Okay, I wrote everything just today because today is the only day I actually have time to myself :) For once, I have no idea what to babble here..........Hmmm.......let's see........um........... How's the weather? OMG that was so........... Oh! I got it! This Saturday, my school (all girls) will have interaction with an all boys school and I'm freaking out. I don't know what to wear, how I'll act, who the person I'm going to be talking to is........ OMG. I'm FREAKED OUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
P.S. The video has NOTHING to do with the story. It's just what I've been listening to for the past 4 hours including Prelude 12/21 by AFI, Faint by Linkin Park and This One's A Cheap Shot by Every Avenue.
Story time............Comment, vote, fan please! :D
I stand in front of the doorbells (at least I think it is), looking for a Simon. This is kind of hard since the names are alphabetically arranged by the surnames and since I don’t know what Mr. Simon’s is…
I look closely. How many Simons are in here, anyway? I count and, to my dismay, the answer is four. I search my mind for a clue. Hmm…an embarrassing last name…Okay, let’s see. Brown? No, it just makes you think of the color. Young? No, unless you’re really old. Ha, I just made a pun. Lopez? Nope, there’s nothing wrong with having the same last name as George Lopez. My eyes scan the piece of paper, searching once again for the last one. Once I find it, I stare at it in disbelief. I rub my eyes and look at it again. Then burst out laughing.
No wonder Mr. Simon won’t tell us. Poor him! I can see it now, the teacher calling out his name in front of everyone, “Simmons, Simon!” then everyone laughing at him. I double over, clutching my stomach. Wait ‘til I tell Julie, Jess and Brian! After making them swear not to tell anyone, of course. He must have mean parents, though. Either that or humorous.
I collect myself and press the button beside his name. I stifle the urge to laugh when Mr. Simon's voice says, "Hello? Is that Celene?" I say yes. "Come on up. We're in the third floor, number 385." I say thanks as he buzzes me in. I contemplate using the elevator but dismiss the idea. Just because I don't grow fat doesn't mean I should be a lazy bum. At least not all the time. Watching those horror movies (snippets of them, but still) does contribute to my refusal of elevators.
I take my time going up and move to the side for someone who is hurrying down the stairs; however, he stops a few steps in front of me and frowns.
"Don't you ever bathe? You stink, dude." He says in a deep voice.
I frown and look up from his Vans shoes, intending to give a snappy reply, but it dries on my lips. This guy is ugly! On the inside, anyway. On the outside, I admit, though begrudgingly, he's not that bad looking. Okay, fine. He's hot. I guess this is the only reason why girls allow him to play them even if it means putting up with his personality.
"What, cat got your tongue? Cat probably lives in the dumps where you came from, judging from the smell you're giving off." He wrinkles his nose.
"I jogged here, that's why. I don't smell, you know." This probably isn't the best comeback but it's the only thing I can think of, trapped as I am by his cool gaze.
"Yes, you do." He smirks.
"No, I don't and I'm not going to engage in something as childish as this." I say even though I just did a while ago with Brian but Rude guy doesn't need to know that. I run up the stairs, pushing past him and hopefully rubbing my stinkiness on him, before the guy has a chance to say anything. As soon as I stand in front of the door with the number 385 on it, I crouch, putting my elbows on my knees and catch my breath. Then, after making sure no one is looking, take a quick sniff at my pits.
I should've asked Brian to drive me here. I pat my pockets for something--anything--to make me smell better but, as expected, there's none. I sigh. Oh, well. Nothing I can do about it now.
I knock on the wooden door and it opens to show Mr. Simon (Simmons!) who is surprisingly in a white polo and slacks. His wife is behind him, with a pin in her blonde hair, putting on gold dangling earrings and trying to tame Mr. Simon's black hair. She is wearing a red floor-length gown. Mr. Simon's eyes bright up when he catches sight of me. "Celene! I can't thank you enough. Um, you don't mind babysitting a little too, won't you? Something came up--a very important dinner, actually, for my wife--and we can't find a babysitter on such short notice. I promise, Connor won't be much trouble."
This isn't part of the deal! How am I going to take care of a hyperactive ten year old kid who asks so much questions?! I particularly hate these kinds. The only people who I hate more are those who know everything. Then again, this means more extra credit. "Sure." I smile even though inside I'm screaming in frustration.
Mr. Simon sighs in relief. "Thank you so much, Celene. Simon here will make sure you get the reward you deserve tomorrow but as of now, we really need to go. Thanks again!" Mrs. Simmons calls out, dragging her husband to the elevator.
Now, all I need to do is get rid of the kid and I'm free! Of course, I'm joking. Half, anyway. I cautiously walk inside, closing the door behind me. I sing the James Bond theme song under my breath and search for the kid. Suddenly, I am hit and tackled to the ground then the weight on me disappears.
"You'll never catch me alive!" He screams, his voice still high. I stand up and run after him. No way am I going to let him go after hitting me with a Nerf gun. Upon seeing him make the mistake of looking the other way, I tackle him and hold him in place as he struggles to escape. I guess the training Brian gave me comes in handy. "Let me go!" Nerf Nazi repeats this over and over.
"If you promise to study and behave!" I shout, keeping well away from his ear. I'm sure Mr. Simon Simmons will mind a lot if I make his son deaf.
"No!" Ah, he defies me! Then he shall face the wrath of the ultimate punishment! I start tickling him. "Fine, fine! Now, let go!" He manages to gasp out after a couple of minutes.
I let him go and drag him to what I assume is his room. I look around and find tons of Nerf guns lying on top of a batman bedspread. Unless the teenager is extremely childish, it's Nerf Nazi's room. Okay, I know I have to stop calling him Nerf Nazi but considering all the Nerfs in here, it's hard.
"Get out your notes, Nerf--Connor." I order. He does and hands it to me. I stare at it in dismay. "I hate this lesson. I failed the test so badly." I mutter under my breath, grimacing at the memory. I point at the map. "This is Alabama."
"What's Alabama?" I groan inwardly. For three hours, this is our routine. I point at a state, he asks what it is and, finally, I explain. Then the whole thing repeats itself.
I'm just in the middle of explaing to Nazi what Hawaii is (Me: Where Stitch lives. Him: Who's Stitch? Me (almost crying) : Oh. My. God.) when someone bangs the door shut. I look at the person, at his shoes, then back to his face.
"Hey there, stinky." He smirks, his icy blue eyes twinkling in amusement.
Okay, while I was typing this, my mom told me to drink my meds. It's not the capsule OR the syrup. It's Chinese meds and just imagine a bowl full of black, foul-smelling soup. it tastes even worse AND I have to drink 10 capsules with it. I almost puked! And to think I need to drink this for 15 more days! :((
P.S. I just made a fanfic for Hunger Games and it's called "Capitol Child". Can you please check it out and maybe comment,vote,fan? I really need to know if I will continue or not. It's kind of like how I felt at the start of this story. :)
YOU ARE READING
Caught in the MiddleTeen Fiction
Typical of Celene to fall in love with her eldest brother's best friend, Keith, who, by the way, only knows her as the annoying little sister of his best friend. Keith just puts up with her because her brother will get mad if he doesn't. Bottom line...