Not So Silent Night

elizabethc — Sun, 09 Dec 2007 19:56:00 GMT

Cue: An early Hanukah, a race to school. Big red minivan (the Big Red Sleigh), climb in, and take off.

Cue: Bart station forty five minutes later. Absurdly cold. Seven turn into fifteen crazy teenagers and we board a car. Everyone else leaves.

Cue: Arrival, volcanic excitement. Make it the Auditorium, line isn't too long yet, starving, let's find some food.

Cue: Burger King. He's there, sitting on a table, sweet smile. We stand in line while he leaves for another.

Cue: One nauseating cheeseburger and fourteen fries later, a trashcan, and four jingling cups. He's standing in line with five of his friends. I stop, I talk, grab Becca and cut the line to stand with him. It's warmer.

Cue: Inside, finally, in front of the stage after bathrooms and t-shirts. We stand together, ten of us, but not for long.

Cue: Separation, 250 pound guy falls onto my lap, beer's already on the floor.

Cue: He grabs my hand, pulls me close. We ride out the wave of people. Our sweat-soaked bodies pressed too close together. About as alone as we'll ever be.

Cue: Music ends. He grabs my hand. We link fingers and escape to find some water. Unbelievable, he's still holding onto me. I'm a mess.

Cue: Up, way up at the top in hard seats. Four drugged kids smoking next to us. More doubting. My best friend, she's prettier than me, wittier than me. Why choose me?

Cue: Back into the pit. The three of us. Promptly lose Becca. "Should we go back and get her?" He smiles and shrugs. I'm staying with you tonight.

Cue: Mosh pit, crazy ***. Booze spilled all over my clothes. Big men with big hair take up too much room. He grabs my hand and leads me in.

Cue: Slow song, lean back, rest against his shoulder. His head on my head. We stand, puzzle pieces in place, except for the grey-haired lady who is far too old to be standing next to us.

Cue: Music ends. Linked fingers, lead out, lead up. In seats, I'm on his lap; there aren't enough chairs to go around.

Cue: Neighbors leave. I move to my own chair. He leans over. My head on his shoulder. His head on my head. Fall asleep.

Cue: Almost over, let's leave before the rush. He walks me to the Bart station. He's driving home.

Cue: Late night, arrive at one a.m. No Donut Wheel as planned; we're all already asleep.

Cue: Text him. "Thanks for an amazing night" I mean it.

Cue: Lie down, in bed, eyes staring nowhere, there's nothing to see. I can still feel his body pressed against me.

Taking Advantage

elizabethc — Fri, 07 Dec 2007 00:12:00 GMT

Hey, look, a blog!

The RED event on Sunday in LA was unbelievable. It was surprisingly empowering to finally meet other writers. To hear what they had to say literally in their own voices. Plus, those croissant mini hot dogs? Man oh man, I could go for a few more of those.

In other news, I have finally told somebody, showed somebody this book. See, I don't really want the entire high school to know the (not so) intimate details of my freshmen year. But I promised a teacher, no, a friend (that quiet, reserved one from my essay), I'd show her. So I did and she loved it and, really, when someone else is proud of you, it's pretty damn gratifying. Makes you all warm and fuzzy and orange on the inside.

Of course, the downside is my entire English class now knows. I promised this, uh, guy I'd show him my essay and I did and then someone asked and he said "LOOK ELIZABETH GOT PUBLISHED" Thanks man. I appreciate it, really.

Then again, this was the same boy who yesterday spent thirty minutes painting my car to ask me to formal.

So I guess, I suppose it's alright.