I had been trying to write a story, and it had to pass my standards, and if I told someone about they had to like the summary I gave them, or that story sucked. I had millions of plots in my head... Millllllllllllllllllllllllllllllions, let me say, but it wasn't until one day that I heard the quote, "The whole world's your stage," and I wondered if that quote was meant for me and my summaries of Millllllllllllllllllllllllllllions of stories that had to be approved by people I knew... and that quote made me think of Brian, Renea, Dylan, Mitchell, Alexx, and everyone I know. Then I thought of myself... And what better plot then the one laid right before my eyes?

School's over! Only problem? I just like cold weather. It's nice. It gives an excuse for my pale skin. Plus, snow is pretty when you don't have to drive in it.

Over the summer, there is a few sad things that I will miss:

?Music (I have to give up my saxophone!!!)

?Mr. D's English class (ah, he'd be happy I'm writing!)

?Mitchell R. Marner

If you're wondering who exactly that name belongs too, let me give you reasons I love him:

?His eyes.

?His hair.

?The way he talks.

?How he spikes his hair.

?His name.

?His personality.

?His intelligence.

?He's nice.

?He sticks up for people!

?sHe speaks to people like me, freaks, in other words.

?He cares.

? He can play guitar.

?He likes everything I do.

?He doesn't care that I have glasses.

?Has never broken up with anyone!

?Talks to ME!!!! ( I know I said it, but, uh, HELLO?)

Reasons I can't ever be Mitchell Marner's girlfriend:

?He has a girlfriend.

?She's a bitch.

?Mitchell only talks to me for pencil borrowing in which I have to turn him down. (People aren't reliable with pencils these days! Not even Mitchell Marner!)

?Mitchell loves someone else.

I like to list things, and I don't know why. It's a way of comfort, perhaps? A way to count? What can I say? I'm a freak.

Many people don't think I'm a freak though. Like my friends!!!! See? Even freaks have friends:

¤ Renea Thomas (slightly paranoid. She thinks the CIA is hiding everything from us)

¤Darcie McNash (hates to see the color green, after all, when she does, she falls into fits of giggles)

¤Va Nilla (she's asked me to put her name as this, as she is a major drama queen, and will someday be a female rapper going against Snoop Dogg and such. I hate her music...)

¤ Asa Hals (Appreciates everything. She videotapes almost everything. She sees the beauty in every spec of anything and videotapes it.)

¤Alexx Starr ( has repeatedly said how much he wants his name to have a double x since Starr does and I told him that's stupid, and then he pointed out Va's name, and I agreed that it wasn't fair that she got her name, and he not get his choice of name.)

¤ Brian Stadly ( a friend of mine who is an absolute flirt and funny. He hasn't changed his name, but that's because he's just himself. He's just Brian!)

On our last day of school we all went out for ice cream, my treat because of my new job, and I said this was unfair as I need to save up, for my, Brian, Alexx, and Darcie's band. They didn't listen. So I paid, sadly.

Darcie got a double scoop of chocolate cookie dough. Yeah, that's right. Not chocolate-chip cookie dough, no! Chocolate ice-cream with cookie dough bits in it. It's her favorite.

Renea got a shake as she said that the CIA approved the gloves that the old ladies used on their hands for the ice-cream and she didn't trust them.

Va Nilla got vanilla ice-cream drenched in chocolate sauce with a cherry atop and then bits of vanilla toffee in it. I think it's appallingly gross. But Va likes it.

But Asa, seeing the beauty in every god damn thing, got the most disgusting thing I have ever laid my green eyes upon. It was some-what of a turtle sundae, except it didn't have ice-cream. It had more nuts on it than ice-cream, and then they nuts were covered in chocolate sauce and caramel sauce and so many cherries you'd be revolted. Actually, I don't think there was any ice cream.

Alexx got Batman's Bubblegum, with another scoop of chocolate-chip cookie dough, on a gigantic waffle cone, so he made me get him another scoop and he got chocolate cookie dough ice cream. I think I'm too nice.

Brian got his own, saying, that he didn't want me spending my money that could be used for better things than his appetite. I thanked him.

I got a dish with vanilla ice-cream in it, as that was the only thing I could get (no money!).

We sat outside and ate our cold, or repulsive treats.

"It's a wonder school's over, the CIA should want to keep us in so we don't go investigating some far off place for aliens!" Renea said, and everyone hid their laughter. She'd been on that kick since she found out about Area Fifty-One, through one of those false magazines, no doubt. You know the ones where there's always a person with a fetus attached to their head or something on the cover. Who knows what nonsense she learned from that idiocy of a magazine.

"I'm glad it's over; I was really stressed," Alexx said.

"Me too, but it stressed me out just talking about it. Those high school teachers are evil. Freaking evil!" Darcie exclaimed, and ice-cream got one her white shirt that said, "Spear Britney!"

"Darcie! That was my favorite shirt!" Va screamed.

"But it belongs to me!" Darcie said.

"I know, but I was planning on borrowing my favorite shirt!"

"It's not yours, you idiot!"

"I already said I knew that!"

"But obviously, you don't!"

"UGH! Will you two shut the hell up?" Brian screamed. He didn't like people arguing.

"Fine! If she does, I will," Darcie replied.

"Okay!" Va said.

Asa was busy filming a paper blowing in the wind. She was a really interesting person.

I sighed, and looked at my ice-cream, suddenly, it not at all appetizing anymore.

"Aw, what's wrong?" Alexx asked.

"I didn't want school to end."

Everyone stole a horrifying look at me. They looked as appalled as I was at their idea of ice-cream.

"And why not?" Demanded a voice of pure shock. It was Va.

"Are you being paid to say this by the CIA? Are they trying to keep us in school? ARE YOU A CIA SPY? You TRAITOR!" Renea screamed at me, "By the way, how much money do you make?"

I shook my head. She really was obsessed.

"So, really, why?" Brian asked.


"Marner," they all finished for me together. Asa was sitting by us now.

"Yeah," I said dreamily, "He asked to sign my yearbook," I picked up my spoon, "Then Maria came...," something broke in half in my hand, "And he didn't sign because of her."

Brian sighed, and looked at me sadly. He seemed really bothered that I liked him. He said it was my lack of 'seeing him as he really is.' I don't see what I'm not seeing and how it's bothering eye-peeled Brian.

"Hey you got Brian's signature, and mine, and... any other guys?"


"Who?" Alexx asked.

"Mr. D."

"Aw, Kez, it's okay...," he said rubbing my back, oddly. A tear fell from my eyes.

The other girls went to go try and get the chocolate out of the "Spear Britney" shirt.

"Well, I think you deserve better," Brian said, wiping the tears from my cheek, under my glasses.

"That bitch! I swear, I'll, I'll, I'll, I will, I'll get her back. I'll show everyone I'm not an ugly freak by next year! I swear!" I said and then started sobbing. They're really mean to me at school. And I know it's me that they find something wrong with.

" You deserve better," Brian said again.

"There is no better one!"

"Yeah, there is!" He said, still comforting me, i.e. patting my back and wiping the tears from my cheek.

"Who, then, Mr., sniff-sniff, Knows-all?" I asked sniffing here or there.

"Well—" He started but Alexx interrupted him, "Dude! Uh, we should go to the movies!"

"Uh, why?" I sniffed, and the girls came back. Obviously they were hiding something from me.

"Triple Feature! Libby's working!" Alexx said, "Come on, Kezzy? Please? I want to see her!"

Libby was his girlfriend. They broke up every day practically. It was an unfortunate sight to see them furious at each other one moment and then throughly thrilled to be playing tonsil hockey with each other the next.

Since I usually don't like going to the movies, and they all know that, I decided to go home. I wrote a bit in my journal and typed a bit on my story, and then, I went comfort shopping.

Comfort shopping is where you go from store to store, and you just look at all the expensive things, and you sigh, and you look at it with a longing look, and pretty soon, you end up getting a shake with "I Can't Believe It's Yogurt!" Ice-cream.

You pass by the Stein Optical, and it's a depressing sight. There's skinny little blonde girls wearing glasses, and saying how they're going to get contacts. I think about contacts, and I go inside the store.

"Hi, can I help you?" Blonde One with the name-tag "Jenny" says. We can't be sure that's her name. You learn to be suspicious with Renea as your friend.

"Could I make an appointment to get... contacts?" I ask.

"Oh, Yes! Of course! Would you like to have it done now? We have a... time right now."


"Okay, just this way, the optometrist will help you," she said gesturing towards an office in the back of her white desk against a white wall with a white vase and a white rose in it. With a white laptop, and so much white if the sun hit it, well, the eye doctor would be a good place to be blinded, let me say.

"Um, so how long will this be?" I had to sound like I was busy.

"Not long. Now hurry, we have someone coming in at three fifteen."

Oooh, now they're bossy mousy-me around! God, I hate doctors.

I walked down the white hallway, and there was a man in a white coat, young looking, and wearing glasses. I wondered automatically if one of the requirements to be an optometrist was to wear glasses. I made a mental note to ask him.

He asked me to sit down, "Will you sit down?"

"Yeah, sure," I said, sitting down, gripping the arm rest tightly.

"Okay, one or two?" he asked, flipping these lenses in front of my eyes, on this huge pair of glasses.

"Two?" I didn't know the right answer.

"Okay, one or two?"

I was tempted to say ten, to confuse him but instead I said, "One."

"Okay, one or two?"


"One or two, okay?"

"Can't decide."


Ugh, I didn't get him to say something other than those four words! God damn!

"Okay, two or one?"

"Do you have a three? Neither works for me."

"Okay," He handed me a black spoon looking thing, and he took away the big glasses. He pointed at a chart, and I recited the letters.

"E, F, G, 5, D, R? That's as far as I can go."

He sighed, and then said, "Okay."

He opened his door, and I guess that meant leave?

Well, I left, and I awaited my four-word-doctor's diagnosis.

"Excuse me, Jenny?" I asked the Blonde.

"Yes, is there a problem?"

"Oh, no, I just wanted to know my doctor's name."

"Doctor Forward."

I tried not to laugh when she said these words.

My contacts were ready to purchase.

I bought them out of the money I saved from my job at the local Wal-Mart and practically ran out of money.

I walked home, as it was a brilliant day, and I wanted to walk.

When I entered, incense was burning and candles were lit. My mom was doing her yoga.

I am a sperm baby, just so you know. My dad might be dead, for all I know.

I grabbed the orange juice, from out of the fridge and took a long drink. In out house, we believe family germs are family germs. So we don't bother with cups, and we each have our own gallon of milk, and orange juice. Then there's one for guests. Plus, my mom likes pulp, and I despise it.

My mom, drinking tea on this very fine night, drained her cup for a long time, studying me, trying to point out what was different.

"Where are your eyes?" She asked.

"They're located above the nose. Last I checked, they're still there," I said sarcastically, looking in the cupboards to find apple chips.

My mom, being the hippy she is, loves health food. I hate it. We never have chocolate unless it's some nasty moldy old stuff old people loves to suck on so they look like they've been eating crap recently.

"Last time I checked, you're glasses weren't covering them," She said.

"I got contacts."

"Did you?" She asked, happy, yet, disappointed.

"Yeah, and I like them. I look different but nice," I said. I was sixteen then, and totally allowed to get contacts.

"I agree. Why'd you get 'em?"


"For Mitchell? You got them for that jock wanna-be?"

"Well, no," This was true.

"Why'd you get 'em then?"

"Because, mom! I want to look a bit presentable! I want to be a bit attractive!" I said, slamming the open orange juice on the counter. Juice flew everywhere, and then to my mom's face.

"Okay! Fine. Brian called. Told me to tell you to meet him around five-thirty at the park around West Bend," she grabbed a cloth and started wiping the orange substance from our wooden counter top. I reached into the dog treat bin and grabbed the nearest meaty-feeling piece so the dog could be an even bigger cannibal.

"Okay, mom. Thanks," I said hugging her and throwing the treat at the dog.

"Righty-then, love you, sweetie," she said, kissing my cheek, needing to stand up on her tippy toes to do so in the process. She proceeded behind me and worked on her meditating.

I walked out the door toward my 'eight-four Thunderbird.' I loved it. It was my baby. I got in the driver's seat and drove to West Bend Park, awaiting my best friend, and who knows what else?