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Sunday - Signifying Something - Will M.

“You’re late.”

Normally this would be a running joke between Quinn and Jason, but Quinn was so rattled, he took it at face value.

“I know. I know.  Not a good night.”

“You didn’t hook up with some chick into domination did you?”

“Nah.  Just didn’t sleep well.”

And that was the extent of the conversation they’d have on the subject.  The dream had been far to real, and shook him up in far too many ways for Quinn to be anything remotely close to unpacking it and actually talking to anyone—even Jason—about it.

Quinn dreamt on a regular basis, but largely he either barely remembered his dreams or they were garden-variety mental cleaning: surreal regurgitations of whatever’d been on his mind that day, occasionally mixed in with famous folks from whatever he’d watched on TV or read about on line.

The previous night’s dream couldn’t be called “bad” as it didn’t come close to nightmare-territory—thinking back, Quinn could barely even remember any swears.  It could’ve aired in primetime and the censors wouldn’t have batted an eye at it.  The discomfiting thing was the realism of the dream.  “Lucid” was what Quinn wanted to call it, but Wikipedia disagreed with that usage.  Most of the regular dreams Quinn had he was sure were dreams.  Last night’s: not so much.  Not obviously a dream.  Very, very realistic.  Oh, and it took place at a dinner party (any occasion beyond that was unclear) at Kayleigh’s house.

Kayleigh: the would-be love of Quinn’s life. Kayleigh, who Quinn had not seen nor heard from in two years, who had moved to Manhattan and broke all ties.

Only it wasn’t her old house.  It was a similar style: it was loft-like, but not a high-rise.  There was lots of exposed brick, and it was far larger than her old place.  There was a bar, and a large outdoor patio area, with LED lights strung around, illuminating the woods that apparently surrounded the place.

Quinn didn’t recognize most of the people at the party, but he was sure it was a party of some sort.  Not a formal thing, but there were a few ties, and some cocktail dresses.  Not a college party for certain.  The dream went on for a while with Quinn making small talk (well, he though it was small talk, sitting at his desk remembering it) with these random folks until he saw Kayleigh.  She was organizing some sort of party game, so Quinn went over to investigate.

“Ok, this game, it’ll be a cleansing thing for all of us,” said the dream-Kayleigh.

As Quinn walked over, she looked right at him in explaining the rest of the rules.

“We’re going to take turns saying some of our worst qualities in relationships.  So if you’re dishonest, if you can’t open up when it counts,” looking right at him now, “say it now, get it out now: don’t wait until it’s too late.”

Quinn expected almost to find a cold sweat when he woke up after that.  Quinn didn’t want to believe in things like fate, but having a dream like that, less than a week after the surreal hookup with Kaylee, was quickly converting him to the idea of Kismet.

Saturday: J & A Inc. Part V - Jacob Martinez

“So the killer is Henry Ericcson then, you’re sure of it?” asked Edward.
“This ain’t no Women’s Murder Club, Mr Jones. The most obvious conclusion is most often the correct one, it’s more than likely him.”
We were back at the office, and Edward and I waited around in the Parlour while J filled in Addison on what happened in his office. I rested on the couch, the adrenaline rush had now faded and left me feeling quite tired, wearing a wire and spying on a killer, I can officially say is much more exciting than working at Dairy Queen. That was my first job; making sundaes, listening to country music coming from a beat up old boombox in the back room, I was 16 and that six bucks an hour bought me a movie ticket every Friday night. At the time I thought that was what it was going to be like for the rest of my professional life, I thought that was what work was, little did I know that in only a few years I was going to be working for a crime fighting couple who employ gadgets and code breaking skills, along side a geeky math major.
“Do you think he has batarangs?” I heard, from the opposite couch, interrupting my reflection.
“What?”
“Batarangs, you know like Batman.”
“Well, I’m not sure they can be called ‘batarangs’ if he’s not actually batman, but even so, I’m going to say no.”
“What about grappling hooks?”
“Yeah I can see J having grappling hooks, but maybe just one. I can assure you though, Edward, that we have yet to scrape the surface of J and his toys.”
“Call me Mr Jones.”
“No”
“OK”
Addison and J walked in then and sat down on one of the couches.
“What’s our next plan of action boss?” asked Edward.
“What we need to do is figure out who’s next, we can leave the how, why and where to the police.” responded J.
“What if he doesn’t kill again?” I asked.
“Why wouldn’t he? I mean, if you wanted to kill someone and not get caught, and not get noticed, you’d do it and then make sure no one ever knew. You’d get rid of the body somehow, you’d cover up your tracks. You would absolutely not kill someone, take a part of their body out of them, leave them in a warehouse where they are bound to be found and also leave a note mocking the detectives. He did this for a reason, he wanted to get noticed, to start a chase. Why not kill again? You’d almost need to, or everyone would forget, and no one would care. Already people are going about their business, people die every day and the police never told the media about the message. As of right now, there is no killer, just a dead body.”
“So what do we do?” asked Edward.
“Identify potential victims —save them if we can. We need to go back to the office, assemble profiles of all Ericcson’s female co-workers, sift out any that fit the profile of our victim.”
“But we only have one victim, how can we assemble a profile off of that? What if he kills a male this time?” I asked.
“Well we’re going to have to risk it and assume that he won’t kill a male, and I can do a little background search on Ericcson, see if I can find anything on his former girlfriends, if they all match a similar pattern, and if our victim falls into it as well then we’ll know for certain. We do know that Ericcson was attracted to her, or at least we can assume that he was, what with the spying and all.”
“Well, you guys go ahead and busy yourselves with that, I’ll be in the back.” spoke Addison, and she rose from the couch and left the room.
“Is something wrong?” I asked J.
“She’s never been really into the whole … you know … actual part of this job. This isn’t what she grew up dreaming her life would be like, it’s not what I imagined either, but I happen to enjoy it very much. But, it’s not a problem really, maybe another case will pique her interest.”
I realized then that although this job was a once in a lifetime opportunity for me and Edward, we would eventually leave it and start our own careers, and do what we were going to school for. A and J were stuck in this profession forever. Just then I felt a jolting in my leg —my cell phone vibrating, which catches me off guard every time. I took the phone out of my pocket and looked at the screen. J and Edward must have noticed the puzzled expression on my face and Edward asked what it was.
“It’s a text,” I responded, “but I don’t know this number.”
“What does it say?”
“Nothing, it’s just numbers.” I repeated them aloud and J wrote them into a notepad, “8.2 7.4 3.2 3.2 6.1 3.2”
“Is it some kind of sequence? A math thing?” I asked Edward.
“It might be, let me see it,” J handed the pad to Edward and he began making some notes. After a few seconds, he looked up saying “I don’t see anything obvious here as to what it is. I mean, sure it could be something but I’d have to work on it longer.”
“No doubt the number it came from is a disposable,” said J, “and I don’t think this has to do with mathematics either if the answer can’t be easily found, but I do know just who to ask,” J paused, and Edward and I looked at him intently. He cleared his throat and continued, “Addison! Can you come in here please? We need you.”

Thursday: "So What if We're Disfunctional?"

Lenina

There’s no such thing as the perfect couple. There’s the couple that everyone says is the perfect couple, but I know different. You see, I’m a part of this so called perfect couple. Lenina and Aiden, perfect ‘emo’ couple. I happen to also be rather smart. Aiden? Dumb as a rock. But don’t let him know I said that, he seems to pride himself on thinking he’s smarter than I am.

We know people. Actually, we know everyone. At school, I have to constantly wave, and smile, and nod, and greet people or else they’ll think I’m stuck up. Which I’m totally not, I’m just too lazy to say hi to each and every individual person. We’ve won every popularity vote there is, together and individually. So it seemed natural for us to get together right?

Ugh. The truth is, I can’t stand Aiden. There are some days where I wish I could just punch him in the face and shut him in a locker. We hate each others guts. And it also doesn’t help that we’re living together in the same apartment. My parents gave me the boot once I turned eighteen. They weren’t exactly the best parents in the world. Actually, they were more like college frat boys. I don’t know why they decided to adopt me. What a waste.

Anyway. So here I am, cooking dinner for his lazy ass while he’s sitting on the couch watching whatever mindless television he watches when I ask him, very nicely, to bring me the soy sauce from the pantry. I couldn’t just leave the food there because something would burn.

“Honey, can you go get me the soy sauce?”

“You get it. You’re the one cooking.”

“I can’t get it, I gotta watch the food.”

“The goddamn food isn’t going to burn if you leave me for a second.”

“You’re right next to the pantry!”

“So? Go get it yourself.” I almost let out a scream of fury and stomped across the kitchen, purposely bumping into him when I passed the couch, and opened the pantry to find that we were out of soy sauce.

“Why didn’t you tell me we were out of soy sauce?!” He turned around on the couch and looked up thoughtfully.

“Oh right. We’re out of soy sauce baby. Used it up last night. Totally slipped my mind.” And that’s when I proceeded to scream at him. And yell, and lecture, and scream some more. Most of the time it wasn’t even words and I just screamed. And pulled at my hair, and stomped, and hit stuff.

By the time I was done, he just looked up and me and said, “The food is burning.”

—

I glared at him from across the table as he poked at the burnt rice with a spoon.

“This is burnt. There’s no way I can eat this. It’s unsafe, unsanitary. Are you trying to kill me woman?” He pushed his plate away from him and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed across his chest, shaking his head.

I screamed and grabbed the knife I used to cut the rice apart, since it was so burnt, and stabbed it point down into the table, letting it quiver as I let go.

“Jesus! What the hell!” He shrunk back in his chair as I leaned across the table over the knife with rage in my eyes, breathing hard.

“I may have been raised by two gay men, but I am NOT a pansy! I swear to god if you don’t eat your goddamn plate of food, you are going to sleep OUTSIDE on the balcony. NOW EAT YOUR GODDAMN FOOD!” I stayed there until I saw him cut off a portion of the burnt food and put it in his mouth, grinning gingerly as he swallowed it almost choking on it.

“Good. It’s your own damn fault it’s burnt.”

“How? You were cooking!”

He shut up and ate the rest of his food after I slammed a butcher knife onto the table.

—

Aiden

This woman is crazy! Sure I may have agitated her a little bit, but there’s no need to get so angry. Jeeze. I wonder if all girls are like this. Maybe it’s her time of the month. I keep forgetting when that week is so I don’t get myself killed.

This crap she calls fried rice is disgusting. It’s not my fault she decided to yell at me so long for forgetting we were out of soy sauce. Who remembers that kind of thing? What kind of guy goes ‘oh yeah honey, we’re out of soy sauce.’? No straight guy. No guy with a will of his own.

“FINISH YOUR GODDAMN FOOD!” I gulped and took the last excruciating bite of food before setting my place in the sink. Then she gave me this cheeky grin and said, “And since you’re over there already, and I cooked dinner, you can do the dishes!”

Then she did that little wave of her fingers before disappearing into our bedroom. I just stared after her and rolled my eyes. “If you can even call it dinner,” I said under my breath. And in a flash, there she was at the doorway again looking like she’s going to murder me.

“What did you say?” Her eyes were narrowed at me and her claws in the wood.

“I was just talking to myself about how wonderful your dinner was.” She gave me this sarcastic smile and disappeared again. What did I do to incur the wrath of this harpy? ‘Nina used to be so nice, so shy. Why oh why?!

—

After I finished scrubbing the dishes spotless (because if I don’t, she’ll kill me), I stripped down to some shorts and plopped myself down onto the couch to watch some quality TV. ‘Nina says it’ll kill my brain cells and make me fat, but there’s no way that’s happening. I’d kill myself before I got fat.

The clock struck ten and there she was, at the doorway glancing at me curiously. After about five minutes of that I finally looked at her. “Yes? Do you need something?”

“It’s past ten. We have school tomorrow. I don’t want you to be grouchy. It’s your turn to drive tomorrow.”

“But the Ninja Warriors Marathon is today. I’ll go to bed a little late.”

“But you’ll be cranky in the morning if you don’t go to sleep before eleven.”

“Then I’ll be in bed by eleven.”

“The last time you said that you went to bed at three, and almost pushed me down the stairs because I said you had bags under your eyes.”

“Well, you would have fallen if you didn’t grab a hold of my belt making me grab the railing.” See? Playful banter. She knows I’m kidding. It’s obvious I’m kidding. Right?

“You wanted me to break every bone in my body and be in permanent rehab for the rest of my life?!” Her voice started to get higher with every word until it was almost a screech. Ouch. I guess she didn’t know I was kidding?

“I was just kidding!”

“No you weren’t! Why would you joke about something like that?! You’re such a jerk! You can go to bed at whatever time you want because you’re sleeping on the couch!” She slammed the bedroom door close and I heard the lock clicking.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. That’s okay. I can take a shower in the morning.

Wednesday - Gallery - Brandon

A Gallery.

Cassie Hansen. A 34 year old married woman. She’s a knock out, always dressed as if she’s out on the town. Long legs, bright eyes and a face that hardly conceals her intelligence.

Lt. Forge. A 48 year old man. He’s distinguished. Salt and pepper hair, chiseled jaw. He’s made a good living for himself as owner of the gallery. He knows fine art and has had his share of even finer woman. He could charm the spots off a Leopard.

Scene 1.

Cassie admires a larger than life painting. Lt. Forge stands behind her, the same look of longing in his eyes - but for her, not the painting.

Cassie: How much for the De’vangioni?

Lt. Forge: A fine choice. Have you any De’vans of your own?

Cassie: I bought an original while traveling through Moscow.

Lt. Forge: Ah. A Russian De’vangioni. Very rare.

Cassie: I’m very pleased with it. How much is this one? It has such fine lines.

Lt. Forge: Of course it does. You know your art. You have a fine eye.

Cassie: It’s rather important that we speak of the cost.

Lt. Forge: The cost of this De’vangioni… I’d like to think it’s worth something other than money. Look at it. It screams, “From the Heart!”

Cassie: Other than money?

Lt. Forge: Yes. You see, this De’Vangioni isn’t the only object present with fine lines, Ms..?.

Cassie: Ms. Hansen. Cassie Hansen. (She offers her hand)

Lt. Forge: (He takes it, examines it, kisses it) Ms. Hansen, may I trouble you to follow me into my office. We can discuss this matter further.

Cassie: I’m not opposed to a discussion, however, I am a lady.

Lt. Forge: And I a Man. A Man of business, Ms. Hansen. Please - Follow me.

He leads her by the hand towards the back of the Gallery, she follows, her high heels claking on the concrete floor…

-walpaper.tumblr.com

Monday - Tickets in September - David McGovern

He woke, the black comforter tangled in his bare, pale legs.  The ceiling fan did little to evaporate the sweat from his exposed chest.  Looking to his right the man thought:

“No one is there.”

He shifts his eyes’ bleary focus from the foreground to the nightstand in the background.  The green electric numerals on the black backdrop of the clock radio coupled with the room’s darkness render the time unreadable.  He reaches out to the table on his left and picks up his slim cell phone and flips it open.  The sudden light of the screen temporarily blinds the man and bathes the bed in a blue eerie glow.

3:31 A.M.

He reads the clock several times to make sure sleep is not muddling his thoughts.

“I’ve still got a few hours”

His throat, unused for hours, croaks the parched sentence out ceiling-ward - toward the hum of the fan. 

Setting the phone back in its original position on the table he rolls from his back onto his left side and curls into the fetal position.  An open window allows the traffic of the street fourteen stories below to trickle into the room.  The ebb and flow of traffic emulates waves.  The man imagines he is sleeping on a beach, or next to a beach, or owns a wave machine.  He rocks himself slowly back and forth keeping time with the rush of traffic, hardly moving at all, but just enough to create slight gentle soothing motion.  The rocking and white noise set the man gently back into sleep.

As he drops into the first few stages of sleep the black of the inside of his eyelids slowly creep into colorful life.  Red, orange, yellow, all hot colors, slither from the corners of his eyes towards the center.  They swirl and mingle forming first vague shapes: squiggles, squares, cones … and then the indistinct forms into people: women, men, children, old and young.  Crowds of people sit in watercolor bars, stomping through impressionist streets, the lamps bathing and blurring the lines between each soul.  They are busing tables at cafes, darning socks in the gutter, making grilled cheese sandwiches in basement kitchens …

Drool escapes the dam of lips and dribbles down a cheek.  The movement of liquid startles the man from shallow sleep into wakefulness.  He coughs and rubs his nose vigorously with his forefinger.  On the wall, hanging in the dim light, the man rests his eyes on a poster of football players high-fiving after a touchdown, or sack, or blocked punt …

“I wonder what Florida is like in Fall?”

Saturday - Spinning Wheel - Jacob Martinez

You were the flame swallower
and I was the spinning wheel
Oh! to the carnival we’d go
trying to pretend that our 
lives were less real

Oh! to the carnival we’d go
working ourselves until we
could hardly feel

You were the bearded lady
and I was the spinning wheel
Oh! and to the carnival we’d go
making the children believe
that there was something more real

Oh! and to the carnival we’d go
trying to pretend that our 
wounds would heal

You were the lion tamer
and I was the spinning wheel
Oh! and to the carnival we’d go
turning secret love letters
into something real

Oh! and to the carnival we’d go
spending our paychecks to buy
our next meal

You were the lizard man
and I was the spinning wheel
busy living a life that
was more real

Thursday: "I'm Not a Creep, Just a Weirdo"

Chapter Two

I still found myself parked in front of Cheating Robert’s house. This time, however, I was pointing my binoculars in the direction of BIG J’s front door. Kenneth was whistling in the back seat. The familiar smell of sharpie drifted under my nose again, making me sigh.

“He’s coming.”

“No he’s not.”

“Robert, not Jacob.”

I didn’t even turn to hear the slobbering voice behind me. “What’re you doing outside my house Amelina? Can’t get enough of me can y-” I opened the car door, and the handle hit his no no square, promptly dropping him to the ground. I closed the door again and went back to looking for BIG J.

Kenneth stuck his head out the window to take a look at Robert and giggled. I rolled my eyes and muttered something about him being a child.

“Don’t you have anything better to do? Like a job after your aid job at school? Like helping your dad with your family business? Like having a life?” I knew that last part was going to get thrown back at me.

“Right. So says the girl stalking a boy outside his house.”

“So says the boy with the girl stalking a boy outside his home.”

“So says the girl who just hit her ex with the car door.”

“So says the boy drawing on the back seat in sharpie.”

He huffed and finished his drawing. “You love my drawings. Or else you would have told me to stop a long time ago.”

“I did tell you to stop. But only once because if you weren’t going to stop the first time then why should I waste my time with telling you more than once?” My attention wandered back to the door, and I felt my heart flutter when I saw the door open.

As BIG J picked up the newspaper and stood up, he stopped and squinted across the street at me. I saw him mouth some words then wave gingerly at me. I smiled and waved back as he retreated back into his house. Well he looks absolutely yummy without a shirt on.

I sighed and put my binoculars up for the day. “Well I’m done. I guess I’ll take you home now.”

“Yay! Then we can bake some cookies.”

“Seriously. How old are you? Eight?”

—

The next day at school, I stood in the middle of the lunchroom and stared up at the ceiling with a perplexed look on my face. Soon, a whole crowd of people joined me in curiosity and formed a large mob around me.

When I was satisfied, I got in line and bought food for lunch.

“Wait! What were we looking at?” I raised and eyebrow and glanced up at that general direction.

“Oh. That. I was just seeing how many people I could get to stare at nothing and for how long.” I glanced at my watch and grinned. Ten minutes wasn’t so bad for something like this.

When I was sitting down to eat lunch, I saw BIG J shake his head at me (He was part of the crowd too) and leave to go get lunch.

—

During the only class I had with him, History, I kept tally marks for how many times he glanced at me, and a separate tally mark for how many times I glanced at him. His outnumbered mine for a bit, but the information couldn’t be totally accurate.

After class, he waited for me as we walked out of class together. We didn’t say anything, but other girls kept saying hi to him and giving his flirtatious looks. I rolled my eyes as I walked past Robert and the Masochist Girl making out profusely in front of his locker.

“Oh dear. The janitor is going to have a field day trying to clean up that mess.” I heard BIG J laugh beside me and felt a little swell of pride. I really do like this guy. He’s not bad looking.

He’s a lot taller than me, and his hair isn’t too long or short and a dirty blond color. In the winter, he always wore a green jacket which is why I always called him the boy in the green jacket. But now that it was warmer, he didn’t wear jackets anymore, but I still called him the boy in the green jacket.

“Amelina! Emma dear!” I rolled my eyes as I heart Kenneth jog up behind me. “You mom called the office today. Said not to forget about your appointment today.” I took in a deep breath and let it out.

“Right, right. Now leave me alone. You’re embarrassing me.” I left with BIG J, letting Kenneth glare daggers at my retreating back.

—

I pulled on my jogging clothes for my evening run. I usually ran at least three times a week, but lately I had been slacking so I made it a point to run today.

“Be safe, don’t talk to strangers, and look both ways before you cross.” I nodded at my mothers moving lips before turning the volume on my iPod up and closing the front door.

I barely made it to the end of the block before I noticed a yellow hummer following me around as I was running. Just great. There was only one person I knew who drove a yellow hummer, and he needed to get a life.

I turned the corner on my regular route and sighed as I pondered life’s mysteries. Like why Kenneth drove all the way to my house every school morning to car pool with me to school when it’s shorter to go directly to school. Like if alternate universes really exist and what would happen to the world if I saw my doppleganger. Like how I ended up standing in front of BIG J’s house knocking on his front door.

He answered the door with a weird look on his face and raised an eyebrow. “This is new. You’ve never directly been on my property before.” I grinned and pointed to the bushes in front of the house.

“I was hiding there for a while watching you through the window but I got tired of that and decided to ask if I could come in. You have a lovely home.” He opened and closed his mouth like a fish.

“But then I realized it was your house and that I should probably ask permission to come in instead of breaking in instead.” He got a concerned look on his face then and was about to lecture me before I added in a hasty ‘I’m just kidding.’

“The real reason I’m here is that I was going on a jog and this yellow hummer keeps following me around and it’s a bit unnerving.” He leaned out past his doorway and saw the vehicle parked down the street.

“It’s Kenneth.”

I sighed, exasperated and rolled my eyes.

“I know that. But this is an excuse for me to walk into your house with permission. I could always break in through your bedroom window later tonight if you’d prefer that.” He raised an eyebrow again at me and rolled his own eyes.

“Come on in. Ignore the mess, my dad is redecorating the house.” I smiled and skipped into his house.

“By the way, just so you know, I wasn’t kidding about that last part.”

—

“I soaked in every detail as I walked into his house. I memorized the smell, the way the light hit the objects and how hard the shadows tried to run away from their objects.”

“Do you narrate your life often?” He went to the fridge and pulled out a diet coke for me. I gave him a nervous laugh before opening it and taking in a long sip.

“It’d sound more interesting in a British accent.” He leaned against the counter and grinned at me. Man. He could be a male model. I didn’t say that out loud right? Okay.

“Sometimes I say my thoughts out loud and I don’t realize it. Most people just assume I’m talking to myself because I’m crazy.” He gave me a thoughtful look as he took another sip of his drink.

“I don’t think you’re crazy. You’re the head of our class aren’t you? Perfect in every class. And I hear you’re an eloquent speaker.” He tilted his head to study me. I suddenly felt self conscious and averted my gaze to study his living room over the counter.

“You’re just a little… eccentric.” I rolled my eyes and turned back to him.

“So says you, my parents, my counselor, my psychiatrist, my doctor, and my best friend. Everyone else just says I’m crazy.” I finished my diet coke and left it on the counter for him to throw away.

“How did you know I like diet coke?”

“You’re not the only observant one.”

—

It was getting dark when I left his house, but not dark enough for BIG J to drive me home, so I started to jog back when Kenneth in the yellow hummer pulled up next to me and rolled his window down.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

“Jogging home. What does it look like I’m doing?”

“You know what I meant.”

“No I don’t. Explain to me what you meant.” We turned the corner and I could see the laser beams in his eyes try to slice me apart. He always gets mad when I get interested in another boy. He gets angry for a little while then realizes I don’t really like them.

“What were you doing in Jacob’s house?”

“Talking to him. He has a lovely home. I didn’t see his parents though.”

“Why were you talking to him?”

“To talk to him? Jeeze Kenneth get off my back.” I hit my mailbox with my hand jogging into the drive way and swore loudly as I spun around clutching it into my house.

“See? You got hurt talking about him! He’s not good for you!” I heard the engine cut and the car door slam shut.

“Oh please. And Robert wasn’t good for me. Ritchy wasn’t good for me. Tanner wasn’t good for me. I think BIG J has a lot of potential.” I pushed the door open and heard him close the door behind me.

“I don’t. He looks shady. He goes straight home after school and never comes out until it’s time to pick up the newspaper.”

“Oh. So you have been paying attention when we’re stalking him.” He sat down in a huff on the couch.

“I don’t like him.”

“You don’t like anybody.”

“I like you.”

“Because you’re just as crazy as I am.”

“We need to stick together.”

“No we don’t.”

“Yes we do! We’re best friends!”

“Because you scare everyone around me off.”

“That’s not true! Take that back.” Now I was starting to get mad. I turned around and leaned on the kitchen counter.

“Kenneth. You’re a twenty year old guy still living with his parents. You drive a ridiculously huge car, and waste more gas driving to my house than straight to school. You work at the school you graduated from two years ago. You do menial errands instead of staying at home and helping your parents with their home business. You deliver my messages personally. It’s like you’re stalking me.” Then it hit me.

“… You are stalking me.” He didn’t say anything and looked down at his hands.

“I’m not. I just really like you.”

“Kenneth. I’m never going to date you.”

“Why the hell not?!” And now he was mad.

“I’m not attracted to you.” That’s when he stood up from the couch and stared at me with rage in his eyes.

“Fine. Fine. I see how it is. I’ll make you like me. Whenever you have no one else to turn to, you’ll come running to me. You’ll see. I’m not going to share you.” Then he stormed off and left me uneasy with his threat.

—

When I walked into school that morning I had people give me odd stares and avoid me with a three foot radius. They usually gave me odd stares but the three foot radius ting was new.

But I just ignored them and headed to my locker to get my things. When I opened my locker though, something came pouring out and I screamed. I wasn’t the only one who screamed though. The whole hallway screamed.

I, however, had a mental breakdown and cried. I ran as far away as I could and crouched down in the corner screaming, tears blurring my makeup.

Marbles. So many marbles.

When I was little, the kids on the playground would tease me and chase me away by throwing marbles at me. They were cruel, and I would always leave with bruises everywhere. One went down my throat once and I almost choked to death.

Every one was tripping on them and laughed, but I didn’t. I was curled up against a corner crying my eyes out. And they laughed at me. They stopped and pointed and laughed, and something inside my died a little bit.

I didn’t notice the arms that wrapped around me, pulling me and taking me outside. I was shaking and my knees could barely support me weight anymore. “Shh, shh. It’s okay. You’re okay.” I collapsed on the ground and sniffed.

There was only one other person who knew besides my parents about the marbles. Now the whole school really did think I was crazy. I had an irrational fear and he was taking advantage of it.

I pulled my knees to my chest and hid my face in them.

“Stab my back, it’s better when I bleed for you…” BIG J patted my back and sighed.

Monday - And We Haven’t the Time to Mince Words, We are Late for Dinner - David McGovern

In twos we would explore the
vices we knew.  Even in the darkest corners

on the dirtiest mattresses I

would still

get sunburned on my temples. On the balcony, drunk and in

my underwear, I spoke to my mother about

my second cousin (thrice removed?)

and his wife, my

co-worker.  In the morning, at work, at

my desk with the ghost of

brown bottles in my

second and third gag-reflexes (Jesus

was right, I’m not

a sword swallower) I was

bothered about the bearings of

marriages, cousins.  For the

second time (that really

sticks out) a woman called me

pale to my face (I know

all Irish are not this

rude).  Mr. Darnielle told me took
”Look up

at the high windows”.  Mr. Brady mentioned “This wasn’t

meant to be no sad song.”  After the remarks

I took my sandwich and headed

towards the lake and

the doorman with eyebrows as big
as Caterpillar mustache children.  Falling
asleep on the train I hoped you would

regain your appetite. I hoped
my contacts would

be unglued from my eye.  I

thought of

old friends.

Sunday - "The Morning After" - Will M.

Val met Caitlyn for brunch at Hugo’s.  They had discovered it a year back when Caitlyn embarked along a short-lived experiment with veganism, but kept coming back afterwards because they liked the food. Caitlyn looked like she was still suffering from a not-yet-ended late night.

“Owen Wilson wouldn’t hit on me.”

Caitlyn had been obsessed with Owen Wilson since her small-town Mississippi days and thought she had spotted the actor the previous night at Skybar.  What neither Caitlyn nor Valentine knew was that it was actually a USC reserve placekicking named Lucas, who’d been on the wrong end of a kick-blocking defensive lineman two weeks previous and was really enjoying the newfound attention he recieved as a result of his epistaxis.

“I’m sorry sweetie. Let’s eat.” Autumn and Val both learned to easily shift conversations away from the subject of Owen Wilson with Caitlyn. Caitlyn was still too hungover this morning to notice.

“I even…oh…shit…I think I flashed him.”

“What?”

“Well, I borrowed that great little dress from Autumn, and then saw him out at the bar, and kept hoping he’d look…and he wouldn’t so…”

“…Yes?”

“I went into the bathroom and took my panties of and then came out and kind of…Marylin Monroe’d the dress at him.”

“Oh geez…Cait..we need to get you some help…or laid.”

The waitress arrived with their food.

“It’s his loss anyway Cait, really it is.  Are you ready for your audition?”

“Oh sure.”

“You do know it’s Wednesday right?”

Caitlyn paused.

“Yes.”

“But you had to think about.  You know today’s Tuesday right?”

“Yes.”  No pause.

“So let me guess, you’re running on maybe…three? hours of sleep?”

“More or less.  I got up, killed some time at the newstand and walked here.”

“Walked?”

“Well, I took a cab to the newstand. It’s too hot to walk.  Plus I had to look through the latest Yearbook.”

‘The Yearbook’ was Caitlyn’s term (actually her best friend in high school, Kelli Miller coined the term, but Caitlyn felt, that as the only one of them to actually follow through on that drunken-weekend-before-junior-prom promise Caitlyn, Kelli, plus this girl Maribel they didn’t actually like that much but who had an older sister that bought them the booze, and Kelli’s younger sister Sarah had made to move out to LA and make it big—“making it big” being vary ill-defined; not surprising given the heroic number of amerreto sours consumed and soaked up into largely virgin livers—that ‘The Yearbook’ and its coingage were fair game for her—Caitlyn—to claim) for US Weekly and all the related gossipy celebrity life-following magazines featured prominately in most grocery store check-out aisles that, despite sharing much of the same store terrain as National Enquirer and its ilk, were somehow seen as somehow more respectable.  Caitlyn surmised the reason was because A. ‘The Yearbook’ was a magazine—cheap paper or no—and didn’t have the icky finger aftermath you get with the newspaperian tabloids plus also B. it was full of color photos whereas the tabloids were stuck with at best blurry color photos on their ink-shedding front page only.  Caitlyn had a near preternatural grasp of subilties and meta-messages inherent in mass media marketing and advertising and on a gut level understood that the message implied by the two magazines’ side-by-side placement was that ‘The Yearbook’ cost more to produce, and with such a heavier overhead, they clearly had more to lose if they ran with erroneous gossip.

Val sighed. “Anything interesting in there?” She doubted there was. Val was a Variety reader if she wanted her Hollywood news.

“Nah. Rumors and innuendo.”

Caitlyn (well, first Kelli) came up with the nickname because they viewed Hollywood—particularly the major celebrities (though who was and who wasn’t ‘major’ was another debate altogether)—as a macrocosmic version of a typical suburban US high school.  There were cliques, fights, popular kids, dropouts, loners, weirdos, druggies, drug dealers—pretty much every sub-grouping but poor kids—only unlike high school, where the events would at worst be blogged about (sometimes) then rarely read about (more often) or recorded in the school paper or yearbook (in highly sanitized form) for posteritiy, in Hollywood all the gossip and backstabbing and behind-the-back catiness (not limited by age or gender) was written down, recorded, photographed, or sometimes outright fabricated, but it all made it into some mdium for everyone outside the metaphorical ‘school’ to see, observe, add to, and pass judgement upon.

Small-town girl though she may be, Caitlyn wasn’t naive enough to think her friend had stumbled upon a perfectly new and unique metaphor for the role she (Caitlyn) now lived in, but she thought the metaphor was apt, and no amounts of eye-rolling, kvetching, derision, faux-snores (an Autumn favorite) or incomprhension (which Caitlyn encountered mostly in the model-turned-actor types that had been ravingly attractive since birth, and probably dropped on the head in a non-outwardly-scaring way once or twice when little, and not read to, and got by on their looks alone while their brains atrophied at a faster decline than job offers for actresses over 50) none of these factors could divorce her from using her favorite linguistic metaphor.

“I wonder how much some of those writers get paid…” Val really felt a sudden urge to go home and take a nap.

“Too much. I mean…fuck..how would you like to get married and then have it go to shit and have people covering the whole thing—spreading who knows what rumors and saying whatever they like about you, because even if it is false and you sue, it’s still publicity for them?”

“Well who would when you phrase it like that.”

“You know what I mean. It’s shit.”

“They cover the happy times too.”

“Yeah. But they don’t.  Unless it’s weird, like Tom and Katie.”

“That might not be the best example of ‘happy’ to use…”

“Still.”

“But what do they say: ‘it’s the price of fame schweethaht’” Val could pull of a passable Bogart impersonation when the mood struck her.

“Maybe. Still sucks though.”

“But wait. Hold on. Don’t you want to be famous?”

“Well, yeah.”

“And you don’t think this will happen to you too?”

“Well…I don’t know…I was kind of hoping to…move to the south of France or something.”

“You don’t think they have paparazzi there? Or are you just hoping to hook up with Johnny Depp?”

“Oh hush. There’s less of them there, it’s less intrusive.  They don’t take pictures of Johnny everytime he goes to market.”

“Does he ‘go to market’ there?”

“Come on, it may be a fantasy, but the least you could do is play along with me here.”

“Fine. But only because you seem over your hangover now.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Caitlyn hoised her second green tea of the brunch aloft in mock-toast.

Thursday: "I'm Not a Creep, Just a Weirdo" by MV

Chapter One

So here I am, parked across the street from his house and staring at him and his current little fling through his bedroom window. I knew he would forget to close his blinds, he always does. I squinted and saw him mouth the words to the song “Dirty Little Secret” to her as he laughed and leaned over her. Pfft. Dirty little secret my ass. I know everything.

My boyfriend wasn’t exactly stealthy when it came to cheating on me. He’s done it multiple times, but I’ve never confronted him. Why should I? It was much more amusing to watch him squirm when I hinted that I knew, but never exactly told him. Poor boy. I’m pretty sure the only reason he puts up with me is because I’m pretty. And damn smart. But with those things comes a price, and I’ll admit it, I’m a bit of a weirdie.

‘Eccentric’ was the word used by the school counselor, but I know they all think I’m crazy. I’m not crazy; I know perfectly well that what I’m doing isn’t normal behavior for an eighteen year old girl. But what else can I do with my time?

Anyway, I can see clothes starting to fly so I put down my binoculars and sigh. I put another tally mark in my book and closed it before sitting back into the seat. I glanced over to the house I was parked directly in front of and noticed a boy from school open the door, grab the newspaper, give me a disapproving head shake, and then go back inside.

Huh. With my powers of observation, you’d think I’d have seen him before.

“Emma! I’m tired of spying on your cheating boyfriend. Can we go home now?” I turned to the back seat where my best friend, Kenneth, was drawing all over them in sharpie. The whole backseat was covered in his drawings, but I didn’t mind. I did mind that he thought he lived with me.

“That dog looks ugly.” He scowled and stuck his tongue out at me before sulking like a child in the backseat. And he was twenty. And the owner of a rather successful small business. But still sulked like a child.

I laughed and rolled my eyes, taking in a deep breath of sharpie fumes. “You know that kills brain cells.” Oh I knew. Maybe that was my ultimate goal in life.

—

“Amelina Lee!” I kept my head down and moved my eyes up to see my teacher looming over me.

“Yessir?”

“Can you answer the question?”

“What question?”

“The one I asked.”

“You didn’t ask a question.”

“Yes I did.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Don’t sass me!”

“I wasn’t sassing you, I was stating something.” And so on and so forth. This happened every day in class since the beginning of school. Didn’t he understand I would always win? We get into a little roundabout then he gives a speech about the importance of paying attention until class is over. I’m sure someone there appreciates my suffering.

While he was ranting, I lifted my head up and saw the boy who gives me disapproving nods and I recognize who he is. He’s the Boy In the Green Jacket! Or BIG J as I like to refer to him as. The funny thing is that his name is Jacob too.

The bell rings and everyone leaves in the middle of his speech. As always, I’m the last out of class. But BIG J was waiting for me outside and pulled me to the side.

“Why do you do things like that?”

“Because. It makes life a little interesting.” I started playing with my hair and frowned at some split ends I found.

“Like how your supposéd boyfriend is making out with another girl at his locker?” I turned to the direction he was pointing and frowned. Damn. Right in public too. There goes all my stalking fun. Now I have to break up with him or people will think I’m desperate.

“Robert!” I shrieked from my position. I stomped mock angrily towards him and ripped the other girl off of him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She wiped her mouth (because he had a saliva gland problem. Most people put up with that because he was hot. But I only let him kiss me after he was entertaining.) and growled at me angrily.

“He doesn’t want you bitch!” She looked particularly smug until I kicked her into the locker. Then she passed out.

I turned around, still more amused then actually angry, and glared at Robert. Sure he was attractive, but the boy had the brains of a rock. But that’s rather insulting to rocks because they can at least hide something.

“Damn it, you weren’t supposed to know! I swear, I’m so sorry baby!” I flinched when he tried to hug me. Not only because he’s repulsive, and the fact that he was drooling, but I just didn’t like people touching me.

“Right. Save it for someone who cares you cheating asshole!” There was a disappointment in my voice, but only because I had no one to stalk in my free time now. Great. Now what was I supposed to do?

“You can’t talk to him that way!” Ugh. This was starting to be a little bit more trouble than I wanted. Sure my parents would bail me out because I apparently had a medical condition I didn’t know about, but still.

The girl launched herself at me and I just bent down low and hit her across the stomach hard enough to collapse her. Girls. I swear. Well, I’m a girl but these girls are just plain stupid. I mean, would you pick a fight with someone who had just knocked you into a locker with a single kick? If you were me you might, but you’re probably not.

The crowd was huge around us and I knew the administrators were coming so I just turned around and left, passing a stunned BIG J on the way. I smiled at him and sang under my breath, “I’ll keep you my dirty little secret…”

—

I was pulled out of class later and questioned by admins. I was grilled and reprimanded, but left with nothing more than the usual slap on the wrist. Will I ever be punished properly? At this rate, I could probably lay waste to half the school and maybe get a detention. Maybe.

Kenneth was the aid in the discipline office for that period and shook his head as I was leaving. “You get your kicks in an odd way Emma.” I shrugged and smiled. It depressed me a little bit that I wasn’t treated normal, but sometimes it had its perks.

I didn’t go straight back to class, instead, I took a detour to the lobby where the vending machines were and got myself a snack to eat. While I was finishing my drink in front of the machine, I glanced at my distorted reflection.

I guess I was sort of pretty. My hair was long, a little bit past my shoulders, and black. I dyed the under part of my hair bleach blonde because I was bored one day. I wore a lot of eyeliner. A lot. I liked to draw it on thick because it made me eyes look less small. I remember I used to trim my eyelashes because I thought they were too short so they would grow. I ended up just wearing a lot of mascara.

The coke machine gave a red tint to my skin that was unusually pale for living in Texas. And I spent most of my time outside too. I think that there’s something wrong with the melanin in my skin.

I was short. Well, maybe not short, I was only five foot four so I guess I was kinda short? I dunno. I was, compared to the other people at this school. Oh poo.

The bell rang, and I stood next to the vending machines, watching the people flood out of the school. It was a good fifteen minutes before the halls were empty except for the few straying students and teachers running errand after school.

I wandered back to the classroom and saw BIG J standing outside, leaning against the wall next to the door, holding my things for me.

I smiled as I approached him. Hello new stalkee.