The road to Hell...

So, the idea behind last week was to get myself to actually write something fictional for the first time in months. It was a fantastic idea... until I remembered I was driving 8 hours to Atlanta starting at 4 am on Thursday. *sigh* One of these days I'll figure it out and get some writing for fun done. Good intentions and all.

My life is both exciting and boring, because everything is about school and career right now. I'm taking four classes: Cataloging, Film Music History, Music Librarianship, and Musical Theatre. Cataloging is online and is pretty much the most annoying busy work I have ever done. Film Music History is fun and interesting. I'm learning a lot, even though it's easier than most of my other coursework. Music Librarianship has been not much work so far, but the final project is going to be LOTS of work (but totally worth it). I will be cataloging a collection of Leonard Bernstein's stuff that his family donated when he died. I will be building a system for processing and cataloging everything in the collection. It's really exciting because some of it has never even been unpacked - who knows what I will find! And finally Musicals class is fun, although it can be depressing sometimes. It's kind of like a book club. My final project is cool though! I'll be looking at the use of Musical Theatre tropes in A Very Potter Musical. I'm interested in how those tropes are used to create a different message than the one(s) inherent in the books.

Other career related stuff:
I just spent a weekend in Atlanta at the Music Library Conference. It was great for networking, and I got lots of good ideas for dealing with future projects. Plus it was fun to hang out with my fellow students and get to know them better. The weather was pretty crappy coming back, but I made it safely at least.
I also had a phone interview for one of the internships I applied to on Wednesday and I got it! Unfortunately it's the only one of them that doesn't pay anything, so I'm going to call around to the others and see where they are in their processes. If one of them is close enough that they can make an offer or rule me out by the time I need to let this one know, I'd like to know that before I make my decision.

And that's about it for now. Spring break cannot come soon enough!

Life Update: Craziness

So life is a little hectic right now. I think it's been two months since James and I moved into an apartment and spent every single moment of free time fixing up the house to get it ready to be sold. That was not fun. We've settled into the apartment nicely (once we got everything unpacked and organized). And things seem to be going well on the end of selling the house (knock on wood).

We're also building a house and planning a wedding. Building the house involves lots of meetings and decision making. And planning the wedding involves much the same. Both are very exciting and overwhelming at the same time.

We've decided not to hold the wedding at our original place of choice, which I think was the right decision to make. But I think we're going to have similar choices down the line where we're going to have to go on the feasible end rather than the ideal dream wedding end - not because it's not necessarily affordable but because: do we really want to spend a hundred dollars on center pieces that no one is going to want after the fact? i.e. we told our vender they could put whatever of their own things on the tables and we didn't care if matched. James and I are thrifty, and we don't like spending money on impractical things (for the most part). Dream weddings are fun to fantasize but oh my goodness, so not practical!

Speaking of dream weddings, I still really freaking want this cake!

Additionally, we got another cat. His name is Romeo, and he's a little stinker but also very adorable and lovable. He likes your lap and will pur like a motor. He was also previously a stray and isn't crazy about being an indoor cat and not being allowed people food, but he seems to getting more accustomed to the idea. He also DESPERATELY wants to play with Lucy and Karen, but neither of them are having it. He's also figured out that while Lucy and Karen will growl and hiss at him as ferociously as possible, they won't actually DO anything to him. So he just kind of forces himself in their space while they are sputtering at him and it's both hilarious and annoying because we have to listen to it. But I do think the girls are slowly becoming more tolerant.

Still working at Publics. Still looking for a job. My writing projects have gone nowhere, and I am now in 2 D&D campaigns. That is all I have to report.

Life is Snow Covered and Monotonous

I have no excuse for not posting yesterday. I mean, it's not like work exhausted me --- we had (another) snow day. I tended to my influenza-ridden fiance and watched a season and a half of Parks and Recreation. That was my day. I have no excuse. I just didn't get around to it.

But allow me (on this second consecutive snow day) to get around to it now.

Life is . . . not the most interesting thing in the world for me right now. I work five days a week (ostensibly), I go to choir practice, I go to church, I go to bell choir practice, and sometimes our friend Rachel comes over to the house to hang out.

Like, I'm not trying to complain, but I'm used to having a lot more to do with my time that is more varied. I miss my theatre work, and I miss my library work, and so, once the snow decides to leave us and I am subsequently able to walk downtown on a clear path, I am going to go bug the library about my volunteer application that has been ignored three times now.

There's also a theatre group down here, CYT (Christian Youth Theatre) that is hiring instructors for summer classes, so I'm waiting on letters of recommendation to send in, and then I'll be putting that application together.

As for my reading and writing goals for the year, I'm staying pretty well on track with them. I'm already at 25 books read for the year, and if you all aren't familiar with the Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer (futuristic fairy tale quartet - Cinder, Scarlet, and Cress have been published so far), then find Cinder and become familiar, because these books are wonderful and right up everyone's alleys.

As for writing, I spent January and February working on draft two of my Twelve Dancing Princesses novel. Draft one clocked in at 118,000 words, and my initial goal was to shave 40,000 off of that, but that goal quickly shifted to "Fix the plot holes for the love of God," so draft two ended up being 131,000 words altogether. It's kind of a monster (Katie, I'll get those last chapters to you ASAP), but a monster I'm more or less satisfied with for the time being.

March's project is to finish my three active WIP fanfictions that my followers keep clamoring for. Camp Nano first round is in April this year, I think, so I'm looking ahead to find an appropriate project for that.

Chase and I celebrate our four year anniversary tomorrow, which is exciting! I have to finish his gift today, and he went back to work so I actually have a chance to get it done now. We went out on our date last week, though, when we both had the time free. We saw The LEGO Movie which was . . . interesting. Enjoyable, for sure, but I'm still not quite sure what I watched. Music was catchy, though, and Will Farrell was surprisingly watchable, an opinion coming from someone who pretty much hates everything he does, so take that into account.

And I think that's all my news for now! Looking forward to hearing from all of you!

2.9!

This Week's Post

I cannot believe I didn't post for my own topic.  I suck at blogging.

It's been so long since we had a life update posting that I don't know how far back to go.  School is going well.  I'm in my second and final semester at Lakeland, so I should be getting my paralegal certificate in May and (fates permitted) getting a job.  I have applied for a paralegal position with the Cuyahoga County Prosecuting Attorney's Office, and I really want it!  Applicants turn everything in online though, and they don't give a time frame for expecting feedback, so I have no idea about anything right now regarding that.  I have also kind of found that I enjoy probate law (wills, estates, etc.), so I'm thinking about applying to law firms and government offices that do that as well.  My internship coordinator says I'm doing very well with them.  Attorneys who have accepted my legal memos (which are just documents outlining my research) have praised them, so that gives me encouragement since I'm still lacking some confidence in my research abilities.

And...erm...Matt is back in my life.  Not romantically at all, but we're hanging out again and talking on a fairly regular basis.  He sent me a message on Facebook awhile back, profusely apologizing for what he did and saying he doesn't ever remember acting that way with anyone else.  We messaged back and forth for awhile and patched things up.  I told him how I was feeling and, despite my fears, he listened and wasn't scared away.  When we hang out now, I have genuine fun just talking to him, and I guess he feels the same, since he keeps talking to me  =)  I'm not expecting anything but friendship from him right now, and it makes it a lot easier to hang out.  Though there is sometimes a pang of pain when he casually mentions a date he had during the time we weren't talking.

So, I think I may have gone bar-hopping this weekend.  And then came out of it with a date.  The funny part is, I wasn't even drinking...

Guess I should start at the beginning.  I met my friend Jen and some other girls at The Winking Lizard Tavern in Cleveland.  The intention was that I would finally meet this guy that she has been talking about for months.  She met him at a party and thinks we would be perfect together, or something...We ate dinner and they drank a little (amazing gyros there, btw).  Then we went to the Cleveland Rocksino.  (For those who are interested, it's nice, but boring as all get-out).  We didn't stay there long before meeting more friends at a bar called Flannery's down the street.  Jen and her husband's friends were there, and they are the ones I would be meeting this guy through.  We sat and talked, and they drank some more.

Then this guy finally showed up.  We'll call him "Vinny."  It was like pulling teeth to get Vinny to talk to me.  It involved an elaborate plan where people casually changed seats and distracted him until he ended up sitting next to me.  We talked a little, and he seems nice enough, but super awkward.  Jen had told me before that Vinny was smart, and that much was obvious.  After awhile, we then went *back* to the casino because Vinny wanted to shoot craps with Jen's husband.  I was agonizingly bored, and by then it was after midnight, and I was feeling my anxiety peak with all the bodies and noise in the casino, so I called it a night.  Last night, Vinny texted me and asked me out on a date this week.  We're going to a local seafood place on Wednesday night.

I'm nervous, but not so much for my safety or anything, but because I don't know if I want a relationship right now, so I'm nervous about possibly giving him "the speech."  I know, I know, I need to stop worrying about it and cross that bridge if it comes, but you guys know me.  I'm always thinking ahead and not always for the best.

Otherwise, things are going well.  The family and pets are all relatively healthy.  My sister has a cold right now, but that's the season.  I've had two so far, and neither has been fun to say the least.  The dogs and cats are hilariously insane and being their usual goofy selves.  My life is pretty mundane day-to-day, so all I really have to report are the "highlights."  I hope everyone else is doing well and I look forward to hearing from you guys  =)

2.9!!!

Last Week's Post

So I totally didn't get my topic done for last week until, like, yesterday, which is why it's being posted more than a week late.  Sorry  :-(

I’m going to start by answering Heidi’s prompt, though I’m afraid I’m breaking the rules and going in the opposite direction…kinda…

I want Tim Burton’s A Nightmare Before Christmas brought to the Broadway stage.  Every time I listen to “This is Halloween” and “What’s This?” I picture the way it would look on stage, and I want it to happen so terribly.  I mean, picture this:  as the cast sings “Skeleton Jack might catch you in the back, and…” a scarecrow on a scare-donkey is towed up the center aisle by a ghoul, and the scarecrow rises and starts to dance as they sing, “Our man Jack is king of the pumpkin patch…!”  Instead of Jack Skellington leaping into the town well as he does in the movie, there would be a trapdoor in the center of said well on stage, and after “Halloween! Halloween! Halloween! Halloween…!” he would simply drop through the floor.  Then, after “In this town we call home/Everyone hail to the pumpkin song…” he would rise up again as Jack Skellington, waving to the crowd of ghouls, demons, witches, and other creeps surrounding him.  I want Doug Jones as Jack Skellington, and Nathan Fillion as Oogie Boogie.  If they can sing, that is.

And yeah, a part of my inner childhood wants to play Shock, the little witch lackey for Oogie Boogie…

But now, for a story…

Her Gift Saves Her Life

A potential excerpt from that series I keep talking about where the characters are loosely based on us

To set the scene a little:  This excerpt is told from the third-person limited point of view of one of the main characters, Karina Cavanaugh.  Recently, her professor (Dr. Avery Jericho, who teaches critical thinking via cryptozoology) has told her (along with several of her fellow students) that she is blessed with a gift, one that very few others in this world possess.  What that gift is, even he isn’t sure, but he can sense when someone is…different...and he knows that Karina has something special about her.  She told him that there’s no way she’s special, with her near-crippling anxiety disorder that subjects her to painful panic attacks and the constant feeling that something is wrong.  She can hardly leave her dorm room, for goodness sake!  Special?  It’s not possible.  But Dr. Jericho stood firm and told her that, next time she feels a panic attack coming on, don’t try to fight it.  Instead, let it happen, no matter how scary it seems, and see what transpires.  Karina rolled her eyes and left the room, thinking, “He has no idea what he’s talking about.  If he understood how they hurt — how horrible the panic attacks are — he wouldn’t be saying that.”

“And, with that, it’s almost nine o’clock,” Dr. [NAME] announced.  Then he waved to the class.  “Have a good weekend and enjoy the weather.”

As the class adjourned, students rose from their desks and chatted happily about their weekend plans.  Now that the weather in mid-Ohio had finally broken from the frigid winter temps and unrelenting snow, students were less eager to stay in and do homework and more apt to spend their time outside.  The downtown area would be crowded with drinkers and partiers that night.

Karina, however, would be going straight back to her dorm room and turning on her TV.  She got up from her desk in the back corner of the room and gathered her things.  As usual, she was the last to leave, including the professor.  Sighing, she zipped up her spring jacket and stepped out onto the front stoop of the building.

It was a relief, the change in the weather, especially for Karina.  She loathed winter down to her very bones.  The cold kept everyone inside, where tempers stewed and neighboring rooms grew loud and crowded.  It was dangerous to walk around campus for fear of frostbite and slipping on the ice, and roads were treacherous for drivers.  Then there was all the stifling clothing she had to wear to stay warm.  She was little, Karina, and needed more padding than average-sized women.

But that was not the case that night.  The low was mid-fifties, so all she needed was her light-weight spring jacket and a pair of jeans to keep her comfortable on her twenty-minute walk to her dorm room.  There was no more snow on the ground, no more biting little teeth in the air, and no more salt on the sidewalks to stain the hems of her jeans and whiten her coveted black Converse.

And yet, there Karina stood, frozen to the concrete steps.  She shoved her hands in her pockets and shuffled her feet nervously, her eyes flitting from one darkened corner to the next.  No, it wasn’t the weather that would unnerve her tonight.  It was the dark.  Sunsets were still early in spring, so by the time Karina’s evening class adjourned, campus was completely dark save for the streetlights and bright-blue emergency stations.  During the day, the usual little animals scuttled around — squirrels finally awake from hibernation, birds that had returned from their southern haunts, and a kitty-cat or two from the nearby houses — but at night, everything turned still and eerie.

A rustling from above made Karina gasp.  She looked up, and nearly laughed at herself when she spotted a little black squirrel leaping among the branches of a nearby elm tree.

Karina watched the squirrel for a few moments as it leapt this way and that, seemingly without direction or purpose.  It scampered down the tree trunk head-first, only to whirl around and dart back up again.  The little creature calmed her wakened nerves, and gave her the little push she needed to step off the stoop and start towards the safety of her dorm room and her friends.  Maybe they would watch another movie tonight.  They still had to finish their Lord of the Rings marathon.

She made it out of the Administrative Circle of buildings and continued along the Eppler Complex, where a chattering noise caught her ear.  Karina looked up and saw that the squirrel from earlier was behind her, running among the branches and shouting in its broken little language.  She had heard squirrel vocalize before, but this one seemed to be genuinely bothered by something.  What’s more, it almost looked like it was following her.  She shook of that thought and quickened her steps.  Squirrels don’t follow people, Cavanaugh…right?

As she passed Eppler Complex and strode between the Business and Education buildings, Karina tried to hold onto the thought of where she was going — the thought of being surrounded by friends and safety.  It’s okay, she told herself, you’ll be back with them soon.  Besides, it’s just the dark.  But that squirrel kept its pace behind her, and a bird suddenly shrilled from atop the Business building.  Karina paused and turned to look, and that’s when it happened.  That’s when the air shifted.

The little robin seemed to fly overhead in slow motion as Karina’s adrenaline started to creep across the back of her neck.  She swore out loud.  This was the first sign of an oncoming panic attack.  Her hands in her pockets wrenched and writhed as she tried to fight back, tried to push the adrenaline back to wherever it came from.  But something was different; something about her surroundings had changed.  The gentle spring breezes had stopped altogether, leaving the air still and silent.  The little black squirrel was still there, its chatters echoing loudly off the buildings.  Karina looked up at it, and it seemed to be looking right at her, screaming in warning.  But again, that was ridiculous.  Squirrels don’t warn.  So then why was she feeling so anxious?

Karina had to force herself to move her feet, but with each step, she felt as if she was actually slowing down.  Though there was no wind, she felt as if she was fighting through a cloud of thick air, her legs numb and heavy.  Then the adrenaline in her neck turned white-hot and began to trickle its way down her neck and across her shoulders.  If she let it, the panic would begin to surge through her veins, and the pain would start.  If she let that happen, she would be immobilized and vulnerable.

“No…no, not now…” she begged.

But her legs were getting shaky, and her hands were clenched so tightly that her nails were nearly breaking through her palms.  The adrenaline made it down her arms, and she began to whine as it intensified.  She knew she only had a matter of time before the pain started — body-wide, systemic pain that would stop her dead and crumple her into the fetal position right there on the sidewalk.  If that happened, she would be completely helpless until it passed.

Karina had no choice.  If she was going to fight this, she had to stop so she could concentrate.  She leaned against one of the columns just outside East Hall, where the English professors had their offices, and let her head fall back onto her shoulders.  She tried to level out her breathing and quickening heart, tried to slow her blood that pumped the adrenaline into her muscles.  It hurt — it always hurt — but she had to breathe past it and try to calm down.

The squirrel’s chattering had turned to out-and-out shrieking.  It had followed her all the way from the Administrative Circle and was now perched above her head in a nearby tree.  It leapt from branch to branch in a panic, all the while keeping its beady little eyes on Karina.  It was strange behavior, for sure, but Karina didn’t have time to think about it.  As she tried to fight against the panic attack, she tried to push the chattering into the back of her mind and treat it like background noise.  Nothing else matters, she thought.  Just keep breathing.

All the wanted was to be back with her friends where she felt safe.  Why did this have to happen on a Friday night, with the entire weekend ahead of her?  Stupid anxiety…it was ruining her life.  How was she supposed to function in the real world, with a real job, when she couldn’t even walk home without having a panic attack?  And stupid Dr. Jericho, telling her she was “special.”  Bullshit…he was probably some kind of perv…

Then, all at once, a vision interrupted her concentration.  Karina could see Dr. Jericho in the black behind her eyelids, as if he was standing right in front of her.  He was dressed the same way as he was last week, and he was telling her again, “Next time, just let it happen.  See what unfolds…”

Karina opened her eyes.  The squirrel was still going insane above her head.  She pushed off the brick column and stood up straight, wondering…

She took her hands out of her pockets and let them hang at her sides.  She looked up at the crazy squirrel and closed her eyes, letting the dark envelop her.  She took a deep breath in, filling her lungs, and as she let it out, she let the adrenaline in.

It was the best decision of her life.

In the back of Karina’s mind, something gave way.  Karina started as she felt a strange pinprick on her mind, as if something was taking a dull toothpick to her brain.  Everything seemed to slow down as she let the prodding thing through.

“BEHIND YOU!”

No one had spoken, certainly not Karina.  Her eyes flew open again, and she was looking the little black squirrel dead in its eyes.  Confused, she was just about to step closer to the tree when she suddenly felt a strong arm hook around her neck from behind.

“Keep your mouth shut, bitch,” said a deep voice in her ear.

“No, no!  Go away!  Bad, bad man!” the little prodding voice in her head sounded again.

The world continued in slow motion as Karina wrenched free of the stranger’s grasp and turned to face him.  He was tall — about six feet — with a muscular build.  He was clothed entirely in black, with sunglasses over his eyes and a hood pulled up over his head.  She couldn’t tell how old he was, but her racing mind concluded that he was probably a student, prowling around campus for a victim.  In her heightened state of awareness, she could see the bright-white Under Armor logo on his hoodie and the black lines of a tattoo peeking out from his neck.

Karina didn’t scream.  She couldn’t wrap her head around the situation fast enough.  Instead the two charged at each other.  The man brought up his fists and aimed one at her face, but Karina ducked and they traded placed.  He charged at her again, and Karina planted the heel of her hand into his nose.  She felt the soft bones break under the blow, and heard them crack as the man staggered backward, holding onto his face.  All the while, the little squirrel shrieked in its tree, yelling little rodent obscenities at the man.

“UUGGHH!  You little bitch!” the assailant grumbled through his hands.  She had hurt him, but Karina knew it wasn’t over.

Sure enough, he recovered enough to come at her with fists clenched in rage.  Karina dodged under his punch and laid into him—stomach, solar plexus, chin, eyes, groin.  She watched the scene from the back of her mind, as if someone else was fighting for her.  How on earth am I doing this?

Finally, with one last blow to his left eye, Karina’s attacker staggered backwards again.  He fell back into one of the columns and held his head in his hands.  He grumbled and whined in pain, keeping a hand on the brick wall for balance.  Karina kept her guard up, preparing for another onslaught, but he was too broken and battered to continue.  With a glance at his would-be victim, the man righted himself and began to stagger away from her.  She let him — something she cursed herself for later — and watched as he turned behind East Hall and vanished.

Karina was left standing alone, breathing hard but steady in the wake of the attack.  Her head swam with questions.  How had she fought him off?  She had no martial arts training whatsoever.  What was that voice in her head?  And why had she been able to thwart a panic attack by letting it happen?

The squirrel, who had stopped its incessant shrieking, chattered once behind Karina.  She turned to look at it again, and met its eyes once more.  As she stared at it, two pieces of the puzzle seemed to come together, but in a way that Karina couldn’t believe was true.  No, she thought.  It’s not impossible…

Yet she found herself looking up at the little black rodent, saying, “I-I…thank you…”

UPDATE!

It's going to be an easy week this time  =)  Not that last week was necessarily hard, of course.

I miss you guys, and we haven't had a catch-up week in awhile, so how is everybody doing?  What's new, what's not, how are you feeling, etc...

<3

Platonish

So, Maggie and I are (ostensibly) working on a letter game together, and it's been on the brain recently, so "write something" turned into this little scene between my character (Caela) and her best friend (Jimmy), with a guest appearance from Maggie's character (Caela's brother Rhyder).

Please forgive Rhyder's borderline derogatory comments. He's a good guy, but he can be kind of a dick.

"Platonish"

There were three questions that Jimmy Rubel absolutely hated. One: “Do you have a thing for Caela Worthen?” Two: “Really? Are you sure?” and Three: “So, what, are you gay?”

As could easily be intuited, these questions usually followed each other in direct succession. Their answers, delivered in an almost aggressively bored monotone, were: No, I don’t; Yes, I’m sure; and No, I’m not gay.

But as May of Jimmy’s junior year grew closer and closer, something new cropped up.

“It’s official,” he said one day after school, climbing into Caela’s second story bedroom through the window, habitually touching the mezuzah he’d hung on the windowsill ages ago. “I have a new least favorite question.”

Caela didn’t look up from her Trigonometry homework. “Mm hmm?” she asked.

“‘Have you asked Caela Worthen to the prom yet?’”

Instantly, Caela’s whole demeanor changed. She straightened immediately, all but throwing aside her work. “Oh my God, you too?” she asked. Jimmy grimaced and flopped onto her bed.
   
“Three people today.”

“Three?” Caela repeated. “I should be so lucky; I got it from eight.”

Jimmy raised himself onto his elbows. “It’s not a competition, Cae,” he said in the voice of the long-suffering. She smirked.

“Yeah, but if it was, I’d win.”

“The point, Caela Evelyn Worthen–” She gasped theatrically, her eyes narrowing in displeasure. Jimmy ignored her, and continued speaking, “–is that something has to be done. Our staunch and steadfast denial is no longer working.”

“Our staunch and steadfast denial has never worked,” she had the nerve to point out, “James Malachi Rubel.”

He closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them, he fixed her with a level stare. “Really?” he said. “Must you?”

“Hey, you started the Middle Name Skirmish,” she retorted. “I don’t know why you do that; you’re always going to lose.”

“How do we keep people from believing that we are, have ever, or will ever be anything other than entirely platonic?” he asked, ignoring her very valid point.

“If I had an answer to that question, don’t you think I’d have implemented it already?”

“I would never presume to speak to the complicated thought processes of the adolescent female br–ouch! What is this? What are – you attacking me with math, now, is that what this is?”

For Caela had balled up a page covered in Trigonometry scribbles and, using her best tennis serve, thrown it at Jimmy’s head. “Yes,” she said immediately, in response to his sputtering. “Maybe if I hit you with it hard enough, some of it will penetrate your skull.”

“You are evading the issue at hand,” Jimmy said in a prim and dignified voice.

“Look, Jimmy, I’m as irritated by it as you are, but what can we do? People are going to think what they’re going to think.”

“Yeah, but why are they going to think it?” Jimmy asked, his voice bordering on a whine. “We deny it at every turn, we’re never cutesy or – or – romantic, there’s no sexual tension, so why are people so determined to believe–”

“Because we’re one of those things, you know?” Caela said with a shrug. Jimmy quirked an eyebrow.
   
“No . . .” he said slowly. “I don’t know. One of what things?”

Caela sighed and scratched her head, screwing up her face in concentration. “You know,” she insisted. “Those things. Those – when you –” She sighed, frustrated, then raised her voice, yelling, “Rhyder!” When nothing happened for a few seconds, she yelled louder and more impatiently, “Rhyder!”

A moment later, a tall, gangly young man about a year older than Jimmy strode lazily through the door and leaned against the wall. “You shrieked, sis?” he asked around a mouthful of sandwich.

“What’s that thing called, that . . . literary device that’s like a stereotype but not exactly? The pattern thing?”

Rhyder frowned for half a second, then asked, “You mean a trope?” Caela snapped her fingers.

“Yes! Thank you! Trope.” She turned to Jimmy. “We’re a trope.”

“A trope,” Jimmy repeated.

“Yeah. Best friends to lovers. That trope. That’s us.”

“Whoa,” Rhyder interjected, straightening. “Uh, you two have something you want to tell me? I thought Jimmy was gay.”

“Still not gay,” Jimmy said, speaking over the end of Rhyder’s sentence. Rhyder’s comments on Jimmy’s sexuality were a long-standing joke between them. Rhyder smirked, and Caela glared.

“If you have nothing to contribute to the conversation, Rhyder, then–”

“What conversation?” Rhyder asked, taking another massive bite of his sandwich. “You called me in here because you couldn’t remember a basic English vocabulary word, it’s not like I have any idea what’s going on. No comments from the peanut gallery, please,” he said immediately, pointing at Jimmy, and it was Jimmy’s turn to smirk. The Worthens knew him so well.

“We were discussing ways to convince the populace of Torrey Pines High School that your sister and I have no romantic interest in one another. Suggestions?”

Rhyder chewed and considered. “You want to convince them or just get them off your backs?”

Jimmy and Caela answered at the same time. “Convince them,” was Jimmy’s response. “Either’s fine with me,” was Caela’s.

“Well,” Rhyder said after a pause. “You could pretend to date for like, two weeks, and then break up.”

Neither Jimmy nor Caela cared for that plan.

“I don’t think anyone would buy it,” Caela said. “Plus, I’d have to be all cutesy with Jimmy for two weeks. No offense,” she said to him. He shook his head.

“None taken. Plus, I’m like, this close, to convincing Andi Grenowitz to go out with me.”

“Andy?” Rhyder interjected. “As in Andrew? Gay.”

Jimmy threw the wadded-up Trig notes at him, but as he was not ranked in tennis, he missed.

“As in Andrea. I can’t be taking out another girl when I’m this close.”

Caela rolled her eyes. “You’ve been this close to getting Andi to go out with you since ninth grade, shinook.”

Jimmy sighed and shook his head. “Pathetic,” he said. “How long have you been friends with me? Schnook is how we pronounce that word in the language of my people, maven. That’s like, Yiddish 101.”

Caela stuck her tongue out at him.

“You could tell everyone that you can’t date Caela because she’s a dirty, dirty Gentile and your poor Jewish mother would have a heart attack and haunt you from the grave,” was Rhyder’s next suggestion.

“We don’t use the term Gentile anymore. We refer to you heathens as goyim. And Andi Grenowitz, the shiksa goddess who haunts me on this ephemeral plane, is also a Gentile.”

“Plus they’d turn us into star-thwarted lovers held apart by forbidden romance, like Romeo and Julia.”

Rhyder grimaced, as if in pain. “Star crossed, Caela,” he corrected. “And it’s Juliet. Juliet. How do you misremember one of the most famous characters ever put on stage?”

“Because it bugs the hell out of you,” Caela said with relish and a sweet smile. “Any other suggestions, O Fount of All Knowledge?”

“Jimmy could come out of the–”

“Still not gay,” Jimmy said loudly.

“Then I got nothing else for you, until James over here stops denying his true self. You’d better do it soon, Rubel. After all, the only reason I’m okay with you and my baby sister spending so much time alone together is because, as a homosexual, you pose no threat to her virtue.”

“I will take a ballpoint pen to your kidney and feel no remorse,” Caela said.

“What are you gonna do, draw on me?” Rhyder asked with a smirk.

“I could kick your ass any day of the week.”

“You and what little girls’ T-ball team?”

“You are aware you just admitted that a group of fifteen eight-year-old girls could take you out, right?”

Rhyder paused. “Shall we change the subject, Jimmy?” he asked after a second’s silence.

Jimmy, who had been caught up in something Rhyder had said a while back, rather than following the track of the siblings’ banter, took a moment to recognize that he had been addressed. “I’m sorry?” he asked belatedly.

“Say something mildly intriguing, Rubel.”

“Do you think there’s a possibility that everyone is seeing something we’ve just missed?”

Both Worthen siblings froze at the question. Caela was still trying to formulate a response when Rhyder settled back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, and said, “Well, this is about to get interes—”

“Rubel, don’t you dare,” Caela interrupted, sounding panicked. “Don’t you dare. We have been best friends, platonic best friends for our entire lives. You cannot come in here raging about people not accepting that, and then admit romantic feelings for me ten minutes later.” And then, all of a sudden, her tone changed to indignation. “And you certainly can’t do it in front of my brother, are you nuts?”

Jimmy quickly held his hands up in defense. “I’m not,” he stressed. “Cae, I’m not. My feelings are as platonic as they’ve ever been. The thought of being romantically involved with you in any capacity is, like, the grossest thing I can conceptualize, and I am a guy who grew mold colonies off the office phone and the urinals in the boys’ bathroom. Romantic feelings for you are as anathema to me as a life of celibacy is to Rhyder.”

“I gotta say, Rubel, you sure know how to woo a woman. I should be taking notes,” Rhyder interjected from his stance against the wall.

“Not interested in wooing this woman, Rhyder,” Jimmy responded, not taking his eyes from Caela.

“Well, no, because you’re–”

“It’s just,” Jimmy continued, speaking over Rhyder’s predictable interjection “. . . this many people . . . can they really all be wrong when they’re all so convinced?”

“Yes,” Caela said immediately. “Yes, they can. You saw how popular Glee was.”

“The point is, how do we know, for sure?”

“Because,” Caela stressed. “We know. For sure.”

“I think I need to kiss you.”

Caela froze, completely unable to respond. “This just keeps getting better and better,” Jimmy heard Rhyder say in the background. “Who needs daytime television?”

“I – you – what?” Caela finally managed to say. “You want to kiss me?”

"Ew! No,” Jimmy said emphatically, recoiling a little. “We just went over this, Caela. Grosser than mold colonies? No, I don’t want to kiss you, who said anything about wanting? I said I think I need to. Vastly different.” Caela did not seem convinced. Jimmy sighed. “Okay, do you know how I realized I have the hots for Andi Grenowitz?”

“You looked at her?”

“Whoa, Caela might be the one who’s gay? A plot twist I did not see coming.”

“Shut up, Rhyder,” Jimmy and Caela said in unison.

“I realized how much I like Andi,” Jimmy continued, “because I kissed her.”

“On stage kisses do not count.”

“On the contrary! On stage kisses totally count! Do you know how many things are going through your head during an on stage kiss? Sightlines, blocking, timing, how gross the other person’s makeup tastes, if you get through that and there’s still a spark? That means something, Cae.”

Caela crossed her arms, still not convinced. “So you think, despite the fact that you’ve never had any romantic feelings toward me, that if you kiss me, there might all of a sudden be a spark that lets you know otherwise? And you came up with this grand idea because you’re allowing the student population of Torrey Pines to peer pressure you into a crush? Because that’s where we’re headed, Jimmy. We’re going to get peer pressured into dating. Is that really how you want this to end?”

“Nobody’s peer pressuring me into anything. And, as previously stated, I have no interest in dating you.”

“Yet you want to kiss me.”

Before Jimmy could correct her yet again, Rhyder stepped forward and interrupted.

“If I may,” he said, “I think Jimmy has a valid theory going here. Can’t know you like a girl til you kiss her, I always say.”

Caela made a sound of disgust at her brother. “Rhyder, you are a blemish on the face of human decency.”

“Aw, Cae, don’t flatter me! You’re making me blush!”

“Do you have a point, or are you just enjoying the sound of your own voice again?”

“Any reason both can’t be true? Okay, okay,” he said in response to Caela’s glare. “My point is, I think the kiss is a good idea. It has the potential to bring to the surface feelings heretofore uncovered.”

Caela’s eyes narrowed. Jimmy’s did too, as a matter of fact. Rhyder rarely agreed with him without an ulterior motive.

“Might I remind you both that there are certain biochemical responses that happen as a result of external stimuli? Physical contact between two people comfortable with one another produces endorphins and feelings of attachment.”

“But not a spark, Caela,” Jimmy insisted. Caela rolled her eyes.

“Your ‘spark’ is nothing more than a surging mass of hormones and chemicals.” It was Jimmy’s turn to roll his eyes.

“You have nothing of the poet in you, you realize that, right?”

“But I’d bet she could use some, eh, Jimster?” Rhyder interjected, his meaning made blatantly clear by an excess of eyebrow waggling and rib elbowing.

“Okay, get out,” Caela said, pointing imperially toward the door. Rhyder feigned innocence, looking wounded.

“What?” he asked.

“Out! Get out!” Caela repeated, physically ushering him across the threshold. “I have used up my daily quota of patience for your licentiousness. Begone!”

“Don’t I even get to stay and watch?” he asked, incredulous. Caela responded by slamming the door in his face. “Take notes, Jimmy, and report back to me!” he yelled through the wood.

“You really want details of your sister’s kissing abilities?” Jimmy called back. There was a pause.

“Yeah, okay, scratch that. I don’t want notes.”

“Didn’t think so.”

“Need I remind you that I haven’t agreed to this?” Caela asked then.

“C’mon, Cae,” Jimmy said, his voice quieter and gentler. “It’s ten seconds of your life. And it’s me. You trust me, don’t you?”

Caela softened. “Of course I trust you, Jimmy. This is really that important?”

“I think it is,” was his simple reply. “I’m, like, 99.8% positive that I know the answer, but I want to dispel that lingering little bit, because I don’t want to get peer pressured into dating you, or developing feelings for you. I want to be 100% firm in my resolve.”

Caela hesitated just a moment longer, then sighed. “What the hell,” she said with a smile. “It’s not like it’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever asked me to do.”

Jimmy grinned, remembering a Halloween party, a seashell bra, and a goat. “Sad, but true. Okay. A couple ground rules.”

Caela raised an eyebrow. “Ground rules?” she repeated. “Really?”

“Don’t worry; I’ll be following them, too. First, we speak of this to no one.”

“We should have sworn Rhyder to secrecy, but yes. Agreed.”

“We can blackmail him later; it’s fine. Second, if you feel anything non-platonic, anything at all, you have to say so. So we can assess the likelihood of it being purely a biochemical response to external stimuli.” Caela stuck her tongue out at him. “And third–”
   
“Third?” Caela interrupted, crossing her arms. “You said a couple. A couple is two.”

“Couple can refer to any number between two and –”

“Which one of us is in an Advanced Placement math course? A couple is two.” Jimmy sighed.

“Fine, then, I don’t have a couple ground rules, I have three. Satisfied?”

Caela nodded primly. “You may continue,” she allowed.

“Third, you have to treat this, like, legit, okay? No pecks on the lip, a for real kiss. Don’t half-ass me, Worthen.”

“I draw the line at tongue,” Caela warned. Jimmy looked appalled.

“I’m testing for a spark, Cae, not trying to run the bases.”

“Good, because I’m pretty sure I’d have to slap you, and then castrate you.”

“And having had a knife applied to my package once already this lifetime, I have no desire to repeat the experience.”

After a beat, Caela let out a breathy laugh of disbelief, shaking her head. “God, this is the weirdest pre-kiss conversation I’ve ever had,” she told Jimmy.

“It’s certainly the weirdest one I’ve ever eavesdropped on,” came Rhyder’s voice from the other side of the door. Without taking her eyes from Jimmy, Caela aimed a well placed kick just below the doorknob, prompting an exclamation of pain and a long string of Yiddish cursing. “Shtup-ing son of a nafke, migulgl zol er vern in a henglayhter–”

Caela peered inquisitively at Jimmy. “Did he just tell me to turn myself into a chandelier? Am I translating that correctly?” But Jimmy only shook his head in despair.

“Pidgen Yiddish insults. This is what the language of my people has come to.” He raised his eyes heavenward. “Merciful God, forgive me, I did not mean to so misuse my You-given gifts here on earth. Also,” he redirected his attention to Caela. "You remember henglayhter, but not how to pronounce schnook? How the hell does your mind work?"

"Should we get to it?" she asked, direct as always.

"Yeah," Jimmy said, suddenly nervous. "I guess we should."

“Okay, I’ll . . . follow your lead, then, I guess? God, this is weird.”

“Lie back and think of England?” Jimmy suggested with a smirk.

“I’m sorry, I thought you wanted me to participate,” Caela quipped, and Jimmy laughed.

“Ten seconds,” he said, as a way to dispel the awkwardness. The corner of her mouth rose.

“Ten seconds,” she repeated. He took a deep breath, and reached for her, but she pulled away. “Make sure the curtains are closed,” she ordered. “If anybody sees this–”

“Good point,” he said, striding to the window and pulling the drapes shut. “Okay,” he said on an exhale, turning back around to face his best friend. There was nothing left but to do it. It had, after all, been his idea.

He cupped her cheek in one palm, the way he might have with any girl he was interested in, and tilted her face to his. Then, softly, gently, he kissed her.

She responded almost immediately, and – his best friend was a surprisingly good kisser. Not surprising in that he’d thought she would be a bad kisser, or a tentative kisser, but just in that he hadn’t thought about her in direct relation to that particular skill set. But Caela Worthen knew what she was doing.

Her hands settled on his waist, which made sense. His were on her face and in her hair, and that was enough arms in the upper torso region unless they planned on entwining, which wasn’t really on the agenda. He focused on the feeling of her hands on him, her hair under his fingers, her lips against his, and he counted slowly backward. 10 . . . 9 . . . 8 . . .

When he got to 1, he pulled away slowly, and opened his eyes. She was watching him with an almost appraising look. “Well?” she asked after a moment, and he exhaled.

“Nothing,” he said with a shake of his head, letting his hands fall to his side as hers did the same. “I mean, you kiss very well, don’t get me wrong.” She smiled.

“Thank you,” she acknowledged. “As do you. I’d say . . . 8.6.” Jimmy took a step back.

“Excuse me?” he demanded, crossing his arms. “8.6? I am at least a 9 on the kissing scale, thank you very much!”

Caela shook her head, trying to hide her smile. “You’re a little tight-lipped,” she critiqued.

“Well, you move your mouth too much!” he retorted in indignation.

“I’ve had no complaints thus far,” Caela informed him, “and I’ve been doing this a bit longer than you have.”

“8.6,” Jimmy muttered, his eyes narrowed. Caela laughed.

“But no spark?” she asked, and Jimmy shook his head with a smile.

“Nope,”he said, popping the P. “I enjoyed it, it was pleasurable, but no released endorphins over here. You?”

“Same,” she said with a nod of her head. “So, I guess that’s that.”

“I guess it is,” Jimmy concurred. “See you tomorrow at the coffee stand?” He headed for the window, opened the curtains, touched the mezuzah, and began clamoring out as Caela offered an affirmative.

“Your turn to buy or mine?”

“Mine, I owe you one,” he said from the tree limb. “Oh, and before I forget.” Caela looked at him expectantly. “Want to go to prom with me?”

"You don't want to go with Andi?"


"God, of course I want to go with Andi, haven't you been paying attention? But it is not in the stars. Greg Wilkins already asked her, the rat bastard. So? What do you say?"

“I say, a chance to get people off our backs, spend an awesome night dancing and partying pressure-free with my best friend, and annoy the crap out of the student populace by attending prom together while simultaneously denying a romantic attachment? I’d love to!”

Jimmy grinned. “I thought you might. See you tomorrow.”

And he dropped to the ground, landing lightly with years of practice.

“Afternoon, Jimmy,” Caela’s father called through the open screen of his office window. Jimmy gave a brief wave.

“Afternoon, Mr. Worthen,” he replied, then shoved his hands in his pockets and headed home, whistling.