The Email Story

Here you go. Some fun, randomness (woah... why did the font size change?) between myself and Debs. We wrote this through emails. And added a new paragraph each time. Why the heck am I talking in the past tense? We're still writing it, but you get to see the start of it =D Enjoy! ~Kay

Another day... just one of those boring school days. Nothing was happening. Nothing was about to happen. I sat with my best friend, Clara, under a tree in the school's attempt at a garden.

"What do you want to do then?" Clara asked, crumpling the paper bag that had once contained her lunch.

I shrugged, not really caring that much. We could walk around the 'garden' for the third time today. We could sit under the tree and do nothing. We could even have a game of 'rock, paper, scissors' if we wanted. The options were endless. Interesting options? Now there was the catch!

"You don't sound very enthusiastic," she continued. 

I shrugged again. Meh.

"Aw come on, Vladimina!" Clara poked me. "You're no fun lately."

"It's too hot to be any fun, so unless you have a water gun, I'm not too bothered." She sighed and sat back down again in defeat. Then I poked her. "Hey. Hey Clara. Hey. Hey! Hey - hey - hey - HEY! Hey Clara! Hey, hey, hey!"

"What?" she finally screamed.

"Your boyfriend's playing football just behind you!" I teased.

"Carl is NOT my boyfriend," Clara insisted, blushing all the same. "Anyway, the question really is why don't you find yourself a boyfriend instead of teasing me constantly?"

I sat back against the tree trunk, annoyed. She'd mentioned the war. She seemed to notice my irritation, but she stayed silent, just staring at me.

"What?!" I finally exclaimed.

"You have a bug on your shoulder." 

I glanced at my shoulder. It was clean, fine. But because I looked around, I noticed somebody else staring at me, too. I turned back and hit my friend lightly. "You meanie! You might have said somebody was staring! Oh I didn't see, who is it?"

"Lorenzo Vrocklehurst," she grinned, self-righteous. "Got ya back! Oh la la, you'd better hope he doesn't come this way."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm going to leave you when he does- aaaand, speak of the devil..." She got up, and left me to my fate.

Lorenzo 'whats-his-face' walked towards me. I pulled my knees up to my face, unable to tell if it was anger or interest I saw on his face. Why was he walking this way? As he got closer I began to look away, embarrassed. Right beside me, he stooped down, picked up a stray football, and turned to walk away. I glanced up in surprise. So he didn't want to talk to me. Well THAT made me feel like an idiot. This was Clara putting ideas in my head. He turned, catching me staring at him.

"Disappointed?" he asked with a smirk.

I didn't bother to reply. But when he left, I was fuming with anger. Someday I was going to kick that punk-assed good-for-nothing macho in the snow white big behind and he was going to howl like a baby to my satisfaction! My imagination drew a lively scene in my head where I was stomping on his brains with both feet. Childish, perhaps, but it totally made me feel better about myself. Just planning diabolical schemes of getting my own back made me feel tons better in any given case.

Clara came back. "What, that's it? The football, really?"

I grabbed her collar and made her bend down to where I was still seated. "Clara, you are going to die."