Saturday, October 20, 2007
"Jeph, what do you want for lunch?" I called. "Nothing," He called back, "I'll make myself a sandwich in an hour or so." "Okay." I began making myself a salad while I listened to my new CD that Jeph bought me for my birthday. Dad never buys us anything anymore, he just watches TV, drink, sleep, basically nothing. As I said before, I practically have to do everything. Jeph's friend, who's 18, picks us up sometimes to go shopping at the local grocery store. So that's good.
I finished eating my salad and went up to Jeph's room to see what he was doing. "Jeph?" I asked. "Whatcha doin'?" He looked up from his journal and smiled at me. "Nothing much," he said, "I was thinking of going over to Ronnie's house to play some video games or something. You wanna come with?" I nodded and went downstairs to get my jacket and my shoes on. He met me at the door with his coat in one hand and a book in the other. "What's the book for?" I asked. "It's Liam's, I promised I'd bring it to him." He answered. We walked out the door to see Liam, Ronnie's older brother, waiting in front of his car. "Hey Jeph, Lee." He said. We got in the car and began driving towards the Walker's house, about 7 miles away. "So," Liam said, "how have you guys been?" "Bored like hell." Jeph said. Liam mumbled something as we parked a block away from his house, seeing as all of the spaces were taken up for some reason. "You can leave the book in the car." Liam told Jeph as we got out. "I won't really need it until later." We walked to the house and opened the door to see a very happy Ronnie jump on Jeph. "Jephy!" He giggled. "I misseded you!" He then proceeded to give me a huge bear hug, nearly suffocating me. "Ronnie!" I chocked out. "Can't breath!" "Sorry!" He quickly released me and ran into the other room. "Guys, come in here!" He yelled.
Until Very Duarte rapped on her window.
"Open up, Is!" Very Duarte insisted, banging on the window. Is rushed over and opened it up with less difficulty than the first time.
"What?" Is hissed. "It's 3:02 AM!"
"Really? Well. Anyways, I need your help. I need you and your brother!"
"How did you know I had a brother? And that my last name was Taylor?"
"That is not important!"
"No, I'm leaving Thomas out of this insanity!"
"Fine, fine. It's our funeral."
Very helped Is climb down the house in silence. "We're going to see the Below Ones."
Is didn't argue: you learn in the first ten minutes you spend with Very Duarte that Very Duarte always wins in arguments. Her bare feet tramped against the cold earth. "I am cold, Very."
"I know. I am too. But here we are." Very knelt down to a very shiny brass plate on the ground. She opened it up, grunting. "Now go in. You're going to get dirty, princess."
"Lord, Very, don't go all Han Solo on me now."
"Just go." And, against her better judgement, Is stepped into the hole.
"No need to try and fall gracefully!" Very shouted.
Is groaned as she landed on her side on the cold, dank dirt. How long had she known Very Duarte? 13 hours? And already she was in a hole. This was a record.
Friday, October 19, 2007
We followed my older brother up to his room, which was pretty awkward, because he never lets anyone in it. He began explaining why his attitude towards us had changed over the past few months, and then he said three words I had never expected him to say to us. "I like boys." He whispered. “So,” Dad said, “you’re gay.” “Uh huh." I gasped as I saw Dad raise his hand up and come down onto my older brother. "Ow!” He cried out as he struck him. “Fine, but you better not bring any of your little boyfriends in my house.” Then he turned away and left the room. “I’m going out!” He yelled from downstairs. Well, I thought, I hope he doesn’t come home drunk again. Ever since Mom died, Dad would go out drinking almost every night. This usually ended up in him coming home in a drunken rage and sometimes beating either me or Jeph. We didn’t like that (obviously). We once considered running away, but we realized we had nowhere to go but our Aunt Susan’s, and we really don’t like her all that much. She smells, she keeps forgetting our names (she calls us Amelia and Richard!), and her house is so small, it can’t fit fifteen people in it without being crowded.
But enough about that, let's talk about me. My name is Leah Conell, I am 13 years old, my mom is dead, my dad is an alcoholic, and my brother is gay. I had a pretty awesome life until our mom jumped off of a bridge to commit suicide. Then Dad started drinking a lot more, Jeph isolated himself from both of us in his room, and I had to cook, clean the house, do laundry, and do all of my schoolwork. Now my life is a living hell.
"Lee," Jeph said, "are you ashamed of me?" "No, Jeph," I said cheerfully, "I believe that you should date anyone you want to date and love anyone, boy or girl, that you want to love." "Thanks, Lee." He came over and hugged me. "You know, you sound older than me when you say that." We both giggled silently and went downstairs.
At least I have my big brother here to protect me, I thought, he's the only one who really cares about me. I love him more than anyone else.
Isolde "Is" Taylor lay on the cold wood floor of her new room. The bed was in the U-Haul truck, which had not arrived just yet. She was 14, and had just moved to a remote forested area so her father, Dr. Artemis Taylor, could find samples of Marshden Mushrooms. Marshden Mushrooms were difficult to find, apparently. She pushed her straight red hair into a messy ponytail and sat up, when suddenly, there was a loud rapping on her window.
"Helloo?" The girl outside cooed. She had climbed up the side planter. Is blew off the dust on the windowsill and, with difficulty, opened it up. "I'm Very Duarte."
Very snaked in through the small opening in the window. She had lime green eyes, loads of freckles, and bright pink hair. "I live somewhere over there." She pointed a bright purple painted nail in a northern direction.
"I-I'm Is." Is said. She was taken aback; the strangest person she had ever seen was a fellow who danced for nickels on the pier back home, before Very. "Is Very your real name?"
"Yes. Is Is your real name?"
"I'm an actress. I have thirty hugely popular films in France." Very remarked, sitting crisscross-applesauce on the floor. "Did you know that, Is Taylor?"
That night after Very Duarte had departed, the U-Haul with the beds had arrived, and Dr. Artemis Taylor had gone to look for the mushroom, Thomas Taylor, age 13, entered Is' room.
"Who were you talking to today?" Thomas asked, laying on her bed. Is was hanging a poster of Andrew Wyeth's "Christina's World" on her wall.
"No, her name is Very Duarte."
"Okay, um, Is, I don't think there's anybody anywhere ever named Very Duarte. There was an Eva Duarte, but she turned into a tyrannical leader of Argentina named Eva Peron."
"Well, Very Duarte has pink hair and is a French movie star."
"Huh." Thomas took out his Sidekick. He had begged his parents for one, to Is' disgust. Did I say that Is had a pony? He Googled "Very Duarte".
"No results for Very Duarte, Is."
"Well, I know what I saw."
"Are you sure you're not schizo? Remember Mrs. Flank and Kitty?"
Is recalled Mrs. Flank, an elderly old woman, and Kitty, her imaginary friend. "Get out, Thomas." She threw a pair of underwear at her brother. Very Duarte does exist. She does.
Isolde "Is" Taylor- 14. A curvy, redheaded girl with grey-blue eyes. She is pretty sure that Very Duarte exists. If she does, Very Duarte is Is' best friend.
Very Duarte- 14. An angsty young girl who may or may not exist. Very has been in thirty movies, all very popular in France, but literally unheard of in America. She has bright pink hair, lime green eyes, and lots of freckles. She's Is' best friend. And probably does exist. Very drags Is into a schism she is having with the Below Ones.
Thomas Taylor- 13. Is' younger brother. He is sure that Very doesn't exist. Until Is shows him a Below One. Then he is in cahoots with Is and Very in the fight against the Below Ones.
Dr. Randall- 50something. Is' therapist. Very know that he is definitely a Below One because he wants Very to leave.
The Below Ones- Never age. Scary beings that live underground. And do exist. Really do.
Is isn't schizophrenic. Very is sure she isn't.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
“So,” Dad said, “you’re gay.” “Uh huh.” Jeph, my brother, whispered. “Ow!” He cried out as our dad struck him. “Fine, but you better not bring any of your little boyfriends in my house.” Then he turned away and left the room. “I’m going out!” He yelled from downstairs. Well, I thought, I hope he doesn’t come home drunk again. Ever since Mom died, Dad would go out drinking almost every night. This usually ended up in him coming home in a drunken rage and sometimes beating either me or Jeph. We didn’t like that (obviously). We once considered running away, but we realized we had nowhere to go but our Aunt Susan’s, and we really don’t like her all that much. She smells, she keeps forgetting our names (she calls us Amelia and Richard!), and her house is so small, it can’t fit fifteen people in it without being crowded.So yeah. That's just a little preview. I'll post some info of it on the random peoples blog.
That is not the official title.
“Here’s a place!” Said Alex.
Richard picked up the classified section that Alex was reading and gazed at it. “The guy who
owned it last, died you idiot!” Said Richard
“What’s wrong with that?”
“I am not staying in a dead guy’s apartment!”
“At least come check it out!” pleaded Alex
“Fine, but we aren’t buying it.” Richard responded.
As they were walking to the apartment complex, Alex decided to engage in a conversation.
“Do we have any gigs yet?” He asked.
“Not, one.” Richard answered.
“How are we going to get money for food? We’ll be broke once we get an apartment.”
“Well, I was going to sell blood.”
“We could sell the stuff that the dead guy left in this apartment.”
“I thought we weren’t getting this apartment” Alex remarked.
“I’m tired of living in a hotel. Although it is nice to get your beds made for you.” Richard answered, not making eye contact with him.
Once they found the apartment, they bought it immediately.
“Lets see what the guy left here.” Said Richard
Around the room there were several bookshelves, filled with books on philosophy. They both sat down on the patio and Richard grabbed a pack of cigarettes lying on the table.
“How did we, the greatest band ever, end up living in a dead guy’s apartment?” Asked Alex.
“It’s a dog eat dog world out there, Alex.” Richard lit a cigarette and blew smoke from it. He looked cool.
Alex looked at him confusedly.
“You don’t smoke.” He said.
Richard dropped the cigarette and coughed his guts out. He did not look cool anymore.