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Tragic Love Friday

In the last week, I've fallen into bed past midnight almost every night after laboring over the creating and burning and addressing and mailing of seventeen super-delicious cheddar-cheesy CDs, avoided resuming regular healthful activity, inhaled half a Pizzeria Uno deep dish, and suffered from one nightmare in which the ghost of a little girl visits me in my dead grandmother's apartment to warn me about the end of the world. Good times!

And yet, YET, Tragic Love Friday awaits us. The antics of a teenage boy who possesses the ability to make female infatuation junkies fall madly in love with him even though he works behind the cash register of a Mickey D's must go on.

Spelling errors remain intact, commentary in brackets, yadda yadda yadda.

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CHAPTER TWO - DAVID (CONTINUED)

Talking with Cassie had made me late. My shift began at 9:00, and I arrived at 9:15. My boss, Mr. Steiner, was not a happy camper about this. He pointed to the clock. "You're late, David, and we've been real busy the last couple of hours."

"I'm sorry, sir," I said, hanging my head. "It won't happen again."

"That's what you said yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. It's getting old."

"I'm sorry," I repeated. "But I work late everyday, and I'm just so tired, and--"

"I know," he said, rolling his eyes. "You already told me the sob story about your pregnant girlfriend."

[Slamma!]

I felt my face grow hot.

"I want to make sure this won't happen again, so--"

"It won't," I interrupted. He glared at me. "Just to make sure, I'm docking you an hour's pay." [Is that even legal?]

"An hour? But--"

"Hey!" he yelled. "If you've got a problem, the door's over there."

I sighed. [The sighing returns!] "No sir."

"Then get to work."

[Doesn't this scene make a great argument for abstinence until marriage?]

I went to my register quickly. Damn him, I thought. He knew I needed every cent I made. He knows how bad I need this crappy job. I'd only lose about $5.00 from my pay, but I NEEDED that $5 dollars.

I kept busy at the register for a couple of hours with no problems from Steiner. But then I got a phone call.

"David!" My boss sounded mad. "Phone for you!" He thrust the phone in my hand, whispering, "every minute you're on the phone, you lose 10 minutes pay. [Pre-marital sex literally doesn't pay!] I'm timin' ya, kid."

Sighing [!], I picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"David, it's Jenna."

"Jenna, I can't talk right now. This place is too busy."

"But it's about the baby!"

Tapping my foot, I said, "What's going on?"

"You were supposed to the doctor a half an hour ago. Today is the day I have an ultrasound."

"Oh, Jenna," I moaned, "I'm sorry. I forgot. Steiner offered me some work, and I couldn't say no." I felt like kicking myself.

"Well," she replied, sighing [three sighs and counting!], "we're not too late. Just come pick me up and--"

"You don't understand! Steiner's in a bad mood. I can't leave."

"How am I supposed to get there?" she wailed.

"I don't know!" I cried. I did NOT have time for this today. "Take the bus."

"The Bus?!?!"

"Yeah. I'll call you later." I hung up before she could reply.

[At the time I wrote this, I was fourteen and thought Jenna was a big fat baby. Now? OMG, I would've been so pissed. So pissed!]

A few hours later, my shift was over. I cleaned up and headed for Jenna's house. She let me in without saying a word. She slowly sat down.

I joined her, & for a few minutes there was silence. I knew I had to make the first move. I cleared my throat.

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so cold to you on the phone. And I didn't mean to forget about the appointment, either. It's just that I've been so busy with work, and I had school to worry about until yesterday. When Steiner told me about some extra work last night, all I thought was, 'great. That's more money for Jenna and the baby. That's the only thought that keeps me going when I want to collapse from lack of sleep. Can you understand?" I knew that she did when she hugged me tight and I felt the bulge of her belly press against me. It gave me a warm feeling. [No, not THAT kind of feeling, you sick perverts.]

[Also, I worked for McDonald's once, too, also in high school. For two months. I never collapsed from exhaustion, but I did eat a lot of free sundaes. Plus, if we worked the closing shift, we could take home the extra burgers and fries. That was fun.]

"I'm sorry, too," she whispered. "I didn't know I sounded so whiny on the phone. My hormones are acting crazy, and I took it out on you. I know that was wrong, too. You work so hard." Then Jenna's face lit up. "I've got news about our baby. Doctor Foremann did the ultrasound. Our little GIRL'S doing just fine!"

I grinned. "You mean it's a girl?"

She nodded. [Jenna's "urge" was right! She is so psychic!]

"That's great!!" I felt like I was on Cloud 9. "We should start choosing some names for her."

"OK. I'll go get a pen and some paper." She went into the kitchen, and when she returned, both items were in her hand. She sat on the floor so she could write on the coffee table. "Shoot."

"Candy," I offered. Jenna wrinkled her nose in distaste. "That's a name for girls with zero brain cells."

"Just put it down." Reluctantly she wrote it down. "I think the name Michelle is beautiful." She wrote it on the paper, even though I shook my head. "It's too common."

For a half an hour we came up with names, but nothing we could actually name our daughter. I wanted names that were cool but not common.

"How about Mary?" I asked. [Because nobody in the world is named Mary.]

My girlfriend looked thoughtful. "Mary. That's nice. A lot of girls are named Mary, though."

"That's OK. We'll just add another name to it. How about Mary Ellen?"

She shook her head. "Mary Anne?" [My Baby-sitters Club obsession is showing here.]

"Nah." We were quiet for a minute.

"I know." Jenna looked pleased. "Mary Katherine."

I smiled. "That's not half bad, Jen. It's even kinda pretty."

She clapped her hands and threw her arms around my neck. "Then Mary Katherine it is. Oh, David! We're gonna be so happy!" She tried to kiss me, but it was interrupted by a huge yawn from me. "Sorry. I guess I'm just tired."

"You work too hard," Jenna complained.

"Well, momma, that's life."

"Yeah, well, sometimes you need to rest, and spend some time with the people who love you, who need you." She was sounding like a spoiled child!

I took deep breaths. Her hormones are crazy, she's tired, and she's at an emotional time, I told myself. Then I sighed out loud [number four!], and got up. "I'm exhausted, momma. I've gotta get some sleep."

"Fine." She went and opened the door for me. "I'll see you later."

"Yeah." I hurried to my car and drove home before I fell asleep at the wheel. I didn't fall asleep right away, though, so I had the chance to mull over a few things. Like my relationship with Jenna.

All our friends thought we were doing great, and even Jenna and I hadn't talked about it, but I knew there were problems with us. We didn't have a lot of time for each other anymore, and when we WERE together, we often fought or argued about little things. Even though I'd never say it to anyone, I was beginning to doubt that things would be OK. I mean, any couple faced with our situation would have problems. But I told Jenna I wanted to marry her! How can I? Things are changing so fast, and I hate change. But the fact is that I don't love Jenna the same way anymore. A few times, I'd considered leaving Jenna and working child custody arrangements out with her.

But my daughter deserved better. She deserved a mother and father who were MARRIED. And in my own way, I did love Jenna. She would never know how many doubts I had.

Life sucks, I thought to myself before my eyelids closed.

***

When I woke up, it was already eight-thirty at night. I got out of bed, feeling better than I had in days. I guess getting sleep helps.

In the kitchen on the refridgerator, there were 2 notes. The first was from Cassie:

DAVID,

MICHAEL CALLED AT FIVE. YOUR BOSS CALLED TOO AND SAID SOMETHING ABOUT GETTING OVERTIME. - Cassie

The other one was from Mom:

DAVEY,

I'M GOING TO BE SPENDING TIME WITH a FRIEND FOR 2 WEEKS IN HAWAII. I'LL CALL YOU IN A FEW DAYS. Some grocery MONEY is in MY top DRAWER. CASSIE KNOWS. SMOOCHES! - MOM

[Yes, I really alternated between sentence and upper case.]

I scowled. Screw you, Mr. Steiner. You, too, Mom. In her drawer, there was $200. I took 50 of it and called Michael. He answered on the first ring. "David?" [Another psychic!]

"Yeah, it's me. Listen, do you want to do something tonight? I've got a full wallet and nothing to do."

"Sure. What do you have in mind?" [I don't think straight men should say this line to other straight men.]

"I'll tell you when I see you. I'll pick you up in 10 minutes."

It took me 20 minutes because I stopped at 'LARRY'S LIQUORS' on the way. Michael grinned as he climbed in and saw 3 6-packs of beer. "How'd you get it?" he asked. "I didn't know you had a phony ID."

"I don't. I slipped him a 20, and he sold it to me." [Ah, the good old days...]

I drove us to Lookout Hill, a place where people get screwed, drunk, and do anything else that adults tell us to say no to. [I totally stole this hill from Sweet Valley High's Miller Point, where Todd and Elizabeth went to kiss each other on the cheek and talk about The Oracle.]

We stayed there for an hour, and in that time I had 4 beers, while Michael only had 2.

I was already high-strung that night; the beer didn't help any. I got drunk real fast. That's probably why I told Michael, in great detail and using hand motions, all about my problems with Jenna. [Way to keep the drama to yourself, buddy.] When I was done, I slumped in the driver's seat. Michael let out a low whistle. "Wow. I didn't realize that things with you and Jenna were so bad."

I closed my eyes and shrugged my shoulders. [What, no sighing?] "I don't know what what went wrong." [The condom, David. The condom is what went wrong.]

"Maybe it's less complicated than you think."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...maybe you're still in love with Kayla," he answered softly.

"What?!" Michael was confusing me.

"Maybe you still love Kayla," he repeated.

"You spent a year and a half with her, and you're STILL not sure why you broke up with her." He lapsed into silence.

My thoughts were spinning, and my mind went back to a time when everything I ever wanted was in Kayla. She used to be my life; my love. Her smile could melt my heart. We were so happy.

[Nothing says "I love you" like breaking up with your soul mate and boinking her BFF.]

You're with Jenna, now, I told myself, but my old emotions were brought up when Mike mentioned Kayla's name. Her image was now burned on my brain. Her long golden hair being slightly blown by the cool breeze. Her deep blue eyes so clear it was like looking into the ocean. Her small, petite frame.

I took a deep breath. "I think I better drop you off now, Mike."

He nodded understandingly. "Me, too." [Oh, tricky Michael!]

After I took him home [these innuendos just get pervier and pervier, don't they?], I drove around for a while, feeling guilty because I knew where I'd end up.

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Well, friends, there you have it; the "baby names, coveting, and underage drinking" I promised you last week. This segment was way long but necessary to properly set you up for next week, when David and Kayla...well...you'll just have to wait and see.

Tragic Love Friday

People, I am stuffed. Two Thanksgiving dinners in two days! Stuffed. And tired. Zzzzz.

Before I veg in front of the boob tube, though, it's time to share the second installment of Tragic Love Friday. Last week, we learned about Jenna's knack for seducing her best friend's boyfriend and becoming pregnant with his illegitimate child. Now it's time to tell you (wait for it) the rest of the story.

As before, personal commentary appears in brackets.

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CHAPTER ONE - JENNA (CONTINUED)

When I was younger, I often thought about the time I would become a mother. Now in a few months, I'd be holding my baby, touching her, loving her. The doctor who was taking care of me hadn't said so, but I was positive that David and I had created a daughter.

"Mommy," I whispered. The word rolled off my lips, and I smiled. "Jenna Meddows is a mommy-to-be." [Do pregnant women actually talk like this? Please hit me upside the head if I ever talk like this.]

Somehow, my mind drifted off to Kayla. My smiled faded into a frown. Boy, I thought. I sure messed things up with her.

We used to share everything, and do everything together. Hours were spent talking about nothing.

Since my parents were away so much, I was always at Kayla's house. Her family was like the one I'd always wanted. Besides Michael, she was someone I felt I could always trust. [Does this mean you'll screw him over, too?] That started to change when she started having problems with David.

Kayla would tell me that David told her that he felt the two of them weren't the same, and that he wasn't happy in the relationship. They were on the verge of breaking up, and my friend was desperate. So she asked me to talk to David.

It hurts me still when I remember how heartbroken Kayla was. "Please! Won't you talk to him for me?" she'd pleaded. "He'll listen to you. You guys are friends. Please, Jenna, I couldn't stand it if I lost him." Then she'd cry helplessly, and I'd feel guilty that I didn't want to do it. I hadn't wanted to get in the middle of everything. In the end, though, I gave in. "Thank you so much. You're a real friend," she'd said.

Some friend. I did meet with David. He told me that he and Kayla had lost that spark that kept love alive. [What does that even mean? My inner V.C. Andrews is, like, totally taking over here.] A few days later, he broke up with her. The next few weeks were spent handing Kayla Kleenex and helping David get over the guilt of leaving my friend. After a while, though, the sparks that left Kayla's and David's romance came into our friendship. [Obviously that's not the only thing that "came."] [Ba dum bum ching!] We had a few dates without Kayla's knowledge, and that was all it took. We were falling in love.

Then, somehow, she found out. I will never forget that day. She looked so angry, so hurt. "You back-stabbing lying little bitch!" she'd screamed. "How could you go after my ex-boyfriend? As soon as he dumped me, did he go to you? Did you both laugh at me?"

"It wasn't like that!" I tried to tell her, but she refused to listen. "Liar! You betrayed me! I hate you, Jenna! You hurt me. Thanks for being such a GREAT best friend."

I felt tears slide down my cheeks and I shut my eyes, trying to block the memories, but there was so much to remember, too much to forget. [So deep!]

Cassie slowly became cool towards me and became better friends wth Kayla. Michael was great, though. He supported me, and didn't judge me harshly when I told him I was expecting. He's truly my best friend. [That's cuz he knows you're easy!] I've told him things that even David doesn't know. [Like how to wear a condom?]

I finally calmed myself down. Stop thinking about your mistakes, I told myself, and focus on the future you'll have with David and your baby.

That thought put me in a deep sleep later that night.

CHAPTER TWO - DAVID

The sunlight that came streaming through my window woke me from a deep sleep. "No," I moaned, pulling my blanket over my head. I didn't want to get out of bed. The past few weeks had been so crazy, and it would stay that way till the baby was born. Now that school was out, I would be able to work full time. I'm a cashier at McDonald's. I know it's not the best job in the world, but all the money I make is put into an account. That way, when Jenna and I are married and are living with the baby, we'll have some money to start us off with. And since Jenna didn't work, I provided our money. That was why I often worked overtime and was always available, just in case my boss called and offered me a few hours of work. I took whatever I got. [You got that right, buddy!]

I yawned, stretched, and slowly got out of bed. As I entered the kitchen, I saw Cassie sitting at the table, flipping through the paper and drinking coffee. She looked up as I sat down. "Hey. What time did you get home from work? I didn't hear you come in."

I raised an eyebrow. "Good morning to you, too, sis." I tapped her coffee cup. "I sure could go for some of that right now." [Am Mickey D's overlord! Do my bidding!] My sister rolled her eyes. "How could I turn down such a charming invitation?" But she still poured me some. "You never answered my question. How late did you stay out?"

"I sipped my coffee. "My shift ended at 12:00, and then I went drivin' around."

Cassie sighed. "You work too hard, David. Mom's always complaining that it's like she doesn't even have a son." I laughed. "Doesn't she wish!"

Our mom is a social butterfly. She flits here and there, makes an obligatory appearance at home, and then she's off again. It's no secret that she sleeps around. She's been like that ever since our dad died of a heart attack 3 years ago. [Is David's life story tugging at your heartstrings yet? Because he's one of my favorite characters. That's exactly what I was aiming for.]

Cassie looked sad. "You don't need her. You have Jenna, and you have a baby on the way. You'll be leaving soon, and I'll be stuck at home with dear old Mom."

I smiled and grabbed her hand, giving it a good squeeze. "Don't worry, sis. One day you'll find someone who you'll love forever." [I think I meant to say, "who'll love you forever," but I was too lazy to white it out and redo it.] I laughed. "You've got a lot of time to find him, though. There's no rush."

She rolled her eyes. [Eye rolling is to chapter two what sighing was to chapter one.] "Right. And this is coming from a guy who's expecting a baby in 3 months, AND is engaged!" She stood up and grinned. "Mr. Donovan, I didn't catch your age," she boomed in a deep voice.

I also got to my feet. "Cut it out, Cassie. I've got to get ready for work."

"She wiggled her ear with her fingers. "I didn't hear your age?"

"So I'm only 17. Jenna is, too. We're expecting a child. I think it's only logical we get married."

"Logical?" My sister playfully whacked me in my forehead with the palm of her hand. "You get married for love, silly, not logic." Her tone was gentle. "David, do you love Jenna?"

"That's a stupid question! Of course I do."

"Don't marry her because she's got your bun in her oven. Do it because you'd do it no matter what." [And don't you want to hang this gem as a cross-stitch over the fireplace?]

I laughed at her choice of words. "Nice language." I grew serious. "I don't know what you're talking about, though. I'm with Jenna because I want to be, not 'cause I have to." My sister looked skeptical.

"I know you don't like Jenna because of ... what happened with her, me, and Kayla--"

"You're right," she snapped, cutting me off. "I would never do that to a friend."

"Let it go, Cassie."

"I don't want you to make a mistake. You'd hurt too many people." A tear slid down her cheek. "I can't let go because your my BROTHER, and I care about what happens to you."

"Oh, don't cry, Cassie." I hugged her. "I'm a big boy. If I make a mistake, I can pick up the pieces."

"I guess." She gave me a push. "Go get ready for work."

"OK. I'll talk to you later."

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Tune in next week when I'm not on the verge of passing out at the keyboard. Plus, baby names, coveting, and underage drinking! Who could ask for anything more?

Also, a little belated, but I'd like to dedicate the typing of this story to my sister, Samantha. Partly because she asked me to, and partly because she lists it on her blog as one of her favorite books of all time. Oh yes she does.

Tragic Love Friday

It's the end of the work week. It's not raining. Lionel Richie's Definitive Collection is in my disc player and "Penny Lover" is gently caressing the speakers. Life, she is good.

If you were intimately familiar with my 100 things list, you would know that the three-part hint I included in yesterday's post actually contains the words to a two-part, soap-style fictional series I wrote at the tender and boyfriend-starved age of fourteen, at which time I was caught in the throes of daytime's "love in the afternoon." I wrote both parts between the months of May and October, and I delighted in passing the notebooks off to my friends as I went along, relishing in the attention for the one thing I could do really well.

With all the talk of cheesy love goin' 'round these parts lately, there is no better time to implement Tragic Love Fridays, which I will use as a means to share the saga of five teenagers from Somewhere, Illinois, and their dabbles in lust, heartbreak, death, and of course, babies. It's no Flower in the Attic, but there's a little bit of sex and a whole lot of clichéd dialogue, so it's not a complete waste of your time. Plus, my adolescent self is peeing in her pants now that her momma-drama masterpiece is finally being published for the masses. (And if anyone tries to claim any part of it as their own, I will HUNT. THEM. DOWN.)

For your amusement, spelling and grammar errors remain intact. Current musings appear in brackets.

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Love, Betrayal, and a Baby

PART I

CHAPTER ONE - JENNA

"Yeah! Alright! PARTY!!"

As the final bell rang, crowds of kids rushed out of Roosevelt High. Everyone was yelling and jumping around. My friends and I almost lost each other in the crowd. We managed to get away and settle down under a tree not too far away from the school. I sat down slowly. My boyfriend David Donovan let out a loud whoop. "Finally! The last day of school is OVER! Summer vacation is here!" I smiled at his enthusiasm. "Now we can make some official plans," I said softly, patting my round belly. [Slut!] His eyes glowed.

"That's right," said Michael Spencer. "In 3 more months, you two will be the proud parents of a little boy or girl."

David's sister Cassie cried, "I'm going to be an aunt! I can't wait!" She sighed. "You guys are so lucky. Having a baby has got to be the most wonderful thing in the world."

I nodded and glanced at Kayla Evans [first name totally stolen from Days of Our Lives], the only one who didn't join in on the conversation. But I understood. David was Kayla's boyfriend for a year and a half before he dumped her and started dating me. I was pregnant 3 months later. I could see why she wasn't exactly jumping for joy about the baby that would soon be born.

"So," Michael observed. "We finished up our Junior year." [Way to go, random!]

Kayla spoke up. "This has been one year that I could've lived without."

Everyone knew what she meant. For a while there was silence. [Couldn't you totally see this happening at the Peach Pit? Let's pretend it is.]

"I don't know about the rest of you guys, but I'm leavin'. Anyone need a lift?" Michael asked.

"I do." I stood up and kissed David. "Call me later." He grinned. "OK, momma."

I smiled back. He'd been calling me that ever since I told him I was pregnant.

I sighed happily as Michael and I drove off.

"Have you two picked out any baby names yet?" Michael inquired. I shook my head. "We can’t agree on anything. David actually thought I'd let him name the baby Horace for a boy, or Candy for a girl!"

He laughed. "Whatever name the kid ends up with, I'm sure it'll be as beautiful as its mother."

"Thanks." I stared into space. "The only thing that's keeping me from being 100% happy is Kayla."

"She still won’t talk to you?"

"No. If I call she hangs up, and if I come near her she pretends I'm not there." I ran my fingers through my hair nervously. "I still feel guilty, Mike."

"You shouldn't." [The hell she shouldn't!] His voice was firm. "You and David fell in love. It's no one's fault."

"But she was my best friend. Aside from you," I said quickly. "Kayla hates me, and I don't blame her." I sighed again. "I betrayed her in the worst way." [Just like Kelly and Dylan betrayed Brenda when she was in Paris!]

"Stop it right now," Michael ordered. "That was 6 months ago. Forget about the past. You've got a baby on the way, and didn't you say David proposed?"

I smiled. "Yes."

"Would you change anything if you could?"

"No." [Apparently you're not that racked with guilt, then, are you, sweetie?]

"Well then. Stop worrying about Kayla. She'll come around." He stopped the car in front of my house and helped me out. I hugged him tight. "I needed to hear that. Thanks for being there, Mike."

"Anything for you, doll," he replied. "I'll see ya later."

Nobody was home. There was a note from my parents saying they would be visiting friends out of town for a couple of days. I wasn't surprised. They were often gone for long periods of time. I was mostly alone. [Where did I get the idea that a seventeen-year-old girl's parents would just randomly take off like that? My mother had anxiety attacks leaving the zip code.]

I went into their bedroom and stretched out on their bed. My hands kept caressing my belly. It was a wonderful feeling, to know that only a few layers of skin kept me from my unborn child.

My own child.

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Tune in next week to find out how Jenna became a man-stealing ho. Also, today's your last chance to sign up for the "Hello? Is It My Cheesy Love Song CD You're Looking For?" Internet Swap. Lionel thanks you in advance.

Whew!

You have no idea how happy I am to be writing this post. Luke and I are in Lexington, Kentucky, this weekend, visiting friends, and for the last three days I've been stressing about my ability to post away from home. Not that I don't do that on a regular basis already, but it's usually when we're staying with Luke's parents or my sister; I've never posted at a friend's before, so I was a little afraid to ask, not to mention I imagined horrible scenarios where Tom and Justine's Internet connection would be down or their electricity would go out before I had a chance to publish my required entry for the day and my time would be over before I really had a chance to begin. Luckily, the power is working just fine, and Tom and Justine own three computers, so my fears were ill-founded.

Even though NaBloPoMo just started on Wednesday, I'm already patting myself on the back, because for the first time in my blogging history, I posted every day of the work week. I'm happy with the entries and even happier with the number of comments. Thank you so much for supporting me through this! I'm having a ton of fun so far, and Mrs. Kennedy's vision is gradually starting to take hold; writing is slowly becoming an integral part of my day, and knowing I have to post has forced me to concentrate, allowed the words to come quicker, trumped the inner voice inside my head that discourages me from hitting the "Publish" button because my ideas aren't good enough yet.

This week alone has made the whole month worthwhile.

The Concert: Part Two

The last time we saw Amy and Jane, they were trying to get their groove on with the fabulous NKOTB. Do they succeed? Let's find out.

A security guard stopped the girls. "Do you have a pass?," he asked. Amy showed him the 2 passes and he let them pass.

JOE found Amy and Jane and took them to thier dressing room.

JORDAN, JON, DONNIE, DANNY, and JOE started talking about thier likes and dislikes. After a half hour, the girls said good-bye and left. "I can't believe I just met N.K.O.T.B.!," Jane kept saying on the way home.

"I can't believe I'm pregnant with JOE's baby," Amy said.

The End

OK, that's not how it ends, but as I was typing the rest out, it wasn't as funny as I remembered it to be. But you just wait. Number 3 is really the best one. And my first masterpiece,We'll Never Eat Candy Again, is killer.

The Concert: #1 of NKOTB

"It'll be so much fun," Jane said. Imagine, New Kids on the Block in concert, and we have tickets!"

Jane Emmons and Amy Scott were talking about the New Kids on the Block (NKOTB for short) concert, whitch was a week away.

"I know," Amy said. "The tickets are sold out now."

"So," Jane asked. "What are you going to wear? I'm wearing a jean skirt, and a white tee shirt."

Amy replied," Oh I gues I'll wear a pair of jeans and my JOE shirt."

"My aunt's going to buy me a JOE shirt. If not, I'll wear a white shirt with all my pins," Jane said. "Let's go to my house and listen to some records."

"Jane, do you have any records the NKOTB can sign?" Amy asked. "I have 1."

"I'm going to get one today," Jane said. "My Mom's taking me to Platters."

For a while, the girls sat in silence, listening to "HANGIN' TOUGH" on the record player. At last, Amy broke up the silence.

"Do you think we could meet him?" she asked.

"Who?" Jane asked, lost in thought.

"JOE MCINTYRE!," Amy screamed.

"Oh," Jane said. "I don't think we have very good chances."
I mean, I'd love to meet him, but so do hundreds of other kids.
It's hopeless," she added sadly.

"Not so hopeless," Amy said. "i know a place where the New Kids reherse. Want to go with me?"
Jane practiclly yelled her answer. "Do I ever! Let's go!"

It's over at Harris high school in the gym," Amy said. "And thier leaving in 20 minutes!"
You never saw anyone run faster to Harris High than Amy and Jane. After 10 minutes, the girls reached the high school.

"This - is it," Amy said between breaths.

"When did you find all this info?" Jane asked.

"On the "HANGIN' TOUGH" album just 10 minutes ago," Amy said.

"You didn't!"

"I did."

The girls laughed as they made their way to the gym. On the 4 floor, both girls were puffing.

"There - they - are!," Jane cried. We made it!"

Both girls tiptoed into the gym and sat behind the sacks, listening to JOE, singing, "PLEASE DON'T GO GIRL."

Amy sighed happily as Jane was staring at JOE. Both Amy and Jane were wearing the pins, "I'M JOE'S GIRL," "I LOVE NEW KIDS," AND "BOSTEN BABES."

When the song was over, JORDAN went to get a punching sack.

"Oh no!" Amy whispered.

"He'll find us," Jane whispered back.

JORDAN took a sack and saw the girls in a huddle on the floor. "Well, what do we have here?," he said, chuckling.

Both Amy and Jane got up. "We didn't mean to spy on you, honest we didn't. We just had to see you reherse. We're big fans of yours," Amy explained. "I'm Amy Scott and this is Jane Emmons." Amy pointed to Jane, who was stiff, her mouth wide open.

"H - H - Hi," Jane faltered.

"Hello, girls," JORDAN said. "I'm glad you came. Come meet the others."

Jane and Amy went with JORDAN. JOE, JON, DONNIE, and DANNY were on stage.

I didn't know we have visitors," JOE said. "But it's nice. Especially when fans crowd us." He smiled at them.

"Hi," Amy said. "I'm Amy Scott, and this is Jane Emmons." "Hi," Jane said happily.

"We have tickets to your concert," Amy said. "We can't wait to go."

"I'm glad we'll see you there," DANNY said.

"Turn around," JON said.

Amy and Jane turned around.

For 5 minutes, the girls stood.

"You can look now," DONNIE said.

When they turned around, there was 2 boxes at thier feet, in pink wrapping paper. "We got to go now," JOE said. "But hang tough!"

The N.K.O.T.B. waved to the girls and left.

Amy and Jane ran to Amy's house. When they got to her room, Jane and Amy opened the boxes.

In it was a note.

Hope your like this gift! Love, Joe, Jordan, Donnie, Jon, and Danny.

Inside thier boxes were 2 N.K.O.T.B. shirts, one tee-shirt and one sweatshirt. A pair of shoelaces, a mirror, and 1 back stage pass!

Finally, the day of the concert arrived. They put on thier N.K.O.T.B. hat, shirt, shoelaces in thier shoes and jeans. They were off!

For 4 hours they listened to songs, and were even called to the stage! When the concert was over, Amy and Jane went backstage.

To be continued...

P.S. I wrote this when I was eleven. As if you couldn't tell.

Heeeere's Frema!

Well, I'm back from my two-week hiatus, and I'm back with a vengeance. Finally wrapped up are my two classes for the fall quarter; finally watched are yet another two weeks of All My Children (although I must've forgotten to turn off my VCR at some point, because Thursday and Friday's episodes are missing. Argh!), and my work publications are just about ready to go to press. My apartment is clean, Christmas shopping has officially begun, and I've already celebrated one Thanksgiving. Yessiree, the holiday season is officially underway.

And I'm feeling inspired. My writers' group released its very first collection, From the Edge of the Prairie, just a couple of weeks ago, and it's selling really well in town. This isn't the first book I've been a part of, and I'm beginning to think that maybe it's not a crazy idea to try and put out my own. Sure, it'd cost some money, but I've been known to rack up my credit cards for less worthier causes, and at the conference I went to this summer, quite a few editors said it can be easier to sell a book to a large audience if it's already been marketed to a smaller one. Not that I'd definitely want to push it to a Barnes and Noble, but I love the idea of taking the stuff I'm most proud of (including the three-part New Kids on the Block series I wrote in fourth grade) and making it look pretty. Something to add to 2005's list of resolutions.

In the meantime, I've been thumbing through my old stories, so don't be surprised if a few of them end up here. I was a freakin' genius.

Homelessness Is Da Bomb

Not to YOU, maybe, but it was to the Glamour panel that decided an Ivy League graduate's story about living with her mother in a green Volvo station wagon was first-prize material in their "Tell Us the Story of Your Life!" contest. I had submitted my own attempt at an autobiography back in April and was one of over 8,000 women who submitted, according to the magazine.

When I saw the story, I was bummed. I was really proud of my piece, thought it was one that women could relate to on a number of different levels. I guess pre-teen bulimia isn't as interesting as having to brush your teeth in a Starbucks bathroom every day. Maybe she was throwing up, too.

No Schmirnoff Necessary

Well, my quarterly review took place this morning and I survived, like I knew I would. I also held myself together, a rarity for me when receiving constructive criticism. The rest of the day went off without a hitch - I even received FOUR compliments on my outfit of choice (one person did it twice - thanks, Steve!), which only reinforced my perceived value of clothing as well as my desire to do some serious malling. But this weekend, I must discipline myself. I must focus. This constant back-and-forth schedule will only last until Thanksgiving, and I can certainly keep it together for another five weeks, can't I?

Random thoughts:

. . .On the Brown Line in Chicago this week I saw a young woman sporting jeans and saddle shoes. I miss me a good pair of saddle shoes - do they even sell them anymore?

. . .I love blogging more than I ever thought I would. The idea of a new post creates an energy in me I've never experienced when writing fiction. There's something about organizing your thoughts and trying to keep them fresh for the masses that gives me an extra kick. It not only helps me to ground myself, but it keeps me connected with the varying personalities of the world, ranging from close friends to complete strangers. In either case, you are all sorely needed by me.

About those saddle shoes - seriously. Let me know.

Published Enemy

Well, I'm back from my writers workshop ,and I must say it was wonderful. I was in the company of published authors, people who turned their ideas into words and their words into a hardback masterpiece. Not only were the featured speakers impressive, I was amazed at the number of attendees who had published their own work. One woman had written an eight-book series about a pre-teen detective; others had clippings from magazines like Time, Writer's Digest, and other national publications. On my last day, I sat in on a "Time Management For Writers" seminar and was encouraged to create a long-term plan for my writing - map out my ultimate goals and then move Heaven and Hell to see them through. That's when I realized I wasn't sure what they were.

If you were to ask me where I want to be in five years, I could do it in less than a minute without batting an eye: I want to have (at the very least) a master's degree. Be married. Have children. Live closer to my family. Continue writing. However, if you were to ask me where I want to be WITH MY WRITING in five years, I'd have to scratch my head and say, "Argh?" Since I knew how to read, I knew I wanted to write. And I did. I knew I wanted others to read what I wrote. And they do, from old stories (Leslie!) to new stories (Chris!) to these very blog entries (you!). But that was as far as I got.

One of the points made over the weekend that I truly appreciated was that "being published" means something different to every writer. Some have their sights set on the Barnes and Noble best sellers table. Others are perfectly content with running copies from a computer and passing out stapled pages to friends and family members. What does it mean to me?

I want my ideas to be heard. I want to write about the most humiliating and earth-shattering moments in my life so that someone can say, "She had the guts to say what I couldn't. I know exactly what she means." I don't have to see my stuff at the B and N for that to happen.

I learned a lot about the self-publishing business over the weekend and have been seriously weighing its advantages. Taking ownership of my writing and deciding how and when it will appear to others is definitely appealing. We'll see what happens. For now, though, I'm going to work on an idea I have for a non-fiction story collection. Dave Sedaris isn't the only writer who can make a person wet her pants and wipe a tear at the same time. At least, that's what I'm counting on.

I'll Take A Chance

May 1990 Dedicated to Randy Wooten

I've lost your love, and my heart is filled with pain. But I"ll risk my hopeless heart for you. "It's dangerous," my mind says. "You'll risk his happiness and joy, witch I'm sorry to say is not you."

"I'll take a chance," I said. "I'll do whatever it takes to make him mine. I'll take that chance."

[An earlier stab at dialogue. Spelling errors remain intact.]

A Long Time Ago

May 16, 1991

A long time ago, I was lonely and unhappy in my solitude. But suddenly, a light shone in my darkness. It was you, my darling! You took my hand, and we floated to the clouds, our love lifting us higher and higher.

[This last line was inspired by the scene in Ghostbusters 2, when the Statue of Liberty walked down the streets of New York playing Jackie Wilson.]

Boys

November 19, 1991

Boys.
Some boys are cute
and some boys are bad.
Some boys are mute.
Most of them act sad.

Boys.

Some are in love,
and some are real jerks.
Some are above,
and some are trying
to make a relationship work.

BOYS

The Bon-Bon Club

Clearly I'm enjoying my trip down Memory Lane. Indulge me.

Some of my friends and co-workers may remember me blogging about a little thing call The Chicago Chicks Club (see "My first blog" for details). My next venture? The Bon-Bon Club.

October 11, 1996
Friday night

This is to verify the existence of the Bon-Bon Club. To qualify as a member you must meet the following requirements:

1) Have imaginary guys chasing after you. [His name was Jeremiah. Sigh.]
2) Must be sitting at home every Saturday night.
3) Have an obsession with Meltaways, Twizzlers and other fatty junk foods.
4) Don't get any, at all.

Should a fellow member happen to violate any law (especially #4), Hooray!
Congratulations! For the club to be void, both members must have a steady boyfriend (at the same time) for at least one month. Meetings are at least once a month.

X Jane Doe aka Hubba Bubba!
X Frema aka Chunky Monkey

Secret handshake!

* Names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Dear Diary...

I was speaking to a friend about the idea of diaries today, and it got me thinking about my own. Here's a sneak into my pre-pubescent years (I have no problems sharing them with you, as I was too young to think about anything more interesting than hating my family and having crushes on boys). Additional commentary is provided in brackets, which are not to be confused with parentheses or quotation marks, since I actually knew how to use them. Spelling errors and poor punctuation remain intact.

Saturday, March 3, 1990

Dear Diary,
Hi. I don't think the world of Fred [Savage] anymore. I [heart] Jordan. He's from "New Kids on the Block." Also, when I look at Randy, I feel ... well ... good. I hope his emotions for me (if he has any) are strong, because I have very strong feelings for him.

Things aren't going to good at home. Samantha, Ryan, Mom, Dad, and Geo are sometimes trouble. But I'm used to it. Also, I wish I could see Ricardo more often.

Your writer,
Breain

Sunday, May 27, 1990

Dear Diary,
I hate my mother and Samantha, my sister. They don't care about me. All my mom worries about is if I don't listen to her.

Also, a long time ago, I dumped Jordan for

JOE MCINTYRE!

He is so cute. I want to marry him!

I saw Ricardo today tossing a ball. When I passed, he called me a Brain. If I was such a brain, I wouldn't have all these problems.

Breain

Wednesday, May 30, 1990

Dear Diary,
Today was the Fun in the Sun. There was lots to do, but most of the time, all I did was look, and follow,

Randy Lee Wooten

He's not a new name, Diary. Well, I gotta go. Bye.

Breain

Thursday, May 16, 1991

Dear Diary,
I'm in love with a boy named Scott Ramos. This is what I know.

Name: Scott Ramos
Age: 11-12
Hair: black
Eyes: brown
One word description: babe

This is no mistake!
Number: 247-1140

My only contact is Karen. Wish me luck. This guy is mine...at least, I hope so. Randy and Jason were fantasys. Reality came to me, and it came in the form of Scott Ramos.

[Heart]
Breain

Sunday, June 2, 1991

Dear Diary,
Scott was a mistake. But this guy isn't. (Hopefully.) I dream about him, daydream about him. I can't get him out of my mind. He's called Church Boy (C.B.) because I don't know his name.

I know this is brief, but soon all will be revealed. Soon, I repeat.

Breain

Monday, August 19, 1991

Dear Diary,
Hi. How are you? I'm fine. Well, that's exaggerated. I feel rotten. Probably look rotten, too. Because I didn't wash the table right, Dad (who else?) blows up at me! "The only things you want to remember are from your books. That's gonna change!" So he made me get out my 3 collections, and put them on the kitchen table. Then he put them in a garbage bag. He (Dad) said he could make a bundle giving them to the thrift store, 10 cents a book. I hate my Dad the [insert nasty expletive]. Here's why.

1.) He took my books away.
2.) He's giving them away.
3.) He thinks "SWEET VALLEY HIGH" has sex in it, when he took a magazine and gave a gave a woman a 2 penises.

But 1 of the biggest reasons is that, like tons of other people, he thinks all I care about is reading, when the truth is, I have lots of interests. Here there are: (In no order)

1. Reading
2. Writing
3. Music
4. Singing
5. Baby-sitting
6. Journalism
7. Soccer
8. Volleyball
9. Computers.
10. Running.
11. Styles in hair/fashion
12. art

The other reason is that parents are mad because their kids read too little, but mine are mad because I read too much I'll hate my dad forever. Here my signature for that declaration of independence and to close my entry. Bye!

X [insert handwritten signature, complete with a star to dot my "i"] H.W.
X Frema P.

---

Note: My dad never really gave the books away. He hid them in our basement for two months before giving them back.

The Write Stuff

Ever since last week's fiction class, my brain has been swirling with the possibilities that writers have in this world and the opportunities I have to become a better one. I've just registered for the Midwest Writers Workshop at Ball State University at the end of July and signed up to for a subscription to Poets and Writers magazine. I also plan on joining the Association of Writers and Writing Programs (AWP) as soon as the financial burdens of paying for my wisdom teeth and workshop accomodations are done. I'm not saying that these things will guarantee growth, but they'll definitely provide motivation for it. They'll also give me a wider range of choices when I'm ready to look for a new job.

For as long as I can remember, I have always wanted to write. My first story in the second grade spun a complex and thought-provoking plot involving two friends and their quest to quench their thirst for...CANDY! During the height of my horror-flick obsession, I penned two scary stories, even casting my friends as the characters for one of them. My fiction "masterpiece" was written when I was a teenager - the ultimate baby's mama drama. I remember coming home and holing up in my room for hours, blasting my cassette tapes while I wrote in the notebooks I was supposed to be using for school. Passion is so easy to sustain when you're a child. You don't know what it means yet to make excuses. What you want to do, you do.

When I think about having children of my own someday, I want most for them to find their own special talent, their own passion, and run with it, whether it's writing, dance, art, stamp collecting, whatever. And I want to help them do that. What good is having higher education and a good-paying job if you can't help your kids make their dreams come true? My parents did that for me - they read my stories, attended my contests, and gave me the confidence to keep pursuing what I loved. It's the least I can do for my own.

Summer Fun - Oooh, Yeah

Just moments ago, I put the finishing touches on my Screenwriting portfolio, and having finished my Fiction one this morning before lunch, this might be the first time in my life I'm not pulling a late night to complete a major class project. It feels good. After my classes tomorrow, I'll be school-free (well, except for work, I guess) until September's fall quarter, when I'll be taking The Personal Essay and Writing For Magazines. For the winter and spring, two electives. The end is near.

In the meantime, though, it's time for some SUMMER FUN! With tons of vacation days at my disposal, I have visions of Friends-a-thons experienced with a tub of rainbow sherbet and my new Peace Frog pajama pants, dreams of rushing home after work to begin the Nancy Drew books (original hardcover, no less) I received for my birthday, which I've not yet had the time to touch. Even more exciting is the idea of watching Days of Our Lives and All My Children on their actual times instead of waiting for SoapNet reruns after 5:00. What will I do with my free time once I graduate? It's exciting to think about.

In other news: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban opens this weekend, and I am pumped up, baby! Luke and I have discussed waiting until Sunday to hit the theatre, with the hope that the rush will have slowed down somewhat. I'm also diving into a project for the writer's group I belong to, The Prairie Writers Guild. Because of school, I've only been able to attend one meeting, but we're working on producing an anthology of our work, based on a theme of place. I've got to get cracking.

On a depressing note: I've still not heard back from Glamour regarding their "Tell Us The Story Of Your Life!" contest, for which I submitted an entry back in April. The magazine said to include an SASE so that everyone could receive word that their work had been received. The deadline was April 30th, and still nothing. I'm assuming it's because a publication of that size is still sifting through entries and not that mine was lost in the mail. My fingers are still crossed, though. Are yours?

P.S. for Chicago residents: Be sure to pick up your copy of The Reader on June 4th and read all about my literary experience at DePaul!