleanliness and beauty, but thanks to those good-for-nothing trash bags, she was always seeing such a putrid environment. Oh well, such things cannot be changed by her alone, and she was not about to become some chivalrous person and try to "inspire others." Bah. The bus came exactly at 6:55 every day and on most days, Iris and Zona just missed it, counting on their friend, Zane to come and pick them up anyway. Zane lived all the way over in the Eaton area, where all the other people with millionaire/ billionaire parents lived. You might wonder how some rich heir stooped to two street girls’ level. It was simple. Zane’s father was the owner of the chain of hotels known called "Celebrity Central," which boasted much of the stays of all sorts of famous people, and plus, Zane’s eldest sister, Aria and his other sister, Belle were both huge-time Hollywood stars. His older brother, Bruce was playing college football and wanting to join professional NFL later. Zane, being the baby in the family, got everything he ever wished for, except he for friends. That was something he had to accumulate on his own, and no amount of money or good reputations could help him gain that. In schools, there are always groups of people. In this case, there were mainly two groups that divided into other, smaller subdivisions. One group were the ones who lived in Eaton or Nortidia, a.k.a., the North and the East, where all the people who were financially well off lived. The other group, as you can probably guess by now were the ones who didn’t live in Eaton or Nortidia. So, at first, Zane was warmly welcomed into the group, until an unfortunate period of time where his family became bankrupt due to massive shootings and unwanted fires in the hotels. The rich kids all stuck up their noses and left Zane without even a blink of an eye or a flash of an eyelash. His family moved to rural Holly Drive, where they lived for a whole year before the father’s massive wealth was regained, and they moved back to Eaton. However, Zane had never been truly able to fit in any groups thereafter. Luckily, he had met Zona and Iris not soon after, and they became the best of friends. Now, at 16, he would always do them favors, and even offered to help them locate another area to live, but Zona was determined not to leave, constraining Iris with her. However, Zane still tried to help them out whenever he could by helping pay off some of the electricity bills and driving them to and from school. He was always good-natured about everything and got along well, but Zona had her pride, and would not allow him to help them anymore than that. Other than that, the triplet got along quite well after all these years, and little did Zane know, himself, he began to fall in love with Zona, but that is yet another story. Today, Zona could not wait for Zane to come and pick her up. If she was to get anything done, she’d have to catch the bus and forget about waiting until 7:30, when Zane usually picked them up. He’ll have to understand. She sighed as she stood, freezing and completely alone. That was her status in this world; she had no family, and lived so frugally, it almost was like not living at all. Sometimes she would still call upon her dreams that she always had, like that very night, when she again dreamt of the day all was lost and how her mother was so cruelly taken away from her. She bit her lip. Zona was usually not the type of person to get sad and cry over little things, especially things so far in the past, but it was such a significant part of her life, to forget was a near impossibility. No! She was not going to cry. She had to stay strong. Strong. Strong. Strong. A flash of yellow zipped past. Well, almost. Zona had to go and run after the stupid bus. "Tu est trop, trop stupide, et je suis triste et tu… tu…." Oh well. She did not feeling like rambling on in French. There was no way she could possibly pass Francais II; the words made no sense and there were so many different conjugations to memorize. No use in practicing something unattainable, she thought and continued to stare out the pathetically dirty windows of the bus. It jostled up and down up and down on the unpaved country road, since no one had yet properly fixed the road system in an area so remote. "Stupid kid. Of all the routes I get assigned to, I get this. Who the heck lives in this dumpster anyway?" the bus driver mumbled angrily. Normally, she wasn’t in such a bad mood, but she felt extremely ill that day and really couldn’t care much. Zona heard it. Normally, she would have went straight up to the driver, slapped her really hard on her face and jumped off the bus, but not today. Today, she had a mission to accomplish, and nothing was going to sidetrack her from getting it done. An hour passed, and Zona was already beginning to get sick from the ride. During the course, people got on, got yelled at, punched, kicked, cat-scratched and did just about a million other things to each other, but no one even noticed Zona. Good, she thought. That is good. Her plan was going well, and it was really simple. All she wanted to do was get Ashley Wilters back. It was not really that hard. An object is only as strong as it’s weakest point, says physics, and that would have to apply to human sociology as well. After some hard detective work, Zona had finally found that Ashley’s weakest point was being afraid of losing what she had. Simple. All she had to do was to take those things, or at least, those people away, and she could start off by taking Jake away. Jake Armstrong was the highschool’s linebacker on the football team. Also, though it was rare, he was the captain of the team rather than the QB, Mark Johnston, which increased his popularity even more. His father, Cameroon Armstrong was the owner of the local movie theaters, Armstrong Inc. and his older brother, Matthew Armstrong was on the same team as Zane’s older brother. Jake was not the smartest kid in class, and definitely not eve close to being the most interesting (in Zona’s mind), but what he lacked in those areas, he well made up for in the department of bulk, brawn, athletic prowess, and looks, even Zona had to admit that. He loved video games (especially ESPN football, I wonder why, and strangely, all the Spyro games), football, and had played basketball when he was younger. His current girlfriend, Ashley (whom Zona was plotting against) was (of course) head cheerleader of the squad, and also a no-brainer, thank you very much. See? Zona did her homework well, and was all ready for the day. She had dressed in her usual outfit; a hideous purple tee shirt ("Pink Pearl in Disguise"), and a faded, well-worn pair of blue jeans. She stuffed herself in an old yellow jacket (which she had found two years earlier on the side of the road, smelling deeply of alcohol, and probably abandoned by some drunkard), and had pulled a baseball hat (go Mariners!) over her frizzy, plain brown hair. Zona was just the perfect model of a detention-student, somebody that caused an irking presence, but whom could never do much, regardless of how much she was provoked. They had finally arrived at school, and Zona grabbed her jacket closer to her. She bit on her lip lightly, enough to express anxiety, but not draw blood or pain; this was really the first day that she was going to try to be a good girl, and she was determined to do it right. She began her slow procession up to the front of the school when she (not looking at where was headed) bumped into a rather massive figure. "Will you watch where you’re going, you imbecile?!" she began to shout, although he was a good foot or foot-and-a-half taller than she, and much more bulky in size. "Oh my gawd. I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to fall into you. I swear I didn’t." he began to frantically appeal for the mistake. "You dumbbell, just get out of my way next time, okay?" Zona had been a little surprised and swayed by his sincerity. Usually no one would every care how much they had hurt someone like her. Well, it was definitely a first, and she didn’t want to land into trouble on the first day of being good, although her head still throbbed from colliding into him. "No," he frowned. "You’re not okay. Here let me help you get to class. Are you new here?" Was that pity she detected in him? She did not want to be pitied, especially by some stupid stranger, so she haughtily replied, "No. You carcass. I am fine, and am not new. Next time, use your dumb eyes and look around. That’s what they’re for, moron." "I’ve never noticed you before," he persisted, "You must be new. Let me take you to the office and we’ll get you your class schedule there. ’Kay?" "No! Not okay! Go away, and stay away, you lunatic, you’re blocking my way." Zona was desperate to rid herself of him. He laughed, "Not so fast, lightening girl. You still have a long way off until school starts. It’s only 8:15." 8:15?! Was it that late already? Zona was freaked out. She needed to get to Pre-Algebra, and quick, too! How am I to get rid of this moron? Oh my gawd. I think I’m going to die. He is this annoying. Maybe if I just follow him to the main office and along the way, assimilate myself into the crowd, he won’t have noticed that I had left, and I might make it to class early! This, Zona resolved and gathering herself together, she said, "Yeah, all right, slow bug, I’ll go with you." She tried to sound truthful, and the boy looked like he was believing her. Okay. So it was working. She was glad. All of a sudden, he grabbed her right arm and began patrolling her to the front of the school. "Hey, late go! Molester!" Again, he laughed. "Say what you wish. No one will hear. No one will listen. Come on. By the way, what did you say your name was again, new girl?" Zona thought about it, and decided that to lie was probably best. After all, they did go to the same school, and he might get a little snoopy. "Diane," she said, naming her most favorite author, "Diane Howitzer." At this, he gave her a strange stare and laughed. "You can’t lie to me, silly girl. Diane Howitzer wrote Garden of Moths. I’ve read it. Don’t lie to me. Tell the truth, now. What is your name?" Zona was quickly trying to calculate all the possibilities while trying to focus on not tripping on her way to the office. Finally, she muttered, "Valerie. Valerie Keister." That was the name of her first-grade teacher, whom Zona had utterly despised. Well, at least that was a start. The guy continued to drag her along the pebbly lane past the parking lot and spoke conversationally, "Hmm. That is interesting. I once had a teacher named Valerie Keister. I went to Mammoth Elementary. You?" Drat! Okay, she thought, smiling to herself. So this guy wasn’t as dumb as he looked. She thought, well, well, well. How coincidental. This is getting fun. I wonder where he went to for middle school…. "Sara Lewiston," she said, naming her junior high’s receptionist. "I knew her, too." "Okay, okay. So what’s up with you going to the same school as me and all?! Ooh! I know! You’re a stalker. That’s why." She decided he was fun to talk to, and decided to tease him a bit. "No, but I’m starting to get the impression that YOU might be the stalker. After all, you and I do have so much in common. Besides, I think I’m older, that means that I knew the people we both know before you did. See? Anyway, we’re here. Welcome to our school. My name is Jared Ryans. Yours?" "Michaela. Michaela Anne Devereaux." It was her mother’s maiden name, and the least she could do was keep a little part of her mother alive. "Honest?!" he whimpered, puppy-eye-like. "Yeah. What’s it to you?" she was suddenly hot and defensive. "Nothing. That is, if you’re telling the truth." "That is the truth! Jeez! Go away, I can see where to go on my own." Zona rebuked. "Now good bye!" Case closed. Jared shrugged once, and smiled sweetly, "Sure, sure. Whatev. See you soon, maybe?" "Yeah. Sure. Maybe." "Like tomorrow at around 7:30? Dinner and a movie?" "Like a date?!" "Sure, if you want to put it that way," he grinned, "must be your lucky day." Zona shrugged, unconcerned, but smiled inwardly. He was kind of cute, come to think of it. No harm done. Wouldn’t hurt her, and he seemed quite a willing-enough prop. Zona walked through the glass-front doors and into the office. Inside, the receptionist queerly looked up onto her fashion catalogue and beckoned Zona towards her with a bright-red painted nail. Zona cautiously walked up to the lady and said, "Yes, Ms. Silvers?" She could tell that the receptionist was surprised. Peering over the counter table slightly, she pushed her black glasses upper on her hooked nose and then signaled the dismiss of Zona with a flick of a wrist. Zona smiled and walked on, acting like a model student. When she was out of the office area and in a busy hallway, she quickened her pace and saw curious peers from all around. She usually came through the backdoor and straight to the back of the classrooms, never to pause to peer at any one person for too long, but not today. Today, she was going to be noticed, and not some Chameleon-Girl. Today, she was going to be Arizona Parish, daughter of Michaela Anne Devereaux (her alter-ego). People continued shuffling down the crowded hallways, and Zona finally reached her final destination, room 114, Pre-Algebra. Yuck! Yuck! Oh well, it’s only 50 minutes of my life. Not that bad. Well, sort of. That’s okay. I can handle it, as soon as I get Ashley back, I can return to normal. Yeah. Yeah. Zona smiled, and before she knew it, Pre-Algebra painlessly passed by. Her next class was Science with Mr. Bobowick, room 216, and also known as her most favorite class. It was the only class that she actually paid attention in, and didn’t fall asleep. After all, she was already very behind and went to class for the really DUMB freshman, and she was definitely not a freshman, and not DUMB. It was just nobody realized her artistic talents was all. Well, except Mr. Bobowick who actually complimented her work. That was why she liked his class so much. It was one class that she actually felt semi-smart in. Soon, it was lunch time, the half-day marker. Zona joined Iris and Zane at their usual table, and stared at Zane’s lunch, which was prepared by his family’s professional chef, who had graduated from this totally grand (get this!) chef’s school in Paris. Just proves how wealthy Zane’s family was. It disgusted Zona. "So, Zane, you eating all those casseroles and those peanut-butter, chocolate- chunk cookies? I’d hate to see food go to waste, especially since you’re such a skinny little sapling." I sarcastically remarked. "Um, er, no. Here you can have half of my lunch," he said, sighing. In truth, he was really hungry, but he knew Zona had nothing else to eat, so he gave her his lunch. He would have offered to get her her own lunch, or at least pay for her school lunches, but she wouldn’t take any "charity from him." However, she thought that just taking his food was okay, since he probably wasn’t going to finish it anyway, so she was just helping him finish it, and not let it go to waste. (Luckily, Iris was much more sensible and let him pay for her school lunches.) Zona smiled and said, "You’re welcome, Zane." "Er, thank you." He went back to eating his lunch without much enthusiasm. The end-of-lunch bell rang and the three parted to get to their next classes. **Zane’s View** Today, I woke up at 5:30 as usual and quickly brushed my teeth, showered and dressed in a black tee shirt with the words "Simple Corners" etched in a slime green color and a pair of khakis. Then, I rushed down the stairs, three at a time and landed square on my two feet at the bottom. "Good morning, Master Zane," Lindsey, one of our maids cheerfully chirped, "What would you like for breakfast this morning?" "The usual," I said, and rushed back up my room, remembering that, as usual, I had forgotten to pack my homework back into my backpack. When I got upstairs, I found my Advanced Calculus & Trigonometry homework in a messy pile with eraser shavings everywhere, and my history report in a neat stapled pile on top of my printer. Grabbing the homework, I shoved them into my CaseIt! Binder and that into my backpack and ran back downstairs, wildly swinging my backpack on my right arm. "Master Zane?! Breakfast is ready," Cook Stephina cried out a little grumpily. "Coming!" I flung my backpack carelessly onto one of the armchairs in the living room and ran back into the kitchen, where Lindsey pushed me to the dining room. I was then shoved down into a sheet and served breakfast hastily. Once done, I jumped up, cried out, "Bye!" and left. I quickly ran to my silver Porsche and ignited the ignition. With a soft purr, the car began and I carefully drove it through the morning mist to Iris’ and Zona’s home, where I was supposed to meet them. I turned on my radio to Cube and hummed along with the music as I swerved right and left, slowly leaving the Eaton cityscape behind me as I entered the solemnity of the countryside. Upon arriving at the previously assigned stop, I honked my car loudly against the quiet backdrop of the desolate place. To my surprise however, today, only Iris came and Zona was nowhere to be seen. I interrogated, "Where’s Zona?" as coolly as I could. "Oh," Iris’ face dropped a notch, and nonchalantly said, "She’s not here right now, can’t you see?" "Yeah, I see. So where is she?" I was getting someone irritated. "Not even a simple hi? A hello?" "Where’s Zona?" "Hi, Zane." "Hi Iris. Now where’s Zona? Is she sick? Is she hurt? Is she okay?" "She’s not sick. She’s not hurt, and yes, she’s okay. Better than okay. Now are we going to school or not?! We’re already 15 minutes behind schedule. Hurry up, Porsche Boy, before we get another tardy. I can’t get another after-school detention hour." "Good. She’s okay. But where is she?" "Um, at school?! Duh! For a four-point student, you’re pretty dumb." "Get in," I unhappily relented. She opened the front door and jammed herself in. "Hey! Get back to the back!" Somehow, I could not tolerate her sitting in the front seat. That was Zona’s seat. My Zona’s seat, and no one could sit there, especially not Iris Macmillan! "Why?" she pouted, crossing her arms in front of her, "Zona’s not here, you big pushover! Why can’t I sit here instead?" "’Cause!" "You dumb head, she’s not here!" "You nutshell… so?! It’s my car and I say you can’t sit here, so you can’t!" "Oh my gawd, you are such an idiot! Fine!" She through her hands up and moved to the back seat. A few minutes later, we were rumbling the car off to school, though there was an uncomfortable, prolonged silence in the car, which used to be so full of blaring music and well, Zona. Zona. Zona. Zona. I looked up at the rearview mirror and saw that in the back seat, Iris sat slouched on the seat (without a belt, mind you) and her lips were slightly trembling, but I was too preoccupied with where Zona was that I did not interrogate any further…. **Zona’s View** Oh my gawd! How could this clock tick for so long?! I looked at the little digital clock Zane had given me for my Christmas present one year a long, long way back. It read 5:42, and 34 seconds. I leaned back onto my bed and stared up at the ceiling. The house was extremely quiet today, oddly enough and Iris was not home. I don’t know what happened between her and Zane, but they haven’t talked the whole time during lunch yesterday, nor during the ride home from school (I decided not to ride the bus; it was overcrowded). Well, actually, Zane was trying to make pleasant talk on the way back, but I was too busy calculating my plan on how to win over Jake Armstrong and bowl down Ashley Wilters to notice, and Iris just slouched in the back seat, unlike her usual jumpy self. She was usually much more enthusiastic, especially around Zane than I ever could be (or so I thought), but she seemed to have wilted. Oh, and this morning, I forwent the school bus idea, and just let Zane drive me. Again, Iris made no eye contact, no small talk, not even a simple "hi" to Zane as we drove to school. Something was wrong, and I could tell. I don’t know, but it’s like a girl’s sixth sense. Maybe. Anyhow, I was too busy to notice. I had gone through one day of being a good student, or at least I had participated some, even though my answers were still as dumb as they always have been. Heck, I even did my homework last night! Now THAT is a major "wow!" event. *Imaginary applause goes off* Yes, yes, thank you, thank you. Pretty impressive, I know. So, today, my second day at school, I had finished it off with a Bang! as I did yesterday, and I was totally happy. Anyway, the important thing was what is going to take place TONIGHT. Guess what it is, dear dumb diary? Bingo! (Well, actually, I don’t know if you really know what I was thinking, and yes, I do hate it when people assume you know something when you don’t, or that you’ll volunteer to do something when you don’t really want to. Still, dear dumb diary, I will assume you know because I am going to write it in the next few lines. Oh boy! I am soooooo excited about this. Like really excited. I don’t know how. I don’t know why. But I am.) TONIGHT, is the night that Jared Ryans (you know, the really annoying, but still totally cute guy I met yesterday at school who reads Diane Howitzer?) promised to take me out for "dinner and a movie," as he had put it. Oh my gawd. Okay. Don’t like laugh or anything, but this is my absolute first and only (so far) date that I will ever go on, and I don’t even know if it’s a "date." Oh wait. What if he was just joking? What if he was just pulling a prank? I mean, how long did he know me anyway? What did I have to attract him? Oh my gawd. Maybe he’s going to be one of those jerks who lie to the geeky girls (of which, I am not!) or the emo ones (I am also not emo!) that they’ll take them out, and the girls would get all primped and prettified, and in the end, no one would ever ring the bell. Oh wait! We don’t even have a doorbell! Oh my gawd! What’ll he think of me if he does come?! (Not saying, of course, that he will come, but you know….) Shoot! What now?! I am so totally loss, dear dumb diary, and I wouldn’t have been so if I hadn’t started explaining all of this to you. You know, you sure are one bad thing, and I don’t know why I even kept you (remember when you were some soggy old journal left on the road just waiting to be obliterated, and I saved you?!). You know what, I don’t care. You are going to the trash bin. I mean it! **General** Zona pressed her hands onto the door and with a gentle nudge, pushed outwards. Then, with all of her strength, she picked up the "dear dumb diary" and through it as far and as hard as she could… at it hit Jared Ryans. **Zona’s view** Oh my gawd! I am so sorry, dear dumb diary! I didn’t mean to throw you out. Really! (Okay, maybe I did mean to throw you out, but definitely not at Jared! Oh my gawd, I was so embarrassed.) Anyway, I think that since I told you the first half of what was going to happen, I feel like I owe you the rest of the story, so I will tell it to you. However, after THIS, note that I WILL through you out, dear dumb diary, and this time, I will through you out toward the ocean and not the road. Remind me, will ya? So anyway, dear dumb diary, you know what happened up to the point where I said, "YOU ARE GOING TO THE TRASHBIN. I MEAN IT!" Okay. (Dramatic, eh?!) Anyway, so I threw you as hard as I could (I swear, I did!), and guess what?! You must be the luckiest, dear dumb diary there ever was in this whole entire COSMOS. YOU, my friend, was lucky enough to land smack dab on my date’s forehead! Yes! Gawd, aren’t you amazing. Couldn’t you like have reared to the left a bit or something? No! You couldn’t help yourself could you? With his perfect eyes, and perfect smile, and… oh please! QUIT IT, ZONA! YOU’RE TRYING TO TELL A NARRATIVE, NOT AN OPINION PAPER! TONE DOWN AND WRITE UP! TO INFORM, NOT TO, I DUNNO’, TALK! Okay. So I got a little ahead of myself. Now, where were we? Yes, dear dumb diary, we were about how you landed right smack dab on Jared’s forehead, leaving a pink mark the size of well, er, a book on his head! Boy was I MAD! At that very moment I had wanted to just march up, grab you, and rip you to a million shreds like some evil shredder machine, or like a hungry pack of wolves! My gawd, you were awful. But, we had a guest, so I was civilized enough to refrain myself from acting impulsively. Instead, I walked right up to Jared and squeaked (yes, I know SQUEAKED, but hey, I hurt someone, and that isn’t very nice!), "Are you okay?" He stared at me, and right then and there, I felt like running back inside and slamming the door shut hard! (Or at least crawl under a rock, whichever one was easier and more accessible.) So, I began to throw him a simultaneous volley of apologies, "Oh my gawd! I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to! I really didn’t! Is there anything I could get you?! Anything at all? An ice pack or something? Well, actually, to tell you the truth, Iris and I don’t have any ice packs laying around at this moment, or any laying around our place ever, but you know, I could like run somewhere and get you like ice. I don’t know. Come on! Speak! Don’t just stand there staring at me, you moron! I mean, yell at me, or something. Not the silent treatment! Anything, anything, anything but the silent treatment!" He started laughing. Oh my gawd! Laughing! Hysterically! Yes, I am sure I wasn’t just being delirious, but he had been hit on the head with this raggedly old journal (yes, that means YOU, dear dumb diary), standing in just about the middle of nowhere, talking to the dumbest 10th grader in this whole entire world, and was laughing his head off! I swear, the people in this town are one heck of a bunch; we’re that psychopathic! "Hey, slow down, Trucker. Breathe. Now count with me. One. Two. Three…." "So you’re okay! Gawd, you scared me witless there!" I spitted out, now extremely mad-crazy, and not frantically-worried-crazy. "Who said I wasn’t okay?" "You were staring at me like I was some person turning into a werewolf right in front of your eyes, you dumb bell!" Chuckling, he went on, "Well, I just thought that it was rather queer way of greeting a house guest who’s come to pay for a visit, and it took my pea-sized brain a minute or two to process it." Sarcastically (and rather dryly, if I do say so myself), I added, "Oh. Of course. You missed it. On Mondays, I throw javelins at people who trespass, and on Wednesdays, I shoot volleys of arrows. On Thursday, I treat my guests to a buffet of sewage water, and on Fridays, I usually just give them a poison so that they’ll slowly rot away and become a gnarly old Beech tree. If you liked my welcomes so much, wait ’till you meet my friend, Iris. She’s twice as bad with her batches of lethal chocolate chip cookies!" We both cracked up at that. "So, ready to go?" "Um… where to, exactly?!" "Dinner and a movie. What, you didn’t remember?! I am insulted! Remember, this is your lucky day, after all, to get to go with me, Jared Ryans!" I grinned dumbly at him, watching his eye brows arch in feigned surprise. "Er, how exactly did you get here? I forgot to give you my house address." "Oh, I looked you up in the directory, Arizona Parish, runaway, and the best thing that’s ever happened to this town." While was saying this, he stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets and scanned the area like some guilty child trying to come up with a good excuse. Suddenly, I became aware of how ugly a sight my place would have been to someone like him (or actually, any normal person, at all). I wanted to leave, and I wanted to leave NOW! "So, um, can we go now? Please?!" I had an edge to my voice and I was following where his eyes seemed to skim over. "Oh," he said, snapping back to the present, "Sure. Yeah. Sure. Come on. Beatrice is waiting by the road. "Beatrice?" I asked, suddenly a little doubtful and tense again. "Yeah. I’ll show you. You’ll love her. Okay, maybe I can’t guarantee that, but she’ll have to do for the night." He grinned a lopsided smile and taking my right elbow, led me down the hill, while I subconsciously let my feet dawdle on. Beatrice. As in a girl’s name. Beatrice. Like "Bea" or "Tricee." Well, here goes nothing. Oops! Dear dumb diary, I’ll bet you’re dying to hear the next part, but I have to go now. Iris is back, and she’s crying. I’ll try to fill you in tomorrow. If I’m up to it. Then, I’ll throw you away, far, far into the endless beyond (or I’ll avoid being a litterbug and just throw you in the art room’s recycle bin; trust me, you’ll find it extremely pleasant in there). Okay. Got to go now. Night, night, and don’t let the fuzzlewuzzles bite! (Well, actually, I wouldn’t mind, but that would have been a lot of hard work gone….) ...to be continued?... By: "Dessi" : .