47Dave's Not So Dreamy Dream Girl
The walls were the same shade of pea green as the canned soup that dad served us on the nights he liked to refer to as 'family dinner night'. The linoleum tiles were stained with splatters of mud, and the odd drop of blood that had fallen from an injured patient. The chairs in the waiting area were old and worn, the stuffing peeking from the arm rests, and seeping out of the sides when you sat down.
Denise refused to sit down and instead opted for pacing the room, which made me even more nervous than I was. Half of my nails were gone, going against my beliefs that nail-biting was a habit pursued by females and females only. "Could you please take a damn seat?" I snapped after Denise had paused in front of me for the thirty-fifth time, her eyes brimmed with dried tears.
"How can you be so calm?" she hissed, her voice slightly raspy and strained, "When you know that dad is inside of these rooms with his stomach being pumped?"
She thought I was calm? My nails were practically bleeding at the tips. I focused my attention on the small television that had been mounted on the wall. A re-run of Random Hearts was showing. Harrison Ford and the blonde woman that starred in it were just about to confess their feelings for each other.
I rolled my eyes and redirected my stare to the door, where a victim of a car accident was being wheeled in. Blood was spurting about two feet from their chest, while one of their arms was hanging over the side, mangled to the point that the muscle had been torn open and some bone was showing.
I shut my eyes slowly. My life was just about to be screwed over by a suicidal dad and an impromptu break up which will probably plague my mind for the following months.
I won't lie. I have had other girlfriends before Jill, each unique, sexually attractive, and good looking. Some were even smart. Yet I never really thought that I would date the most popular girl at school. When we got together, Belmont's social ladder was ruptured, and for a while, all levels of social acceptability were ignored. The jocks asked some of the better-looking studious girls out, and one of the Goths went as far to date a skater.
It was pandemonium. Jill Parker and I were the ultimate match made in socialite hell. It was as if Angelina Jolie and Woody Allen were dating. I'm not saying that I was a form of reject, but I wasn't at the top of the social ladder either. I lingered around the middle along with Scott and some other guys.
I was allowed to date below me, but never above. Which is why it shocked me that firstly, I temporarily lost my ability to think, and asked Jill out, and secondly, she accepted. Any guy in my place would have been turned down flat.
"Are you Garett Summer's children?"
A stern looking doctor donning a crisp white lab coat stood before Denise and I holding an equally white clipboard. A tarnished metal stethoscope hung around his neck. After Denise nodded hastily, he cracked the faintest of smiles. "Your father is going to make it." He informed us.
Part of me wanted to fling my arms around Denise and cry in relief. The other part wanted to shrink further into the worn chair I was currently sitting on and never get up and have to face another string of sleepless nights.
"However," the doctor added, and I swore I heard Denise swallow hard, "He will have to remain in the intensive unit as the pills he took seem to have ruptured the insides of his stomach." He paused for a while, taking in my sister's horrified expression, "It appears that this isn't the first time he has overdosed."
I averted my gaze from the doctor, twisting the bottom of my navy shirt into a knot. "He has tried this before," I said aloud, to no one in particular, "This isn't the first time he's done something incredibly thoughtless and stupid."
The doctor remained silent. Denise let out an angry cry. "He's our father." She told me, "And ever since mom left us you can't blame him for being miserable. He's only human."
I tightened the knot on my shirt with my first. "I'm not blaming him. I just want him to stop plaguing his own children with his problems."
The doctor cleared his throat. "I've checked both your records and since you are both adults, you are allowed to go home. Your father will be spending the night here. You may do the same, if you wish."
"I'll stay the night." Denise said almost immediately, "Could I just go home to pick up some necessities?"
A curt nod indicated this was alright, and Denise grabbed my arm roughly and wrenched me from the seat, dragging me towards the parking lot. I pried her sharp nails from my forearm, and rubbed it gently. "Why are you so damn insensitive Douglas?" she fumed, "This is dad."
"No," I corrected, "This is some man who wants nothing more than to successfully kill himself, and every time he gets close to doing so, we have to go interfere."
Denise stopped walking and turned to me. Her normally warm brown, brimmed with tears, held a mixture of disgust and anger. When she spoke, her voice had lost any hint of sympathy or patience. "You are the worst son and brother anyone could ever have."
Before I could stop her, she had snatched the car keys from my jeans pocket and captured them in one tight fist. "Just for that, I'm not riding in the same car as you." She said through gritted teeth, "Go find your own ride home you sadist."
I didn't bother going after her, knowing it would be in vain. I tried to shrug off the annoyance that had gathered on my shoulders since the discovery of dad lying motionless on his bed at home and began to walk slowly.
I figured the best place to crash would be at Scott's, so I made tracks to there, pulling up the sides of my jacket and doing the zipper up. The frosty night air nipped at the tips of my ears and my exposed forehead. A cold, unwelcoming breeze brushed strands of dark hair from my face.
I hung my head forward as I walked. Another night had been ruined. Then again, it was no surprise. Most of my nights were ruined by dad's insane antics. I never fully knew what happened to mom, so I couldn't try to set things right.
Not that I would. It would take some months of intensive therapy to jolt dad to his senses again. Yet even then I wouldn't believe it was truly the dad I had when mom and him were together. After she left, he developed the uncanny ability to push the term 'family love' to the limit.
I recalled dad telling me that mom had found another man. Either that or she had gotten tired of him and couldn't find the heart to admit it. I was pretty angry when I found out what she had done. Dad was a great guy, and he didn't deserve it.
But he was a great guy. Now he isn't anymore. He's more of an empty shell trying to find something to fill him again, to 'make him complete'. I've never told him that it will never happen. So maybe I'm not the wretched son Denise says I am. For some reason, she's sided with dad the whole time.
Scott's bedroom window was closed, with the light on inside. I bent down and selected two smooth pebbles from his front yard. The first one – not surprisingly- missed and hit his parent's bedroom window.
I crouched behind the fence in case his mom or dad came to check. My breath was already beginning to come out in small puffs of white by the time I gathered the guts to throw the second pebble.
Scott appeared at his window a few minutes later. "Who's there?" he asked somewhat groggily, rubbing both of his eyes.
"Douglas." I answered, beginning to climb the tree that was growing out of the front yard, the one whose branches scraped against Scott's window, "I'm crashing at your place tonight."
Scott yawned, opening his window further and leaning out slightly to take a closer look and make sure it was really me, and not some psycho female stalker like Jane O'Neal, whose party, incidentally, was being held tomorrow. "Terrance and Dave are here." He informed me, prying the curtains apart to make it easier for me to enter his room, "You woke me up."
"Then you were sleeping too early." I answered curtly, landing in his room and brushing stray pieces of bark from my clothes.
Terrance and Dave were sprawled on the floor. Terrance, Scott's younger brother, was barely hanging onto one of the single beds in Scott's reasonably spacious room. His brown hair, the exact shade as Scott's, was longer than it should have been for a guy. The fact that his face was feminine-like didn't help.
Paper was scattered all over the floor, along with the usual assortment of half-empty cigarette packets and bottles of vodka with the liquor having seeped onto the carpeted flooring. I located Dave by the bedroom door, his face tucked under his arm, his mouth hanging open. Drool had formed a puddle by his left cheek.
Scott closed his window tightly, and faced me, scratching his head. "Did you dad attempt suicide again?" He said knowingly, the smallest of grins flickering on his face.
"Actually, yeah, he did." I replied, shrugging off my jacket and draping it over Scott's computer chair, "Except this time it wasn't self-mutilation, it was an overdose of sominex."
"He's getting creative. Before you know it, he's going to move onto dieting pills." Scott laughed dryly, sinking onto one end of his bed and propping his feet up, "But that doesn't explain why you're here. You normally rough it out at your place."
"Denise called me sadist when I didn't cry my heart out at the hospital early tonight." I explained, while removing my shoes and tossing them somewhere under one of the beds, "She said it wasn't dad's fault that mom left him."
"I'm just wondering how the hell your dad manages to juggle his job as a well-off lawyer and fit in all those suicide attempts. He would make a great reality TV show if someone signed him up."
"I think my family's dysfunctional enough as it is, but thanks for the offer."
Scott broke into an amiable grin and held out a half-full bottle of vodka. "Have some." He told me simply, "It'll help you fall asleep and forget about everything for at least twelve hours."
I took the bottle from his grasp and briefly glanced at the label. "Why is Terrance sleeping in your room tonight?" I asked randomly, wiping the bottle mouth with the edge of my shirt.
I hated germs. "Since Dave came over with this whole crate of liquor, and I had just made my trip to the drug store, he figured he'd crash here to and take what he could." Scott shrugged, covering a large yawn with his hand, "I don't blame him. We had fun watching pornography on the computer." His eyes strayed to his computer screen, which flickered invitingly.
I finally smiled and moved towards his desk. "Show me." I ordered Scott.
I woke up with an intense headache. The sun was filtering through the bedroom window, making me squint slightly. As I brought myself to my elbows I took in the posters of Charlize Theron and Jessica Alba, and I realized this wasn't my room, because I only had music posters on my walls. "Douglas, you awake?"
Dave's drawn face materialized before me. He had huge, black rings under his eyes, his face awkwardly pale. "I'm think I'm awake." I groaned, scratching the back of my neck before pulling myself into a sitting position and looking around, my eyes still adjusting to the harsh glare.
It must have been past noon. "Terrance and Scott are having lunch downstairs. After that we're all going to the movies to catch that latest horror flick. Forgot what its called. You coming?"
"Yeah, I'm coming." I responded irritably, straightening up and scanning the room for my sweater, "Tell Scott that I'm coming."
Dave stretched his arms over his head. "I had the most awesome dream last night."
"Tell me about it." I said absently, tugging on my sweater, which had somehow mysteriously gained yellow stains on the hem.
"It started off as any boring dream, you know. Then, suddenly, I saw her."
I muffled a snort. "Who's her?"
"The new girl." Dave answered hurriedly, "The one that just moved to Belmont. Even though school's out for two weeks, she's already here and I heard she needs someone to show her around. She's hot. I've seen her. She's got these jade eyes, and kind of light brown-blonde hair." He took a deep breath from his dramatic speech, "She's a goddess."
"And you recommended me to show her around?" I joked, making my way to Scott's kitchen downstairs, "How much did you drink last night anyways?"
"I didn't drink that much. Well not as much as I could have." He waved one hand impatiently, "That's not important. What's important is, today we're going out and we're going to find her."
"What are we going to do after we find her?" Scott asked, and I realized we had reached the kitchen.
I didn't know how much longer I could listen to Dave rant on about his newest dream girl. "We'll invite her to hang out with us." Dave replied enthusiastically, and I exchanged a knowing grin with Scott, "Then we'll get her to come to one of our houses and have a party."
"There's one minor flaw in your great plan to win the girl of your dreams Casanova." I laughed while pouring myself a glass of – god bless Scott for drinking it – strawberry milk, "This girl doesn't exist."
"Acthually," Terrance spoke up, making me aware to his presence at the far end of the dining table, "Tithe doeth."
When I first met Terrance Dermot, I thought he was making fun of me by the he spoke. It was only after I ripped on him and Scott almost drove his fist through my stomach that I discovered that Terrance spoke the way he did thanks to his retainers. My next question was why the hell doesn't he remove them when he talks to people?
Scott and I looked at each other, before we scrambled to sit next to Terrance. Dave banged his fist on the table. "I knew it." He said triumphantly, "I knew there was a new girl in town just like the one in my dream."
"Shut up Dave." Scott snapped, before punching his brother's arm playfully, "Tell us about this new chick. What's she look like? What are the stats? What's her bra size?"
Terrance leaned back a little. "Thith's average height. Thith's got dark blonde hair – on the brown thide, and wide, bottle green eyeth. I haven't checked her bra thithe yet," he told us with a wink, "But thith's got curveth from here to China."
"We've hit home." Scott cried out, grinning maniacally, "Now all we have to do is meet her before Riley and his group of muscle-head jocks do."
Dave slumped back on the kitchen chair, toying with a strand of his freakishly light blonde-almost platinum-hair. "How much do you want to bet they're probably already driven her to the backseat of their car by now." He mumbled miserably, being the overly-dramatic coward he was.
Sometimes I wondered if Dave actually meant half of the things he said, of if he put on the façade to disguise something, such as the fact that he might be homosexual. I didn't have anything against them, but ever since I met Dave a couple of months ago, he just struck me as weird, and very feminine for a male.
Of course, I could be wrong, and he could be one of those emo types. I could never stand those over sensitive bastards.
"Where thould we look for her?" Terrance quipped, grabbing a sugar-frosted doughnut from the open box on the counter, "Do you guyth think thith might be at the library?"
"Why don't we do this." I suggested, "Terrance and Dave go to the library, while Scott and I try going to the mall. If we find her at either location, we can call each other on our hand phones and meet up 'accidentally'."
Scott clapped. "The savior speaks his wisdom." He commented sarcastically, "Never have I seen a plan so not cliché and flawless."
"Go play with yourself Scott."
He merely grinned and motioned for his lisping brother and suspiciously feminine friend to stand. "Come on. We've got work to do."
The mall was crowded today as well. There were large groups of girls hanging by the main fountain, chatting animatedly about recent events, such as the dress so-so wore at such-and such's party. Scott nudged me and cocked his head towards the ice cream parlor. A tall girl was sitting at one of the metal tables, her long, tanned legs crossed. She wore strappy black heels on her feet.
"Check her out." I said absently.
"Already am." Scott chuckled, already making his way towards the girl, "Let's go talk to her."
I shrugged and followed him, stuffing my hands into my pockets. I wasn't in the mood to chat up girls, despite the fact that Dave's and Terrance's mention of a new girl in town had caught my interest. After Jill split with me for unexplainable reasons, I felt that I had to think things over before jumping into anything.
"Nice shoes." Scott remarked on reaching the girl.
The 'wanna fuck?' that usually followed that pick-up line went unsaid. The girl turned slowly in her feet, gently placing both her strappy-heels clad feet on the floor. "I'm trying to finish my ice cream. Please don't make me vomit it when I'm only half way."
I stood still for a second. I recognized the voice – and the face – almost perfectly. A pair of cynical dark brown eyes were narrowed at Scott and me. Well, mostly me. "You're Denise's brother, right?"
Scott exchanged a confused glance between us, his eyebrow slightly raised. "Who's your friend?" Alex asked, her small old rose skirt sliding up his thighs and causing my gaze to wander downwards.
"Scott." I replied automatically.
Scott's puzzled expression dissolved into an annoyed one. I cleared my throat uncomfortably. "I heard from Denise you didn't stay at your house last night." Alex stated.
When the silence had gone on for long enough, Alex brushed her black hair from her face, lips tilted at one end. "Is this one of the topics that you don't like discussing in front of your friends?" she mused, tilting her head to one side.
"I don't mind discussing certain things in with my friends." I said offhandedly, "You're just not one of them."
The coldness spilled out of my mouth before I could stop it. Scott's eyebrows flew up so fast they disappeared into his hair. Only Alex remained indifferent. The only change on her face was the fact that her lips quirked into a small smile. "You just prove my theory of why Jill left you."
What was it with people bringing that up? "What's your theory?" Scott asked before I could stop him.
"Douglas's a wimp." She replied simply, breaking into a full smile.
I knew her smile was fake but didn't say anything. "Scott, we need to find the new girl." I jumped in, grabbing his arm roughly, "That's what we're here for today anyways."
Alex lowered her layered lashes at Scott, her smile fading. "I'll see you around Scott. It was nice meeting you."
Her voice was husky, almost a whisper. This only served to piss me off even more.
She didn't say goodbye to me.
There was no one to greet me when I entered my house. Dad was still at the hospital, that was for sure, and Denise must have been in her room, as music was pouring out from under her bedroom door. I didn't bother knocking to say hi and instead trudged to my room, leaving the door open behind me.
Scott and I didn't find the 'new girl' at the mall, and had little success with the other females, as our encounter with Alex had dampened my moods. It had done something completely different to Scott.
Something I didn't even want to remember. Ever.
The phone rang as soon as I had picked up a Simpsons comic. "Douglas? Is that you?" the voice practically yelled out of the ear piece.
When I responded the affirmative, the voice began to yell excitedly. "Dude, I saw her. I even talked to her. She's just like the girl in my dream! She is, I swear. Hell, even Terrance talked to her."
"Dave-" I groaned, furrowing my brow.
Terrance's voice floated out of the phone. "Douglath?"
"Yeah it's me."
"You know that girl from Dave'th dream? I thaw her! Thith wath in the library reading thome book on pthytics. I reckon thith' a thmart one. I barely underthand half of the thingth our teacherth tell uth in thchool."
"That's nice." I yawned, lying down on my bed and flipping open the cover of my comic, "Did you get her number?"
"Thith thaid thith doethn't date immature guyth."
"What made her think you two weren't mature?" I chuckled lightly.
"She never said we weren't mature." Dave's voice came back on, "She was actually nice to us. She told me she had never met a guy so understanding and sensitive."
'Wimpish' was more like. "How about Terrance? Did she take a liking to his lisp?"
"That's the weird thing. She felt sorry and him, and gave him her number."
"Ouch. How did you take the blow?"
"She told me she didn't date gays."
I stifled a loud laugh. I wasn't the only one who suspected Dave of being something other than heterosexual. "She's still at the library though." Dave continued, and I sat up in bed, the comic falling to the floor, "She said she was going to be there till midnight. We left 'cause Terrance claimed he couldn't stand being around so many books."
I ushered them into hanging up, before slamming the phone onto the hook and yanking on one of my maroon wool sweaters. I wasn't much of the book-ish type, but I heard that they had some limited edition Simpsons comics in the comic section at the library.
It was quarter to nine when I arrived at the library, and the sun had already set. Darkness seemed to be clawing for me as I walked under the luminous street lights. Kerri's was still open, and few college students were having their late dinner.
There was no sign of my sister or Alex.
The interior of the library was surprisingly fresh. The librarian took in my appearance, the rolled up copy of Bart Simpsons #23 in my hand and raised an eyebrow. "The comics section is down the first aisle, then turn right."
I cracked a grin and made my way there, scanning through the bookshelves for any sign of a blonde girl. I reached the study section of the library some time later, after having gotten myself lost through the maze of books and book carts.
A girl sat at one of the tables amidst a stack of six or seven books, all equally fat and large in size. She looked up as I reached the table. A pair of small, silver-framed glasses sat on the bridge of her upturned nose. Her hair was not as light as Dave had described, but was somewhat dark. Almost brown but not quite.
She looked strangely familiar. "Can I help you with something?" she queried, taking off the glasses and placing them on the book she was reading.
It was pity. I liked girls who wore reading glasses. It was one of those minor details I picked up in the girls I dated. Needless to say, Jill Parker wore reading glasses. "Are you a tutor?" I asked, speaking the first thing that came to my mind.
"It depends." She clasped her hands in a business like manner, "What do you need to be tutored for? Physics? Astro-Physics? Genetic enginerring?"
I was good enough at those subjects, so I hastily checked out the titles of the books stacked on the table. One of them read An Introduction to Modern Art. "I'd like tutoring for art." I was lying through my teeth and I hoped to God she wasn't aware of it.
"Art?" her laugh was cold, despite the heating in the library, "Why would I tutor something like art? It's hardly interesting or logical."
She was down one point. I preferred a girl who appreciated art to an extent. After all, comics were the finest form of modern art in existence. Her gaze lingered on me. "Were you serious about that?"
"Yes I was."
She didn't apologize. She put on her glasses again and began to read. I stood still, watching her irritably. Was this Dave's dream girl? I've seen better girls down at our town's red light district.
"Do you know someone called Terrance Holloway?" I tried.
The girl removed her glasses again. She was agreeably pretty, but she looked better with the spectacles. "I met him here earlier today." She answered, "He was with someone else. He speaks with a lisp right? I gave him my number."
So this was Dave's dream girl. Someone break out the champagne and let's celebrate! "Did he need tutoring?"
"No…I just found him nice and all. The way he talks is really cute."
Goddamn. Since when did lisping become 'hot' in today's society? "What's your name?" I finally inquired.
"Billie."
"Isn't that a boy's name?"
"My family tends to give the female members unisex names. Therefore, my name is not a 'boy's name, but it's for both girl and boys." Her snide tone made me want to hit her over the head with one of those oversized books.
"Well my name is Douglas. Is that a unisex name too?"
"No, and you should know that."
We looked at each other for a moment. Her pale hands were poised above her book, resting one of the yellowing pages. That's when it struck me that I really needed to quit moping for Jill. For the night, anyways.
I went for the direct approach. "Can I walk you home?"
Her dark – not jade, as Dave had insisted - eyes widened slightly to accommodate a mixture of surprise and bewilderment. "Excuse me?"
"Can I walk you home?" I repeated.
She studied me carefully. "What do you want?" She asked after an intense scrutiny.
"A new partner." I answered blatantly, not moving from my spot.
"Are you saying that because you truly like me? Or because you need some sort of fulfillment and I'm going to serve as a rebound?"
This girl was good. "The latter." I replied truthfully.
Billie eventually closed the large book and tucked her glasses in her breast pocket. "I'm not for one-night-stands." She informed me briskly, "So if you want to date me, or even have the smallest chance of doing so, you're going to do it properly."
I sighed. "Billie, will you please go to a movie with me?"
She appeared thoughtful, then shook her head, flashing me another one of her hundred-watt-below-zero-degrees-Celsius smiles. "No."
"Why not?" I was starting to get peeved off.
"Because I'm going to watch a movie with Terrance." She stalked away from me and I glared at her back.
"You should attend charm school Doug." She called brazenly.
"That's Douglas."
She didn't reply. I tightened my grip around the Simpsons comic in my hand. I had a feeling that I was going to see her again, no matter how hard I was about to try and avoid her.
"Dave." I growled into the phone, "Your dream girl turned out to a complete bitch. Where the hell did you find her? Mail-order human ice popsicles?"
Dave yawned on the other end. I could picture looking at the phone in annoyance. "I said she was my dream girl, not yours."
I buried my face into my pillow. "I hate you." My voice came out muffled.
Dave seemed to understand anyways. "There are plenty more dream girls for me to dream of. It's a pity that she and Terrance hit it off so well. I seem to have no chance when it comes to girls."
"She told me I needed to attend charm school."
"She said I was too sensitive for a guy, but hey, to hell with her. If a girl can't accept me for who I am, then I'm going to find one that will. Terrance can have her. I don't go for chicks who find speech impediments attractive."
"Have you realized that all the girls you've either dated or asked out have mentioned you're overly sensitive some time of the other? Doesn't that worry you in the slightest way?"
"Why should it?"
"Because you're too sensitive for a guy. Unless you're emo, in which case, go crawl back into the hole you came out of, you fucking bastard."
Dave's laugh was weak. "I'm sure there are other guys who are just as sensitive as me Douglas."
"Yes, there are, and they're called homosexuals."
"Are you calling me gay?"
"Indirectly, yes I am."
His voice grew strained. "You don't think I really am, do you? I mean, I'm still attracted to girls."
"Frigid bitches would be more like it." I twisted the phone cord into a knot, "I'll leave you something to think over Dave. See you tomorrow."
"'Night, man."
Click. I crawled onto my bed and propped myself onto one elbow. My pillow was unusually warm. I lay down anyways and stared up at my ceiling on which I had scotch-taped pin-ups of my favorite bands.
My door creaked open and I found Denise standing in the light, her face partly enshadowed. "Douglas? Are you awake?" her voice trembled.
I grunted in reply and she entered, slowly closing the door behind her. Wow. Wait a minute. What the hell was she doing inside my room? Without my permission, no less. "Dad's still at the hospital, so the house is kind of empty."
"I've realized."
Her tone was feeble. "I'm sorry about that outburst outside the hospital. I understand that you're angry at dad for screwing up our lives in some way, and you have a right to stick to your beliefs."
Now this was the kind of sister every guy wanted. "Go on."
"I just wanted to know if you'd let me take the bottom bunk and let me spend the night in your room?"
I closed my eyes. "Give me two good reasons and I'll let you."
I heard her chuckle softly. "I bought two one liter cartons of strawberry milk for you."
I smiled in the dark. "Okay, good. Now what's the other reason?"
"I think I may know why Jill Parker broke up with you."
I felt like rolling off the top bunk and somehow killing myself in the process. "I don't care why she did."
"I think you do." Denise countered, sounding more and more like my smart-ass twin sister, "It was rather murky, the way you split, don't you think?"
"Stop psycho-analyzing me. It's too late at night to be doing that."
"I know you didn't cheat on her Douglas."
Hey, there was hope for mankind after all. "I think we've established that."
"Do you want me to help you or not?"
"Just go to sleep. You can spend the night already."
I heard the bottom bunk creak under my sister's weight. "If you need help, just say so."
"I don't need help Denise."
"I think you do."
"No I don't. Stop trying to fix my life."
"You need to get laid Douglas. Badly."
A pregnant pause.
"I know sis, I know."
A/N Ah yes. SM is finally finished and now I can focus on my other two stories. Finally I crank out another 10-something pages for VAR. This story's more angsty that the other two, and I'm taking it deeper with character development, to show a definite difference between all the characters. Also, if you want 'action' in whatever form to happen, it won't come all at once, but rather in small, calculated doses. Well not always, but mostly.
The romance part of this story won't rush in, and it won't be concentrated on sex as much as The Seventh Sin. I'm glad you guys liked the first chapter.
Personal Responses
Duchess Yapping Star Alex isn't a high-school dropout. I altered the plot slightly so that she isn't quirky and a high school dropout, but rather someone in their last year of high school with a cold personality to match. I re-did the summary, so I understand your confusion. Sorry about that.
Maya Beebop In some schools students in one grade can be either one year younger or one year older than the usual age. This could be the case with this story, or it could be just a different school system.
Tassy100 Thanks :-). I will read your works when I find time. My mock exams are coming up in less than two months, with the IGCSE exams right on their heels, so its been hard to juggle reading stories on FictionPress and updating. However I will read yours as soon as I can.
Secretive It's nice to know you like the story so much despite it only having been one chapter long. Hehe. Douglas is a somewhat dysfunctional character, in the sense that he's going through a lot of problems and he doesn't know how to handle them properly. I feel that it give Douglas a more realistic feel to him. After all, he is a typical nineteen year old male.
Thanks to the everyone else who reviewed:
Zarastar, twistedFAerieTAles, Diablo Darkmoond, gooey, Instant Ninja, penami, books4me, FoREvER ends, QuOtAtA, Alexandra Ann and abc123 chewy.