Author: Veronica Kimble PM
REWRITING EVERYTHING -Dillon and Logan is sugar and spice. Lizzy Laming, is everything nice. She loves the sugar, but hates the spice, lets just hope the ingredients are right. after all, what you see, isn't always what you get....Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance - Chapters: 2 - Words: 5,206 - Reviews: 20 - Favs: 7 - Follows: 7 - Updated: 07-07-08 - Published: 11-18-07 - id: 2439921
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
So I woke up today, wondering, why the fuck am I up at 6 in the morning? Then I realized, that Laura was in my bed, and she pissed all over it.
I got up, totally grossed out, and walked into my walk in closet to get something to wear. Normally, I would have stayed in bed till 8, when Bonnie would come in and tell me to get up. If I stuck to my schedule, I would have ignored her. She'd come in two more times, and then I'd finally obey, make some perverted remark about how she looks, smirk when she blushes, and then tell her that I was joking. Of course, I'd start changing in front of her and that would get her to blush all over again. If she was smart enough, she'd leave the room so that she wouldn't face the problem, but I guess when you're a maid instead of going to college, you don't have that much brains. No offense intended.
Okay, so, I'm me, Dillon Locksworth, son of George Locksworth, a billionaire who's an ass most of the time. I'm 17, and I attend Massey High, a private school for only those who can afford it. I'd give you the whole survey information, but that would be wasting my time. Unlike some people, I don't like to bitch about things; I go straight to the point…most of the time. My brown wavy hair's attractive, but my piercing dark brown eyes scare people when I'm angry.
So, the family consists of me, my dad, my mom, my 12 year old brother Blake, and my 7 year old sister Laura. You know mom and dad's type. Dad's the one who works late, curses all the time, ignoring mom. She's the one who's got the ice queen bitchy attitude who doesn't give a damn about anyone, even her own kids.
Thankfully, we, her kids, will never grow up to be like that. Blake is the most energetic kid I've ever seen. He's doing basketball, and swimming. Ergo, he'll be a jock. Not those crappy kinds who can't count up to 50 though. He's real caring and all that sweet yuck. Once, when I had to give him his lunch when he forgot it at the middle school, I saw some nerdy wannabe popular drop her books, and Blake picked them up for her. I swear, the kid may be too good to be true. Only thing is, he's not dating. Now, I have nothing against dating at his age, but apparently he does. He's not going out with anyone until he turns 16. Boy, some girls have wasted precious tears over that. But think of it this way, sweet, popular, and parents will like him too. Like I said, an angel without flaws.
Laura isn't the quiet type either. She's so happy and cheerful and sunshine smiling all the time. She's in second grade, and excelling at everything. She's the kind of girl to have neat pigtails everyday with some sort of pretty flowery dress, and nice sandals on. She'd help with coloring and that sort of stuff. (I'm thinking kindergarten aren't I?) Maybe those reading book things and adding, and homework, and stuff like that. Someday, she'll grow up to be a popular girl, in cheerleading or something since she's taking gymnastics right now. We're all five years apart, and following in my footsteps. Makes me proud. (This is the part where we cue my proud smile.)
Which by the way, doesn't happen often. (The smiling I mean.) I have nothing wrong against laughing at a good joke or something funny, but it would have to be REALLY funny. I don't plan on wasting my energy to smile all day when there's no reason to smile at all. It's called wasting muscle. The only exception I have other than something funny is interviews. Hell, I'll do whatever to get whatever. That's my line.
My girlfriends-if you can call them that-can't even make me laugh most of the time. Technically, they aren't girlfriends. More like flings if you shall. Just waiting for the right one to come along I guess. Till then, why not satisfy myself with some free make outs? I just wish the guys wouldn't be questioning all the time about the different bases and everything. I told them repeatedly that I've already gone to the third base, but they're just dumb asses who can't remember the date let alone what I've told them a billion times. Just so you know, in Massey High, the bases stand for the following: First base is hand holding, pecks on cheeks, that stupid stuff. Second base is heavy make out. Third base is fucking, and fourth base is marriage. (And fifth base is murder.)
Back to reality: I grabbed a navy blue Hollister graphic T-shirt, and stuffed it over my head. Apparently, it shrunk or something because clung to my arms, my six pack, and every other part of me. I tore that off and instead put on a plain white long sleeve from Aeropostale. I rolled the sleeves up, and then took a black Abercrombie and Fitch shirt with ripped short sleeves, and pulled that over the Aero shirt. I also made do with some baggy ripped jeans from American Eagle that had to be held up by the leather belt I got from Ralph Lauren. It's a good thing that mother wasn't home in the mornings, because she would never approve of the style of the clothes that I wear. Too gangster is what she says, yet I saw a picture of her from her teen years in ripped jeans, and a tight hot pink tube top. Hard to believe the stuff our parents do back in the days.
"SWEETIE PIE! YOUR BREAKFAST IS WAITING FOR YOU!"
Oh, that's Maureen. She's our other maid besides Bonnie. I mean, you got the hot 20 year old chick, and a 45 year old sicko, and the old lady's the one who flirts. To give you a vivid picture, she looks 20 years older than she is. Just imagine Snow White's step mother in that old lady form, with askew teeth, droopy boobs, too much junk in the trunk, and frizzy red hair. I rarely eat the food she makes in case there's a love potion or a poison apple in it. Then, you've got Bonnie. She's the one with the smokin' body. When she's not working here, she'll be at the animal shelter, or working out at the gym. Her clothes are always a bit tight on her, which, by the way, I'm so not complaining about, and her blond long hair just swishes by her back. She's the shy quiet one though, while Maureen is so vociferous, your eardrums will break. The only reason we keep her is because of her OCD. She's the reason our house is so clean and orderly. Bonnie's the one dropping dishes and burning cookies. The reason SHE'S around is so that my father can stare at a decent piece of ass while she's standing on the counter cleaning the cabinets.
I shook Laura awake so she wouldn't be late for school. Like me, she resented to get up, and continued to snore in the wet sheets. After several not so harmful smacking, I yelled in her ear instead, which worked, and got her groggy eyes to open an inch or so.
"You'll be late for school. Hurry up," I warned.
"What are you talking about? It's not even seven!" She groaned.
"I'm assuming that you didn't want to go to school smelling like you wet yourself though."
At that comment, her eyes snapped open and traveled down towards the damp 1000 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. "I did it again?"
I nodded. "Get a move on already. I'll have Maureen clean the sheets."
"Why Maureen? She's so scary."
"Because Bonnie won't be able to do it. Remember that time where she mixed your red underwear with our whites? Or the time when she vacuumed out the stuffing of your poor Mr. Cuddles?"
"Oh. Right." Laura quickly got up, "Thanks Dillon, for letting me sleep with you…and…you're…not….going to tell…anyone about…this….are you?"
"And embarrass my little sis? I wish" I ruffled her blonde silky hair to reassure her, and parted my ways to go downstairs to have breakfast.
On the table, were croissants, a fruit salad, fresh made sausages, pancakes with syrup, blueberry waffles, English muffins, chocolate chip cookies, and apples. (They might be poisoned!)
I looked into Maureen's waiting eyes as she gestured for me to go eat. "Um, I'm not really hungry…I'll just grab a granola bar or something. But thanks anyways."
She quickly rushed off to get a granola bar for me, and when she came back, she stuffed about 7 in my arms. "Anything for you…sweetie." Then, she sort of…galloped….off to do her chores for the day.
I tore off a piece of the croissant and gave it to Barkers, our golden retriever. Seeing that he didn't die immediately, I ate the rest of it, stuffed the granola bars in my backpack, and headed out to my car.
I tossed everything into the red BMW convertible, got in, and jammed the keys into the ignition. I wasn't sure of where to go at 7 in the morning with at least an hour to kill, but it was better than staying in the house. Instead, I drove out to the border of the upper east side, where I had a room all to myself in the five star hotel, The Castle. As I gave my BMW to valet, I checked my phone for any messages, and found 4 voicemails, and 5 texts. I played the voicemail as I waited for the elevator to take me to the penthouse.
Hey dude, Nick here, just to let you know, some chick Sarah is gonna throw a party at her house. The guys wanna go. Meet ya there, k? It's tonight at 8 at 4729 N. 32nd street.
Look sweetie, I know we ended things badly, but if you feel like having fun anytime soon, you better call me. This is Olivia.
Party at my place. 8 o'clock. Sarah.
Okay, change of plans dude, it's a BIRTHDAY party. How lame can you get? We're gonna go somewhere else, the bar by 58th street? Call me back.
The doors opened as I slid my key through it, and I flopped onto the canopy satin sheeted bed. I looked at my texts.
Last nite was fun. We shld do it agn smtime. Xoxo Blair.
Prty wll b awsm.
Nvm. 4get it. Lamo.
Meet ya at bar at 7
I closed my eyes, not wanting to deal with all this shit right now. Somehow, I fell asleep, and when I woke up, it was 8:15. Fifteen minutes until school. I groggily got up, and headed out to get the car.
Have you ever been asked: What makes you special?
Well, I haven't, but I do know what makes ME special.
I'm the only kid in school who's on the popular side, but also in student council, scholastic bowl, spelling bee, and robotics team. Strange isn't it? And I'm not even in any sports. The guys, meaning my friends, know why, but yet they accept me to be part of the group while I might have as well just sat with the geeks. Why? Probably because they knew the old me well, because while I was doing all these nerdy clubs, I still had the same sense of humor they do, the same type of taste in everything, and everything in common…aside from the school activities. But my wealth probably somehow factored into that as well. I mean, I was a legacy at Massey High. My parents attended there, as did my grandparents, and they were all on the board of education plus many other councils and stuff like that.
No, it doesn't bother me that I could have been a geek if it had not been for them, because I knew that I once had the school in MY hands. I was the most popular guy once, so they treat me differently. They wave when they saw me, said hi, and the girls still flirted shamelessly. Of course, I'm never getting a girlfriend, but it's still nice to know you're attractive to the ladies.
I smirked to myself as I got dressed. A light blue Tommy Hilfiger polo, some ripped jeans from Abercrombie and Fitch, and my red and white hat I got in Canada.
I lived on the border of the upper east side, with my family. It's only me, my dad, and Ricky though. Ricky's just two years younger than me. Mom died when I was 8, giving birth to my little sister Lily, who came out lifeless. I cried out my tears that day, and when someone mentions it now these days, I pretend that it doesn't hurt, because I refused to shed one more tear on some dead people. I knew that I was lying to myself though, I cared, more than anything. And I wished that it hasn't happened. The event still sometimes haunt me at night, and I'd wake up, all sweaty and flushed, to find that it wasn't just a nightmare. Mom and Lily really did die. There's no use in crying though, real men don't cry, they embrace the pain.
Well, I have no pets, mainly because I sort of killed them all accidentally when I was little, so dad thinks I have no responsibility. Just because mom died, doesn't mean he's the type of guy who goes out every night, gets drunk, and beats his kids; dad's real nice. He packed lunches for us when we were in elementary and middle school, he gave us decent allowances. We hardly ever get grounded, and though he's busy running his company and things like that, he still hangs out with us so we don't get lonely. He's the most awesome father. He doesn't try to be cool when we're around my friends. No "hey, what up my homies". He's actually pretty awesome. He plays football with us, and basketball, and baseball too. Ricky is the quiet nerdy type though. He's on the scholastic bowl team with me, and he won the spelling bee, and he just about never talks at school unless a teacher asked him a question. Dad has his ways to make Ricky laugh though. They'd play video games, and play around with the robots Ricky built. All in all, our family bonds together well.
I just wished that we could be a real family by living in a real home. We're currently staying on the top floor in the hotel, The Castle. I just get real tired of room service and crap like that.
"Ricky! You want a lift to school?" I asked as I entered his room to find him already ready.
"Yeah, sure, whatever."
"Be ready in five!" I yelled as I ran down the hallway. I gulped a quick bag of cookies and strawberries for breakfast, and headed down to the valet to get my motorcycle. I climbed on, and soon, it roared to life. I waited there for about 3 minutes, when Ricky shows up and climbed on the back.
"You really need to get a car Logan. I feel like a girl holding onto your waist like this." He complained.
"You think I'm liking it? Relax Ricky. You may seem like a girl with the helmet on, so no biggie, nobody will think you're queer." I failed at the attempted joke as Ricky just grunted in response.
I gave the throttle a good twist, and rushed off onto the busy streets. I really wished we haven't lived in this area where so many people are. As I swerved and skidded on my turns, Ricky's arms tightened around my waist.
"What's wrong with you today? Don't be such a wussy." I snapped as I almost ran out of air from his squeezing.
"Sorry." He mumbled, and loosened up.
Soon, we arrived at the school, and he hopped off, running away as quick as he could as if I would run him down if he didn't. I parked, and stuffed the keys in my pocket. There was still 20 minutes before the bell would ring, so I headed towards the steps where the cool people hung out. I sat down along with two of my friends, Nick, and Jesse.
"Hey dude." I said, as we did our usual handshake.
"Okay, I'm having major regrets about what I said. Should we go to the party or not?" Jesse asked.
"What party?" I was slightly confused.
Nick scoffed. "The first party of the year, and it's a lame birthday one. Besides, we're not even invited dumb ass."
"A party's not a real party until someone crashes." I said.
"Good point. But still, birthday party. How 12 year old can she get?"
"I vote yes." Jesse interrupted, "I mean, first party is in the first week of school? Totally effin awesome if you ask me. If it's lame, we'll leave, but if it's not, we crash. How's that?"
"I'm on board." I said.
"I don't know…" Nick pondered. "I don't feel like wasting my time when we could be at the bar drinking our asses off or skateboarding, or playing the new video game Dillon got….How about we ask Dillon when he gets here? He always knows when a party's good or not."
"Wussy." Jesse fake coughed.
Nick smacked Jesse on the head. "It's true though, Dillon has his psychic powers about parties."
"I swear," I said, " You're practically his slave. Why do you worship him so much?"
"Because I'm worth it."
Dillon came out from behind me with a smirk on his face. I secretly groaned on the inside. The dude is such the playboy retarded freak.
I can't believe that he's the most popular guy now. That HE'S the one taking over MY throne. And no, I don't care that I sound like some drama queen freak.
"NO I DON'T WANT BALLOONS MOM!"
We all turned and saw none other than Sarah Davis herself. The girl who was throwing the party. We all knew that she was super rich with a 3 story house and an elevator, but she wasn't the most popular girl or anything.
"I guess that answers our question." Nick smiled. He grabbed Jesse's arm and signaled towards us for us to go inside now. Dillon and I were getting up when I caught Sarah's next part of the conversation, with one of her friends this time I bet.
"Look Beth, mom's insisting I have balloons and piñatas and all that crap, so any way I can hold it at your place?...Good…They're not going to be home?...What about the devils?...Really?...Awesome…Okay, so I'll need some kegs, that vodka for the punch, and two bedrooms for…you know…Jeez Beth! I'm not saying that I want one of them!...Okay…talk to you later, love you!"
Party's back on I guess.
I was about to tell Dillon, when I realized, why should he have the fun? He's an arrogant jerk.
I smirked as I walked in the towering school.
As long as he doesn't crash…all shall go well…
So, total rewrite. PERSONALLY, i think its better, but let me know. Once again, it was waaaayyy to dramatic, so i decided to give it a totally different plot and everything. DONT HATE ME!
It took me the longest time to figure out the points of views, but i finally came up with this style. Hope it's not too confusing for you guys!
Review and i'll love you! you know my love is VEERRRY important!!