"Creative Vomit"

"Ready?" I asked, squeezing her hand tightly. I was shaking in excitement.

"No," she mumbled, looking down at her shoes. "I'm not. I wanna go back to eighth grade so I'm top of the school again."

"Tori, we'll be top of the school one day! Don't worry!" I turned my head to face her; she did the same.

"But Jamie, that'll be in three years," she sighed. "I don't wanna do this."

"Oh, Tori, we've entered big kid realm before!" I exclaimed.

Tori shook her head. "This is even bigger kid realm," she mumbled. I rolled my eyes and squeezed her hand again, hoping for a response. She squeezed mine back.

"You can't back out now. We already went back-to-school shopping and got our schedules and everything."

"All the same classes."

"Ever since Kindergarten! Come on, Tori. Let's do this, okay? So what if we'll be freshman and be lower-status on the high school food chain for awhile. We'll be lower-status together!"

"Just like in sixth grade."

"I gave you this talk in sixth grade, I don't want to have to give it again."

"You just did."

"Then let's go!"

I pulled her up the stairs towards the large building. The building for high school - which was pretty large. Tori and I, we lived in a big town. New York City, to be exact. I didn't particularly like it. Tori, on the other hand, loved it. She was just being a stubborn you-know-what-hole because it was the first day of high school and she didn't want to embarrass herself and become the "biggest social pimple on the face of high school", as she says. That saying doesn't even make sense to me, but it's her words.

Tori and I are complete opposites - but, opposites attract, I guess. Tori is rich, blonde, with sparkling green eyes, beautiful, and she has the most amazing curves. She has all the nice clothes, but apparently no boys like her, or speak up to it. The girls love her though - all of them really want to be her friend. The girls want to be my friend, too, and I guess a couple boys may like me, but that was middle school. I'm the opposite - I have a big family, jet-black hair and Asian skin, dark brown, narrow eyes, and I guess I have good curves, but hers are better, in my opinion. We always tell each other that our curves are inferior to the others'. Doesn't every teenage girl do that? But, our styles are different, too - mine is more... casual, dark, and hers is less casual, and usually light colors. But we get along perfectly well, and we've been best friends since Kindergarten.

We were even born on the same day. Like I said, she's only being a shy you-know-what because it's the first day of school.

Not wanting to give off the wrong impression to the high-schoolers, I let go of her hand right before we entered, only for her to grab it right as we set our feet down inside.

Guess we'll be making an imprint as the best friends who held hands when they entered their first day of high school.

I really like it! This is probably exactly as two best friends who be acting about going from top to bottom. And I love how you explain the characters but don't go on and on about them for an entire page or so. But question, would girls, even if best friends, be holding each others hands, even if they're really nervous? XD The last sentence is pretty funny.

They're holding hands because they're nervous and holding hands is just comforting to them. X3 They've been best friends since forever and a half so holding hands is just comforting, like an "I'm here, don't be scared/nervous" gesture of friendship.

Ahhh

Besides, I hold hands with my best friend a lot. XD

~

Right inside was the cafeteria, with a little room as the main office to the right, and the band room to the left. Hallways spread out from different places in the cafeteria, and stairs were visible halfway down one of the hallways. I could see that there were groups of people huddled together at different circular tables, eating some lunch, and a group of boys in sports jackets happened to look up and see me and Tori holding hands. One of them snickered, and pointed at us, telling his friends something. They probably thought we were lesbians or something - oh well. It wasn't like I cared. Tori, on the other hand, was turning pink; she probably thought those guys were cute or something.

It didn't matter. I guess the fact that my tan hand was holding her pale one was a way to show friendship, that we were together, and that nobody could separate us - but, that makes it sound like we're dating, doesn't it? Nobody can separate us!~ I love you, *insert nomming of face here*. But, we've been best friends since the first day of Kindergarten. We even signed our notes and cards "LYLAS", which stood for "Love Ya Like A Sister".

We released hands, and since we had had breakfast at home, we went right on to finding our lockers. Hers was closer to the cafeteria, and mine was at the other end of the hallway. I jogged down to it, and put in the combination. The blue locker popped open, and I put in some things I wouldn't need until later in the day, keeping the things I needed now in my black messenger bag. Once I was done, I jogged back to Tori, and together we walked to our first period class: math.

I wave as they leave me, plaster a fake smile on my face.
Two of them, there are.
One boy, one girl.
They're a wizard and a witch. They're going to Hogwarts.
I should be too.

But no, I was given a Curse.
Not in the literal sense, no Death Eaters came and cursed me.
Though, there are no Death Eaters now.
Harry Potter ended that.
He's a wizard.

I have the Curse.
My mom, my dad,
my brother, my sister,
they don't.

They say,
"Oh, don't worry!
It's perfectly fine,
it happens to lots of people!"

My Curse is a lot less common
than the Blessing
that my mom received.

I look at the scarlet train
still with a fake smile.
I've got to make them think,
"I'm happy,
don't worry over me."

They don't.
But, at the same time,
I wish they did,
because then maybe they can fix
this Curse.

So we get in the car,
and we start down the road
towards home.

Dad turns to me,
arm on the passenger seat,
at a red light.

He asks,
"Hey kiddo,
you okay back there?
You don't look so good."

His eyes
So kind
so sweet
I can't see them in a sad,
or angry,
position.

I nod,
tell him I'm perfectly fine.
He focuses on driving,
and Mother turns to me.

"You sure?
He's right -
you don't look too good.
You look sad.
What's wrong?"

I feel anger,
rising,
I yell,
"What do you think?!"

She looks hurt.
That's what I want.
I feel selfish,
ignorant,
slightly naive,
angry,
but most of all,
I feel like an Outcast.

That's what I am.
An Outcast.
They don't know me.
They aren't Outcasts.
I am.
I am.
... I am.

That's really... whoah.

My sister and I stood in front of my full-length mirror, in our bras and underwear, holding different outfits in front of us. It was the weekend, and we were going out to the mall. We had to weed through a ton of my outfits, considering that we were at my house, and not hers. Custody arrangements, see - I stay with our mom, she stays with her dad. I took my mother's maiden name, though. This weekend my sister, my twin was visiting me, and we had a ton of outfits to go through. Not only because we're well-off money-wise, but because I don't use any of my outfits much during the week, since I wear a school uniform.

I envied my sister. She had a perfect hourglass figure, and her chest wasn't that small at all. Maybe that's why she's one of the Three at our school. I am, too, but I don't understand why. I'm so big. I'm so fat. I eat so much. Her and the other girl in the Three are tiny, petite, cute, and their chests aren't that small. They're actually kind of big. Mine are, too, but so is the rest of my body.

"Why don't you wear that gray sweater-dress?" she suggested, pulling a gray long-sleeved sweater-dress and dark-wash skinny jeans out of my closet. "They're really slimming, don't you think?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" I shot at her, and held the outfit up in the mirror.

"Nothing!" she exclaimed, quickly covering up for her mistake. "I mean, they're just really slimming. I don't think you're fat. How much do you weigh? I'm ninety-five."

"I'm one-ten," I mumbled, suddenly feeling huge compared to my sister. There was a fifteen-pound difference between us twins. Fifteen pounds! I was huge! I pulled on the sweater-dress, which had a teal color splash across the front, and the skinny jeans. I twirled around in front of the mirror, and grabbed my purple brush off of the bedside table. My sister Anzu got her matching purple brush, and the two of us began to brush our boy-cut hair. We had matching light brown hair, that spiked up in the back, with eyebrow-length bangs. There were a few strands of hair on both sides of our faces that reached our shoulders. The guys thought it was cute.

"That's not bad!" Anzu said. "I mean, that girl Destiny or whoever is like one-forty. She's a whale!" Anzu laughed slightly, hoping I'd catch on. I didn't, and she stopped.

Her outfit consisted of a simple red tank-top, dark-wash skinny jeans, and a baggy navy jacket with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. We both wore black Converse, and downstairs we got our matching black-and-white Abercrombie bags. Making sure our cell phones were in there, we ran out of the house, locking the door behind us. We waited outside for our friend Fritz to come pick us up. Fritz is one of the popular people, but she'll never be one of the best girls in school. Oh, no.

Soon enough, a black Mercedes Benz pulled into our long, winding driveway, up to the house. We ran and hopped in, when we noticed not only Fritz was in there but also Nicole and Leena. Turned out she had picked them up first. Oh well.

When I returned home that afternoon, I felt horrible. After Anzu had gone to bed, I sneaked downstairs and pulled all sorts of food items from the fridge and the pantry. I laid it all out on the table and started scarfing it all down. I ate a lot when I felt bad, and this was no exception. Everybody I went with - Fritz, Nicole, Leena, Anzu - they were all smaller than me. All of them. They were tiny. They were little sticks.

Then I realized, after I had finished all the food - that eating wouldn't make this better. I had to get rid of the fat. I had to. I exercised a couple times a week already, but I knew that wouldn't be enough. I'd make daily trips to the gym after school - yeah - and to get rid of all of this stuff that I just ate - well, there was one simple solution.

I reached into the fridge and got a can of coke. I chugged it down, the bubbles fizzing in my throat, and as soon as it was all down, I walked over to the kitchen sink - that was so nice, so shiny, all silver and beautiful - and shoved my hand in my mouth, reaching down my throat, until I touched that gaggy part in the back - wasn't that your uvula?

All of the food came out, in a big rainbow of color. It stung my eyes when it came out, into the sink, and I coughed a bit at the end. It was the first of many times that I had made myself throw up. Eventually, Anzu joined me. We binged and purged together, we went to the gym together. The best part was, nobody but us knew.

---

idon'tlikeit. but whatever. =w=

a little author profile

Name: Liza.

Age: 12 and a half.

Years of Writing Experience: Oh, I dunno. I'd say maybe five or six years ago was when I started writing stories; some for school, some that only lasted a paragraph, and many more that unfortunately go unfinished.

Genre: I mostly write slice of life or school life, but I've written a couple fantasy stories.

Favorite Books: Harry Potter series, Libby on Wednesday, the Secrets of my Hollywood Life series (though my library really needs to get the last book in the trilogy orz), Ana's Story, and The Clique series. Oh, and the Goosebumps series and the Babysitter's Club series old favorites. XD

Favorite Authors: The authors of the books I listed above. But I'd have to say my overall favorite is J.K. Rowling.

Inspiration: Through the books I read or movies/shows I watch, mostly. Or sometimes they'll just fly into my head screaming to be written down on paper. "She" came by driving to Kroger's in the pouring rain and passing some guy standing in the complex's gazebo holding his bike. Little things can make me think "I need to write this down, I just got an idea."

Plans for More Stories: I'm currently planning a story that's a bit of a fanfic of that Disney movie Sky High - the characters have superpowers and go to a hidden school to study how to control them and such. I'm also thinking of a Sims 2 (DS) fanfic; getting stranded in the middle of a desert, sanity dropping fast, you know.

Sims flippin 2 <3

I love the end when you grow all huge to stomp the shield C:

tWHYlight

starring: The Author Avatars

WARNING: Do not read the following parody if you are a fan of Twilight and/or hate crack pairings, no animals were hurt in the making of this story viewer discretion is advised. Also, this is just in fun, this is not meant to offend anybody. I poke fun at EVERYONE here.

Once upon a time in the town called Knifes there lived a pretty happy family in the middle of the woods with a big old-styled home. But they were not humans. Oh no. They were super-fast... very strong... pale white, ice cold skin... they had just moved from Alaska. They were called the Coolers. The father figure of the Cooler family is a doctor, very handsome. His name? Brandon. Brandon Cooler. His wife, Sarah, was some stay-at-home mom or something. Nobody really knows what she does.

They adopted teenagers. Or rather, teenagers that were doomed-to-die and were changed into whatever the hell Brandon and Sarah are.

Let's start with Stephanie Cooler. Long, pretty blonde hair. Really pretty. and stuff. Really likes her adoptive brother with the ugly buzz-cut, Maxwell (but we call him Max just 'cause).

Speaking of Maxwell, he's that One Kid With The Buzzcut. Nobody really cares about him. They only like his love interest, Stephanie, 'cause she's pretty. And everyone's automatically in love with her because she's supposedly jealous of Thomas's and Liza's relationship. Max you lucky bastard.

Next we have the Cloud Cuckoo Lander, Olivia Cooler. Olivia is psychic, but her visions aren't always true, much like any other psychic you see on TV (hinthintThat'sSoRaven). Her romantic interest is Nicolas, that muscular guy with the bedhead. But nobody cares about Nicolas, he's just that violent guy that ruins someone's birthday party in the shitty sequel. He's the newest vampire.

Last, we have the best, the most amazing, the most wonderful of all: Thomas Cooler. In accordance to John Green of Nerdfighteria, he's making the puff sexy again. Which is true. He can read minds but for some reason he can't read the police chief's daughter's mind... He cannot read Liza Duck's mind. For reasons unknown.

Enough with describing the vampires, let's begin.


Liza: Even though the police chief aka my father is a complete idiot, I still am going to visit him and live with him in the town of Knifes so my mom and my stepdad can travel in peace, be alone and all. I wonder what they'll be doing?... shit, now I need some brain bleach.

Liza arrived at the airport wearing her favorite outfit, jeans and some brown collared shirt with a flower on it. She didn't say a word to her dad James, and off they went home.

She cried herself to sleep that night because she's so sad that she was forced to come here even though it was her own decision.

The next morning she made breakfast, much to James' surprise. Liza got a car from her dad, and drove to school in the fog. That she hated. Where the fuck was her Kentuckian sunshine?!

Liza: Oh no way, I can't believe I'm doing this, they're gonna hate me, bitchwhinewhinewhine, oh no, I hate my life, I hate my mom for forcing me to do this oh no...

*entering Forks High school, home of the SPARTANS!!!*

Everyone: We love you Elizabeth!

Liza: dammit, I'm expecting you all to know I prefer to be called Liza. *whine*

Riley: I love you! I can take you to class, lol!

Liza: no way, ur the overly-friendly chess-club... person. gtfo.

Riley: *promptly gtfo's* lol!

Nicolas/Mike: I love you! :D

Liza: Hey, aren't you supposed to be some sparkly vampire rather than being some normal schoolboy that I'm supposed to hate?

Nicolas/Mike: We ran out of money to keep separate people for every role, so I'm being cast in several.

Liza: Oh, well, at least you're getting paid more.

Nicolas/Mike: Not much, but oh well. I'll see you again in about ten or so chapters to gang-rape you, bye~! *skips offscreen*

Liza: Okay, b--... wait, WHAT?!

Justine: Hey, my name is JUSTINE! I like, totally am in your German class... and like, YEAH. So, I heard you were talking to NICOLAS. Like, what did he SAY?! I have some obvious crush on him that I'm not supposed to tell you about, cause it's supposed to be like, a SECRET! So YEAH! Um, like, there's a guy over there with a really sexy puff and he's like, staring at YOU. Just don't LOOK.

Liza: *turns head, lookz*

Thomas: *glare*

Liza: *glare*

Thomas: *dark glare*

Liza: *sexy glare, side-bangs falling over one eye, eyebrows raising and creepy grin*

Thomas: *looks back down at table* she wins this round. Why can't I read her mind? Is it empty in there or something?

Liza: *pretends to pay attention to lunch conversation* Is he staring at me again?

Justine: Um, like, YEAH. He's like, staring at the back of your HEAD. It's CREEPY. I wish Nick would stare at the back of MY head like THAT.

Nicolas/Mike: lol whut? 8D

Justine: NOTHING. NOTHINGATALL. *takes out compact, pretends to check make-up then draws a Shananay eyebrow, hiding it with side-bangs* so lol

Liza: What'd you just do?

Justine: Mascara. A-DUH. What did you think I was DOING?

Liza: N-... never mind.

LATER, AFTER SCHOOL

Max: *driving van after school, listening to some HARDCORE ROCK MUSIC, headbanging*

Amanda: Hey, isn't he supposed to be playing the role of Emmett or something?

Liza: Something about casting costs. Several people are playing different people.

Amanda: Oh, yeah, I heard about that. I think he's going to be in the gang-rape scene later.

Liza: What?!

Amanda: Well gotta get on the bus bye~! *runs to bus with Justine*

Liza: what is it with these mentions of gang-rape? *goes to ugly red truck, throws bag in the back looking for iPod*

Max: *loses control of steering wheel* ONOZ LOOK OUT!

Liza: wut *looks up* OH SHI--

pt.1 END

...

Can I steal this for a thing at school? =w=

I LOVE IT.

I laughed the whole time.

ahah

Mandy, I'd really appreciate it if you didn't comment on something I worked hard on with one word. Especially if you didn't even use capitalization or punctuation or any real COMMENT.

:_: Sorry. It's kinda hard to comment on this one cause I've never read Twilight, but it is pretty funny. I'm not very use yet to giving very decent comments because I'm just used to the silly little teacher comments still.

It seems like a great, funny start and well... I don't really see anywhere to poke about yet so it really is good so far.

description

He was a looming five foot four over my small, barely four-foot body. I stared upwards at him, and squinted my eyes a bit to pick up every minute description of him.

His long, bright, honey-colored locks of blonde hair hung in his small, squinted eyes. His eyes, I noticed, were peculiarly two different shades. Heterochromia, I believe it is? Yes. Heterochromia. One of his eyes was a piercing jade-green, and the other was a foggy slate gray. They were two completely different colors, and it distracted me a bit. But I focussed on his appearance to give the police an accurate description.

He had a small scar about 3 inches on the right side of his jaw, and a single diamond stud that shone though his honey hair. His skin was tanned, like he had just spent a summer at a beach; but I could see another small scar right under his jade eye, just a few centimeters in length.

He was wearing a plain blue, yellow, and white plaid flannel button-up shirt, left open over a white tank top. His baggy jeans were secured by a belt, which was obvious because the tank top was pulled tightly over it. The baggy jeans had several holes, rips, frays, all that, and the bottoms had dirt on them--obviously they came down past his feet and he walked on them sometimes in his big white Nike shoes. He had a plain black New York Yankees hat perched atop his head, shading his face.

When he talked, I noticed a glint of silver--he must have a retainer on, I thought.

"Look, sir--"

He cut across me. "Prince Lund. Prince is my actual first name."

"I see. Thank you for meeting with me."

"No, thank you--when will my order get to my house?"

"Within a few business days." I smiled coyly, and exited the building.

Thank You

What you did today--I appreciate it. You know, we had to tap into our emotions; I wasn't the only one to cry, but I felt like I was the most upset. I was the only one who... was in that exact situation. But we were all different.

I felt self-conscious, upset. Our instructor was even patting me on the back. I felt so... self-conscious, like everyone was staring at me. I couldn't even get my words out.

And you did what? You gave me a hug. You walked over and gave me a hug. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I can't express in words how much better that made me felt. And the other girls just asking, softly, the "Are you okay?" when we took that break. They actually seemed like... you know... THEY CARED. They didn't say "I'm so sorry" with fake sympathetic expressions like everyone else would. They were gentle, nice. Mature. I appreciate it. So, so much.

I Feel

Jealous
You have friends, I do not
You are amazing, I am not
You are cool, I am not

Angry
I am clumsy
I am weak
I am bitchy
I'm a freak

Upset
I'll loose my friends
Again
I'll start over
Again
I'll be labeled weird
Again

Happy
I might go back
I might be happy
I might get my grades up
I might Change

And I Must Scream
Due To These Feelings
Built Inside Of Me
I Want This Change
I Embrace This Change
But At The Same Time
I Want The Change To Get Away From Me
Life Is Confusing
And So Am I
I Myself Do Not Know What I Feel
What Do I Feel?
Upset?
Angry?
Jealous?
Happy?
Which Do I Truly Feel?
For I Just End Up With
A Big Pile Of PMS When I Have Them All.

FML?

The Beating Drums

It's like a drum
You have to learn it
You have to use sheet music and resources to learn how to play
Those who know how to play
Are the best to ask

Some people are fast learners
Virtuosos, very successful
Some people are slower learners
Of those people, some may give up
Some people like me,
They keep practicing

Some who are slow learners
Are probably not using their sheet music
Use your music
It should help
But maybe it's too late
To pick up that book
And learn a few things
From those who know best

Eventually
You have your memorized sheet music
And you can play to that tune
Like someone's pulling the strings
Me?
I beat to my own rhythm
I play my drums freely
Jamming and rocking
Sometimes I play a soft, sad song
But I'm beating to my own rhythm
To my own tune

Some people should learn that
Once you know the basics
Of playing the drums
You should let yourself play freely
And not be always restricted
To pages of sheet music in a book
Written by the people who know the best
Elder, wiser people who know how to play
The Beating Drums

It takes a while to get what your saying, but when you get it, it's pretty touching and works for a lot of life.

Left Out

I Feel Alone
Betrayed
Like I'm just not good enough.

I'm expected to be a star student,
straight-A+'s.
I'm capable to, though,
So I can't really complain.

You're better than me
You have more friends
You have more talent
You are Perfect.

And it seems like everyone can fit into their group of good friends,
Laughing, inside jokes,
mailing each other all the fk'ing time.
And what about me?
Nobody bothers to mail me.
I'm with my friends, I feel outcasted, like they have their own world.
They talk and talk and talk, and I just stand there,
shifting weight from one foot to the other,
just listening.
I try to say something but they continue to talk about shit I don't know about,
like they want me to feel left out.
Cause that's how I feel.
Left out.
That's how you want me to feel.
Left out.
well, you got your wish.
Now I feel lonely.
I don't have anyone to talk to.
And right when I need you, you leave.
Thanks. Thanks a lot.

A Race

A young girl, age ten, was zooming around the block, as fast as she could, sliding over the sidewalk on her big purple-and-pink roller skates. Her black hair, in low pigtail-braids, flew behind her, partially trapped underneath the helmet that matched her roller-skates. She flew, she fled, she glided. She felt free as she seemed to float over the ground. The neighborhood was her territory, her kingdom. But today, that was in jeopardy.

It was a race between her and a few other neighborhood kids. Half of them weren't aware of the humiliation the ten-year-old would put them through when she won. Whoever won was the queen or king of the neighborhood kids for a whole year. The new people were so naive, thinking they could win against Carolin-Annett.

Carolin-Annett heard skates behind her, and realized that she had daydreamed too much, as somebody was getting close. She sped up, as did he. She saw a pale face, light, feathery blonde hair, which turned into a blur as he passed her!

He'd only lived in the neighborhood for a couple of weeks, and he was from Russia. He couldn't speak much English, and he was only seven or so. Carolin-Annett, Queen of the Neighborhood for the three years, was going to be beaten by a newcomer, who couldn't even speak English. Heart pumping, adrenaline rushing, she pressed onward. She could see the blonde racing towards the finish line. She raced, she pushed onward, hearing her heart thumping in her ears--

and he crossed. She followed.

She.
Followed.

She fell onto the grass of her lawn, on her plastic black kneepads, in a trance. The Burger King crown that was used for the Queen/King of the Neighborhood was placed on his head, and he merely smiled. He looked over at Carolin-Annett, who was fighting back tears. She had been defeated. What was the point anymore? She threw off her helmet, and sat on the grass, unstrapping her elbow pads and kneepads. Then the little Russian boy walked over, and placed the crown on her head, atop her messed-up helmet-hair.

"You keep," he said, in a high voice, thick with a Russian accent. Carolin-Annett stared at him as he walked away, his older, fourteen-year-old sister holding his hand to cross the street and enter house 304.

Carolin-Annett stared at his front door which he had disappeared into for quite some time. After an hour or so, she still wasn't sure why he'd done it.

That's good. I really like it. Are you going to continue it, or is it just staying like that?

Thanks. And, yes, it's staying just as it is.