If you work for the People against the Defamation of Goths, Emos, and Punks please excuse my French.
He was the first guy that you obsessed over. The first guy that made your knees buckle, your heart flutter, and make you cry because you loved him. When he broke your heart, you never stopped feeling the same.
what should i fix? if i made some grammar mistakes please tell, so i could fix them
if i didn't describe enought tell me
or if this is just a sucky story it's fine by me.
I hate poppy seed; what is a poppy seed any way?
I swallowed letting the dry bread crawl down my throat nearly choking me half to death.
"I know you wouldn't like poppy seed. I don't like it either." I looked up and saw the face of my mother. She looked so different, so….sober?
She took a sip from her tea and placed a few strands of hair behind her ear. "You look so grown; you're not a little girl," she paused put the teacup down, then placed her elbows on the table and smiled at me "I guess it's my chance to finally be a mother."
I know she changed, she found a stable job as a manager for one of the stores in town. She was dating this man, Michael Hall Banks Jr., a successful lawyer. My mother had her life in order, even if it meant being away for long periods of time; coming in and out of rehab.
For the second time in ten minutes another person walked by checking out my mom. I do not want to sound like an incestuous lesbian freak but my mom is hot.
She was about 39 and 5'9 (four inches taller than I was). Her skin was darker and smooth, like a rich dark brown. She was always glowing something I was not use too. I remember her sweaty, blotchy, and sickly looking as she heaved her stomach contents into a toilet bowl.
She had very long legs; she used to be a model in New York before marrying my dad, who was a dentist. She had traveled all over the world, and even took me to Tokyo. She had the darkest eyes ever, almost black but they were so captivating. My mom told me that was her gimmick, to be exotic unconventional beauty of the fashion world. She even has her own Wikipedia page.
Her eyes were almond shape, surrounded by so many eyes lashes. They were very thick and plush much like mine. Her nose was straight and little short. I was lucky enough to inherit my mom's plump red lips.
"So Anneliese, want to go shopping? Your daddy told me how much you like Vans. The Green Plaza is having a clearance sale."
Then I saw my mom's eyes light up, now that I think of it her eyes were more like a dark shiny marble.
"Sure, I have school next month; we have uniforms so I might as well have shoes that look cute."
"Well," she sat up straighter, first she took a glance at me then took a long swig of her tea. She let out a refreshing sigh before nervously looking up at me "I want to you finish up school here, at Port James. It is one of the top ten schools in country. I mean being here will make you a shoe in for any college you want. " She paused then looking into my eyes searching for an answer.
I really wanted to be here with my mom. You know catch up with her. I must have been thinking to long because she muttered we had to leave.
She asked for the check and we left not before another person half my mom's age sized her up.
The ride to the Plaza was a bit tedious; my mom kept listening to 750 Yak Talk.
We pulled into the parking lot of Plaza next to a red Volkswagen Convertible. I always wanted a car; my dad told me I had to work for it. All of it, on top of that I had minimum wage job.
"Michael has a car like that," my mom spoke up.
"Cool. I guess we should go."
We entered the Plaza and we were met with a bustle of teenage angst. Everywhere there was an emo, Goth, punk, or whatever the hell they were filling up the shops.
"Hmm… that's odd. I wasn't aware of any, alternative…" one Goth passed by with a 2 foot green Mohawk, "people."
I had no idea what was going. To tell you the truth Goths are scary Emos are not. Emos are somewhat loveable because most of them are fake posers and in it for the fashion. Goths are creeps that lay in crevices of hell.
My mom also seemed peeved on how many people could wear black without balancing it out with color. As we stood near the entrance of the Plaza, we saw more Goths or Emos walking by. They were a similar yet completely different species.
"Come one Anna, let's go to Green Harbor, they sell Vans and Baby Phat in the same store."
The managed our way around the Gemos (portmanteau of Goths and Emos) and made it to Green Harbor. I have never been there but my mom went on about how the preps always go here to shop.
When we made our way there, you would not believe what we found. If you cannot then you were not paying attention. Gemos. All of them filling up every nook and cranny of the store.
There was not anything remotely preppy in the store. How could there be so many freggin Goths in one town?
"I'm going to get some shoes for Victoria, she likes skulls."
"Um…okay if you say so. Is it okay if I leave you alone? I am going to get something for Michael. Be careful."
We parted ways, and I searched the racks for some skulls Vans. It was awkward seeing how some of these freaks started staring at me. I think it was my attire because they were six non-white Gemos and nobody seemed to pay much attention to them. Then I saw it, Airwalks with flowers, bright flowers and no witty (more like shitty) sayings about teen angst. I had to get them; I should have noticed them before . It was the only thing in the store that was not covered in black. It stuck out like a sore thumb. I moved navigating my way through the tightly packed store. They were all the way in the back on the top shelf.
Finally, I made way there. I tiptoed trying to reach the top. It was only a few inches away from me. I would ask for help but no one seemed to be wearing a uniform, I mean beside the whole Gemos thing. I sighed and stretched a little more. I gave up and looked around and everybody seemed busy chilling. There was another alternative lifestyle person next to me looking at a cluster of snake belt buckles.
"Excuse me." I said speaking to him.
He turned and raised an eyebrow. He gave me a look-over before asking me what I wanted.
I cleared my throat "Can you please get me those flower covered Airwalks way up there."
He was much taller than me he looked about 6'5.
"Yea sure," That when I caught everyone's attention. I felt dozens of eyeliner and mascara clad eyes on me. He easily grabbed a box and gave them to me. I heard one those females hissing at me. Yes, I said hiss. Was it a tinge of jealousy?
"Thank you." I opened it up hoping it was eight and a half. Fortunately it was.
"Are you here for the concert?" He shoved his hands into his deep pocket. His pants were a little too tight, but he had very nice legs.
"What are you looking at?" he stared down questioning me.
"I was looking at your…shoes. Very um, alternative." I walked away to the register not before smacking my face straight into a chest.
I was taken aback and my eyes began to water, so I closed them shut. My nose was sore and throbbing.
I heard someone yell my nose was bleeding. Sure enough, right after I open my eyes my shirt is wet and sticky. I put my fingers to lips I felt sick to my stomach.
I was about to heave.
"Damn Bryce you didn't have to beat her half to death," it sounded like the guy who got my Airwalks.
The earth was the spinning no I was spinning. I was experiencing vertigo. Blood made me sick.
Some blurry boy placed his hands on my shoulder. "Are you okay?" Airwalks guy said. He was so soothing; the world went back to normal. He handed me a tissue.
I pinched my nose with it and titled my head back.
"Bryce you really did it this time."
"Shut up, it was by accident!" I think that was Bryce. I couldn't see on the account of me dying and blinking back at the ceiling.
"Hey man. I was just joking. Do not get all violent on me. I like my nose just fine."
"That's it man I'm tired of your bullshit."
I did not know what was going on but I slipped away. Walking out a store engulfed in blood (a little over dramatic) in a place like this you would think I would not get weird stares. However, I did.
"Anneliese, what happened to you?" I saw my mom running up to me looking at me frantically.
"What happened? Did those alternative life-style people hurt you?" Before I had a chance to answer that I was attack she engulfed me in a hug.
We got to my mom's house. We made a stop to the ER on the way home. I had clarified everything to Dr. Jason Banks, the brother of mom's boyfriend. My mom was relived to know it was an accident, she told me to be more careful the next time I get near
"alternative life style people".
The Doc said all this week starting to day there is a concert/ jam fest for struggling musicians. A&Rs from all other the country, or sometimes the world were going to find musicians to sign to there label. The concert was free, so other people came to listen to music. Everyone was taking advantage by gouging up prices of Goth/Emo/Punk attire.
The Doc seemed more amused than concerned.
The Penn festival as it is called started its first year in Port James.
It was my third time being in the house. The first time about two years ago mom just moved in. We sat on boxes while we had TV dinners. The rooms were all beige, the floor covered in shag. It was a shabby three-bedroom house, with two baths, and small backyard. The second time, which was around Christmas her house, looked like something out of a Martha Stewart catalog. It was as if I was stuck in K-Mart.
This time her house was modern-esque. There was a giant wooden coffee table in the middle of the living room. In front of it was white plush love seat. The walls had mom's entire artwork. She liked to paint; she said it was surrealism painting. Something like that, I was not a big fan of art.
I sat down in the love seat, gazing at her paintings.
My mom sat down. In her hand was another shirt. "All right then give me your shirt. It is covered in blood if you have not noticed."
I pulled my shirt off and I handed it to her.
"Oh yea," She pulled something out her purse. "I got invented to an art show tonight. Michael is at the office so I was wondering if you could come with me."
"It's tonight, at 10. I would have told you earlier but I forgot."