So Damn Smug Chapter 1

It was a nice, calm, autumn day. That phrase should be the beginning of any good story. Then, instead of judging a book by its cover, we could judge it by the first line instead - if it begins with the above sentence, then we know that it’s a good story.

No, seriously, I just love autumn. A lot. Even though I live in Sydney, at which time the most rain falls (when it’s falling at all), the temperature is most unpredictable, and the leaves never change colour because it just simply doesn’t get cold enough, where the whole feel of autumn is lost, I still like the thought of autumn and the fact that it is autumn. And last but certainly not least, the birthday of yours truly is in autumn.

Reason enough? I think so.

So now it’s a nice, calm, autumn day, and for once, the weather really is great. Just the right sort of day for something great to happen to someone ordinary (i.e. me) - something great, for example, Jared Mitchell.

Who’s Jared Mitchell, one may ask. Well, here at Bednar College, the question will be looked upon as the equivalent of ‘who is Nicole Kidman’ or ‘who is the hottest guy in the Lord of the Rings trilogy’. Jared Mitchell is the Jared Mitchell, only the hottest, most suave, and best guy in our grade!

Well, by more popular vote, second best - second to Evan Reid, his best friend, whom frankly, I do not like very much.

No, let me rephrase that. I hate his guts. He’s arrogant, conceited and a great big… prick. He and I have known each other since kindergarten, seeing each other at our parents’ parties, going to the same school, and still, always at each other’s throats. And it’s just my luck that the best friend of my worst enemy is the love of my life.

Now Jared is great. Better than stupid Evan Reid. I could go on about him for days - his eyes, his hair, his shoes…

Alright, maybe I should stop. I don’t want to end up sounding like a creepy stalker person - nor do I want to sound like one of those cheerleader stereotypes you see on TV.

“Daydreaming again?” a voice brings me back to the reality of third period maths class - my twin brother’s. He is Jared and Evan’s other best friend, the three of them making up the guys of year eleven.

I glare at him and turn back to my maths book. I have done two questions. Two out of twenty, and if I do not finish the rest in the next ten minutes, it would become homework for tonight. I groan. I hate maths. I get okay marks, but I never see the point of making us do the same type pf question forty times in a row, with different numbers. Also, it seems like absolutely no use to me. I already know what I want to do with my life, and what good is maths when you plan to be a famous movie star?

“Tom…” I say sweetly, looking over at his work. Tom loves maths, and I can see that he has finished all twenty questions, and has gone on to do the extension ones that the teacher prepares for him and no-one else.

“Alex, you are never going to learn anything if you don’t try harder to do it by yourself,” Tom tells me sternly.

I lower my head. “I know, and I really will try harder. But you’re just such a wonderful brother…”

The thud of Tom’s exercise book hitting my desk, and I look up to see Tom rolling his eyes and grinning. “You owe me for this.”

I copy down Tom’s answers as fast as I can. There’s an incentive for finishing early - more daydreaming about Jared!

I’m not asking right this minute for Jared to come and sweep me off my feet, carry me to the nearest priest so we can get married straight away, all the while proclaiming his undying love for me. I’m sensible enough to realise that during third period maths class, something like that is very unlikely to happen.

Ok, Tom’s notes do not help at all. He uses some sort of weird abbreviation symbol thing and I can’t make any sense out of his handwriting. I look over to his seat but during my last bout of Jared-dreaming he had gone to ask the teacher something. Great.

So, any positive integer that can expressed in the form of seven to the power of n minus one is divisible by three. Riiight… so by using mathematical induction…  we need to show that…

I really like Jared’s hair…

***

I like his hair… ugh. I’m not a bimbo, or a stereotypical blonde. I have brown hair, do quite well in school, play a sport and can hold intelligent conversations with my parents’ friends. In fact, the only thing I have in common with any one of those stereotypes is that I also happen to be very much in love with Jared Mitchell.

All my friends think I’m crazy. Generally speaking, my group is not concerned with Jared, Evan and Tom like the rest of the female student body. With the exception of me, of course, but I make up for this little flaw by being intelligent, nice and having great leadership qualities and speaking skills.

Not that I would call liking Jared a flaw. I mean, who wouldn’t like him?

Just so you know I do happen to have other interests besides Jared. I play hockey and the violin, and I am writing an autobiography. In fact, I’m sitting at my desk right now and picking up a pen to write in my pink A4 notebook in which I’m documenting my life.

I started this project when I was ten, and bought the notebook, filling it with bad writing, but they were still my memories nevertheless. When I’m rich and famous I will have no time to write an autobiography, so I will publish this, giving my fans the opportunity to be able to be able to read about my life before fame.

And right now, I have just started a page on Jared Mitchell.

“Hey Alex,”

My roommate and friend Charlotte, standing in the doorway to our room. I slam my notebook shut, in the middle of drawing a love heart.

“Yes?” I don’t like being interrupted while at work.

She rolls her eyes. “At your autobiography again?”

“So what if I am?” Alright, even though I’ve never let anyone else look at my book, I’ve made sure they all know of it.

“Well, you should be doing your maths homework.” That’s Charlotte, the calm one. Also the sensible and mature one. Sometimes, it’s such a disadvantage that she knows me so well.

I glare at her, and stand up. “I’m going for a walk -”

“- past the soccer field.” She supplies.

I sigh, resigned. Yes, Jared has soccer practice on. “You wanna come?”

Charlotte grins. “Gladly. You do know your obsession with Jared’s not healthy, right?”

“I’m not obsessed” I correct sternly, “I’m in love.”

I close the door behind us as Charlotte rolls her eyes - again. My memoirs will have to wait until after I see Jared Mitchell shirtless.

______________________________________

This is my first chest teenage romance, and I must say I am enjoying every minute of it. I don’t like the character of Alex too much myself, and my friends say that she sounds like me, but I don’t know about that. But what do you think? It’s so exciting trying out this new style…

Next chapter, we will meet Jared and Evan… hehehe…