Post by Teneile on Mar 20, 2007 2:12:14 GMT 1
((This has nothing to do with Xin or this board really.. but I started writing the other day and wanted to share.. it's only part one.. and comments are appreciated.. thanks))
Have you ever had one of those days that you were sure was a dream? That you just knew that any minute now you would wake up and every thing would be as it once was? You would laugh it off and go about your day as if nothing happened. As if the dream you dreamt was nothing but that.. just a dream. As if you just knew that any minute now you would wake, and then, the images of that night would slowly fade and eventually you wouldn’t remember. Or you would tell your friends over lunch and you would all laugh at how stupidly ironic it all was, or perhaps giggle at the symbolism you could find in the dream. My name is Lexi, and I swear that I am living a dream. One I’m not sure I want to wake from. A dream that .. in my mind is my life, at least the one I want, yet in a way I want to go home. Back to my best friends, back to the world where I belong. But in my dream, I’m someone special and maybe that is why I refuse to wake.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. I really should start back at the beginning. Back when everything was normal. When my days were filled with boredom and monotony. When my big events of the day was who my best friend was crushing on for the week and what other bouts of angst my friends were currently going through. Yet, for some reason my world has changed and I feel like I need to write this down before I start going insane for surely I’m going to wake up any moment now and forget it all. But this is too amazing to forget. Too spectacular to let go. I have to get it out and so here I am, pen in hand writing in some leather bound journal praying there are enough pages to contain my story. Because, it all started, normal.
**
It was Monday, of all accursed days of the week. I groaned loudly as my alarm clock went off bright and early at five in the morning. It was insane that people had to get up that early. Seriously doesn’t the school system realize we’re teenagers. We’re rather more.. nocturnal creatures. Liking to sleep through the day. But no, they made you get up at the crack of dawn so you could catch some damned yellow bus and take the bumpy and uncomfortable unheated ride to school. I growled as I slammed my fist down on the top of my clock effectively pressing the snooze button. I was not in the mood for school today. My weekend had basically rocked. I did nothing out of the ordinary. Partied with my friends and lounged around in clothes I would never be seen at school in. I ate nachos and watched scary movies with my two best friends, and went to bed entirely too late to be getting up at this ungodly hour. It was.. again, insane.
But of course no one ever lets you actually sleep in. Not when your mother is some kind of Suzy Homemaker cookie cut out. Of course she knocks on my door hearing my unintelligible rock music alarm go off. I swear if you listen close enough you can hear the words. But the people who aren’t fans are always complaining that all they do is scream. Well in my mind at least they have something to say. I mean some music was just lame, the same thing over and over again, just someone else singing it. Gets rather dull. The knock on my door signaled my first warning. The one that said ‘Lexi, it’s time to get up’. My mom, had long ago quit saying that to me. I don’t respond. And she knows it. Which is why five minutes later my hellacious and annoying little brother walks in with his cold hands and uncovers me from my warm cocoon I had created all night. Damn mom’s. They always knew how to get you. I hit the arm of my geeky little brother. Who tended to hibernate in his room on the internet where he had his only real friends. He even sat at the geeky table at school. There with his friends talking about last nights Star Trek rerun and how much they wish they would continue making the Star Wars movies and who they would dress up as next time. Geeks. You can’t really live without them, though you do want to. It’s the way of life.
“Ow! That hurt Lexi!” my brother whinned.
“Quit waking me up squirt.” I growled as I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes sighing. Damn it was to freaking cold to get up this early in the morning. Why on Earth could we not run the heater at night?
“Quit calling me Squirt!” he said and tried to hit me back. Great thing about geeks. They always miss. I laughed as I didn’t even move and he missed. He turned trumping off out of my room. I had called him Squirt since he was five. It kinda just stuck, I don’t’ know why but now I do it just because.. well one out of habit, and two because it annoys him to no end and that’s my job as elder sister. To annoy.
I got out of bed and my feet hit the cold hard wood floors of our rather small but quaint house. My mother had bought it because it had ‘character’. Well a carton of milk in her opinion could have character, I thought it was a dump but then again, I wasn’t asked. So to my small, miniscule little closet I went to grab whatever it was I was going to wear that day. Funny thing about my closet, when you open it you are greeted with almost nothing but red and black. The two best colors in the world as far as I’m concerned and they filled my wardrobe nicely. Pulling down some black jeans and a red tank top with a black zipper hoodie I was dressed and ready to go. Grunge mode about summed up some of the days when I went to school and Monday’s were the worst. Running a brush through my silky black hair I was ready to go after I slipped on my combat boots. Steel toe, just for extra kicks.
It was time to join the real world, the one I didn’t want to be part of. Mainly because people suck. They just do and everyone knows it only a select few will actually admit it however. I trumped down the stairs of my characteristically small abode, notice how I threw character in there? Oh yeah. It was too freaking early to be hungry or actually feel anything other than the need for more sleep and a gallon jug of an intreveinous connection to the coffee maker. My mom was the kind of mom that wanted to make breakfast for you every morning saying that breakfast was the most important meal of the day. Yeah well that was a load of crap because eggs sucked, bacon blew, and milk tasted foul. You might notice my bad attitude and think, oh well it’s just morning it’ll get better. Wrong! I have an attitude and I’m not afraid to admit it, you can’t deal, tough, I don’t need you around to mess with me. In the kitchen my mom looked shocked as she did everymorning when I waved off Fruit Loops and milk.
“Lexandra!” Oh crap. You always knew you were in trouble when they used your full name, well see I got by Lexi but my weird ass parents decided Lexandra was a great name and I got stuck with it. Joy. But oh well life goes on right?
“Mom, you know I hate that sugar encrusted crap.” I sighed looking at her as I slid the heavy black eyeliner on my eyelids that gave me that ‘I should be dead’ look.
“Lexandra Martina Giovanni, how DARE you use that language in MY kitchen.” Crap! Wait.. that had just gotten me in trouble. Still. Mom meant business.
“I’ll eat lunch at school it’s pancake day.” I told her pleading with her, if I could just get out the door it would be perfectly fine. I could go to school then I could get on with my life without eating soggie colored rings floating in multicolored and equally disgusting milk.
“Lexi why can’t we ever eat breakfast like a family?” she sighed as my little brother came into the kitchen.
“Mmm fruit loops thanks mom! You’re the best!” Suck up. No wonder I still called him Squirt. While mom was trying to come the annoyingly persistent callic my brother had formed in his sleep I slipped out the back door and into the freaking arctic conditions only known in New York.
We lived in the suburbs but it still sucked living in New York no matter if you lived in a posh estate on the hillside or right smack dab in the middle of the city in some cramped loft where you got in touch with your inner Van Gogh. My boots kicked up the fallen and hardened snow of the backyard as I made my way up the alleyway behind my house and between it and the street that backed up to it. There at the end of my alley was my bus stop. It sucked riding a bus. Sitting with sweaty, pimply, people that just wanted to be your bus buddy. Well I didn’t need a bus buddy, that’s what my Ipod was for. When the yellow taxi of doom finally showed up I was the last on board and made my way to the back seat sitting in those hot little seats by the emergency exit that only fit one, two if you were REAL close. But I wasn’t close to anyone so no one, I repeat no one sat next to me.
Thus with my Ipod jamming away, ruining my hearing, what did I need to hear for anyway, it wasn’t like people said anything important anyway. So jamming to my favorite German band that I didn’t actually understand but that was what made them cool, the bus headed off towards my veritable prison. I sighed. This sucked. I hated school, everything about it blew. There were the preppy cheerleaders that really needed someone to put strychnine in their daily Gatorade just so someone would have a day off from their peppy party planning, school spirit, sweater wearing selves. Then you had the jocks that picked on everyone with a brain or a sense of style that didn’t include indentifying yourself by a giant number on your back. The drama kids were allright if you asked me at least they stayed to themselves and didn’t go around pushing people to be one with the stage. Though.. the mimes.. well we aren’t getting started on them.
When we finally pulled up to the House of Boredom and Torture, I got off the bus last trying to get my morning of freedom to last just one minute longer than it was going to if I was the first off the bus. My best friend, Triela Hardwick, came up to me. Normally you might think of us doing the best fried thing. Running and hugging each other giggling over some soap opera wannabe that played on the local cable channel last night. This was not the case. They merely did the ‘guy nod’ that whole ‘yeah I know you’re there we’re buds but we’re not squealing’ kind of nod.
“This sucks.” Tri began with her normal Monday morning growl.
“Mr. Baskins is gonna give us detention again.” I told her with a grin, that got an equally mischievous grin back.
We were the bane of poor Benjamin Baskins’s life. The man had only one year left before he retired. Rumor had it him and his wife were going to open some sort of flower stand out by Times Square and sell flowers to get them through old age along with his retirement fund for being a teacher. But Tri and I were indeed the two students whose sole mission in life was to make sure that Mr. Baskins’ last year was indeed his longest. In fact, Tri had already done their job today. She had morning detention and had gone in there to super glue his desk drawers shut and to poor water on the padding of his chair so when he would sit down after class started he would get that inevitable *squish* sound going for him. It was classic pranking at its finest and I couldn’t wait.
“Yeah but it’s so worth it, that old man shouldn’t be here anyway.” Tri commented as the front doors of the building opened by our hands and we stepped into the noisy and overcrowded school.
Whomever said that the schools weren’t over populated had never been to New York public schools. Where every year on the first day, there was a long line of students outside the janitor’s office requesting desks for already overly crowded rooms, just because there were more students crammed in there than last year. The student to teacher ratio was not good, and that gave more time for the darker arts as me and Tri liked to refer to them as. In the hallways you had to move people to get through it was insanely crowded and it sucked. Unless you were one of those peppy cheer leaders then people moved for you. Regardless, Tri and I made our way through the crowds of morning couples making out since they hadn’t seen each other for a whole twelve hours or so, oh god the horror! Twelve freaking hours! Not that they hadn’t talked but talking wasn’t important as you could tell when they were all mashed up against their lockers exchanging enough spit to put out a four alarm fire. Moving on.
I got to my locker which was all normal on the front but dialing in my obnoxious combo the door swung open and I was home. Black paper adorned the walls with stickers from every wailing metal band alive that was worth anything. My books and crap were shoved haphazardly in there papers fell out every time I opened it and they stayed out, freaking papers committed suicide by falling out of my locker as far as I was concerned. Tri’s was much the same we were a lot alike, even our black nail polish was the same and we used the same dark eye liner that made our pale skin look even paler, we were the walking dead and we loved it.
The hall went quiet as he walked in. You might just wonder who ‘he’ was. Well his name was Xavier and he was the ‘every friend’. The kind of guy that was friends with every group of people in school except Tri and me. I hated him. Didn’t want that guy near me or my best friend. Sure he was hot, but that didn’t mean I wanted to get to know him, my life was one hundred percent complete without some pot smoking hippy wanna be stepping in to try and shake things up. Brown hair that was always messy, need a comb much? Green eyes that took everything in but always seemed to smile. He had pale skin and some muscle I guess he worked out but I wasn’t going to get close enough to ask. Nope, you wouldn’t see me doing that kind of crap, that guy could stay on his side of the hallway and I was staying on mine.
“I see you like Sticky Bandits.” His voice came over my shoulder. My eyes shifted to Tri and rolled. I ignored him, it tended to be the sure fire way to get rid of an annoying asshole, and that was what I was calling Xavier right now. “You know they have a show on Friday, I was hoping you might go with me.”
My brow rose. Despite my better controls my mind had let my stupid right eye brow raise on my face. Sure I wondered why he would invite me of all people. Stupid band stickers giving my likes away. No one, not even Tri liked Sticky Bandits. And now he was asking me out on a date. This guy really had nerves he didn’t even know me and was asking me out, how lame, really really lame.
“And?” I asked slamming my locker closed so hard that the door shook in the frame before I turned around shoving my I Love Dracula notebook into my messenger bag. I loved my bag, it was black of course torn and frayed by my own hands. Safety pins and chains deocorated it as well as patches from wiccan things I had picked up at some random odd store down town that sold that kind of crap for losers that believed in witchcraft and spells.
“Well, I thought I could pick you up about eight and we could go to the concert together.” He said trying to be the good natured guy he was but I wasn’t buying it. No sir E. I wasn’t buying his little cock and bull story about how he wanted to take me out, no one asked me out and I wasn’t about to let him be the first.
“No.” I said and turned walking down the hall. Tri caught up with me laughing she couldn’t help it, and a smile broke out on my own face. I laughed because it was funny, I had shot down the guy that all the cheerleaders were fawning over. Well the peppy pyramid jumpers could have him, I sure as hell didn’t want him. Together Tri and I stepped into Mr. Baskins class, and the squish was everything I had hoped it would be.
Have you ever had one of those days that you were sure was a dream? That you just knew that any minute now you would wake up and every thing would be as it once was? You would laugh it off and go about your day as if nothing happened. As if the dream you dreamt was nothing but that.. just a dream. As if you just knew that any minute now you would wake, and then, the images of that night would slowly fade and eventually you wouldn’t remember. Or you would tell your friends over lunch and you would all laugh at how stupidly ironic it all was, or perhaps giggle at the symbolism you could find in the dream. My name is Lexi, and I swear that I am living a dream. One I’m not sure I want to wake from. A dream that .. in my mind is my life, at least the one I want, yet in a way I want to go home. Back to my best friends, back to the world where I belong. But in my dream, I’m someone special and maybe that is why I refuse to wake.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. I really should start back at the beginning. Back when everything was normal. When my days were filled with boredom and monotony. When my big events of the day was who my best friend was crushing on for the week and what other bouts of angst my friends were currently going through. Yet, for some reason my world has changed and I feel like I need to write this down before I start going insane for surely I’m going to wake up any moment now and forget it all. But this is too amazing to forget. Too spectacular to let go. I have to get it out and so here I am, pen in hand writing in some leather bound journal praying there are enough pages to contain my story. Because, it all started, normal.
**
It was Monday, of all accursed days of the week. I groaned loudly as my alarm clock went off bright and early at five in the morning. It was insane that people had to get up that early. Seriously doesn’t the school system realize we’re teenagers. We’re rather more.. nocturnal creatures. Liking to sleep through the day. But no, they made you get up at the crack of dawn so you could catch some damned yellow bus and take the bumpy and uncomfortable unheated ride to school. I growled as I slammed my fist down on the top of my clock effectively pressing the snooze button. I was not in the mood for school today. My weekend had basically rocked. I did nothing out of the ordinary. Partied with my friends and lounged around in clothes I would never be seen at school in. I ate nachos and watched scary movies with my two best friends, and went to bed entirely too late to be getting up at this ungodly hour. It was.. again, insane.
But of course no one ever lets you actually sleep in. Not when your mother is some kind of Suzy Homemaker cookie cut out. Of course she knocks on my door hearing my unintelligible rock music alarm go off. I swear if you listen close enough you can hear the words. But the people who aren’t fans are always complaining that all they do is scream. Well in my mind at least they have something to say. I mean some music was just lame, the same thing over and over again, just someone else singing it. Gets rather dull. The knock on my door signaled my first warning. The one that said ‘Lexi, it’s time to get up’. My mom, had long ago quit saying that to me. I don’t respond. And she knows it. Which is why five minutes later my hellacious and annoying little brother walks in with his cold hands and uncovers me from my warm cocoon I had created all night. Damn mom’s. They always knew how to get you. I hit the arm of my geeky little brother. Who tended to hibernate in his room on the internet where he had his only real friends. He even sat at the geeky table at school. There with his friends talking about last nights Star Trek rerun and how much they wish they would continue making the Star Wars movies and who they would dress up as next time. Geeks. You can’t really live without them, though you do want to. It’s the way of life.
“Ow! That hurt Lexi!” my brother whinned.
“Quit waking me up squirt.” I growled as I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes sighing. Damn it was to freaking cold to get up this early in the morning. Why on Earth could we not run the heater at night?
“Quit calling me Squirt!” he said and tried to hit me back. Great thing about geeks. They always miss. I laughed as I didn’t even move and he missed. He turned trumping off out of my room. I had called him Squirt since he was five. It kinda just stuck, I don’t’ know why but now I do it just because.. well one out of habit, and two because it annoys him to no end and that’s my job as elder sister. To annoy.
I got out of bed and my feet hit the cold hard wood floors of our rather small but quaint house. My mother had bought it because it had ‘character’. Well a carton of milk in her opinion could have character, I thought it was a dump but then again, I wasn’t asked. So to my small, miniscule little closet I went to grab whatever it was I was going to wear that day. Funny thing about my closet, when you open it you are greeted with almost nothing but red and black. The two best colors in the world as far as I’m concerned and they filled my wardrobe nicely. Pulling down some black jeans and a red tank top with a black zipper hoodie I was dressed and ready to go. Grunge mode about summed up some of the days when I went to school and Monday’s were the worst. Running a brush through my silky black hair I was ready to go after I slipped on my combat boots. Steel toe, just for extra kicks.
It was time to join the real world, the one I didn’t want to be part of. Mainly because people suck. They just do and everyone knows it only a select few will actually admit it however. I trumped down the stairs of my characteristically small abode, notice how I threw character in there? Oh yeah. It was too freaking early to be hungry or actually feel anything other than the need for more sleep and a gallon jug of an intreveinous connection to the coffee maker. My mom was the kind of mom that wanted to make breakfast for you every morning saying that breakfast was the most important meal of the day. Yeah well that was a load of crap because eggs sucked, bacon blew, and milk tasted foul. You might notice my bad attitude and think, oh well it’s just morning it’ll get better. Wrong! I have an attitude and I’m not afraid to admit it, you can’t deal, tough, I don’t need you around to mess with me. In the kitchen my mom looked shocked as she did everymorning when I waved off Fruit Loops and milk.
“Lexandra!” Oh crap. You always knew you were in trouble when they used your full name, well see I got by Lexi but my weird ass parents decided Lexandra was a great name and I got stuck with it. Joy. But oh well life goes on right?
“Mom, you know I hate that sugar encrusted crap.” I sighed looking at her as I slid the heavy black eyeliner on my eyelids that gave me that ‘I should be dead’ look.
“Lexandra Martina Giovanni, how DARE you use that language in MY kitchen.” Crap! Wait.. that had just gotten me in trouble. Still. Mom meant business.
“I’ll eat lunch at school it’s pancake day.” I told her pleading with her, if I could just get out the door it would be perfectly fine. I could go to school then I could get on with my life without eating soggie colored rings floating in multicolored and equally disgusting milk.
“Lexi why can’t we ever eat breakfast like a family?” she sighed as my little brother came into the kitchen.
“Mmm fruit loops thanks mom! You’re the best!” Suck up. No wonder I still called him Squirt. While mom was trying to come the annoyingly persistent callic my brother had formed in his sleep I slipped out the back door and into the freaking arctic conditions only known in New York.
We lived in the suburbs but it still sucked living in New York no matter if you lived in a posh estate on the hillside or right smack dab in the middle of the city in some cramped loft where you got in touch with your inner Van Gogh. My boots kicked up the fallen and hardened snow of the backyard as I made my way up the alleyway behind my house and between it and the street that backed up to it. There at the end of my alley was my bus stop. It sucked riding a bus. Sitting with sweaty, pimply, people that just wanted to be your bus buddy. Well I didn’t need a bus buddy, that’s what my Ipod was for. When the yellow taxi of doom finally showed up I was the last on board and made my way to the back seat sitting in those hot little seats by the emergency exit that only fit one, two if you were REAL close. But I wasn’t close to anyone so no one, I repeat no one sat next to me.
Thus with my Ipod jamming away, ruining my hearing, what did I need to hear for anyway, it wasn’t like people said anything important anyway. So jamming to my favorite German band that I didn’t actually understand but that was what made them cool, the bus headed off towards my veritable prison. I sighed. This sucked. I hated school, everything about it blew. There were the preppy cheerleaders that really needed someone to put strychnine in their daily Gatorade just so someone would have a day off from their peppy party planning, school spirit, sweater wearing selves. Then you had the jocks that picked on everyone with a brain or a sense of style that didn’t include indentifying yourself by a giant number on your back. The drama kids were allright if you asked me at least they stayed to themselves and didn’t go around pushing people to be one with the stage. Though.. the mimes.. well we aren’t getting started on them.
When we finally pulled up to the House of Boredom and Torture, I got off the bus last trying to get my morning of freedom to last just one minute longer than it was going to if I was the first off the bus. My best friend, Triela Hardwick, came up to me. Normally you might think of us doing the best fried thing. Running and hugging each other giggling over some soap opera wannabe that played on the local cable channel last night. This was not the case. They merely did the ‘guy nod’ that whole ‘yeah I know you’re there we’re buds but we’re not squealing’ kind of nod.
“This sucks.” Tri began with her normal Monday morning growl.
“Mr. Baskins is gonna give us detention again.” I told her with a grin, that got an equally mischievous grin back.
We were the bane of poor Benjamin Baskins’s life. The man had only one year left before he retired. Rumor had it him and his wife were going to open some sort of flower stand out by Times Square and sell flowers to get them through old age along with his retirement fund for being a teacher. But Tri and I were indeed the two students whose sole mission in life was to make sure that Mr. Baskins’ last year was indeed his longest. In fact, Tri had already done their job today. She had morning detention and had gone in there to super glue his desk drawers shut and to poor water on the padding of his chair so when he would sit down after class started he would get that inevitable *squish* sound going for him. It was classic pranking at its finest and I couldn’t wait.
“Yeah but it’s so worth it, that old man shouldn’t be here anyway.” Tri commented as the front doors of the building opened by our hands and we stepped into the noisy and overcrowded school.
Whomever said that the schools weren’t over populated had never been to New York public schools. Where every year on the first day, there was a long line of students outside the janitor’s office requesting desks for already overly crowded rooms, just because there were more students crammed in there than last year. The student to teacher ratio was not good, and that gave more time for the darker arts as me and Tri liked to refer to them as. In the hallways you had to move people to get through it was insanely crowded and it sucked. Unless you were one of those peppy cheer leaders then people moved for you. Regardless, Tri and I made our way through the crowds of morning couples making out since they hadn’t seen each other for a whole twelve hours or so, oh god the horror! Twelve freaking hours! Not that they hadn’t talked but talking wasn’t important as you could tell when they were all mashed up against their lockers exchanging enough spit to put out a four alarm fire. Moving on.
I got to my locker which was all normal on the front but dialing in my obnoxious combo the door swung open and I was home. Black paper adorned the walls with stickers from every wailing metal band alive that was worth anything. My books and crap were shoved haphazardly in there papers fell out every time I opened it and they stayed out, freaking papers committed suicide by falling out of my locker as far as I was concerned. Tri’s was much the same we were a lot alike, even our black nail polish was the same and we used the same dark eye liner that made our pale skin look even paler, we were the walking dead and we loved it.
The hall went quiet as he walked in. You might just wonder who ‘he’ was. Well his name was Xavier and he was the ‘every friend’. The kind of guy that was friends with every group of people in school except Tri and me. I hated him. Didn’t want that guy near me or my best friend. Sure he was hot, but that didn’t mean I wanted to get to know him, my life was one hundred percent complete without some pot smoking hippy wanna be stepping in to try and shake things up. Brown hair that was always messy, need a comb much? Green eyes that took everything in but always seemed to smile. He had pale skin and some muscle I guess he worked out but I wasn’t going to get close enough to ask. Nope, you wouldn’t see me doing that kind of crap, that guy could stay on his side of the hallway and I was staying on mine.
“I see you like Sticky Bandits.” His voice came over my shoulder. My eyes shifted to Tri and rolled. I ignored him, it tended to be the sure fire way to get rid of an annoying asshole, and that was what I was calling Xavier right now. “You know they have a show on Friday, I was hoping you might go with me.”
My brow rose. Despite my better controls my mind had let my stupid right eye brow raise on my face. Sure I wondered why he would invite me of all people. Stupid band stickers giving my likes away. No one, not even Tri liked Sticky Bandits. And now he was asking me out on a date. This guy really had nerves he didn’t even know me and was asking me out, how lame, really really lame.
“And?” I asked slamming my locker closed so hard that the door shook in the frame before I turned around shoving my I Love Dracula notebook into my messenger bag. I loved my bag, it was black of course torn and frayed by my own hands. Safety pins and chains deocorated it as well as patches from wiccan things I had picked up at some random odd store down town that sold that kind of crap for losers that believed in witchcraft and spells.
“Well, I thought I could pick you up about eight and we could go to the concert together.” He said trying to be the good natured guy he was but I wasn’t buying it. No sir E. I wasn’t buying his little cock and bull story about how he wanted to take me out, no one asked me out and I wasn’t about to let him be the first.
“No.” I said and turned walking down the hall. Tri caught up with me laughing she couldn’t help it, and a smile broke out on my own face. I laughed because it was funny, I had shot down the guy that all the cheerleaders were fawning over. Well the peppy pyramid jumpers could have him, I sure as hell didn’t want him. Together Tri and I stepped into Mr. Baskins class, and the squish was everything I had hoped it would be.
