Part XIII of a work in progress.
Copyright Julia Bydulia.
---
The school day passed slowly.
Michelle noticed that Kayla was in her geometry class. If she was honest with herself, then she would know that she had seen Kayla walk in every day and barely given it a second thought that she was also the girl from her chorus class. She found herself wanting to say hi to Kayla in the halls. She even opened her mouth to do it a few times, but, all that would come out was a cough.
She was tired all day. Teachers caught her yawning. Kids asked if she was sick. She couldn't explain the exhaustion that had come over her, but, she hoped that she could get over it by the time the real work on the play started.
Every time she found herself alone in the bathroom or in the halls, she started to go through the warm ups that they had done on the first rehearsal.
"Ten, nine, eight...seven..."
After school, she waited with Ryan in the hall, staring at the wall as Ryan went on and on and on about the book The Outsiders and the movie of it that they had watched in their seventh grade language class. Then, the jokes they had made about the movie were hilarious. Even in eighth grade, they were funny. But, now Michelle found herself getting sick of the punchlines. She tried to smile but she knew it came off wrong. Ryan didn't seem phased by it, though.
Other kids were gathered in the hall around them, immersed in their own conversations.
One of the Tinas and Summer were huddled together in one corner. When Ande walked into the room, she walked right past Gerrard, Ryan, and Michelle and sat down a few inches away from Tina and Summer. The act seemed useless to Michelle. Why even pretend not to want to be part of the conversation? After a few seconds, Ande butted in and made her presence quite clear.
Atta girl, Michelle thought spitefully.
Suddenly, the doors to the chorus room opened and Mr. James waited, holding the door open for everyone while they gathered their books and filed in.
Elena sat down in the second row, so Michelle sat next to her. Ryan sat one row back, and Ande, Tina, and Summer one row forward. On the other side of Elena was Taylor and the rest of the girls playing the sisters in the play.
With nothing to say, Michelle stared at the door and wondered if she would get a look at Pete or Keith during the rehearsal.
She got her answer to the second when Keith came waltzing through the door, his book for the play tucked under one arm, and a cigarette tucked behind his left ear. Michelle stared at him, wondering if she would reach that level of cool by the time she was 21 years old. Doubt it, she answered herself plainly, leaning back in her chair.
There was no fluttering of her heart or anything romantic, like she used to feel with Vince or any of the guys before him. Still, she felt like what Keith thought of her mattered. She just wasn't sure how yet.
The lights of the chorus room felt harsh and unforgiving. Michelle had that feeling in her stomach as though everyone in the room knew exactly what she was thinking and what she was feeling. In her head, she played out romantic scenes that she could write during any of her free time.
He laughed and bent his head back slightly, whispering so that no one in the classrooms they were walking by could hear them. "Frankly," he told her, grabbing her hand, "I don't give a fuck whether we get caught or not."
"Then why are you whispering?" She shot back in a whisper of her own.
Mr. James walked with confidence, but, not so much ease, to the center of the front of the room. He cleared his throat, making it just as obvious as he could that he wanted all eyes on his bloated self. "I believe we are going to attempt reading through the book today, correct?" He stared at Lee as if she had just made the announcement, rather than having been sitting there and hearing it for the first time like everyone else.
"Um, sure," she answered, her voice dripping with unease.
I would hate to have to "co-direct" with him. I bet she'll do all the work, she made the silent bet to herself, still doing her best to listen to everything that was going on.
When Mr. James finished leading himself in circles, everyone took out their books. And so the reading began.
Keith's attempt at an accent made Michelle laugh softly to herself. She could hardly tell if it was supposed to be German or Italian.
The sheets were soft and comfortable. She could hardly peel herself out of bed, but, she sat up and looked over to the window, where he was sitting and staring out. "What are you looking at?" She asked, smiling and stretching.
He turned to her, looking a lot more awake than she felt. "Outside," he told her, quietly.
The image stuck in Michelle's head like a cheesy song from the 90s. Her concentration faded slowly as everyone but Keith read their lines. Kayla's conviction did catch her attention, and Elena's attempt at a whine made her smile. Lee did fantastic, as Michelle expected. But, Keith surprised her. Maybe, by the end of the play, she would know him better than she ever could have in the seventh grade.
The room felt like a tent, flimsy and unsure as Michelle looked all around it, only listening to everyone. There were shadows in the small practice rooms, but, the room itself was almost violently lit up. Her shoes were dark and black against the white of the tiles. Her fingernails were choppy and uneven as she bit them down.
This is going to be good, she told herself as Joanna and Daron ran their scene. Each of them stumbled over words and phrases, but, they still made Michelle smile. This is going to be good.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Shred
Copyright Julia Bydulia.
---
You are the
----------------------------------papers that I shred
on Saturday night when I realize
I have
more important things to do,
-------------------------------so I procrastinate.
You
------f
----a
----------l
-------l
like melted snowflakes
to the fate that you have chosen.
You drift
---------------down
----------------------and down
until you touch the floor and
reacquaint yourself with the
grooves in the wood.
Make me smile like you did on
that day when
-----------------------we first met
and I'll shut down the power
until you can regain your composure.
----Because
you are the paper I shred
without
-------------------------------thought
and without---------------------- mercy
until there's nothing left but
single letters and
unfin-----------------ished
th---------------------------------oughts.
---
You are the
----------------------------------papers that I shred
on Saturday night when I realize
I have
more important things to do,
-------------------------------so I procrastinate.
You
------f
----a
----------l
-------l
like melted snowflakes
to the fate that you have chosen.
You drift
---------------down
----------------------and down
until you touch the floor and
reacquaint yourself with the
grooves in the wood.
Make me smile like you did on
that day when
-----------------------we first met
and I'll shut down the power
until you can regain your composure.
----Because
you are the paper I shred
without
-------------------------------thought
and without---------------------- mercy
until there's nothing left but
single letters and
unfin-----------------ished
th---------------------------------oughts.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Reminder
Copyright Julia Bydulia
Please read and tell me what you think
---
I print you on my skin like
I tie a string around my finger:
reminding myself not to forget.
Don't forget the long nights when we didn't talk
or the short nights when we did
and don't forget the look on your face when I
repeated myself and you expected less.
Your eyes were like guiding lights in the darkness
and I followed them as they darted and dashed
everywhere but my eyes, but my smile,
but my self.
Don't forget the promises that were never told
or the dreams you had where they were
and don't forget the echoes you could barely hear
or the shouts that rung vibrantly in your ears.
I print you on my skin like
I post sticky notes on my mirror:
reminding myself of you
every morning and every night.
Please read and tell me what you think
---
I print you on my skin like
I tie a string around my finger:
reminding myself not to forget.
Don't forget the long nights when we didn't talk
or the short nights when we did
and don't forget the look on your face when I
repeated myself and you expected less.
Your eyes were like guiding lights in the darkness
and I followed them as they darted and dashed
everywhere but my eyes, but my smile,
but my self.
Don't forget the promises that were never told
or the dreams you had where they were
and don't forget the echoes you could barely hear
or the shouts that rung vibrantly in your ears.
I print you on my skin like
I post sticky notes on my mirror:
reminding myself of you
every morning and every night.
Informal Reunion
Copyright Julia Bydulia
Please feel free to comment if you read.
---
The playground was our refuge
when we were younger
we would hide under the wooden steps
and promise not to change.
The playground was our doorway
and we stood still in it for too many years,
stopping the other from moving.
We were stuck.
The rooms that we ended up in
when we took that step forward
turned out to be different rooms
than we had originally planned.
Meet me at the swing set
with an open mind and a bad memory
and maybe we'll get along better
than the suckers who showed their faces at the reunion.
Please feel free to comment if you read.
---
The playground was our refuge
when we were younger
we would hide under the wooden steps
and promise not to change.
The playground was our doorway
and we stood still in it for too many years,
stopping the other from moving.
We were stuck.
The rooms that we ended up in
when we took that step forward
turned out to be different rooms
than we had originally planned.
Meet me at the swing set
with an open mind and a bad memory
and maybe we'll get along better
than the suckers who showed their faces at the reunion.
Story, An Untitled
Copyright Julia Bydulia.
Part XII of an unfinished story.
---
Practice was exciting. Mr. James read off the cast list.
"Lee will be playing Jo. Joanna will play Meg. Mary will play Beth. The two Amys will be played by Elena and Tayler. They look alike, right guys?" He laughed that big fake laugh and looked around the room, expecting a response. A few people smiled. "Kayla as Marmee. Keith came back to help us out and play Professor Bhear. Lee's friend Peter is going to come from another school to play Laurie." The list was going on and on, but, Michelle heard her name nowhere on it. Mr. James went on. "Charlie will play Mr. Laurence. Daron is going to play John Brooke." He turned the page on the packet he was holding. "For the scene about the newspaper--"
"Weekly Volcano Press," Lee told him, smiling.
He nodded at her and then went on. "We'll have Tina as Clarissa, our other Tina as Rodrigo 2, Summer as the first Rodrigo, Michelle as Braxton, Gerrard as the troll, Tanya as the hag, and Daron as the knight." Michelle's heart stopped and when it started again, it felt as if it was beating in her feet instead of her chest.
"Everyone else will be chorus members or dancers or whatever, right?"
Everyone nodded and Lee clapped her hands, standing up. She turned to Mr. James. "Auditorium?" She asked, cocking her head to one side.
"Sure," he answered, seeming uninterested in what she did.
Elena and Michelle turned to each other. "Amy! I'm Amy!" Elena cried, jumping up and down. "I'm young Amy!"
"Braxton! I don't know who that is! But now it's me!" Michelle squealed, spinning around in a few tiny circles.
In the pit of her stomach, she felt a tiny thrill. She couldn't help but think, I got a part and Ande didn't! before she walked with everyone else into the auditorium for warm ups.
Little Women would be great. It would be grand! Michelle could feel it in every step she took, every swinging or swaying of her arms. Her heart was smiling with the rest of her. She had a part.
Everyone was on the stage already when Michelle finally climbed on. The whole cast formed into an uneven circle. Michelle stood with Elena on one side and Kayla on the other. Ande was a few people down from her. She could see her and Gerrard out of the corner of her eye. Keith was standing next to Charlie, directly across from Michelle, near Lee and Joanna.
"Let's warm up!" Lee announced. "Quiet time! Reach for the cookie in the sky," she instructed, reaching her arms as far over her head as she could. Everyone else followed her lead. "Aaaaaaaand flop over like a rag doll." She and everyone else flopped over loosely, doing their best to touch their toes. "Slowly roll up, one vertebrae at a time, and count backwards from ten. Ten...nine...eight..." Michelle counted along in her head and followed Lee's instructions with everyone else.
They followed that up with a few vocal exercises. "Whether the weather is cold, or whether the weather is hot, we'll be together whatever the weather, whether we like it or not!"
"We'll probably just play some games for today. I wanna see if Pete can come in tomorrow. Whether he does or not, we'll start our read through." Lee stretched a little. "Let's introduce ourselves!"
The names didn't surprise Michelle. She recognized most everyone from the halls or knowing them through other people. A few of them were new, but, they wouldn't be too hard to remember. She laughed at the prospect of any of them actually committing her own name to memory, but, she said it anyway.
They all played fun little theater games for the full two hours. She and Elena paired up for the Mirror Game. Their new catchphrase became "of one mind" as they did their best to follow each other's movements and match each other's thoughts.
Of one mind, Michelle whispered in her thoughts as she watched Keith out of the corner of her eye.
Part XII of an unfinished story.
---
Practice was exciting. Mr. James read off the cast list.
"Lee will be playing Jo. Joanna will play Meg. Mary will play Beth. The two Amys will be played by Elena and Tayler. They look alike, right guys?" He laughed that big fake laugh and looked around the room, expecting a response. A few people smiled. "Kayla as Marmee. Keith came back to help us out and play Professor Bhear. Lee's friend Peter is going to come from another school to play Laurie." The list was going on and on, but, Michelle heard her name nowhere on it. Mr. James went on. "Charlie will play Mr. Laurence. Daron is going to play John Brooke." He turned the page on the packet he was holding. "For the scene about the newspaper--"
"Weekly Volcano Press," Lee told him, smiling.
He nodded at her and then went on. "We'll have Tina as Clarissa, our other Tina as Rodrigo 2, Summer as the first Rodrigo, Michelle as Braxton, Gerrard as the troll, Tanya as the hag, and Daron as the knight." Michelle's heart stopped and when it started again, it felt as if it was beating in her feet instead of her chest.
"Everyone else will be chorus members or dancers or whatever, right?"
Everyone nodded and Lee clapped her hands, standing up. She turned to Mr. James. "Auditorium?" She asked, cocking her head to one side.
"Sure," he answered, seeming uninterested in what she did.
Elena and Michelle turned to each other. "Amy! I'm Amy!" Elena cried, jumping up and down. "I'm young Amy!"
"Braxton! I don't know who that is! But now it's me!" Michelle squealed, spinning around in a few tiny circles.
In the pit of her stomach, she felt a tiny thrill. She couldn't help but think, I got a part and Ande didn't! before she walked with everyone else into the auditorium for warm ups.
Little Women would be great. It would be grand! Michelle could feel it in every step she took, every swinging or swaying of her arms. Her heart was smiling with the rest of her. She had a part.
Everyone was on the stage already when Michelle finally climbed on. The whole cast formed into an uneven circle. Michelle stood with Elena on one side and Kayla on the other. Ande was a few people down from her. She could see her and Gerrard out of the corner of her eye. Keith was standing next to Charlie, directly across from Michelle, near Lee and Joanna.
"Let's warm up!" Lee announced. "Quiet time! Reach for the cookie in the sky," she instructed, reaching her arms as far over her head as she could. Everyone else followed her lead. "Aaaaaaaand flop over like a rag doll." She and everyone else flopped over loosely, doing their best to touch their toes. "Slowly roll up, one vertebrae at a time, and count backwards from ten. Ten...nine...eight..." Michelle counted along in her head and followed Lee's instructions with everyone else.
They followed that up with a few vocal exercises. "Whether the weather is cold, or whether the weather is hot, we'll be together whatever the weather, whether we like it or not!"
"We'll probably just play some games for today. I wanna see if Pete can come in tomorrow. Whether he does or not, we'll start our read through." Lee stretched a little. "Let's introduce ourselves!"
The names didn't surprise Michelle. She recognized most everyone from the halls or knowing them through other people. A few of them were new, but, they wouldn't be too hard to remember. She laughed at the prospect of any of them actually committing her own name to memory, but, she said it anyway.
They all played fun little theater games for the full two hours. She and Elena paired up for the Mirror Game. Their new catchphrase became "of one mind" as they did their best to follow each other's movements and match each other's thoughts.
Of one mind, Michelle whispered in her thoughts as she watched Keith out of the corner of her eye.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Story, An Untitled
Part XI of an unfinished story.
Copyright Julia Bydulia
---
After school, Michelle was nervous. She got the feeling in her mouth she usually did when she got nervous. Like her tongue was itchy, like there were tidal waves of blood flowing through the veins of her head. She let all of it flow and tried to take deep breaths, concentrating on the tiles of the floor as she walked over them.
Her locker was on the opposite side of the school from the chorus room, so she had more than enough time to think.
There were people all around. A lot of them were in track shorts and tshirts, their sneakers squeaking on the floor as they all walked together and out of sync with one another. Michelle tried to walk as quietly as she could, just to set herself apart. She hugged the wall of the hallway and rushed toward the chorus room. There were some teachers walking, too. Only a couple of them caught Michelle's eye. She wanted to seem cool, instead of like a weird kid, walking alone in a Nightmare Before Christmas hoodie who might shoot up the school if she got the chance.
The cafeteria was quiet as she walked through it. There were some kids getting water bottles from the machines. They were all laughing together. They weren't wearing sweatpants or shorts or anything with a school logo on it, so Michelle betted they were there for either band practice or the rehearsal. One of them had beautiful blond hair that Michelle envied. She recognized the girl from her gym class and could have sworn her name was Elaine. Neither one of the others looked particularly familiar to Michelle, but, one of them was short with long brown hair.
Michelle walked past them and toward the chorus room. She was greeted by a group of kids waiting for the door to the room to be unlocked. There was Lee and Kayla both sitting along one side of the wall. A girl named April was sitting alone with just a tote bag nearly as big as her torso. Michelle recognized Tina and Summer, two girls who were obviously Hot Topiv junkies. Charlie and Gerrard were sitting together, much to Charlie's disdain, it seemed. Michelle saw Elena and jumped toward her, happy to see someone she could actually talk to.
"Door's locked?" Michelle said, rolling her eyes.
Elena nodded, kicking the bag that was sitting next to her on the floor and tucking her hair behind one ear.
Just then, a surprising face greeted them all by busting through the chorus room doors. "It's open!" The Face yelled as he kicked the door stop in place and ran back inside the room.
Michelle felt her heart kick into gear. She hadn't heard that Keith had come back to do the musical.
Keith had graduated two years ago, just after the year when he had performed as Mr. Bumble in Oliver! with Michelle. She knew of his existence, but, didn't really know him as well as other's might. When they had first met, she was in seventh grade and he was a senior. It was embarrassing, but, Michelle had to admit that he intimidated her. She ran into the room before anyone, intrigued by Keith's appearance at the rehearsal.
He was sitting in the back of the room, his feet resting on the back of the chair that she usually sat in. A streak of reddish-pink hair stuck out from the front of his hat as he reclined, staring at everyone as they filed in the room. Michelle wondered if he even remembered her.
Then, she wondered why her heart seemed to care so much if he did or didn't.
Copyright Julia Bydulia
---
After school, Michelle was nervous. She got the feeling in her mouth she usually did when she got nervous. Like her tongue was itchy, like there were tidal waves of blood flowing through the veins of her head. She let all of it flow and tried to take deep breaths, concentrating on the tiles of the floor as she walked over them.
Her locker was on the opposite side of the school from the chorus room, so she had more than enough time to think.
There were people all around. A lot of them were in track shorts and tshirts, their sneakers squeaking on the floor as they all walked together and out of sync with one another. Michelle tried to walk as quietly as she could, just to set herself apart. She hugged the wall of the hallway and rushed toward the chorus room. There were some teachers walking, too. Only a couple of them caught Michelle's eye. She wanted to seem cool, instead of like a weird kid, walking alone in a Nightmare Before Christmas hoodie who might shoot up the school if she got the chance.
The cafeteria was quiet as she walked through it. There were some kids getting water bottles from the machines. They were all laughing together. They weren't wearing sweatpants or shorts or anything with a school logo on it, so Michelle betted they were there for either band practice or the rehearsal. One of them had beautiful blond hair that Michelle envied. She recognized the girl from her gym class and could have sworn her name was Elaine. Neither one of the others looked particularly familiar to Michelle, but, one of them was short with long brown hair.
Michelle walked past them and toward the chorus room. She was greeted by a group of kids waiting for the door to the room to be unlocked. There was Lee and Kayla both sitting along one side of the wall. A girl named April was sitting alone with just a tote bag nearly as big as her torso. Michelle recognized Tina and Summer, two girls who were obviously Hot Topiv junkies. Charlie and Gerrard were sitting together, much to Charlie's disdain, it seemed. Michelle saw Elena and jumped toward her, happy to see someone she could actually talk to.
"Door's locked?" Michelle said, rolling her eyes.
Elena nodded, kicking the bag that was sitting next to her on the floor and tucking her hair behind one ear.
Just then, a surprising face greeted them all by busting through the chorus room doors. "It's open!" The Face yelled as he kicked the door stop in place and ran back inside the room.
Michelle felt her heart kick into gear. She hadn't heard that Keith had come back to do the musical.
Keith had graduated two years ago, just after the year when he had performed as Mr. Bumble in Oliver! with Michelle. She knew of his existence, but, didn't really know him as well as other's might. When they had first met, she was in seventh grade and he was a senior. It was embarrassing, but, Michelle had to admit that he intimidated her. She ran into the room before anyone, intrigued by Keith's appearance at the rehearsal.
He was sitting in the back of the room, his feet resting on the back of the chair that she usually sat in. A streak of reddish-pink hair stuck out from the front of his hat as he reclined, staring at everyone as they filed in the room. Michelle wondered if he even remembered her.
Then, she wondered why her heart seemed to care so much if he did or didn't.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Story, An Untitled
Part X of an unfinished story.
Copyright Julia Bydulia.
---
"You guys!" Michelle slammed her paper plate of cheese nachos down on the table, followed by her water bottle. Everyone at her lunch table looked up at her. Nella smiled sweetly at her, Craig kept on chewing his crackers, Allen shrugged noncommittally. "Today is the very first time that the cast of the play is getting together! I'm not, um, calling it a rehearsal yet because we don't even have our parts yet. But whatever."
Nella laughed. "You're so cute," she commented, as she usually did.
"Cool," Craig said, though he sounded like she had just told him that his dog died.
Allen stayed hunched over his plate, trying to get as much grease off his pizza as he could. He didn't say anything, though Michelle heard him make a small grunting sound.
None of these were quite the response she wanted. She dug into her nachos, frowning as she did and trying not to get the corn starchy cheese all over her chin, because she knew that Craig would have to make a comment about--
"You've got white stuff all over your face," he told her, giggling like a five year old girl.
Allen jumped on the bandwagon and laughed with him. "I think it missed your mouth," he commented, pointing to the cheese that was on her chin.
Michelle wiped it off as fast as she could. "Shut up, you pervs," she yelled at both of them.
Nella laughed at her, though she looked a bit oblivious as to why Michelle was so angry. She couldn't really keep up with some of the sex related jokes that Allen and Craig loved to make. It was part of the reason that Michelle loved hanging out with her. She never cursed and never said anything bad. On the other hand, it could mean trouble, because Michelle cursed a lot and barely said anything good. Still, she loved Nella.
When Michelle turned around, the first thing she saw was Vincent, his face red from laughter. She smiled and looked around at everyone else at the table. There was Terrence, who was obviously the source of the entertainment, John, egging him on, and Ande, looking glum. How could you ever look that sad sitting with so many hilarious people? she thought.
She recalled all the times that she had been feeling cheery, and then sought out Ande to tell her whatever it was that was making her that way. The cheeriness didn't last long after she found Ande. Somehow, there was always something going horribly wrong or something frustrating her that no one could fix, no matter what they did. Michelle remembered watching Ande sit silently at their lunch table, picking at a tiny salad and staring off into the distance while everyone else laughed and talked to each other. Her eyes were always dead. Dead, that is, until someone gave her the attention she so obviously yearned for.
At her new lunch table, only Vincent gave her the light of day. It was obvious that Terrence didn't want her there. Terrence couldn't quite grasp the concept of Ande's constant sadness. He only ever felt happy and only really expressed his feelings through laughter.
Michelle turned back to Nella and smiled at her from across the table. "What's up?" She asked, unscrewing her water bottle.
Nella just shrugged and smiled pleasantly. There was something reassuring in the smiles Nella was always flashing.
The bell rang to tell everyone that lunch was over. Michelle tried to walk out with Vincent and his friends without having to run into Ande. She ended up walking with Craig most of the way. She smiled genuinely at his jokes, but, she wished she could hear what Vincent was saying that was making Terrence laugh so hard.
Copyright Julia Bydulia.
---
"You guys!" Michelle slammed her paper plate of cheese nachos down on the table, followed by her water bottle. Everyone at her lunch table looked up at her. Nella smiled sweetly at her, Craig kept on chewing his crackers, Allen shrugged noncommittally. "Today is the very first time that the cast of the play is getting together! I'm not, um, calling it a rehearsal yet because we don't even have our parts yet. But whatever."
Nella laughed. "You're so cute," she commented, as she usually did.
"Cool," Craig said, though he sounded like she had just told him that his dog died.
Allen stayed hunched over his plate, trying to get as much grease off his pizza as he could. He didn't say anything, though Michelle heard him make a small grunting sound.
None of these were quite the response she wanted. She dug into her nachos, frowning as she did and trying not to get the corn starchy cheese all over her chin, because she knew that Craig would have to make a comment about--
"You've got white stuff all over your face," he told her, giggling like a five year old girl.
Allen jumped on the bandwagon and laughed with him. "I think it missed your mouth," he commented, pointing to the cheese that was on her chin.
Michelle wiped it off as fast as she could. "Shut up, you pervs," she yelled at both of them.
Nella laughed at her, though she looked a bit oblivious as to why Michelle was so angry. She couldn't really keep up with some of the sex related jokes that Allen and Craig loved to make. It was part of the reason that Michelle loved hanging out with her. She never cursed and never said anything bad. On the other hand, it could mean trouble, because Michelle cursed a lot and barely said anything good. Still, she loved Nella.
When Michelle turned around, the first thing she saw was Vincent, his face red from laughter. She smiled and looked around at everyone else at the table. There was Terrence, who was obviously the source of the entertainment, John, egging him on, and Ande, looking glum. How could you ever look that sad sitting with so many hilarious people? she thought.
She recalled all the times that she had been feeling cheery, and then sought out Ande to tell her whatever it was that was making her that way. The cheeriness didn't last long after she found Ande. Somehow, there was always something going horribly wrong or something frustrating her that no one could fix, no matter what they did. Michelle remembered watching Ande sit silently at their lunch table, picking at a tiny salad and staring off into the distance while everyone else laughed and talked to each other. Her eyes were always dead. Dead, that is, until someone gave her the attention she so obviously yearned for.
At her new lunch table, only Vincent gave her the light of day. It was obvious that Terrence didn't want her there. Terrence couldn't quite grasp the concept of Ande's constant sadness. He only ever felt happy and only really expressed his feelings through laughter.
Michelle turned back to Nella and smiled at her from across the table. "What's up?" She asked, unscrewing her water bottle.
Nella just shrugged and smiled pleasantly. There was something reassuring in the smiles Nella was always flashing.
The bell rang to tell everyone that lunch was over. Michelle tried to walk out with Vincent and his friends without having to run into Ande. She ended up walking with Craig most of the way. She smiled genuinely at his jokes, but, she wished she could hear what Vincent was saying that was making Terrence laugh so hard.
Story, An Untitled
Copyright Julia Bydulia
Part IX of an unfinished story.
---
It felt like a month had passed by the time Mr. James handed out schedules for rehearsals. Michelle was sitting in chorus class, making small talk with Kayla, Petunia, and Elena. Mr. James smacked a stack of calendars down on a desk in the corner of the room and leaned on the desk. "First rehearsal is next week," he announced in a booming voice without looking at anyone in particular. "Schedules are here," he added, tapping the papers before he ran back to his office and shut himself in.
Elena and Michelle both jumped up and headed toward to desk to grab their own schedules. "Practices on Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays," Michelle muttered to herself as she flipped the page to find the schedule for the next month as well.
"How many times do you think he'll change it?" Kayla asked, randomly popping up behind them and peeking at Michelle's schedule over her shoulder.
Michelle laughed awkwardly and nodded. "I know, right?" Immediately, she felt stupid. That's all you can think of to say? I know, right? SERIOUSLY? She shouted at herself as she pretended to examine the schedule, her eyes unfocused and a small, fake smile on her face.
When she looked up, the first thing she saw were the windows above the doors that lead outdoors. The sky was bleak and gray with a few stringy looking clouds drifting slowly across it. They looked like a lot of kites torn by tree branches. Michelle watched them mindlessly for a few seconds, keeping her eyes glaze over and pretending that the trees she could see were really giants' fingers.
"Michelle?" Elena waved a hand in front of Michelle's face. She and Petunia were both laughing at here.
"What? Huh?" Michelle blinked a few times and started blushing.
"Class is over," Elena informed her.
"The bell rang, honey," Petunia added.
"I didn't even hear it," Michelle whispered as she turned around and blinked at the clock. Elena and Petunia both laughed again and Petunia patted her shoulder.
As Michelle walked out the doors that lead out into the school, she swore she could hear a giant's throaty voice. "Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of an Englishmen." Regardless of whether it was just her imagination running away without her, Michelle's heart rate sped up. "Be he alive, or be he dead, I'll have his bones to grind my bread!" She ran through the cafeteria, ahead of Kayla, Elena, and Petunia, to get as far away from the leafy fingered giants as she could.
Part IX of an unfinished story.
---
It felt like a month had passed by the time Mr. James handed out schedules for rehearsals. Michelle was sitting in chorus class, making small talk with Kayla, Petunia, and Elena. Mr. James smacked a stack of calendars down on a desk in the corner of the room and leaned on the desk. "First rehearsal is next week," he announced in a booming voice without looking at anyone in particular. "Schedules are here," he added, tapping the papers before he ran back to his office and shut himself in.
Elena and Michelle both jumped up and headed toward to desk to grab their own schedules. "Practices on Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays," Michelle muttered to herself as she flipped the page to find the schedule for the next month as well.
"How many times do you think he'll change it?" Kayla asked, randomly popping up behind them and peeking at Michelle's schedule over her shoulder.
Michelle laughed awkwardly and nodded. "I know, right?" Immediately, she felt stupid. That's all you can think of to say? I know, right? SERIOUSLY? She shouted at herself as she pretended to examine the schedule, her eyes unfocused and a small, fake smile on her face.
When she looked up, the first thing she saw were the windows above the doors that lead outdoors. The sky was bleak and gray with a few stringy looking clouds drifting slowly across it. They looked like a lot of kites torn by tree branches. Michelle watched them mindlessly for a few seconds, keeping her eyes glaze over and pretending that the trees she could see were really giants' fingers.
"Michelle?" Elena waved a hand in front of Michelle's face. She and Petunia were both laughing at here.
"What? Huh?" Michelle blinked a few times and started blushing.
"Class is over," Elena informed her.
"The bell rang, honey," Petunia added.
"I didn't even hear it," Michelle whispered as she turned around and blinked at the clock. Elena and Petunia both laughed again and Petunia patted her shoulder.
As Michelle walked out the doors that lead out into the school, she swore she could hear a giant's throaty voice. "Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of an Englishmen." Regardless of whether it was just her imagination running away without her, Michelle's heart rate sped up. "Be he alive, or be he dead, I'll have his bones to grind my bread!" She ran through the cafeteria, ahead of Kayla, Elena, and Petunia, to get as far away from the leafy fingered giants as she could.
Rabid Okapis Slowly Maul Four Year Olds in a Department Store
This is a favor for my friend Matt.
Copyright Julia Bydulia.
---
The roof was too low to stand and the room was too short to lay down.
Sigmond was laying on his back, cold and damp, his eyes closed against the ragged sensations caused by the room. He could hear footsteps over him and felt an uneasy rocking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
His mother was somewhere off in Ireland, eating the fruit flies he'd commandeered for her. He wondered if her teeth were still as razor sharp as they had been ten years ago.
The sun was shining somewhere else in the universe, far away from Sigmond.
The honey badgers were on their way. There was no escape.
His father was still in Russia, chewing on the bones of the innocent. Sigmond wondered who the bones belonged to. He wondered if he could kill a child so mercilessly.
His fingernails were twelve feet long. "Yes!" He cried, scratching them against the cement of the walls and the floor. "I'll build a restaurant in Paris!" The thrill of an escape filled him and he set to work on the restaurant. "The hamburgers will be exquisite!"
The honey badgers were getting closer. Their noses were twitching, and Sigmond knew that they thirsted for his blood.
"HAMBURGERS!" He cried out, the sound echoing off the walls and making his ears bleed. "HAMBURGERS!"
Copyright Julia Bydulia.
---
The roof was too low to stand and the room was too short to lay down.
Sigmond was laying on his back, cold and damp, his eyes closed against the ragged sensations caused by the room. He could hear footsteps over him and felt an uneasy rocking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
His mother was somewhere off in Ireland, eating the fruit flies he'd commandeered for her. He wondered if her teeth were still as razor sharp as they had been ten years ago.
The sun was shining somewhere else in the universe, far away from Sigmond.
The honey badgers were on their way. There was no escape.
His father was still in Russia, chewing on the bones of the innocent. Sigmond wondered who the bones belonged to. He wondered if he could kill a child so mercilessly.
His fingernails were twelve feet long. "Yes!" He cried, scratching them against the cement of the walls and the floor. "I'll build a restaurant in Paris!" The thrill of an escape filled him and he set to work on the restaurant. "The hamburgers will be exquisite!"
The honey badgers were getting closer. Their noses were twitching, and Sigmond knew that they thirsted for his blood.
"HAMBURGERS!" He cried out, the sound echoing off the walls and making his ears bleed. "HAMBURGERS!"
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Story, An Untitled
Part VIII of an unfinished story.
Copyright Julia Bydulia
---
After school, Michelle went to the hallway outside the chorus room to wait with the other kids who were auditioning. She sat down on the floor and set her books down next to her. The floor was cold and she shivered as she shied away from everyone else, all girls who she knew of, but, didn't actually know.
Mr. James busted through the locked doors of the chorus room, a stack of paper in his hand, his hair disheveled. "Come on in, you guys," he sighed, rushing back into the room.
Kayla, a girl that Michelle liked talking to in chorus class, scoffed at Mr. James's attitude and stood up with everyone else, gathering her books and heading into the chorus room. Michelle walked right behind her and sat next to her when she picked a seat.
"Do you have a pencil I can borrow?" She asked Kayla, when Mr. James gave them each an audition form to fill out. It was the first audition she had ever been to, and she was feeling more nervous than she ever had. She spun her CD between two fingers and ripped the corners of the paper with her monologue on it.
Kayla nodded and pulled a pink led pencil out of her bag. "There ya go," she said. Kayla always seemed polite and sweet and talented to Michelle. She'd never really seen anything below the surface.
"Thanks."
Mr. James ranted for a few minutes, as they all expected him to. A short girl that Michelle didn't quite recognize sat on the other side of the room with a smile plastered onto her face. She wondered what it felt like to be her, with long and dark hair and very round cheeks.
"Whose first?" Mr. James finally finished.
Michelle volunteered reluctantly.
I hope that someday this will be something I laugh about where I do well or not, Michelle thought to herself.
When it was just her and Mr. James in the room, it was even more nerve wracking. She wrung her hands and swallowed hard. "Ok. Song or monologue first?" She asked him.
"Whichever," he said, his tone bored and cold.
So, she started with her song and sang two verses of Penny Lane. Her monologue went off without a hitch. Her heart was still pounding as she waddled toward the door and reached for the cold, metal handle.
Laugh today, she told herself in her head as she grabbed her bags and headed down the hall, preparing for the wait for her ride to get there. That wasn't so bad. Just had to do it like a band aid.
Copyright Julia Bydulia
---
After school, Michelle went to the hallway outside the chorus room to wait with the other kids who were auditioning. She sat down on the floor and set her books down next to her. The floor was cold and she shivered as she shied away from everyone else, all girls who she knew of, but, didn't actually know.
Mr. James busted through the locked doors of the chorus room, a stack of paper in his hand, his hair disheveled. "Come on in, you guys," he sighed, rushing back into the room.
Kayla, a girl that Michelle liked talking to in chorus class, scoffed at Mr. James's attitude and stood up with everyone else, gathering her books and heading into the chorus room. Michelle walked right behind her and sat next to her when she picked a seat.
"Do you have a pencil I can borrow?" She asked Kayla, when Mr. James gave them each an audition form to fill out. It was the first audition she had ever been to, and she was feeling more nervous than she ever had. She spun her CD between two fingers and ripped the corners of the paper with her monologue on it.
Kayla nodded and pulled a pink led pencil out of her bag. "There ya go," she said. Kayla always seemed polite and sweet and talented to Michelle. She'd never really seen anything below the surface.
"Thanks."
Mr. James ranted for a few minutes, as they all expected him to. A short girl that Michelle didn't quite recognize sat on the other side of the room with a smile plastered onto her face. She wondered what it felt like to be her, with long and dark hair and very round cheeks.
"Whose first?" Mr. James finally finished.
Michelle volunteered reluctantly.
I hope that someday this will be something I laugh about where I do well or not, Michelle thought to herself.
When it was just her and Mr. James in the room, it was even more nerve wracking. She wrung her hands and swallowed hard. "Ok. Song or monologue first?" She asked him.
"Whichever," he said, his tone bored and cold.
So, she started with her song and sang two verses of Penny Lane. Her monologue went off without a hitch. Her heart was still pounding as she waddled toward the door and reached for the cold, metal handle.
Laugh today, she told herself in her head as she grabbed her bags and headed down the hall, preparing for the wait for her ride to get there. That wasn't so bad. Just had to do it like a band aid.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
rorschach
I wrote this one just now, after rediscovering lack of capital letters.
Copyright Julia Bydulia.
---
Copyright Julia Bydulia.
---
give me your secrets and i promise to
tell you just exactly what i see in the
misshapen blackness that they are.
if you gave me your mind i'd hold it close
and tuck it in at night to keep the
nightmares from swallowing your psyche whole.
the papers that you spilled your inkwell on
are sopping wet and dripping broken hearts
over the table and over the floor.
i see the hearts you have left scattered
like a trail of bread crumbs
and i see the smile you flashed
just before you tore mine from my
unsuspecting chest.
they say there are no wrong answers
but i still feel like i have failed.
tell you just exactly what i see in the
misshapen blackness that they are.
if you gave me your mind i'd hold it close
and tuck it in at night to keep the
nightmares from swallowing your psyche whole.
the papers that you spilled your inkwell on
are sopping wet and dripping broken hearts
over the table and over the floor.
i see the hearts you have left scattered
like a trail of bread crumbs
and i see the smile you flashed
just before you tore mine from my
unsuspecting chest.
they say there are no wrong answers
but i still feel like i have failed.
girl on fire
I wrote this when I thought that a lack of capitalization was cool to use in poems.
I wrote this when I thought I was in love with a boy that I realize now I just love.
I wrote this when I thought Gaia was awesome.
Ah, how time has changed me.
Copyright Julia Bydulia
---
we are two different species living in the same world,
so how am i supposed to win your heart?
i like reading harry potter books and fantasizing
about boys in hats and wizard robes
and you like to read about chords and key changes
while you try to learn the flow of the songs.
i like to write about girls falling in love with
music and boys and themselves while they
try to discover what life is--
and you like to write about dreams you've had
and scribbled down in a midnight stupor.
i love you for your heart and your mind
(even if it is filled with new wave nonsense and
religion) so i wish you could love me too.
I wrote this when I thought I was in love with a boy that I realize now I just love.
I wrote this when I thought Gaia was awesome.
Ah, how time has changed me.
Copyright Julia Bydulia
---
we are two different species living in the same world,
so how am i supposed to win your heart?
i like reading harry potter books and fantasizing
about boys in hats and wizard robes
and you like to read about chords and key changes
while you try to learn the flow of the songs.
i like to write about girls falling in love with
music and boys and themselves while they
try to discover what life is--
and you like to write about dreams you've had
and scribbled down in a midnight stupor.
i love you for your heart and your mind
(even if it is filled with new wave nonsense and
religion) so i wish you could love me too.
Story, An Untitled
Part VII of an unfinished story
Copyright Julia Bydulia
---
With her shirt on backwards and her feet bare, Michelle unlocked the stall she was getting changed in, gathered up all of her things and ran out of the bathroom without another word.
The hallway seemed impossibly long and her heart seemed impossibly large for her chest. Her feet slipped and slid all over the tiles of the floor and she found that running without shoes in the halls of the school made it hard to keep your balance.
When she did reach the door to the classroom, she gulped down air and let it all out at once before pushing through it and walking back to her seat, her shoes still in her hand and her shirt still backwards. Vincent was sitting in the same way he was when she left him. His hair was still pulled back in that tight ponytail, which was still resting on the back of his neck.
Without another second wasted, Michelle walked to her seat and sat down, throwing her shoes on the floor. Someone was presenting their monologue at the front of the room, but, no one liked him anyway, so the noise wasn't a real disturbance.
"Hi," Vincent whispered when he saw her.
She held up on finger and ripped out a piece of notebook paper:
Vincent, my darling Italian Stallion.
I don't like you anymore or anyhow or anyway except that I love you. That sounds weird. But it's not the same way. So I hope you have beautiful babies someday. Babies that are in no way mine.
She folded up the piece of paper and threw it at him, grinning as she did.
He smirked at the note while he read it, then he stole her pencil and used it to write a response:
My girlfriend, my penis, and I are all pleased to hear it.
He threw the note at her and turned back to the front of the room, watching Mr. No One Likes Me Anyway with a small smile on his face.
Michelle felt naive. Naive and absolutely stupid. How could she have not known that Vincent had a girlfriend? How long had the two of them been dating? Did she know about all of the embarrassing things that Michelle had done while she was chasing Vincent? She dug her nails into her thigh and felt the urge to punch herself.
Still, a smile crept on her face. Whether the girl knew or not, there wasn't anything to know anymore. Michelle's heart was lighter than it had been in a while. She felt like she might be able to go home without daydreaming about him.
Copyright Julia Bydulia
---
With her shirt on backwards and her feet bare, Michelle unlocked the stall she was getting changed in, gathered up all of her things and ran out of the bathroom without another word.
The hallway seemed impossibly long and her heart seemed impossibly large for her chest. Her feet slipped and slid all over the tiles of the floor and she found that running without shoes in the halls of the school made it hard to keep your balance.
When she did reach the door to the classroom, she gulped down air and let it all out at once before pushing through it and walking back to her seat, her shoes still in her hand and her shirt still backwards. Vincent was sitting in the same way he was when she left him. His hair was still pulled back in that tight ponytail, which was still resting on the back of his neck.
Without another second wasted, Michelle walked to her seat and sat down, throwing her shoes on the floor. Someone was presenting their monologue at the front of the room, but, no one liked him anyway, so the noise wasn't a real disturbance.
"Hi," Vincent whispered when he saw her.
She held up on finger and ripped out a piece of notebook paper:
Vincent, my darling Italian Stallion.
I don't like you anymore or anyhow or anyway except that I love you. That sounds weird. But it's not the same way. So I hope you have beautiful babies someday. Babies that are in no way mine.
She folded up the piece of paper and threw it at him, grinning as she did.
He smirked at the note while he read it, then he stole her pencil and used it to write a response:
My girlfriend, my penis, and I are all pleased to hear it.
He threw the note at her and turned back to the front of the room, watching Mr. No One Likes Me Anyway with a small smile on his face.
Michelle felt naive. Naive and absolutely stupid. How could she have not known that Vincent had a girlfriend? How long had the two of them been dating? Did she know about all of the embarrassing things that Michelle had done while she was chasing Vincent? She dug her nails into her thigh and felt the urge to punch herself.
Still, a smile crept on her face. Whether the girl knew or not, there wasn't anything to know anymore. Michelle's heart was lighter than it had been in a while. She felt like she might be able to go home without daydreaming about him.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Story, An Untitled
Part VI of an unfinished story
Copyright Julia Bydulia
---
The next day, Michelle was nervous. She could recite the entire monologue with little to no mistakes, but, having to perform it twice- once for a grade and once for the musical -made her feel as though she would lose her breakfast. No matter how small that breakfast (of exactly one half of a chocolate toaster pastry) may have been.
In the car on the way to school, she studied the monologue. In her first period class, she ignored geometry for it. In second period, she forced all of her friends to let her recite it for them. In third period, the Spanish language was the last thing on her mind. Research Writing seemed useless as she sat and poured all of her energy into memorization.
Before fifth period, she raced to the bathroom with a plastic bag full of her costume in one hand and her other hand being preoccupied with covering her mouth to hold back what she was sure was vomit. In the stall, she threw the bag to the side as fast as she could and sat in front of the toilet bowl, retching over and over. Her throat was sore and her hands were cold with clutching the porcelain of the toilet by the time she was through, but, absolutely no remnants of food or anything else was in the bowl.
Feeling as sick as she ever had, Michelle wiped her mouth and stood up, holding her stomach. Putting on her costume was the last thing she wanted to do, but, she pulled out the skirt and the top and pulled off her own jeans and tshirt. She felt bloated and disgusting as she looked down and saw her stomach, covered in small, dark hairs and pink stretch marks. To cover it, she pulled the skirt and top on as fast as she could.
When she emerged from the stall, there was a short girl with bright pink hair washing her hands at the sink.
"Were you puking in there?" She asked Michelle, flicking the water off her fingers and hitting the lever for the paper towel dispenser with her elbow.
Michelle pulled on her skirt nervously. "I didn't puke. How long have you been in here?"
"I'm skipping," the girl with the pink hair told her, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I've been wandering around since almost third fuckin' period. The principal almost fuckin' caught me in the hall, so I had to fuckin' pretend to go to the fuckin' bathroom."
Fuckin', Michelle added in her head for good measure. "Well, I'll...see you later? Good luck with that."
She walked out of the bathroom with her clothes in the bag her costume had been in, and a nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach. There was no way to stop her feeling sick and no way to stop her brain from painting pictures of Vincent all over the inside of her skull. This has got to stop, she screamed at her subconscious. You don't even like him! And that much was true. When she stood next to Vincent, she felt no urge to do anything romantic or having to do with romance. There were no images of kisses or weddings when he was in the general area. It was genuine to say she didn't like him when he was in the room, but, for some reason after he left, her brain would go crazy and start forcing him on her heart again.
You love the idea of him, she told herself for the billionth time. A nice, cute, smart, musical, funny guy with the ability to hug the hell out of everyone? You have always thought that that is perfect. You've been telling yourself it is since the fifth grade. But you don't feel it with him and you know it. So stop romanticizing him whenever he is away. Stop putting his face on that guy you made for yourself in elementary school. Vincent is your friend. And you don't want him for a boyfriend. She nearly slapped herself, just to get the point across, but, she thought better of it. Instead, she pictured herself as the pink haired girl, slouching over the sink with her hands under the flowing water.
When she did reach the classroom, she walked inside trying to look confident. Vincent was sitting in his seat with one leg stretched out to the side. She sighed as the lovely feeling she had for him in the hall leaked out of her chest and gathered in disgusting puddle in her gut. Instead of the knight in shining armor her had been while he was out of sight, he slipped back into the roll of...just a great guy. She sat down in the seat next to him and stared at the back of his head while he leaned over his notebook, seemingly concentrating heavily.
"You know, Vincent," she started, waiting for him to look up.
He did, his eyes wide as though he had just been pulled out of the dark and into the sunlight. "What?"
"You're pretty swell," Michelle finished, smiling and flicking his nose.
"Michelle?" The teahcer was calling her to the front of the room. "Michelle, are you ready?"
Michelle nodded and dashed to the front of the room to recite the monologue. When her teacher nodded, she started. After she finished each line, it slipped out of her memory and ended up in some sort of abyss. Before she knew it, the two minutes was over and she was walking back to her seat with a violent blush flooding her cheeks and a dorky smile on her face.
Vincent looked up at her and gave her a double thumbs up. She smiled at him and blushed more.
"Do you want to change?" The teacher asked Michelle over the sound of her classmates all talking.
Michelle nodded and ran out the door with her bag of clothes. It was good, it was good, it was good, she repeated to herself over and over until it finally sank in. He gave you a double thumbs up. It was fine. He was smiling. It was fine. She shook out her legs and stepped into the bathroom, expecting it to be empty.
Instead, the girl with the pink hair was leaning against the wall, twirling a pack of cigarettes between to fingers and smacking gum.
"How old are you, anyway?" Michelle asked, stepping into the first stall and immediately peeling off her shirt and stepping out of the skirt.
"Sixty-fuckin'-seven. What do you care?"
She looked about eleven and her voice sounded about six. "You look too young for smokes," Michelle commented.
"So what if I am? What's gonna fuckin' happen? Am I gonna fuckin' get fuckin' lung cancer?" The girl scoffed and kicked the wall.
Michelle laughed under her breath. "You might."
"Yeah, well, I've spent a lot of time worrying about fuckin' sickness and what stupid fuckin' people think. I'm not going to worry so much about cancer when there are so many other decisions to make."
"You sure aren't scared of sharing," Michelle said as she pulled on her jeans.
"Are you?"
"I don't feel the need to spill my guts to anyone who walks into the bathroom."
"I'm not going to keep my mouth shut if I have something to say. If I feel something, I feel it and if I don't, I don't. If I want to say something, I say it. What's the use of having a head or a heart if you don't use them?" The girl with the pink hair almost shouted.
The image of Vincent flashed in her mind again. Michelle froze with her tshirt half on and half off. If you feel something, feel it, she thought, the words expanding in her head. If you feel something, feel it.
Copyright Julia Bydulia
---
The next day, Michelle was nervous. She could recite the entire monologue with little to no mistakes, but, having to perform it twice- once for a grade and once for the musical -made her feel as though she would lose her breakfast. No matter how small that breakfast (of exactly one half of a chocolate toaster pastry) may have been.
In the car on the way to school, she studied the monologue. In her first period class, she ignored geometry for it. In second period, she forced all of her friends to let her recite it for them. In third period, the Spanish language was the last thing on her mind. Research Writing seemed useless as she sat and poured all of her energy into memorization.
Before fifth period, she raced to the bathroom with a plastic bag full of her costume in one hand and her other hand being preoccupied with covering her mouth to hold back what she was sure was vomit. In the stall, she threw the bag to the side as fast as she could and sat in front of the toilet bowl, retching over and over. Her throat was sore and her hands were cold with clutching the porcelain of the toilet by the time she was through, but, absolutely no remnants of food or anything else was in the bowl.
Feeling as sick as she ever had, Michelle wiped her mouth and stood up, holding her stomach. Putting on her costume was the last thing she wanted to do, but, she pulled out the skirt and the top and pulled off her own jeans and tshirt. She felt bloated and disgusting as she looked down and saw her stomach, covered in small, dark hairs and pink stretch marks. To cover it, she pulled the skirt and top on as fast as she could.
When she emerged from the stall, there was a short girl with bright pink hair washing her hands at the sink.
"Were you puking in there?" She asked Michelle, flicking the water off her fingers and hitting the lever for the paper towel dispenser with her elbow.
Michelle pulled on her skirt nervously. "I didn't puke. How long have you been in here?"
"I'm skipping," the girl with the pink hair told her, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I've been wandering around since almost third fuckin' period. The principal almost fuckin' caught me in the hall, so I had to fuckin' pretend to go to the fuckin' bathroom."
Fuckin', Michelle added in her head for good measure. "Well, I'll...see you later? Good luck with that."
She walked out of the bathroom with her clothes in the bag her costume had been in, and a nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach. There was no way to stop her feeling sick and no way to stop her brain from painting pictures of Vincent all over the inside of her skull. This has got to stop, she screamed at her subconscious. You don't even like him! And that much was true. When she stood next to Vincent, she felt no urge to do anything romantic or having to do with romance. There were no images of kisses or weddings when he was in the general area. It was genuine to say she didn't like him when he was in the room, but, for some reason after he left, her brain would go crazy and start forcing him on her heart again.
You love the idea of him, she told herself for the billionth time. A nice, cute, smart, musical, funny guy with the ability to hug the hell out of everyone? You have always thought that that is perfect. You've been telling yourself it is since the fifth grade. But you don't feel it with him and you know it. So stop romanticizing him whenever he is away. Stop putting his face on that guy you made for yourself in elementary school. Vincent is your friend. And you don't want him for a boyfriend. She nearly slapped herself, just to get the point across, but, she thought better of it. Instead, she pictured herself as the pink haired girl, slouching over the sink with her hands under the flowing water.
When she did reach the classroom, she walked inside trying to look confident. Vincent was sitting in his seat with one leg stretched out to the side. She sighed as the lovely feeling she had for him in the hall leaked out of her chest and gathered in disgusting puddle in her gut. Instead of the knight in shining armor her had been while he was out of sight, he slipped back into the roll of...just a great guy. She sat down in the seat next to him and stared at the back of his head while he leaned over his notebook, seemingly concentrating heavily.
"You know, Vincent," she started, waiting for him to look up.
He did, his eyes wide as though he had just been pulled out of the dark and into the sunlight. "What?"
"You're pretty swell," Michelle finished, smiling and flicking his nose.
"Michelle?" The teahcer was calling her to the front of the room. "Michelle, are you ready?"
Michelle nodded and dashed to the front of the room to recite the monologue. When her teacher nodded, she started. After she finished each line, it slipped out of her memory and ended up in some sort of abyss. Before she knew it, the two minutes was over and she was walking back to her seat with a violent blush flooding her cheeks and a dorky smile on her face.
Vincent looked up at her and gave her a double thumbs up. She smiled at him and blushed more.
"Do you want to change?" The teacher asked Michelle over the sound of her classmates all talking.
Michelle nodded and ran out the door with her bag of clothes. It was good, it was good, it was good, she repeated to herself over and over until it finally sank in. He gave you a double thumbs up. It was fine. He was smiling. It was fine. She shook out her legs and stepped into the bathroom, expecting it to be empty.
Instead, the girl with the pink hair was leaning against the wall, twirling a pack of cigarettes between to fingers and smacking gum.
"How old are you, anyway?" Michelle asked, stepping into the first stall and immediately peeling off her shirt and stepping out of the skirt.
"Sixty-fuckin'-seven. What do you care?"
She looked about eleven and her voice sounded about six. "You look too young for smokes," Michelle commented.
"So what if I am? What's gonna fuckin' happen? Am I gonna fuckin' get fuckin' lung cancer?" The girl scoffed and kicked the wall.
Michelle laughed under her breath. "You might."
"Yeah, well, I've spent a lot of time worrying about fuckin' sickness and what stupid fuckin' people think. I'm not going to worry so much about cancer when there are so many other decisions to make."
"You sure aren't scared of sharing," Michelle said as she pulled on her jeans.
"Are you?"
"I don't feel the need to spill my guts to anyone who walks into the bathroom."
"I'm not going to keep my mouth shut if I have something to say. If I feel something, I feel it and if I don't, I don't. If I want to say something, I say it. What's the use of having a head or a heart if you don't use them?" The girl with the pink hair almost shouted.
The image of Vincent flashed in her mind again. Michelle froze with her tshirt half on and half off. If you feel something, feel it, she thought, the words expanding in her head. If you feel something, feel it.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
The Girl
(Extended Title: The Girl with Long Blond Hair Who has No Idea How Much She Is In My Eyes)
Copyright Julia Bydulia
---
My words can be knots:
tight bound and hurtful when thrown,
but I wanted to remind you
that knots do come untied and
I have a horrible throwing arm.
You're like the leaves that
tumble from autumn's branches:
soft under eyes and under hands
with a spectrum of colors.
You are carried on the winds
that are unpredictable and uneven
but I know you'll go far.
My heart can go crazy
and seems to have a mind of its own
so don't mind it
if it ever tries to dance with yours.
It's only being friendly.
You're like the walls of a museum:
beautiful and strong with
feelings of neglect, but you have to know
that you deserve more than just
pressure from people you support.
You'll make it when the art gets moved
and makes the room for you to shine through.
My words can go unnoticed or
be misinterpreted, as words are known to be,
but you should know
that I mean them all as they are
and will repeat them as required.
You are like a promise:
bound by words and minds
and the metaphysical
rather than the sticks and stones
that knock the rest of the world down
and hold them to the ground
while you stand tall, admirable.
Copyright Julia Bydulia
---
My words can be knots:
tight bound and hurtful when thrown,
but I wanted to remind you
that knots do come untied and
I have a horrible throwing arm.
You're like the leaves that
tumble from autumn's branches:
soft under eyes and under hands
with a spectrum of colors.
You are carried on the winds
that are unpredictable and uneven
but I know you'll go far.
My heart can go crazy
and seems to have a mind of its own
so don't mind it
if it ever tries to dance with yours.
It's only being friendly.
You're like the walls of a museum:
beautiful and strong with
feelings of neglect, but you have to know
that you deserve more than just
pressure from people you support.
You'll make it when the art gets moved
and makes the room for you to shine through.
My words can go unnoticed or
be misinterpreted, as words are known to be,
but you should know
that I mean them all as they are
and will repeat them as required.
You are like a promise:
bound by words and minds
and the metaphysical
rather than the sticks and stones
that knock the rest of the world down
and hold them to the ground
while you stand tall, admirable.
Story, An Untitled
Copyright Julia Bydulia
Part V of an unfinished story
---
Every night for the week, Michelle told herself she would work on her combined monologue/Humanities assignment. Every night for a week, she neglected it and sat on her computer, trying to convince herself it was valuable use of her time to talk to people online about bands from the 60s and what type of peanut butter they preferred. There seemed to be no way to avoid the lazy side of her that screamed to sit and enjoy some leisure time. "You've earned it!" Her lazy side lied to her. So, she believed it because it was easier.
Finally, on the Sunday before her rehearsal, Michelle decided to take a look at the monologue. She grabbed her tote bag full of her school things and pulled out the tattered yellow folder that held all of her Humanities things. Expecting the paper to be on the right hand side of the folder, she sifted through the papers there, keeping her eyes peeled for the sheet of paper. After three times through the folder, she realized it wasn't there. Her stomach dropped. She felt as if someone had just drop kicked her.
Her first thought was to go to her mom's room, so, she did. She opened the door and saw her mom sitting in the orange armchair they used as a computer chair. "Mommy, I can't find my monologue," Michelle announced, putting her hands on her hips.
Her mom took off her glasses slowly and rested them on the computer table, staring at her daughter in utter disbelief. After a long pause, she spoke. "You've been telling me all week you'd work on that monologue this weekend, and now you're going to tell me you don't even have it? Michelle..." She sighed and rubbed her temples.
"I know, I know..." Michelle mumbled, her brain scrambling to think up a solution. "Maybe I can email someone in the class. I should have Vincent's email." At the mention of Vincent, her mom dropped her hands from her head. It was a well known fact to everyone in the house how Michelle felt about Vincent. She had gone on for quite some time about him in the seventh grade. The word "marriage" had been thrown around like a tennis ball. "I'll tell him to email it to me, and if he doesn't, I'll hurt him."
Her mom nodded and she left the room, running for the laptop. When she sat in the chair, she turned it on and opened her email, flexing her fingers before opening a new draft:
Vincent! I seem to have misplaced my monologue. Be a dear and email it to me, or else I'll punch you in the ovaries and we'll never have babie
She stopped typing and deleted the entire thing, hitting herself in the head a few times and whispering "Think nice, think pretty, think alluring" under hear breath. She rolled the 'r' in alluring a few times and started again:
Vincent. You know how forgetful I can be. Well, I do not have my monologue for the assignment in Humanities tomorrow. I think it's in my locker or some bull. Could you type it up and send it to me within the next millennium or so? Thanks.
She read it to herself in her head a few times before hovering her mouse over the send button for a few minutes and finally pressing it when she convinced herself there was no way to make herself seem like wife material in an email about her own responsibility. This has got to stop, she reprimanded herself. You've got to stop drooling over a guy who shows no interest.
He shows interest, she argued to herself. He laughs at your jokes. And he likes The Beatles!
She wanted to slap herself. You two are friends. Stop it, stop it, stop it. He laughs at a lot of people's jokes. And a lot of people like The Beatles, ok. Your mom likes The Beatles.
That's not the same, her argumentative side said, folding its arms over its chest and slouching in the corner of her mind, pouting alone.
There were a few things Michelle had to admit to herself, even if she could never admit it to anyone else. She still liked Vincent a lot more than she said out loud. She still loved him and would say yes to him in a second if he decided he wanted her. She walked the aisles of Julian's when she went grocery shopping with her family, and she imagined running into him next to the organic cheeses. She would pretend not to notice him and purposely reach out for the same plastic packaging as him. Their fingers would brush and she would whisper "Sorry," just as softly as she could. He would tell her it was no problem. They might laugh, and she would blush, and then...
And then she found a new email in her inbox, labeled with Vincent's email address. She clicked it and found that it was only the monologue. No notes, no "Wow, you're stupid"s, no professions of his undying love for her or for anyone else. She copy pasted the words into a document and printed it as quickly as she could, running back to her mom's bedroom to show it to her.
After she waved it in front of her mom's face for a few minutes, her mom told her. "Congratulations," and waved her out of the room.
Michelle headed back out to the living room to memorize the monologue as rapidly as she could.
The air outside was frigidly cold. As Michelle looked up from the paper, she could see small snowflakes falling and resting gently on the porch through the window. She couldn't help but imagine sitting outside with him, their cold, red hands intertwined as the temperature dropped.
Part V of an unfinished story
---
Every night for the week, Michelle told herself she would work on her combined monologue/Humanities assignment. Every night for a week, she neglected it and sat on her computer, trying to convince herself it was valuable use of her time to talk to people online about bands from the 60s and what type of peanut butter they preferred. There seemed to be no way to avoid the lazy side of her that screamed to sit and enjoy some leisure time. "You've earned it!" Her lazy side lied to her. So, she believed it because it was easier.
Finally, on the Sunday before her rehearsal, Michelle decided to take a look at the monologue. She grabbed her tote bag full of her school things and pulled out the tattered yellow folder that held all of her Humanities things. Expecting the paper to be on the right hand side of the folder, she sifted through the papers there, keeping her eyes peeled for the sheet of paper. After three times through the folder, she realized it wasn't there. Her stomach dropped. She felt as if someone had just drop kicked her.
Her first thought was to go to her mom's room, so, she did. She opened the door and saw her mom sitting in the orange armchair they used as a computer chair. "Mommy, I can't find my monologue," Michelle announced, putting her hands on her hips.
Her mom took off her glasses slowly and rested them on the computer table, staring at her daughter in utter disbelief. After a long pause, she spoke. "You've been telling me all week you'd work on that monologue this weekend, and now you're going to tell me you don't even have it? Michelle..." She sighed and rubbed her temples.
"I know, I know..." Michelle mumbled, her brain scrambling to think up a solution. "Maybe I can email someone in the class. I should have Vincent's email." At the mention of Vincent, her mom dropped her hands from her head. It was a well known fact to everyone in the house how Michelle felt about Vincent. She had gone on for quite some time about him in the seventh grade. The word "marriage" had been thrown around like a tennis ball. "I'll tell him to email it to me, and if he doesn't, I'll hurt him."
Her mom nodded and she left the room, running for the laptop. When she sat in the chair, she turned it on and opened her email, flexing her fingers before opening a new draft:
Vincent! I seem to have misplaced my monologue. Be a dear and email it to me, or else I'll punch you in the ovaries and we'll never have babie
She stopped typing and deleted the entire thing, hitting herself in the head a few times and whispering "Think nice, think pretty, think alluring" under hear breath. She rolled the 'r' in alluring a few times and started again:
Vincent. You know how forgetful I can be. Well, I do not have my monologue for the assignment in Humanities tomorrow. I think it's in my locker or some bull. Could you type it up and send it to me within the next millennium or so? Thanks.
She read it to herself in her head a few times before hovering her mouse over the send button for a few minutes and finally pressing it when she convinced herself there was no way to make herself seem like wife material in an email about her own responsibility. This has got to stop, she reprimanded herself. You've got to stop drooling over a guy who shows no interest.
He shows interest, she argued to herself. He laughs at your jokes. And he likes The Beatles!
She wanted to slap herself. You two are friends. Stop it, stop it, stop it. He laughs at a lot of people's jokes. And a lot of people like The Beatles, ok. Your mom likes The Beatles.
That's not the same, her argumentative side said, folding its arms over its chest and slouching in the corner of her mind, pouting alone.
There were a few things Michelle had to admit to herself, even if she could never admit it to anyone else. She still liked Vincent a lot more than she said out loud. She still loved him and would say yes to him in a second if he decided he wanted her. She walked the aisles of Julian's when she went grocery shopping with her family, and she imagined running into him next to the organic cheeses. She would pretend not to notice him and purposely reach out for the same plastic packaging as him. Their fingers would brush and she would whisper "Sorry," just as softly as she could. He would tell her it was no problem. They might laugh, and she would blush, and then...
And then she found a new email in her inbox, labeled with Vincent's email address. She clicked it and found that it was only the monologue. No notes, no "Wow, you're stupid"s, no professions of his undying love for her or for anyone else. She copy pasted the words into a document and printed it as quickly as she could, running back to her mom's bedroom to show it to her.
After she waved it in front of her mom's face for a few minutes, her mom told her. "Congratulations," and waved her out of the room.
Michelle headed back out to the living room to memorize the monologue as rapidly as she could.
The air outside was frigidly cold. As Michelle looked up from the paper, she could see small snowflakes falling and resting gently on the porch through the window. She couldn't help but imagine sitting outside with him, their cold, red hands intertwined as the temperature dropped.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Story, An Untitled
Copyright Julia Bydulia
Part IV of an unfinished story.
---
Humanities. The longest class of Michelle's day. Ryan always talked to her at the end. Vincent would talk to her during. Vincent sat right next to her and made the class bearable.
Michelle sat with two notebooks open on her desk, one for class and one for recreation. In the second notebook, she doodled a cake with seventeen candles for no reason at all. At the front of the room, the literature teacher was announcing a new assignment. "You will either have to make a movie about one of the myths or do a recitation. Groups for the movie can be up to four people. Recitations must be done alone. The assignment sheet goes into more detail," she finished as she started handing out the assignment sheets.
The idea of a recitation excited Michelle. She could memorize things fairly easily. She took a quick look at what she would have to memorize. A monologue by a character in one of the myths they had read. Suddenly, she felt a light bulb switch on just above her head. She could use the recitation for Humanities as her monologue as well. It was a woman scorned by a former lover. Passion and anger! It sounded perfect.
Vincent, John, and Terrence all looked at each other at once. Michelle could tell they were planning a movie, and by the look on John's face it would turn out epic. Michelle tapped Vincent's shoulder. "I guess you guys are doing a movie?" She whispered, laughing at the look on his face.
"I guess we are," Vincent answered, turning back to John and Terrence. It was as though they were all communicating thoughts for a movie telepathically. None of them spoke.
Michelle smiled and watched Vincent's back for a few moments before pulling out the monologue she would have to memorize and staring at it, half listening to the teacher as she read the assignment sheet out loud. There were some words she would have to look up, and for the class she would need a costume, but, as long as she could find a song, her audition was covered. The monologue was the perfect length. Please earn me a good part, she begged the paper with the monologue that was sitting in front of her on her desk. Please.
At the end of class, Michelle actually got to walk out with Vincent, John, and Terrence. She listened to them plan out a movie and make jokes to each other, each one talking faster than the other and making the other two laugh harder. She laughed, too. She felt quiet compared to them, even though she knew she was loud. Vincent's jacket had a hole near the elbow. As she laughed and smiled, she stared at it, peeking at the skin she could see through it. Dry elbow skin. It made him seem more like a human and less like a dream.
She and Terrence and Vincent walked to biology together and she listened while they talked again, not wanting to interrupt and risk them stopping. Their laughs and their clever remarks were like music. She listened closely, not wanting to miss a beat.
Part IV of an unfinished story.
---
Humanities. The longest class of Michelle's day. Ryan always talked to her at the end. Vincent would talk to her during. Vincent sat right next to her and made the class bearable.
Michelle sat with two notebooks open on her desk, one for class and one for recreation. In the second notebook, she doodled a cake with seventeen candles for no reason at all. At the front of the room, the literature teacher was announcing a new assignment. "You will either have to make a movie about one of the myths or do a recitation. Groups for the movie can be up to four people. Recitations must be done alone. The assignment sheet goes into more detail," she finished as she started handing out the assignment sheets.
The idea of a recitation excited Michelle. She could memorize things fairly easily. She took a quick look at what she would have to memorize. A monologue by a character in one of the myths they had read. Suddenly, she felt a light bulb switch on just above her head. She could use the recitation for Humanities as her monologue as well. It was a woman scorned by a former lover. Passion and anger! It sounded perfect.
Vincent, John, and Terrence all looked at each other at once. Michelle could tell they were planning a movie, and by the look on John's face it would turn out epic. Michelle tapped Vincent's shoulder. "I guess you guys are doing a movie?" She whispered, laughing at the look on his face.
"I guess we are," Vincent answered, turning back to John and Terrence. It was as though they were all communicating thoughts for a movie telepathically. None of them spoke.
Michelle smiled and watched Vincent's back for a few moments before pulling out the monologue she would have to memorize and staring at it, half listening to the teacher as she read the assignment sheet out loud. There were some words she would have to look up, and for the class she would need a costume, but, as long as she could find a song, her audition was covered. The monologue was the perfect length. Please earn me a good part, she begged the paper with the monologue that was sitting in front of her on her desk. Please.
At the end of class, Michelle actually got to walk out with Vincent, John, and Terrence. She listened to them plan out a movie and make jokes to each other, each one talking faster than the other and making the other two laugh harder. She laughed, too. She felt quiet compared to them, even though she knew she was loud. Vincent's jacket had a hole near the elbow. As she laughed and smiled, she stared at it, peeking at the skin she could see through it. Dry elbow skin. It made him seem more like a human and less like a dream.
She and Terrence and Vincent walked to biology together and she listened while they talked again, not wanting to interrupt and risk them stopping. Their laughs and their clever remarks were like music. She listened closely, not wanting to miss a beat.
Story, An Untitled
Copyright Julia Bydulia
Part III of an unfinished story
---
When Michelle woke up every morning, her bedroom was cluttered and her mind was in a fog. The sound and sensation of her vibrating phone alarm would wake her up and she would turn it off, opening her eyes cautiously. She woke up before it was light most days, so her room was dimly lit and covered in lightweight shadows. She kicked off her blankets and stared at the ceiling before jumping out of bed, grabbing any clean clothes that matched, and running into the bathroom she shared with her brother and sister so that she could get ready for school.
That morning, when she got into the bathroom she stared unblinkingly at her own reflection and rearranged her face into a variety of expressions. Her short, dark hair was choppy and unkempt, hanging around her face like old curtains that had had a chainsaw put to them. She sighed and tried to comb it into submission, knowing that eventually it had to look half way human.
What is he doing right now? she thought, her mind wandering to Vincent. She had been in love with him for quite some time, but, the passion faded near the beginning of that freshman year. Still, she couldn't help thinking of him when nothing else was on her mind. What's his morning routine? She closed her eyes and tried to picture what he did in the morning. The image of him standing in front of a mirror and brushing his teeth, his long hair out of its usual ponytail and down around his shoulders. She smiled and opened her eyes, finding her own reflection looking radiant.
Stop it, she commanded herself. You're falling into the same traps, she thought, remembering all of the times she had seen herself like that in the years she had chased Vincent.
Her heart felt vulnerable. Michelle finished her morning routine and walked out of the bathroom, preparing to wait for her siblings to get ready so that their dad could drive them into school. She sat in the chair she always did, opened her notebook to a random page, and started begging her mind to give her something to write about other than him. It's time to really move on, she told herself. You know it's not how you feel. Not when he's around. So why are you telling yourself that you do whenever he's not? She wasn't sure if what she was thinking made sense, but, the words did calm the rapid beating of her heart.
School was only ten minutes away. The drive was short. Staring out her window, Michelle could see the grass and the trees almost in a gray scale when the sun was hiding. She kept her eyes on one spot of dirt on her window and let everything disappear as the car flew by. When the car stopped, she knew they were there without having to look. She jumped out of the car and grabbed her tote full of books, running into the school and hoping she wasn't late.
Today will be good, she tried to convince herself at her locker before she headed to geometry, feeling drowsy. Just make it through first period. Then, chorus will pick you up. And Spanish will be tolerable. Vincent in fourth period. Terrence in fourth period. Both of them in fifth...and sixth...and seventh...and eighth...then you get to go home. Easy. Easy easy easy.
So she went to geometry and prepared to glance at the clock a million times, each time expecting it to have changed, but, finding it almost exactly the same until it felt like it would never end.
Then, the bell rang. She grabbed her books and ran, desperate to see Kayla, Elena, her sister Mandy, and Petunia.
Today will be good, she thought, smiling as she pictured her chorus friends. The hall seemed far too long. She rushed to reach the chorus room and ran into Petunia in the hall. She grabbed Michelle's sleeve and jerked her back. "Hey!" She called excitedly. "Ready for Mr. James this morning? It's probably just going to be another class of audition reminders."
"Sounds yummy," Michelle commented, laughing and adjusting her shirt sleeve.
Petunia stared at her, and they both knew her comment made no sense. They laughed and kept on walking toward the chorus room. Petunia was a senior, and Michelle was just a freshman, but, Petunia was friends with Michelle's sister, so they got a chance to talk sometimes. Michelle got the feeling that Petunia liked to have as many people to talk to as she could, and that she liked Michelle's sense of humor...most days. So, they talked in the halls and in chorus class, and sometimes and lunch when Michelle would visit her sister's lunch table.
"Is Penny here today?" Petunia asked, referring to Michelle's sister.
"Yeah, she is. She actually got up on time this morning." Michelle laughed and opened the door to the chorus room, finding it full of all of their friends. "Elena!" She called out, feeling like quite the child as she rushed over to sit next to her only freshman companion in the entire class. Everyone else was a sophomore or older.
"Hey, Michelle," Elena said, quickly turning away from the conversation she was having with Mandy. They seemed to be talking about someone in their family. Michelle listened, though she didn't quite understand some of it.
Just then, Mr. James walked in. The conversations carried on at full force until he started to clear his throat exaggeratedly and hit a few random notes on the piano. Everyone turned to face him. "Thank you," he said softly. "As I told you yesterday, rehearsals are next week. Do any of you need music or monologues?"
Michelle raised her hand. "I need a CD," she told him.
"I'll get my CDs out for you at the end of class," he informed her without even turning in her direction.
"Ok," she whispered, shrinking away.
Today will be good, she promised herself again, hoping it was true.
Part III of an unfinished story
---
When Michelle woke up every morning, her bedroom was cluttered and her mind was in a fog. The sound and sensation of her vibrating phone alarm would wake her up and she would turn it off, opening her eyes cautiously. She woke up before it was light most days, so her room was dimly lit and covered in lightweight shadows. She kicked off her blankets and stared at the ceiling before jumping out of bed, grabbing any clean clothes that matched, and running into the bathroom she shared with her brother and sister so that she could get ready for school.
That morning, when she got into the bathroom she stared unblinkingly at her own reflection and rearranged her face into a variety of expressions. Her short, dark hair was choppy and unkempt, hanging around her face like old curtains that had had a chainsaw put to them. She sighed and tried to comb it into submission, knowing that eventually it had to look half way human.
What is he doing right now? she thought, her mind wandering to Vincent. She had been in love with him for quite some time, but, the passion faded near the beginning of that freshman year. Still, she couldn't help thinking of him when nothing else was on her mind. What's his morning routine? She closed her eyes and tried to picture what he did in the morning. The image of him standing in front of a mirror and brushing his teeth, his long hair out of its usual ponytail and down around his shoulders. She smiled and opened her eyes, finding her own reflection looking radiant.
Stop it, she commanded herself. You're falling into the same traps, she thought, remembering all of the times she had seen herself like that in the years she had chased Vincent.
Her heart felt vulnerable. Michelle finished her morning routine and walked out of the bathroom, preparing to wait for her siblings to get ready so that their dad could drive them into school. She sat in the chair she always did, opened her notebook to a random page, and started begging her mind to give her something to write about other than him. It's time to really move on, she told herself. You know it's not how you feel. Not when he's around. So why are you telling yourself that you do whenever he's not? She wasn't sure if what she was thinking made sense, but, the words did calm the rapid beating of her heart.
School was only ten minutes away. The drive was short. Staring out her window, Michelle could see the grass and the trees almost in a gray scale when the sun was hiding. She kept her eyes on one spot of dirt on her window and let everything disappear as the car flew by. When the car stopped, she knew they were there without having to look. She jumped out of the car and grabbed her tote full of books, running into the school and hoping she wasn't late.
Today will be good, she tried to convince herself at her locker before she headed to geometry, feeling drowsy. Just make it through first period. Then, chorus will pick you up. And Spanish will be tolerable. Vincent in fourth period. Terrence in fourth period. Both of them in fifth...and sixth...and seventh...and eighth...then you get to go home. Easy. Easy easy easy.
So she went to geometry and prepared to glance at the clock a million times, each time expecting it to have changed, but, finding it almost exactly the same until it felt like it would never end.
Then, the bell rang. She grabbed her books and ran, desperate to see Kayla, Elena, her sister Mandy, and Petunia.
Today will be good, she thought, smiling as she pictured her chorus friends. The hall seemed far too long. She rushed to reach the chorus room and ran into Petunia in the hall. She grabbed Michelle's sleeve and jerked her back. "Hey!" She called excitedly. "Ready for Mr. James this morning? It's probably just going to be another class of audition reminders."
"Sounds yummy," Michelle commented, laughing and adjusting her shirt sleeve.
Petunia stared at her, and they both knew her comment made no sense. They laughed and kept on walking toward the chorus room. Petunia was a senior, and Michelle was just a freshman, but, Petunia was friends with Michelle's sister, so they got a chance to talk sometimes. Michelle got the feeling that Petunia liked to have as many people to talk to as she could, and that she liked Michelle's sense of humor...most days. So, they talked in the halls and in chorus class, and sometimes and lunch when Michelle would visit her sister's lunch table.
"Is Penny here today?" Petunia asked, referring to Michelle's sister.
"Yeah, she is. She actually got up on time this morning." Michelle laughed and opened the door to the chorus room, finding it full of all of their friends. "Elena!" She called out, feeling like quite the child as she rushed over to sit next to her only freshman companion in the entire class. Everyone else was a sophomore or older.
"Hey, Michelle," Elena said, quickly turning away from the conversation she was having with Mandy. They seemed to be talking about someone in their family. Michelle listened, though she didn't quite understand some of it.
Just then, Mr. James walked in. The conversations carried on at full force until he started to clear his throat exaggeratedly and hit a few random notes on the piano. Everyone turned to face him. "Thank you," he said softly. "As I told you yesterday, rehearsals are next week. Do any of you need music or monologues?"
Michelle raised her hand. "I need a CD," she told him.
"I'll get my CDs out for you at the end of class," he informed her without even turning in her direction.
"Ok," she whispered, shrinking away.
Today will be good, she promised herself again, hoping it was true.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Snow Flakes Fall
Copyright Julia Bydulia
This is just a rough copy, I think.
---
When I walk in the snow
I like to find an old set of tracks
to pretend to follow them
so that I can feel less like I'm alone
and more like you're back.
But what happens when
snow flakes fall like broken promises
and fill in the footsteps
I tell myself are yours?
It will be years until I forget
the smile on your face and the
sweater with the worn out spots and holes
you wore so stubbornly
when it was the middle of January
and I could see you shivering.
When we walked in the snow
I always wanted to
promise you it would get warmer
even though we both knew
it would be a long season
and at least six months
until you could shed your sweater
and walk in the sun.
Now, when I walk in the snow
I like to find someone else's tracks
and talk to them
so that I can feel less like I'm alone
and more like you're back.
This is just a rough copy, I think.
---
When I walk in the snow
I like to find an old set of tracks
to pretend to follow them
so that I can feel less like I'm alone
and more like you're back.
But what happens when
snow flakes fall like broken promises
and fill in the footsteps
I tell myself are yours?
It will be years until I forget
the smile on your face and the
sweater with the worn out spots and holes
you wore so stubbornly
when it was the middle of January
and I could see you shivering.
When we walked in the snow
I always wanted to
promise you it would get warmer
even though we both knew
it would be a long season
and at least six months
until you could shed your sweater
and walk in the sun.
Now, when I walk in the snow
I like to find someone else's tracks
and talk to them
so that I can feel less like I'm alone
and more like you're back.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Story, An Untitled
Copyright Julia Bydulia
Part II of an unfinished story
---
It was mid afternoon and their teacher had given them the last ten minutes of class as free time. Ryan, a short girl with light brown hair who wore sensible clothes and glasses was standing next to Michelle's desk as they waited for the bell to ring.
"What do you think you're going to do for your audition if you try out?" Michelle asked Ryan.
Ryan started playing with her fingers and making a thoughtful humming sound. "I'm not sure," she answered in her quiet, almost mousy voice.
"What do we need? A song and a monologue, right?" Michelle always tried to ask questions when she talked to Ryan, just to keep the conversation going. When silence fell, it fell hard between them. They barely had anything but enjoying musicals in common, and even then their tastes were completely different.
"I thought it was either a song or a monologue," Ryan told Michelle just as the bell rang and they both reached out to grab their books.
Michelle stood up and started to walk out the door, doing her best to walk out the door with Vincent, even though she knew he wouldn't notice. He always walked out with Terrence or Ande and she had to watch them talk the entire time and walk alone. She tried to picture herself in his shoes, walking down the hall with people always wanting to talk to her. How would she feel if her best friend was as insane as Terrence? How would she feel with Ande always wanting to talk to her about inane and inappropriate things?
She thought she could answer the ladder, after having spent two years trying to block out the same inane and inappropriate things, but, maybe she couldn't. She wasn't Vincent, with long and curly blonde hair, bright blue eyes, a very thin frame, and a height of at least six feet. She couldn't play the trumpet, the piano, and the guitar. She had no idea how he thought or how he felt.
After Vincent reached his locker, Ande stopped with him while Terrence and Michelle had to keep on walking to reach their own lockers. She tried to hurry at hers so that she could walk with Vincent on their way to their next class. When she grabbed her book, she speed walked back to Vincent's locker. He looked like he was finished getting his books, but, that Ande had him cornered and he couldn't leave. She tapped his elbow as she passed him. "You're going to be late," she told him, smiling as she walked away, trying to keep a pace that he might catch up with.
Their teacher was late, so when Vincent did catch up he and Michelle had a few moments to talk in the hall. "I heard you guys are starting up the musical soon," Vincent said, repositioning his books in his hands.
"I'm auditioning next week," Michelle told him, nodding and smiling. Music was one of the biggest things they shared. "I'm really excited."
"I heard a rumor that he might want kids from the school band for the orchestra," Vincent muttered, looking thoughtful.
Michelle's ears perked. "Really? You've got to do it! You've got to!"
They both smiled and nodded at each other because they had nothing to say. Luckily, before it got unbearably awkward and before Michelle could put too much thought into the silence, the teacher came and unlocked the door, ushering in all of the students hurriedly.
Part II of an unfinished story
---
It was mid afternoon and their teacher had given them the last ten minutes of class as free time. Ryan, a short girl with light brown hair who wore sensible clothes and glasses was standing next to Michelle's desk as they waited for the bell to ring.
"What do you think you're going to do for your audition if you try out?" Michelle asked Ryan.
Ryan started playing with her fingers and making a thoughtful humming sound. "I'm not sure," she answered in her quiet, almost mousy voice.
"What do we need? A song and a monologue, right?" Michelle always tried to ask questions when she talked to Ryan, just to keep the conversation going. When silence fell, it fell hard between them. They barely had anything but enjoying musicals in common, and even then their tastes were completely different.
"I thought it was either a song or a monologue," Ryan told Michelle just as the bell rang and they both reached out to grab their books.
Michelle stood up and started to walk out the door, doing her best to walk out the door with Vincent, even though she knew he wouldn't notice. He always walked out with Terrence or Ande and she had to watch them talk the entire time and walk alone. She tried to picture herself in his shoes, walking down the hall with people always wanting to talk to her. How would she feel if her best friend was as insane as Terrence? How would she feel with Ande always wanting to talk to her about inane and inappropriate things?
She thought she could answer the ladder, after having spent two years trying to block out the same inane and inappropriate things, but, maybe she couldn't. She wasn't Vincent, with long and curly blonde hair, bright blue eyes, a very thin frame, and a height of at least six feet. She couldn't play the trumpet, the piano, and the guitar. She had no idea how he thought or how he felt.
After Vincent reached his locker, Ande stopped with him while Terrence and Michelle had to keep on walking to reach their own lockers. She tried to hurry at hers so that she could walk with Vincent on their way to their next class. When she grabbed her book, she speed walked back to Vincent's locker. He looked like he was finished getting his books, but, that Ande had him cornered and he couldn't leave. She tapped his elbow as she passed him. "You're going to be late," she told him, smiling as she walked away, trying to keep a pace that he might catch up with.
Their teacher was late, so when Vincent did catch up he and Michelle had a few moments to talk in the hall. "I heard you guys are starting up the musical soon," Vincent said, repositioning his books in his hands.
"I'm auditioning next week," Michelle told him, nodding and smiling. Music was one of the biggest things they shared. "I'm really excited."
"I heard a rumor that he might want kids from the school band for the orchestra," Vincent muttered, looking thoughtful.
Michelle's ears perked. "Really? You've got to do it! You've got to!"
They both smiled and nodded at each other because they had nothing to say. Luckily, before it got unbearably awkward and before Michelle could put too much thought into the silence, the teacher came and unlocked the door, ushering in all of the students hurriedly.
Story, An Untitled
Copyright Julia Bydulia
Part I of an unfinished story
---
"Auditions for the play will be next Monday, after school." Mr. James was walking around the quiet room with what he must have thought was great purpose. His chest was pushed out and he kept on pulling on his belt or just his belt loops. "You will need to prepare a monologue and a song. Both can be up to two minutes."
Michelle sat in her assigned seat in the chorus room and laughed quietly at the confidence in his stride. Who could be that confident with no reason? she thought to herself as she continued staring. The thought for auditioning for the musical of Little Women both frightened and excited her. She started to chew on the nail of her index finger, and the rest of her fingers curled up and rested on her chin as she gnawed.
"Should we bring our own accompaniment?" Lee asked. She was sitting on the other side of the room from Michelle. Her long, dark, and wavy hair was down and resting comfortably on her shoulders. Lee was very beautiful and very talented with delicate features, porcelain skin, grace, an amazing soprano singing voice, and the ability to act. Of course she had taken lessons and acted before, but, as Michelle would watch her, it just seemed natural. "Is Brianna coming?"
Mr. James stopped walking and heaved a long sigh, turning his eyes to the ceiling as if Lee had asked the one question he had been trying to avoid. Mr. James addressed most problems this way, big or small. "She may, she may not. You need to bring something. A CD or sheet music." His hands were still resting on his belt loops. Michelle could feel herself making a face. "I'd rather no one did their audition a Capella."
Elena and Michelle turned to each other. They tried to communicate through their thoughts to tell the other that they were planning to audition, then turned back to Mr. James who was still talking and sauntering around the room.
"Brianna told me she's playing piano for another show right now, so she might not have time. But, the show will be over by the time we need her for actual rehearsals." Mr. James went on, leaning on the piano and fidgeting with his free hand.
Of all the piano players Michelle had ever met, Brianna was in her top two. Granted, she had only technically met three piano players in her life. Brianna was a short woman who wore glasses with thick frames and sweaters with bold prints. She played piano for the chorus concerts and shows at the school, when they could afford her. Everyone loved spending rehearsals with her rather than having to listen to Mr. James desperately try to pound out a simple series of notes.
After class, Mr. James pulled out a thin folder of paper and announced that they were some of the monologues everyone could choose from. Michelle and Elena rushed over and started to scan each paper to find one that was a good length and a good fit. At the top of each page was an explanation of the situation the character is in while speaking and the name of the character. Michelle read each one aloud and tested the sound of it on her lips.
"Kayla...Liane...Hannah..."
The bell rang, so Michelle left the room with the monologue that was in her hand and she and Elena headed to their separate classes.
Part I of an unfinished story
---
"Auditions for the play will be next Monday, after school." Mr. James was walking around the quiet room with what he must have thought was great purpose. His chest was pushed out and he kept on pulling on his belt or just his belt loops. "You will need to prepare a monologue and a song. Both can be up to two minutes."
Michelle sat in her assigned seat in the chorus room and laughed quietly at the confidence in his stride. Who could be that confident with no reason? she thought to herself as she continued staring. The thought for auditioning for the musical of Little Women both frightened and excited her. She started to chew on the nail of her index finger, and the rest of her fingers curled up and rested on her chin as she gnawed.
"Should we bring our own accompaniment?" Lee asked. She was sitting on the other side of the room from Michelle. Her long, dark, and wavy hair was down and resting comfortably on her shoulders. Lee was very beautiful and very talented with delicate features, porcelain skin, grace, an amazing soprano singing voice, and the ability to act. Of course she had taken lessons and acted before, but, as Michelle would watch her, it just seemed natural. "Is Brianna coming?"
Mr. James stopped walking and heaved a long sigh, turning his eyes to the ceiling as if Lee had asked the one question he had been trying to avoid. Mr. James addressed most problems this way, big or small. "She may, she may not. You need to bring something. A CD or sheet music." His hands were still resting on his belt loops. Michelle could feel herself making a face. "I'd rather no one did their audition a Capella."
Elena and Michelle turned to each other. They tried to communicate through their thoughts to tell the other that they were planning to audition, then turned back to Mr. James who was still talking and sauntering around the room.
"Brianna told me she's playing piano for another show right now, so she might not have time. But, the show will be over by the time we need her for actual rehearsals." Mr. James went on, leaning on the piano and fidgeting with his free hand.
Of all the piano players Michelle had ever met, Brianna was in her top two. Granted, she had only technically met three piano players in her life. Brianna was a short woman who wore glasses with thick frames and sweaters with bold prints. She played piano for the chorus concerts and shows at the school, when they could afford her. Everyone loved spending rehearsals with her rather than having to listen to Mr. James desperately try to pound out a simple series of notes.
After class, Mr. James pulled out a thin folder of paper and announced that they were some of the monologues everyone could choose from. Michelle and Elena rushed over and started to scan each paper to find one that was a good length and a good fit. At the top of each page was an explanation of the situation the character is in while speaking and the name of the character. Michelle read each one aloud and tested the sound of it on her lips.
"Kayla...Liane...Hannah..."
The bell rang, so Michelle left the room with the monologue that was in her hand and she and Elena headed to their separate classes.
Separation Anxiety
Copyright Julia Bydulia
---
In the past, there were the days when we would
separate, but, when I was gone
I knew I'd find my way home again, no matter what.
The songs you sang at night
carried me into sleep, and I could hear them
even when you weren't with me.
Now, I'll spend every night at home with you
and every birthday in joy with you
and if I'm ever gone, know I'll find my way home again
no matter what.
---
In the past, there were the days when we would
separate, but, when I was gone
I knew I'd find my way home again, no matter what.
The songs you sang at night
carried me into sleep, and I could hear them
even when you weren't with me.
Now, I'll spend every night at home with you
and every birthday in joy with you
and if I'm ever gone, know I'll find my way home again
no matter what.
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