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Mrs. Clint Barton 2012/07/13 18:00:29
its a story im writing

It was Friday morning, and I was on my way to school. I decided to stop at— wait. I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself, have I? Might as well.
My name’s Alexandra. Alexandra Vazquez. I’m from Puerto Rico, but I moved to Seattle, Washington when I was five years old due to my single (at the time) mom’s job. Now I live in the “ghetto”. Oops; I mean, Federal Way. I have a younger brother who was born two years after we moved to Seattle. His name’s Tyler and we all call him Ty. Think you got everything you need? If you didn’t, you’re in luck. I’m going to continue narrating about my life, but later on.
As I was saying, since it was Friday, and I had to do a crappy made up play in school with a couple of friends (and luckily no other grades were going to see it), I decided to pump myself up with a Mocha Cookie Crumble Frap from Starbucks. Of course, with mom driving me. I’m 16, and I have my learner’s permit, but we can’t afford a car, so people are still driving me around. I’m surprised they’re still not pissed about that.
“Are you sure you don’t want anything else, Alex?” mom asked me at the drive-thru after she said my order.
“Positive. Don’t worry about me, mom. Although I think you should buy a cookie or something to Ty… he looks like he’s about to faint from a sugar low,” I said, looking at my little brother. She ordered the cookie, and took our food.
In the same second she dropped me at the parking lot of the school, something felt different. But not like a “Twilight Zone” different, a good yet mysterious different. I decided to ignore the feeling in my gut and continue with my everyday life. I turned on my phone and put on my earplugs. “La Locura Automática” by La Secta Allstar was playing. Too depressing. I changed the track. Another depressing song. I searched for a song… and bingo! “What You Want” by The Two Door Cinema Club started with its familiar indie rhythm.
I walked by the lockers, ignoring all of the familiar comments by the bitchy cheerleaders like “lesbian” and “fag”. In my point of view, they only call me all of that bullshit because of my eyes, and the fact that I’m the girl with biggest boobs amongst them. Amongst them, of course, because, the guys say that the seniors have “bigger jugs than me”. The eyes thing… well, it’s not every day that you see eyes with a weird mix between light green, sky blue, and yellow. Not hazel, yellow. I reached my locker, and almost peed my pants off.
“Hey, chica,” Lyz, my best friend, said, slamming my locker door right when I was about to gently close it.
“Gosh, Lyz, you’re never gonna stop doing that are you?” I fixed my Blink-182 beanie.
“No,” she answered with a smile. “Did you bring the guitar for drama class?”
I suddenly remembered my $60.00 guitar. Which was all the way home.
“No… I think I’ll have to take one from the Music Room.”
The bell rang. Lyz headed for biology, which was her first period, and I for English, which was mine.
“’I’m sorry, but I do not wish to love you, Apollo.’” Stacie, one of the cheers, said to Jimmy, one of the jocks, on English. As you may already notice, we were studying “Apollo and Daphne”.
Someone poked me on the arm with what felt like a pencil. I looked to the direction as to where I got poked, and saw a paper on my desk.
Hey, it said. I sort of knew everyone in this class’ handwriting, but this wasn’t one I recognized. Very slowly, I looked to the person on my right, which was were I found the paper. I sat on the back of the room, so I looked with a little less care.
It was Apollo himself. I mean, not literally. There’s only one God, in my perspective (with all due respect, of course).
But the guy was striking. From what I could see, his hair was kinda long, but not like Native American long, like surfer long. It was black. He had a Def Leppard or Jimmy Hendrix shirt.
Hello. I don’t know about you, but I wanna pay attention to class. We’ll talk after, ok? :)
Sure :P, I read. I handed the strange boy the paper without replying.
And just like that, I heard the faint noise of paper ripping. I looked sideways, having my curtain of hair as an advantage. I saw something else… something that almost looked like fire.
We both waited ‘till the classroom was empty and the only students were there. My plan was to grab my stuff and then go to his desk, but he thought otherwise.
“Forget it,” he said lowly in a deep, husky voice, and walked out of the classroom. Then Lyz came in.
“Alex,” she said, startling me. “We have to change. We’re the second group to do the play.” She snapped her finger in front of me.
“Huh? Sorry, Lyz. C’mon, let’s go change.”
I came to the conclusion that before I changed, I went to the Music Room and talk to Mr. Beals into letting me borrow a guitar for only 10 minutes, because my outfit was one very similar to a prostitute’s, and I know the cheerleaders were never going to stop with the jokes and rumors if they saw me.
I knocked lightly on the door. “Mr. Beals? Are you here?”
“Yes, come in, come in.” he opened the door for me. “I was just talking about you to my new student, Jack.”
“Hello,” he stuck his hand out. We shook hands.
I looked at the guy.
Holy crap on an Oreo. It was Apollo. Not literally (again), but it was the sexy-ass guy from English. I focused on the reason of why I went to the Music room.
“Umm… Mr. Beals, I need to borrow a guitar. I know you don’t like your instruments out of the classroom, but I need it for Drama, and I left Dirnt at home. It’ll only be for 10 minutes, I swear.”
“Alex…sure. But as soon as the class is over, you’ll have to return it. Understood?” that was creepy. It was almost as if he was about to deny my request, and something made him change his mind.
“Yes, sir,” I said, heading for the guitars. I took one and headed for the bathroom.
I did the play perfectly. Of course, I stammered whenever I thought about Jack, but everybody thought that I was forgetting the line. I wished that.
At the end of the day, Lyz started to look at me skeptically.
“So have you seen the new guy? He’s kind of cute…” she began. She already knew I had, by the way my face got all pale as soon as she mentioned him. The bitch was just testing me.
“Yeah. He sits beside me in English.”
“Is that so?” she giggled.
“Gosh, Elyzabeth, grow up.”
“So-rry, Alexandra. C’mon, let’s go to Jack in the Box, I’m starving.”

“So that’s two chicken chipotle clubs, one with curly fries, the other regular, both with iced teas?” the cashier asked us at Jack in the Box after school.
“Correct,” Lyz said, handing the cashier the money. We took our order, and started walking towards our table. But someone was there. “Excuse me, that’s our seat. Mind moving?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were going to seat here,” said Jack with his husky voice.
“It’s OK, you can sit with us,” Lyz said, smiling.
“Oh, well, if that’s what you want... I don’t really have any friends, either, and it’d be nice to meet new people as lovely as you two ladies.” He sat back down.
Lyz sat down, and I followed.
“Well, I’m Lyz,” she introduced herself, grabbing her food off the tray. “And this is Alex.”
“Yeah, I met her.” He smiled at me.
“Hello, Jack,” I mimic his smile. “How do you like FWHS so far?”
“It sucks ass. I’ve already studied most of the stuff I have in my classes.”
Smart, huh? “OK… want some of my fries?”
“Yes, please,” he grabbed a couple and swallowed them in a mouthful.
Lyz finished her sandwich and got out of the table. “I have to use the restroom.”
So that left Jack and me alone. Again.
“Do you have a car?” he asked me.
“No,” I replied, getting my earplugs out to try to ignore him, and smelling as much of my sandwich as much as I could, since he smelled like my favorite male perfume, Axe Anarchy.
“Thought so. Mind if I give you a ride tonight to your house or wherever you’re going? Tonight my parents are going out.”
I paused “Full Moon” by The Black Ghosts. “Excuse me?”
“Can I drive you to your house tonight?”
“Sorry, I don’t take rides from strangers. Besides, Lyz and I already have plans.”
“It’s a’ight.”
“You speak ghetto.” It wasn’t a question.
“No, my tongue fell asleep. But I’m sure you’ll have time to talk to the new kid. Maybe they’ll even stop calling you a lesbian once they see you hanging around with a guy. I mean, it’s not your fault you kissed Veronica. You were both drunk.”
My iced tea fell to the ground. Nobody knew about Veronica, not even Lyz.
“See you Monday at school.” He stood up, and left almost instantly. Lyz sat in front of me.
“What was that?” she asked.
“I have no idea. Please take me home.” I gathered my things.
“Huh? What about ‘Magic Mike’?”
“It can wait. I have to process things, and no amount of Alex Pettyfer or Matthew McConaughey naked will help me.”
“Fine, let’s go.”

At home, I did as I usually did to avoid awkward conversations. I went straight to the kitchen and made some extra-chocolaty chocolate milk with a hint of vanilla and cinnamon, saw half of the soccer game with my stepfather, played a little with Ty, took a bath (an extra cold one today, trying to shake off Jack), and went to my room.
Then I almost died.
“HOLY FUCK!!” I almost yelled once I saw a shadow that clearly wasn’t me.
“Sorry!!” Jack covered his eyes. Then I noticed my towel fell. Then I felt even hotter.
I put on my towel. “What happened to ‘Monday at school’?! What the hell are you doing in my house?! Are you trying to kill me or something?!”
“Actually… it’s a stupid dare my old friends obliged me to do. They dared me to do a break-in at someone’s house. I didn’t think it was gonna be yours. Forgive me? I’m still a rookie in making friends.”
“And you think that by entering into a 16 year old girl’s bedroom is actually gonna get you to be her friend?” I sat on my bed and breathed heavily.
“It’s OK. You have every reason to be pissed at me. I’m sorry. How ‘bout I make it up to you?”
“How?” I asked suspiciously.
“A day in the city. Everything involving food’s on me.”
I thought about it for a second. Ok, so a cute guy breaks into my room and then asks if I wanna go out with him to repay for almost –also- seeing me naked?
“Sure. Pick me up at 11:00. I need time to get ready.”
“Perfect. 10:30 am it is. Should I go out through the door or…?”
“The window. Definitely.”
I watched him go. Then I put on my PJs, and headed to the living room. Mom still hadn’t arrived, since she preferred to work overtime (even though Steve’s a lawyer and I teach Spanish during a whole month in summer).
“Barcelona’s winning again, aren’t they?”
“Yeah. We suck,” he replied in a sad tone.
“Want something to drink?”
“No thanks. I’m afraid I’ll miss a goal.”
“Who to whom? Barcelona to Real Madrid?” they went to commercials.
“Damn. We lost.”
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2014/04/18 23:24:00

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