Monthly Archives: February 2010

Damien’s hand hovers in a reluctant pause just short of the door. He grimaces then backs away slowly leaving his hand suspended at the door for as long as he can. With a sigh Damien drops his hand and turns away.

Click. Rrrrt. The door creaks open.

“Damien? Damien, is that you?”

He turns with a forced smile, “Hey, Julie.”

Julie’s arms are crossed, “What are you doing here?”

“I was just leaving.”

“Let me go, Damien.”

“That’s the thing,” he says, “I can’t, Julie. I love you.”

She sighs because she loves him, too. “I can’t keep riding this rollercoaster.”

The groundhog said it would be bad. The groundhog has a bad habit of understatement. Winter comes in like a lion, stays like a lion, and goes out like a lion; and a groundhog is to blame. Or the weatherman. I like blaming the weatherman.

Ice covers everything like an uncomfortable transparent blanket. My opaque blankets beckon me to return to bed, and I wish I could acquiesce. I cannot use the weather, or the weatherman, or a groundhog, or a lion or anything else as a scapegoat.

It seems February is always this way and how it will probably remain.

“You’re not as I remember,” Jennifer Howe sipped lightly from her steaming cup, “but I can’t quite place my finger on it.”

“It has been a few years. I don’t believe I’m the same man you knew at all,” Kowalski smiled.

“You still have your old smile,” Jennifer smiled as well, “You’re not completely different. I’m sorry, would you like some coffee?”

“No thank you, Jenn. I’m afraid I didn’t come for the reunion. You remember Lesley?”

“Lesley Park? Yes, I remember her.”

“She’s dead,” Darrin Kowalski’s voice faltered, “She’s dead, Jenn.”

“I don’t understand,” Jennifer said, “How?”

“I killed her.”

“What are you trying to prove, Holly?”

“Y-you know very well what I—Stay back!” Holly’s entire body trembles, but her gun remains steadily trained on Phil. “So help me, I will shoot you, Phil! Don’t think I won’t!”

For a brief moment Phil’s face is blank with shock, but he quickly recovers to his usual smirk, “We both know you don’t have the—”

POW! Crrrrsh!

The flower vase on the mantle behind Phil shatters into a thousand pieces.

“Woah! Okay! Okay!” Phil holds up his hands, “What do you want?”

“I want you to suffer like I have,” Holly says.

“Today I realized I am not the hero of my own story,” Quinn says matter-of-factly.

“Excuse me?” Talia says.

“I think we all have this idea that our lives should conform to the elements of a good story. There should be a beginning, middle and end. You should get to be the hero, overcome the challenges set before you, and live happily-ever-after.”

Talia says nothing.

“I’ve realized I’m not the hero. I’m not the sidekick. I’m not even the comic relief character. I’m just an extra, nameless Bystander #2.”

“I think I’ll just walk instead of catch the bus,” Talia says.

Gabby says I think too much, and she’s probably right. But with everything that’s going on right now can anyone really blame me for thinking too much?

Mr. Sullivan assigned us to partners for our final projects. He says they will account for ten percent of our final grade. Ten percent! That’s a whole letter grade if I screw it up, and I probably will, because I was paired up with Bobby Mitchell. How am I supposed to think about Social Studies when I’m working with the guy I’ve crushed on for two whole years?

Gabby says I should totally chill.