There was blood everywhere, and tears in her eyes.
God, that sounds like the chorus to a Hawthorne Heights song.
I didn’t mean to punch Shelby Waters in the face. I didn’t mean to break her nose. I didn’t even know I could break noses. I couldn’t even snap a pencil in two, which was pretty embarrassing when I tried in front of my sister, then the next day she told her whole second grade class.
Maybe I should back up.
I’ve been balls-to-the-wall in love with Shelby Waters for two years, ever since she transferred to my high school and lent me a pencil during sophomore year English. She smiled at me, and that was it. It was all over. I’ve never been able to look at another girl. I think I still have it. The pencil, I mean. It’s pink. Don’t tell her, though, ‘cause I don’t want her to think I’m a stalker. I’m not a stalker. I mean, I stare at her a lot, but I don’t wait outside her house in the rain dressed like the Unabomber.
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October 20, 2010 | Categories: Awkward, Bored, Comedy, Fiction, Health, High School, Humor, Love, Romance, Uncategorized | Tags: 12th grade, awkward, awkwardness, beauty, blonde, blood, boobs, boy, broken, Cavan, chapter 1, Christina Hendricks, dildos, douche, eighth grade, fight, gay, girl, GPA, guys, Hawthorne Heights, high school, hit, hospital, hot, I Punched a Girl, love story, Mannequin, marching band jacket, middle school, nose, nurse, part I, polo, punch, rain, Ralph Lauren, school, senior, sex, Shelby, shit my cake says, stalker, study buddy, The Situation, Todd, tutoring, Unibomber, Waters | 3 Comments
I wrote this, most likely on some kind of sugar high the day before it was due, for part of a writing “packet” I had to turn in as my final when I took a creative writing class. It’s loaded with marching band references most people won’t understand, and if some people with marching band experience read this, they might not find it terribly accurate.
The bus pulled into the Canon ISD Stadium at 8:00 am for the Canon Marching Band Festival, but Mr. Avery wasn’t letting us get off yet. Most kids were asleep. Megan and Adair were sitting behind Chase and me. They were both listening to Megan’s pink iPod and they kept kicking the back of our seat to the beat. I knew they were listening to “Party in the USA” because I could hear it. I wished they would quit it; my back was staring to hurt.
“Miley Cyrus sucks,” I said.
“Yeah,” agreed Chase, “but she’s kinda hot.”
I frowned. To me, Miley Cyrus looked like she was ten. “Gross.”
“Charlie, did you just say Miley Cyrus was gross?” Megan gasped, poked her little black-haired head up over our seat and yanked the headphones out of her ears.
“What about Miley?” Adair shouted over the music only she could hear.
“Miley Cyrus is a famous singer and actress. She even has her own clothing line. I’m pretty sure that makes her cooler than you two losers.” Megan stuck out her tongue at us through her purplish lips.
“Not for long!” Chase got excited. “Not when our band gets discovered!”
It wasn’t much of a band. It was Chase, our Mexican pal, Ricky Martinez (Ricky Martin when we felt like being mean), and some guy named Jed he met at the bowling alley who was like thirty years old. One day Chase told me I was the manager and since then I’d been going to his house every Sunday night for band practice. So during every practice, I ate my weight in Cheetos while sitting on Chase’s couch and watching the band, or “Attack of the Weasels,” play Guitar Hero, the real instruments lying in the background untouched. I’d stopped going recently, though, because Jed was starting to creep me out. I thought he’d been going to Chase’s house to hit on his mom, but it was starting to seem like he was more interested in Chase.
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September 19, 2010 | Categories: Bored, Humor, Music, Time, Uncategorized | Tags: 10-5, 2009, 6 feet, 8-5, Adair, arcs, Attack of the Weasels, Avery, backward, band, band aids, band director, Band-Aides, bass, bees, black, bleachers, bowling alley, breathing, bus, canon, cape, Charlie, Chase, clarinet, clean, clothing, cold, competition, contest, cool whip, crush, cute, dress code, drum, drum corps, drum major, fat, finals, flute, formation, forward, freshman, friendship, frumpy, gold, gray, green, Greenville, guiding, guitar, guitar hero, gum, hair, hairnets, helmet, help, high school, iPod, ISD, Jason, Jed, junior, kicking, kids, King Midas, lifting, lines, loading crew, love, mac n cheese, macaroni and cheese, manager, marching, marching band, Megan, Miley Cyrus, morning, Music, parents, plume, prelims, Ricky Martin, rock band, romance, saxophone, school, seat, senior, shenanigans, short, slides, sophomore, spray cheese, stadium, state, superhero, Susan, tall, teacher, teenage, teenagers, trombone, trophies, trumpet, uniforms, Walmart, white | Leave a comment
Shit My Cake Says 