Where's the Good in Goodbye?
Chapter 1: Story of a Girl
"Deep in my heart, I'm concealing things that I'm longing to say.
Scared to confess how I'm feeling. Frightened you'll slip away."
I didn't mean to throw the rock through his window…it was just a reflexive action. It couldn't be helped…honest. I have a policy, if you annoy me, you will pay. Therefore, he will pay for his own window. Not like he didn't have the money; everyone in this neighborhood was wealthy. I, unfortunately, happened to be his next door neighbor, and fellow neighbor of all the snobs that happened to live here.
"What the-O'Connor?" That bumbling idiot would happen to be my next door neighbor and ex B-F-F, Dominick Lazlo. "What the hell was that for?"
I was so close to replying 'for being an idiot' but I refrained. I shrugged slightly instead and answered, "It slipped. Woopsie." It was actually because his awful music was playing way too loud and I couldn't concentrate on my AP chemistry molecule assignment. It was a pain to begin with, and I didn't need his crappy excuse for music distracting me and making it take even longer to complete.
I was standing on my balcony which is right in front of his balcony. Technically I broke the glass door, not the window, but really, who's keeping track? It used to be convenient, having balconies across from each other, we would sneak out at night and talk till late and our parents would never know.
But now it was more…inconvenient. Except for right now, because I get the satisfaction of breaking his door. I feel like doing a little victory twirl, but he's still looking at me.
"First of all, how do you have rocks on your balcony? Second, what were you thinking? You are freaking crazy, you know that?!" he bit out in one breath.
"So that's why I did it." I mused aloud, sarcastically, "All this time I thought it was because your music pushed me over the edge. But you must be right…it's probably because I'm crazy." My voice made even myself wince. Then it turned flat, "Keep your music down, or your broken door's buddy there (the other side of the door) is doing down, too."
He muttered something under his breath and smiled a big fake smile directed to me, "I've got an idea, Miss Mackenzie O'Connor, If you crawl back under your rock and go back into seclusion like everyone wants you to, you don't even have to pay me for the door."
"You know, as tempting as that sounds, if I go back into seclusion, who's going to let you know you're a self-righteous pig that deserves to die?" I answered back just as faux-sweetly.
"Whatever, I've got-er-company, waiting for me in my room, so just give me the check later."
"Pshtt, I'm not paying you, you jerk. You brought it on yourself. And, um, I believe your mistress is waiting." I said, "Tootles." I ended, waving slightly, and then turning on my heel and marching back into my room.
As much as I didn't want that 'seclusion' statement to affect me, it pretty much hit home. I hate how whenever we got into one of our matches, his quips got a little more personal.
It's not like anything he says should even be worth listening to, but when you used to be best friends with your mortal enemy, it's a little difficult not to get personal.
Our situation is a little…awkward, I guess. We've been neighbors since forever, since our parents were neighbors since before we were born. So ever since we were born, we were always together, we had the same nanny, it was almost as if we were one person in two bodies. A few years ago, when we were thirteen, my mom died. She was hit by a drunk driver.
As much as it seems like our parents weren't there for us when we were young, considering we had nannies, they were there for us; especially my mom. My mom loved art, but was only able to do it when she wasn't on business trips with my dad. Whenever she came home, she would take me down to our gallery, which is basically like a room in our house filled with windows and plants, and it's just inspiring.
We would go into the gallery and just do all sorts of crazy art projects. Hers would be perfect, and mine…well, let's just say you wouldn't be able to tell if it was a cup or an animal. I've improved since then. I've had plenty of time to do so, too.
The summer she died I holed myself up in my room and just waited for the pain to go away. I'm still picking up the pieces of my thirteen year old heart, though, so no such luck.
Where I found solace in solitude, my father found it in indulgence of work. It's been a month since he's been home…some kind of business trip. I know he loves me, it's just, he's not good at showing it anymore. Although even when he is home, I barely see him.
The problem here is, when I was holed up in my house, I didn't really talk to any of my friends, and they took it as a sign to move on. And who am I to deny them happiness over depression? I just wish they would have stuck around after my breakdown was over.
Most of them became overly popular, such as our good friend Dominick. And the others don't even acknowledge my existence anymore. Oh yes, the popular kids acknowledge my existence…when they attempt to mock me. But none of them have much of an IQ, so their futile attempts bore me sometimes.
Dominick is probably the only smart one of them all. He's actually pretty much level with me, seeing as we're in the same classes and have the same GPA. It's pathetic, but I digress.
I know you're wondering why they would act so inhumane towards a girl who just lost her mother, but it's basically because when they tried to comfort me, I yelled at them and told them I never wanted to see them again. They now look at me as someone who betrayed their perfectness.
I believe Dom tried to stick around a while longer than them all, but it didn't take me long to scare him away, either.
At first, when I was back to my normal self, I tried to seek acceptance again. And when that didn't work, I became a shell, and no one was able to tell apart my grief from my happiness. This is good, because they certainly don't need another reason to mock me.
It's obviously simple to understand my social standing in school. Dominick's is a little different. He's the most sought after boy in school, basically.
The teachers adore him; the girls all chase his 6'3", lean and toned body, with tousled honey colored hair, and those deep chocolate colored eyes. All the guys idolize him, and all the colleges want him for his "outstanding soccer abilities", even though we're only juniors.
I guess we're polar opposites. I'm, unfortunately, a mere 5'3", I have a lean figure because I swim, and really small feet. My hair reaches the higher middle of my back; it's black and has natural beach waves. My eyes are a flashing emerald, and I have trained them to hide my emotions.
I am not sought after by anyone. Not even the people I used to trust with my life. I guess that says something about my life, huh?
This is, and I quote, the story of a girl; and a pathetic story at that. And the girl, unfortunately, is me. Oh how I wish I was simply a narrator for someone else's story.
Hey guys…well, if there's actually anyone reading this at all. This is pretty much my first time writing, so don't judge too much, please.
I would love constructive criticism, and any suggestions. I also need a beta reader, so if anyone is willing, just let me know!
I realize it's not too long, but it will start getting longer.
I hope I get some feedback on this, and some reviews.
Thanks for reading!