Okay Sooo, this story I've had in my mind for... LIKE, A Year!!
So My Parents think they're *all that* so I made up a little story where they weren't SOOO perfect!
I sat on my laptop chatting with my best friend Emmy on Facebook in my room, when I heard a glass clash onto the polished golden oak floors in the kitchen and shatter into at least twenty-five pieces. I ran downstairs to keep my two cats, a gigantatantic orange tabby named Kaboodles and a year old black kitten named Licorice, both male, and my Morkie, Molly away from the shards. They thought glass shards were toys on a number of occasions.
I ran down the three flights of stairs from my room, the attic, to the main/ 1st floor kitchen, where I saw a boy that looked like the teenage dude version of what I'd want to look like, my Mother, and My Daddy all looking at me. Well, my dad looked like he was about to have another heart attack. He had one when I was in the second grade, right after Christmas. And my Mom looked like she was in total shock.
I was now twelve, but in two months and less than a week, I'd be thirteen, although I always felt like I was fifteen. I really couldn't wait for that year of my life, for a reason I never really knew myself. There was something different, and I was confused. For a second, I thought that the guy kinda looked like me; he was even Emo, with side-bangs, brown eyes and dark brown hair, both the exact shade as mine. He had a nose-ring, which I knew I wanted for over a year but my mother wouldn't let me get until I was eighteen, and an 'I don't care about the world' look in his eyes that looked like my look I gave anyone and everyone in my life except my closest friends who knew me before I became 'dark'. That included my year-younger sister, Keighlin Ava, who looked nothing like me, she was hazel eyed and ash blonde hair, just like my mother and little brother, who was three years younger than me, but had light brown eyes from my mother's variation of brown in her hazel. At least that was what my Daddy said when I asked... We were so close, me and my sister, because we both loved to curse and never told on each other and she was Goth and I was gothic-emo. ANYWAY... the look on his face was MY LOOK, and NO ONE was going to take it from me. So I did what only I would do. It wasn't the most PRACTICAL, but it was me.
I grabbed my black pocket-knife out of my, (Who would have guessed it?) pocket, and ran toward the stranger at full force. It was about less than five ft. When I went to give him a good knife full of force to the wrist, he had the knife out of my hand in a second and held it over his head, with an amused look on his face.
"GIVE IT BACK!" I screamed up at him, he was a good ¾ of a foot taller than me, but I was 5 ft 4. I loved that knife with everything I had. It was a glossy- jet black with neon purple skulls and neon yellow lightning bolts that were my signature clip arts. On both sides, in Neon Green were artistically drawn J's, that looked more like the number 3, but that was just how I wrote capital J's when I signed my name, Jeslyn Mair Jellema. But to my close friends who I wouldn't claw their eyes out and the online world, I was Jessi. I needed that knife, so I did the only probable thing in this situation. I started to jump.
He laughed at my attempt at jumping. What are you to expect? I am the kid who hates gym with all I have.
"You just tried to turn me into a cutting emo, wench! The idea of self-inflicting pain comes from you actually doing it TO YOURSELF!" he was screaming in my face but seemed to have a glint of humor in his eyes. I was visibly steaming, my pale complexioned make-up easily letting the natural blush through the powder sheen.
"Douche... You're not my Mimshe! And even she wouldn't sink as low as to take my knife!" I loud whispered cheekily into his face.
"Uno," he said, "What's a 'Mimshe'?" he questioned, confused.
"A Mimshe, pronounced Mimm-je (<3 DreamofUrKitty13~ je being pronounced like the French word 'Je' which means Me or I) is what I call my 'wonderful' (SARCASTIC) mother!" I said, walking over to her and motioning with my hands. I rarely ever pointed; I always tell everyone it's rude to do on a daily basis. I was almost thirteen and already half-an-inch taller than her. Thank the Genes of my father! He was at least six-foot so I was safe.
"Oh, then Dos," he said counting off his fingers. He walked half-way to me and I decided to close the distance. I stopped once in hugging distance, dangerous territory.
"I may not be your 'Mimshe'", he said my pet-name for her in disgust that reminded me, I didn't know the guy's NAME!
"I am believed to be your 'Long Lost Big Brudder'," he said with a confident smile on his face. He closed his eyes closed tight and put his arms out wide, as if waiting for a bear hug. My mouth went wide.
Its fun writing a new story. I'm working hard on If I fell in love with a... and it should be up in a day or a few. BYE!!!
YOU ARE READING
