To lie to yourself, and thereby to everyone else.
- Alanis Morissette
I'm outgoing; a heroine of the new millennium. I've done the most admirable thing anyone can hope to do. I, Charlyne (Charlie) Marie Foster, heal aid and change lives. Some would call me a counselor, others a simple martyr, but when I've really affected someone's life…oh, the call me an angel.
But every great man has an even greater downfall, right? So, sadly, there is a small catch. But don't worry it's the slightest glitch.
I have two separate identities.
I'm not schizophrenic nor am I a transvestite, so breath, it's not as complicated as all that. Though, I won't lie, it's a bit taboo from what the normal teenage girl does in her spare time but it's not illegal and doesn't need to be treated with pills or shock therapy so I figure I'll be okay.
I run a site, a very nice, soul-freeing, satisfying website. Oh man, that sounds like I'm making porn…Maybe I should hurry up and just say it before you end up closing your eyes and washing your hands. I run a site for troubled young ladies…and the occasional male desperately seeking girl attention. They're my studio audience and I, their Oprah.
CharlieTHEangel . com was my attempt at an activity to cease the boredom that seemed to be flowing out of me day after day. Every time I log on, I type helpful advice out like I'm this popular, cool, gorgeous girl who figured it all out in grade seven…which I'm not.
But I do it, nevertheless, and I'm good at it and it helps these Janie's, and Lucy's and Paula's and I'm sure my advice would help me out as well, if I had more than one friend and more than one social outing a month but alas I don't.
I'm thankful for that one girl, trust me. Mandy's her name. She was the person I aspired to be. I remember how those gorgeous burgundy ringlets bounced as she walked and her smile seemed to never fall, maybe it was because she was just that happy or perhaps, she owed it all to the crazy Russian Cheerleading coach our school hired, who knows? Whatever it was, I envied it.
One fateful day when the sun was high and the halls sang with piercing bells, I met my idol, crying into her lunch bag, moaning over her parents divorce in a bathroom stall. The moment I connected eyes with her, we were sealed to each other. She's the only person besides my Nama who knows about my fetish with blogging… though, she doesn't very much approve.
It was Friday and of course, I was on the internet, having a grand old time till my cell phone rang, causing me to sigh. Here comes Mandy…Still typing with one hand, I answered, "What, tortoise face?"
She let out a scoff, "Well, buffalo head, I have a surprise for you." I brushed my dark hair out of my eyes and spun around in the chair, holding the phone between my shoulder and ear.
"And what would that be?"
"No, first—well, it depends," She paused, "What are you doing right now?"
"Does my answer depend on whether or not I get this surprise?"
She started cackling loudly, her giveaway, " 'Course not."
"Sure…well, I'm saving lives, as usual." I heard an audible groan, "It's all in a days work. No need to applaud."
"I'll be at your house in around an hour. I have to go to a football game tonight and cheer and you have nothing better to do so you might as well come and we've got all these new foreign exchange guys coming in on Monday and I heard a few of them are going to be there…"
I rolled my eyes, "Oh, please…"
"Do I need me to come over and dress you?"
"No!" I yelled, a bit hurt.
I heard her smile through the phone, "I'm kidding. Charlie, please, come! I want to have fun with my best friend but she never wants to go anywhere, please?" Silence overtook and then, "We'll go to Tony's afterwards."
"Deal," I said and hung up.
I don't like leaving the house, however lame that sounds, I just really don't enjoy it. Sometimes I made the exception for Tony's and the gym but usually, a cup of Earle Grey and Agatha Christie could keep me occupied for hours so this wasn't something I was particularly looking forward to.
Nevertheless, Mandy was my doll so I sacrificed my happiness for her's almost every other weekend. As I slipped on my jeans, cuffed at the bottom and a pair of classic high tops, I looked in the mirror and sighed. This was not exactly what I'd called a happy Friday night. I should change my shirt, I wasn't in denial about that, but it was much easier to just zip on my neon green and orange hoodie and be done with it.
An hour flew by and before I knew it, my soul mate was in the car, honking and waving a cup of the world's best coffee out the window. I walked out and took it joyfully from her hands and hopped into the passenger seat.
She smiled at me as I glued my mouth to the cup, "Hello, it's nice to see you in the daylight."
I rolled my eyes, " And it's nice to see that annoying, effervescent smile hasn't diminished any since two hours ago."
"Shut up," She said, and messed with the radio and then pulled, crazily away from the curb.
I hated football games.
Why in the world would I allow myself to be fooled into thinking this was going to be fun? I knew it wouldn't be. Sweaty guys ramming into each other wasn't something I found particularly attractive, it was actually sort of a homosexual visual to me.
So out of my bag came the ipod and an Agatha Christie book. A murder is Announced might be the cheekiest novel she's written so far. The characters were more ridiculous than ever and right when Craddock was about to interview Letitia Blacklock, I was interrupted by a kick to the foot.
"Hey!" I looked up, it was Mandy, "This is Eric, and he's from France!" She squealed with her arm interlaced with his. Sometimes I despised the fact that I went to an International Studies School. There was always uproar over the attractive, puffy lipped boys we took in.
I glanced over his body, and concluded his pants were the ugliest monstrosity ever stitched, "Hey Eric…"I murmured and went back to reading.
He muttered something that sounded a bit snarky to me in French and I looked up and stared at Mandy, angrily, "Oh—oh! That means 'how are you', right?" She smiled up at him as he nodded.
"Yes!" She squeezed his arm tighter, "Eh, yo, he's coming to dinner with us tonight…" She muttered, and I was about to open up a can of crazy till I realized he wouldn't be too much of a bother, considering he couldn't speak anymore English than Mandy's cleaning lady. She was horrible…
Mandy leaned down and kissed me, square on the cheek, "Thank you!"
The other team believed in torture; slow, painful agonizing deaths. When they finally got bored with taking our butts to the cleaners, the whistle sounded and I jumped up and ran to the car and minutes later, Mandy joined followed closely by her newest victim.
She jumped in and started the ignition, "That was sad."
"Yes, it was." I looked back at Eric, "Welcome to America."
He raised an eyebrow and Mandy hit me on the knee, "Charlie…" She warned.
"My brothers coming to dinner with us," I shrugged, "He's bringing a girl…" I shrugged once more, not very interested.
Mandy's family was similar to those darned Kennedy's; even the grandpa's were blessed with beauty which made it possible for Todd and her to always have new love interests. I refuse to even waste time attempting to keep up. "And a guy…for you."
I've been on dates before—er, well, a date. I've been on one date. But by no means does that mean I am afraid of males. In fact, I find boys to be quite intriguing. From the low, rolling voices that send those silly, excited tingles down your back to the big, sturdy hands they use to engulf you in warmth. It's great. What's not to love?
But formal courting is horrendous. To be quite honest, nothing vexes me more than dinner dates. First, you spend hours in the mirror perfecting your smile, makeup and the way you want your hair to hang in your face when you look up at him from your plate, with a sweet, heart-stealing smile but then, of course, that gets thrown out the window as soon as the wind takes hold. Next? Next, you fidget all through the meal and forced conversation till finally when you habituate yourself to the milieu, your date checks the time and yells out, 'check, please!'
So forgive me when I tell you I've completely abandoned my date or the meeting of my date, because he still hadn't made his grand entrance when I excused myself to the bathroom and then sprinted to the smoking area in the lot out front.
Now seated on a cozy, cement bench, watching hoards of people go by, I can't help thinking one of them could very well be my Romeo. No matter how thrilling that is, I absolutely refuse to set aside my views and values for one stupid life time of happiness. So I stay seated...fully knowing I could be watching my husband walk by.
It was a pretty warm October night and just as all the stress seemed to be running out my fingers and toes, I was interrupted. A guy, over eighteen, I'm assuming from the cigarette in his hand, came and sat right next to me, sending a sweet smell of cinnamon past my nose. I looked straight forward, trying to avoid eye contact with the black lunged, good smelling boy.
Now why would someone do that? There's a perfectly rock hard and uncomfortable bench right across from me! No one is considering how I wanted to spend today! This Friday night was about to go down in the history books as a massive manslaughter by a deranged teenage girl that could have been prevented if her stupid(dead) friend would of just left her alone. This had to be stopped before it turned ugly.
"Excuse me?" I asked, turning my body to face his. I'm going to let this boy have it—not only because he sat next to me but because he had no courtesy in doing so!
He turned towards me and I stopped. I just looked at his face and lost all want to let loose my fury on him. It wasn't right to yell at angels….so I shifted my legs the other way and shut up quite quickly.
There was silence for a few seconds, "I'll move if you want." I shook my head at him, not even turning to show him my face, trying to spare myself the embarrassment talking would bring about. He chuckled, and drew out, "Doll, I will."
There was no way I had the guts to even look at him but I wasn't such a loser to get up and walk away. He might very well be the most…attractive boy I'd ever laid eyes on and I read Playgirl so I would know. From my quick, hardly satisfying glance, I saw dark, loose blond and brown curls. Well, and a long, straight nose…
He cleared his throat and with another fuller chuckle, he touched my shoulder and I jumped and finally turned in his direction, "Goodness!" I yelped as soon as I realized he had the dreamt of warm, engulfing hands!
Okay, well forgive me cuz the next chapter—if anyones reading—is crazy short.
Like three pages but ONLY because I wanted to introduce the male lead in the first chapter & so I did a helluva lot of cutting and pastin' to the first two chapters.
yesh. But still ENJOY. Ily, dear readers.