<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3659314848314384253</id><updated>2011-07-07T16:47:09.105-07:00</updated><category term='poetry'/><category term='conversations'/><title type='text'>Daydreaming</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Daydreamer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03556731731414064951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/Soxp3Bhm_WI/AAAAAAAAACo/NZYXFgKAdDY/S220/dreamer.png'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>21</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3659314848314384253.post-4046391902797178491</id><published>2010-01-25T15:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T15:28:12.358-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Starlight Academy Part 9 - Don't Let Go</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/S14oyyRAPyI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/FE6UPOGpnKk/s1600-h/candles.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 264px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430823053607059234" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/S14oyyRAPyI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/FE6UPOGpnKk/s320/candles.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;As night fell over the tops of the academy Juliana was approached by Prince, looking dashing in a suit made of rose red silk. He was smiling, and she had to fight to keep from blushing. "Don't you look handsome," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind one ear. "What's the occasion?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I am talking to you," he said. "That is occasion enough." He took her hand, kissed it, and began to lead her down a cobbled walkway. "Come with me. I want to show you something."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;She nodded mutely, and followed him into a warmly lit courtyard. There were candles everywhere, mingling with the naturally bright starlight. Juliana had to breath in deeply to keep from staggering at the beauty.&lt;br /&gt;"Do you like it?" he whispered in her ear.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"It's... amazing!" she gasped. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Well, let's not let it waste away," he said, pulling her up against him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Prince?" she breathed, surprised.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Dance with me," he insisted.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;She took a minute, then smiled and nodded. "Okay."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Then, they were spinning, slowly, but surely, across the stone ground. He held her firmly, gently, and kissed her every now and then. It was a few minutes before a low humming sound interrupted the silence.&lt;br /&gt;"Did you hear that?" she asked, as they slowed to a oceanic sway.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Hear what?" he asked, staring fixedly at her face.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"N-nothing," she said, and smiled it away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;But the humming grew louder until it was unbearable, and suddenly cut off. When, Juliana looked up at Prince she could see nothing but a blank look in his eyes. "P-Prince?" she asked.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Who are you?" he asked, backing away. "What's going on?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Prince, what's wrong? Why are you acting like this?" A cold chill was wafting through the night, scraping her cheek.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I'm sorry," he said, stepping away. "I have to go."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Prince, no!" she whispered. "Don't leave. Don't."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I'm sorry. Goodbye." Then, he was hurrying off, while Juliana tried to find the strength to simply stand.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3659314848314384253-4046391902797178491?l=shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/feeds/4046391902797178491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2010/01/starlight-academy-part-9-dont-let-go.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/4046391902797178491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/4046391902797178491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2010/01/starlight-academy-part-9-dont-let-go.html' title='Starlight Academy Part 9 - Don&apos;t Let Go'/><author><name>Daydreamer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03556731731414064951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/Soxp3Bhm_WI/AAAAAAAAACo/NZYXFgKAdDY/S220/dreamer.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/S14oyyRAPyI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/FE6UPOGpnKk/s72-c/candles.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3659314848314384253.post-2008970749590724724</id><published>2009-12-01T12:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-02T04:59:24.210-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Starlight Academy Part 8 - Only the Beginning</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Juliana," Prince said as they strolled back toward the dining hall, "I have something that I would like to give you. So you will always think of me." He smiled, and dipped into his pants' pocket for a moment. He pulled out a necklace with a black chain and a pendant that shone like fire. It looked like there might have been something blazing behind the smooth, stony surface. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Juliana's mouth popped open, and she took the necklace carefully in her fingers. "Prince! It's gorgeous!" she breathed, turning it over every which way to get a good look at it. She turned her face up to him, grinning. "Thank you so much! I'll wear it always!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Let me help you," he said, taking it back, and looping it over her head so that the pendant settled into the ruffles of her shirt. He kissed her delicately on her lips, and they continued on. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I'd like to give you something to remind you of me...." Juliana murmured, looking around and rifling through her pockets. She came up empty, but, overcome with inspiration, she plucked the purple flower from her hair and handed it to him. "Here! You said you liked it. Keep it, will you?" she asked, smiling shyly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;He nodded, rubbing the petals gently with his thumb. "I will, and I will never be able to look at it without thinking of you." He hugged her, and soon they had parted to return to their respective tables.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Marlo was practically falling out of her seat with excitement at Juliana's approach. "Well!" she insisted, beaming. "What happened? I see he gave you something!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Yeah, isn't it beautiful?" she asked, holding the ruby jewel up for Marlo to see. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"It's stunning!" she gasped, tracing the edges with her finger. "I can't believe he gave you something so... fancy! You are so incredibly lucky!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I'd be cautious," Diana said from just a few seats away. "Everyone's luck runs out eventually, and the prince is known for his forgetfulness." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"What are you going on about?" Marlo inquired testily.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"All I'm saying is that he might get bored, and forget about you," she said with a shrug. "It's only the beginning of the year."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Well, I don't think Juli's gonna have any problems holding on to Prince," Marlo said, her frown deepening. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"She should probably get some velcro then," Diana said, examing her nails with the utmost interest. "Or at least some tape."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I'll tell you what you can do with that tape...." Marlo growled, making a move like she was about to tackle the older girl.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Down, Marlo," Juliana said, pressing a warning hand onto her friend's shoulder. "Let it go." She looked at Diana. "I hope you aren't threatening me, Diana," she said, her confidence growing with Marlo's earlier defense, and her building agitation. "Because if you are then I would have no choice but defend myself and my friends. &lt;em&gt;All &lt;/em&gt;of them," she said, glancing at Prince for a brief second. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Diana scoffed, and stood from her seat. "Whatever you say, newbie. But I'd keep an eye on your guy there. After all, the year is far from over."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;When she had left Juliana could not help but mutter, "It looks like a new rivalry is growing."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"And this is just the beginning," Marlo added, glaring at the retreating form of Diana, a dark splotch in the sea of white ruffles and silk.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 249px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410413467927593682" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SxWmYivQQtI/AAAAAAAAAFo/ESfiZP7aTls/s320/Light_by_ethereal_forest303.jpg" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3659314848314384253-2008970749590724724?l=shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/feeds/2008970749590724724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/12/starlight-academy-part-8-only-beginning.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/2008970749590724724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/2008970749590724724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/12/starlight-academy-part-8-only-beginning.html' title='Starlight Academy Part 8 - Only the Beginning'/><author><name>Daydreamer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03556731731414064951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/Soxp3Bhm_WI/AAAAAAAAACo/NZYXFgKAdDY/S220/dreamer.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SxWmYivQQtI/AAAAAAAAAFo/ESfiZP7aTls/s72-c/Light_by_ethereal_forest303.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3659314848314384253.post-7150137899516293631</id><published>2009-11-22T06:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-02T04:58:30.900-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Starlight Academy Part 7 - I Will Never Hurt You</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The next morning Juliana woke feeling tired, and anxious. The events of the night before still plagued her haggard mind, and she dressed mechanically. Marlo noticed this, and asked, "Hey, you okay?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm fine," she yawned, adjusting the ruffles around her neck. "Just a little tired."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"First night take its toll on you?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Yeah," she said, deciding that telling her new friend about the night before would not bode well if she had not heard anything either. So she kept it to herself, and they headed off to breakfast. They stopped once, because Marlo had tugged at Juliana's arm, jerking her to a stop beside a small garden.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"What?" Juliana asked, irritated at her friend's sudden stop. "Did you lose something? Like your mind?" She smoothed out the wrinkles in her sleeve, watching as Marlo crouched in front of a clump of purple flowers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Aha!" she exclaimed, plucking a flower and leaping to her feet. "This will look great in your hair!" She lunged at Juliana, tucking the gorgeous flower behind her ear before she could protest.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Thanks. Why did you just put a flower in my hair?" she asked, fixing the flower into a better position.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"It brings out your eyes. Prince will love it," she said, grinning.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Wait a second! What makes you think he would like this?" she asked, trying to brush away the blush blooming in her cheeks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Marlo scoffed, waving the question away. "He likes you, Juliana. It's obvious. Trust me, I know guys." She winked, and pulled her helpless friend along behind her. They strolled into the dining hall, arm in arm until Marlo spotted Prince moving toward them. "Good luck," she whispered, smiling, and hurried off.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Wait! Marlo, what do you mean? Marlo!" she would have tried again, but Prince was already at her side, touching her elbow gently. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Good morning, Juliana," he whispered, his voice rumbling within his chest. It made Juliana's heart beat a little faster.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Good morning, Prince," she returned, turning half-way around to smile at him. It made her feel like she was some sort of beautiful vixen, the way he smiled at her, his eyes smoldering just above that sweet grin.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I trust that you slept well?" he asked, his hand migrating to the middle of her back, his palm hot through the material of her shirt.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;She did not have the heart to tell him otherwise, and said, "Yes. It was a very good night."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Excellent," he said, his voice giving away his excitement. "I would like it very much if you would do me the favor of taking a morning walk with me. We won't have our classes until tomorrow. Today is the day for exploring, and making new friends. Why don't we explore a little?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;She nodded, completely forgetting her empty stomach in preference for his company. "I would like that," she said, barely able to find her voice beneath the feel of his hand.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Then, come with me, and I'll show you my favorite paths to walk down." He guided her from the hall, his hand still pressed gently to her back, and they started down a deserted path.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Bushes, flowers, and small trees sprang up all around them, sometimes encroaching on their path, other times shrinking away from them. They walked along, enjoying the silence of the calm morning and the small touches that they exchanged occasionally. At last he stopped them, and leaned against a tree. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;He took her hand, pulling her toward him. "You look positively stunning this morning, especially with that flower in your hair." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Juliana chuckled. "Thank Marlo," she said, smiling.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I will. Juliana, I would like very much to kiss you now, if it's alright with you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;A flush exploded in her face, and she could not keep the joyous smile from her face. "That's perfectly fine with me, Prince," she whispered, hardly believing what was happening.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;He smiled, and tugged her closer to him so that she was pressed up against his chest. His left hand found its way to the back of her head, cradling it carefully, while his right hand moved to the small of her back. He held her off for a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SwmfEdYy5KI/AAAAAAAAAFg/5iWwO13Z3K4/s1600/Juliana+and+Prince+kiss.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 299px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407027726591911074" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SwmfEdYy5KI/AAAAAAAAAFg/5iWwO13Z3K4/s320/Juliana+and+Prince+kiss.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;moment, his lips just an inch from hers and his breath lolling over her face. Her chest heaved a bit, and she struggled to keep from shuddering. He let his mouth fall against hers in a firm, loving kiss. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;This one was so much different from the first sort-of-kiss. It was in the moment, and impossible to ignore. There was a fire as hot as a bolt of lightning in the kiss, and their lips crashing against each other's were like thunder. When they pulled away, Juliana's head rested against his chest, and she whispered, "Prince!" Her breathing was shallow with passion.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I care for you so much, Juliana," he said. "And you can trust me. I will never hurt you. I promise."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"And I won't ever hurt you," she said, and they embraced, wrapped in each other's arms&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3659314848314384253-7150137899516293631?l=shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/feeds/7150137899516293631/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/11/starlight-academy-part-6-i-will-never.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/7150137899516293631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/7150137899516293631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/11/starlight-academy-part-6-i-will-never.html' title='Starlight Academy Part 7 - I Will Never Hurt You'/><author><name>Daydreamer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03556731731414064951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/Soxp3Bhm_WI/AAAAAAAAACo/NZYXFgKAdDY/S220/dreamer.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SwmfEdYy5KI/AAAAAAAAAFg/5iWwO13Z3K4/s72-c/Juliana+and+Prince+kiss.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3659314848314384253.post-4260694992800586175</id><published>2009-10-18T16:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-18T16:44:38.450-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Starlight Academy Part 6 - And the Earth Began to Tremble</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/StuoBVR-4LI/AAAAAAAAAFY/Cg6LecOT4m8/s1600-h/hallway+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394089719552204978" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/StuoBVR-4LI/AAAAAAAAAFY/Cg6LecOT4m8/s320/hallway+2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Juliana woke in the middle of the night to strange, subdued noise. She listened intently, straining to pick up the sound. It was high pitched, and lilting, like an occult chant. Worried, but more curious than anything, Juliana climbed out of bed, winding a robe around her pyjamas, and slipping her feet into a pair of slippers. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;She padded out into the hall, and toward the sound. She passed door after door, and it grew steadily louder, but it was still restrained, as if someone was trying to muffle it. But soon she found herself standing before a door with only one name on it, and the sound resonated from behind it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;She stared at the name, blank with fear. It read, "Diana Millennium."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Juliana bit her lip, and pressed her ear to the oaken door, tensing her body for any threat to her person.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The sound pulsated from within, but it was someone speaking, crooning, in an unknown language that made a shiver reach all the way to the tips of Juliana's fingers. There was thick beat, like someone banging on something repeatedly. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The sound swelled, building and building. Juliana staggered backward at the immense volume, and wondered if anyone would appear in the hall to investigate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;But no one came, and the words became a keening shout that rattled the door, and knocked Juliana off of her feet. Still, no one came. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;She tried to get to her feet, but the quaking of the floor brought her back to her knees so that she had crawl to her room. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Marlo was still sleeping, and the moment Juliana felt the silk of her sheets she was asleep.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3659314848314384253-4260694992800586175?l=shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/feeds/4260694992800586175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/10/starlight-academy-part-6-and-earth.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/4260694992800586175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/4260694992800586175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/10/starlight-academy-part-6-and-earth.html' title='Starlight Academy Part 6 - And the Earth Began to Tremble'/><author><name>Daydreamer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03556731731414064951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/Soxp3Bhm_WI/AAAAAAAAACo/NZYXFgKAdDY/S220/dreamer.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/StuoBVR-4LI/AAAAAAAAAFY/Cg6LecOT4m8/s72-c/hallway+2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3659314848314384253.post-7937879355778613312</id><published>2009-10-05T17:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-05T18:04:24.466-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Starlight Academy Part 5 - Nice</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Juliana was stretched out in bed, reading by the light of her bedside lamp. It was as she was finishing her current paragraph when Marlo kicked open the door, stumbling into the room, her arms stacked with two, cumbersome packages. "A little help here!" she called out from behind them, wobbling uncertainly under the weight of the boxes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Juliana hopped up, rushing to take one of them from her. "What are these?" she asked, setting it down by her bed, and examining the sticker on it bearing her name in neat print.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"No clue!" Marlo said happily, plopping hers down on the floor, and rifling beneath her bed. She pulled out a pair of scissors with red handles. "But we're about to find out." She slit open the tape, and pried the box's lid open. "Oh! Awesome!" She slid the scissors over to Juliana, and plunged her hands into the box.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Juliana opened her own box, and was faced with a few sets of neatly folded uniform clothes. She lifted out a white, long-sleeved shirt with ruffles around the neck. The material was soft to the touch, and smelled of lavender. "Wow," Juliana said. "Cool." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Totally," Marlo said; she was standing, holding a pair of tan slacks up to her legs to see if they would fit. "Looks like they already figured out our sizes. Weird."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"There are a &lt;em&gt;lot&lt;/em&gt; of creepers in this school," Juliana muttered to herself as she put away her new clothes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Yeah, but it makes it a whole lot easier to get things done." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SsqXTenPOxI/AAAAAAAAAFI/weBhQ-crKsE/s1600-h/girl.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 44px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389286264993168146" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SsqXTenPOxI/AAAAAAAAAFI/weBhQ-crKsE/s320/girl.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I guess," Juliana relented. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"So," Marlo said, a sly tone creeping into her tone, "how was Prince?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Juliana blushed, but said, "He's nice."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"&lt;em&gt;Just&lt;/em&gt; nice?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Yes!" Juilana rounded, blushing hotly. "&lt;em&gt;Nice&lt;/em&gt;. He's very... nice." She turned away from Marlo's smile, and climbed into bed. "I'm goin' to bed. See you in the morning, Marlo."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Yeah, see ya in the morning, Julie." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It was not until some hours later that Juliana fell asleep, smiling at the memory of the innocent kiss Prince had given her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3659314848314384253-7937879355778613312?l=shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/feeds/7937879355778613312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/10/starlight-academy-part-5-nice.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/7937879355778613312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/7937879355778613312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/10/starlight-academy-part-5-nice.html' title='Starlight Academy Part 5 - Nice'/><author><name>Daydreamer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03556731731414064951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/Soxp3Bhm_WI/AAAAAAAAACo/NZYXFgKAdDY/S220/dreamer.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SsqXTenPOxI/AAAAAAAAAFI/weBhQ-crKsE/s72-c/girl.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3659314848314384253.post-2318871662822307010</id><published>2009-09-30T19:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T19:38:32.730-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Starlight Academy Part 4 - Stars</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The night was bright outside, with millions of stars having been lobbed up into the sky. There were no lights on, allowing the sky to sparkle at its full potential. Juliana understood now why the school was named Starlight Academy; it was not only because of the headmaster's name, but because of the beautiful scenery. She tipped her head back to watch the stars blink at her, and felt her heart lift with awe, and pure happiness. She was brought back down to earth by Prince's voice.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Gorgeous, isn't it?" he asked, in a voice so soft that she did not jump, but let her head drift back down so she could smile at him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Yeah," she agreed. "You don't even need porch lights."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"True. The position of the school makes it a great setting for stargazing." He noticed her look. "I learned that bit of trivia from Gerard. But it's confirmed every year when all of the families journey here to sleep under the stars with their children."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Do your parents come over?" She ran a hand through her hair, glancing away, at the perfectly trimmed grass.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Not often," he said nonchalantly. "Their busy with work. My dad is in the Navy, and my mom is a famous pianist." He smiled, obviously proud of his heritage.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"So, why do they call you 'Prince?'" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"My dad is descended from some royal family that was very wealthy, and charitable. People found out, and just tagged me with the nickname. I kinda like it." He smiled. "Sounds regal."&lt;br /&gt;Juliana laughed, and Prince joined her. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I like your laugh," he said, stepping closer to her, and shortening the few yards that separated them. "It sounds like a child's laugh. Carefree, innocent. It's nice to have that kind of innocence in a world so full of tragedy and evil." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Juliana looked at him, amazed at the sudden somberness of his tone. He was closer; she could have reached out, and touched him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I like you, Juliana," he whispered, as she took a few steps toward him. "I hope I can hear you laugh again."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I like you too, Prince," Juliana breathed, blushing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;They smiled, and his lips lit upon hers, and they shone like two stars, paired together in the sky.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387454882771706562" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SsQVrAMNIsI/AAAAAAAAAFA/cPjkjit9Nwk/s320/Juliana+and+Prince.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3659314848314384253-2318871662822307010?l=shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/feeds/2318871662822307010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/09/starlight-academy-part-4-stars.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/2318871662822307010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/2318871662822307010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/09/starlight-academy-part-4-stars.html' title='Starlight Academy Part 4 - Stars'/><author><name>Daydreamer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03556731731414064951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/Soxp3Bhm_WI/AAAAAAAAACo/NZYXFgKAdDY/S220/dreamer.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SsQVrAMNIsI/AAAAAAAAAFA/cPjkjit9Nwk/s72-c/Juliana+and+Prince.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3659314848314384253.post-2225173355827093359</id><published>2009-09-29T15:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T16:25:33.746-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Starlight Academy Part 3 - Welcome to Starlight Academy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SsKWqDoXUTI/AAAAAAAAAE4/Lcm5u70HdBc/s1600-h/Marlo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 292px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 235px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387033753561813298" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SsKWqDoXUTI/AAAAAAAAAE4/Lcm5u70HdBc/s320/Marlo.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;There, lying on a bed, and reading, was another girl with black hair, but hers was a soft shade, and her face was kind. She looked up at Juliana, and smiled, setting aside her book on a nightstand. "Hey. Are you my roommate?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I guess so. I'm Juliana. Are you Marlo?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Yep. These your bags?" she asked, pointing to a large bag, and Juliana's purse, both with tags attached to their straps, with her name on them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Yeah," Juliana said, going to them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"They brought them in a while ago, so I figured you'd be following them." She approached her. "I hope everything made it okay."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Yep. Everything's fine." She stood. "So, this is my bed?" she asked, pointing at a bed with a purple comforter, and silver sheets.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Mhmm. It's all yours. Make yourself at home." Marlo smiled, and climbed back onto her bed, which was covered with a dark green comforter, and white sheets that peeked out from behind them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Hey. What time is it?" Juliana asked.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Five forty-five," she said, glancing at a chunky watch strapped to her wrist. Then, she did a double-take, and leapt from her bed. "Crap! We gotta go! Dinner's in fifteen minutes, and we've got a way to go! Come on!" She grabbed Juliana's wrist, and dragged her from the room, down the hall, and out of the building.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;They ran as fast as they could down several cement paths, through a flowery courtyard, and into an echoing dining room that held three long tables, and one at the far end running parrallel to the wall. They were all full of people.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Marlo looked at her watch, gave the time as being nearly six o' clock, and began scouring the tables for empty seats. They found a pair at the middle table, and sat down just as a woman with silver hair down to her waist stood from the table at the back of the room. She had a bright, young face and a gentle, motherly smile as she gazed at the students.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Finally, she was handed a microphone, and said, in a clear resonant voice, "May I have your attention, please? Thank you. Hello, everyone. I am Selina Starlight, the headmaster of Starlight Academy, and I am pleased to have you all here. It's good to see some familiar faces tonight. It's even better to see some &lt;em&gt;un&lt;/em&gt;familiar ones. I hope you will enjoy this school.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Now, before we eat, I would like to take this time to tell you all something: being here is a priviledge, not a right. If you don't understand how lucky you are to be attending here, then I suggest you realize that now. I do not tolerate any ill behavior from my students, and I will not &lt;em&gt;hesitate&lt;/em&gt; to send you back to your families if I hear of it. Know this, and, with that, I wish you a good school year. Thank you." There was applause, and she sat down, still smiling.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Juliana looked at Marlo, with more than a hint of worry in her features. Marlo just shrugged as she was handed a plate of steaming food.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Juliana sighed, glanced aorund, froze; she had found herself looking, once again, into Prince's eyes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;He was at the first table, sandwiched between Gerard and Alexander. He smiled at her, and waved. He nudged his friends, who followed his example. Juliana returned the waves, and went back to her food as a blush started rising in her cheeks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I think that guy likes you," Marlo said, excitement creeping into her voice.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"What d'you mean?" Juliana asked innocently.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"He keeps looking over here, and smiling. Oh! Look!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Juliana glanced up just as Prince stood from his seat. He winked at her, then left the building.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"He wants you to follow him," Marlo said.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"How do you know?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Because his friends are pointing after him and mouthing, 'Follow him!'"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It was true. So, she went, with a red face, outside.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3659314848314384253-2225173355827093359?l=shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/feeds/2225173355827093359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/09/starlight-academy-part-3-welcome-to.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/2225173355827093359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/2225173355827093359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/09/starlight-academy-part-3-welcome-to.html' title='Starlight Academy Part 3 - Welcome to Starlight Academy'/><author><name>Daydreamer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03556731731414064951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/Soxp3Bhm_WI/AAAAAAAAACo/NZYXFgKAdDY/S220/dreamer.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SsKWqDoXUTI/AAAAAAAAAE4/Lcm5u70HdBc/s72-c/Marlo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3659314848314384253.post-6998087751158349596</id><published>2009-09-21T18:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-21T19:09:25.146-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Starlight Academy Part 2 - Diana</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The tense silence became unbearable, and Juliana tried to fill it. "So," she said, "is this a good school?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;He looked at her, as if he was surprised that she should speak. "Oh, yes. It's the best in academics, and the faculty is wonderful."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"But what about the students?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;He paused, considering the question, before answering carefully, "The students are of admiral breeding."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Oh, okay."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;They continued on in silence, until they reached a large, flawlessly white building. It had a huge, wrap-around porch and towering pillars that reminded Juliana of a colonial-style house. She could hear the faint rush of water, and she assumed that there must have been a pond in the back. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Here you are," said Gerard, gesturing at the building. "I'm sure you can find someone to help you to your room. I'll see you at dinner." He nodded, turned, and walked off, back toward the court. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Thanks," she said, and went inside.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The inside was almost more impressive than the outside. There were huge velvet chairs and couches, a fountain in the center, and two hallways leading away from the lobby.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/Srgxe5lYWBI/AAAAAAAAAEw/an50LR7UR_0/s1600-h/_living_room__by_pink_calyx.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 226px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 329px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384107761444870162" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/Srgxe5lYWBI/AAAAAAAAAEw/an50LR7UR_0/s320/_living_room__by_pink_calyx.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Jade wandered toward the fountain, hand held out to catch the water, when a sharp voice stopped her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Don't touch!" someone snapped from behind her. She turned to see a girl her age, her arms folded angrily over her chest. Her hair was as black as coal, and her eyes were just as dark. She had a black overcoat held together with strings over tight, leather clothes. Her nails were crimson red to match her lips. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Oh," Juliana said. "Sorry. I didn't know."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Whatever. Just don't do it again."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Okay. Um... I'm Juliana. Could you help me find my room? I'm new."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;She sighed, as if it was too much to ask. "Fine. What's your last name?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Paramour."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Follow me." Then, they were off down a long, brightly-lit corridor that made Juliana's guide look out of place.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;For the second time that day, Juliana had been forced to start a conversation. "What's &lt;em&gt;your&lt;/em&gt; name?" she asked.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Diana," she said without looking at her. "Diana Millennium."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Cool."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;They passed door after door with pairs of names written on small signs bolted to the doors, all in alphabetic order. At last, they reached a door bearing the names, "Juliana Paramour," and, "Marlo Patterson."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Diana nodded. "Here's your room. Dinner's at six. Be in the dining hall by then or don't come at all." She nodded again, and walked off.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Juliana watched her for a moment, then, after taking a deep breath, went inside.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3659314848314384253-6998087751158349596?l=shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/feeds/6998087751158349596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/09/starlight-academy-part-2-diana.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/6998087751158349596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/6998087751158349596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/09/starlight-academy-part-2-diana.html' title='Starlight Academy Part 2 - Diana'/><author><name>Daydreamer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03556731731414064951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/Soxp3Bhm_WI/AAAAAAAAACo/NZYXFgKAdDY/S220/dreamer.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/Srgxe5lYWBI/AAAAAAAAAEw/an50LR7UR_0/s72-c/_living_room__by_pink_calyx.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3659314848314384253.post-1859956980322008682</id><published>2009-09-19T09:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-19T09:43:22.892-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Starlight Academy Part 1 - Introductions</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Juliana Paramour walked through the empty halls of her new school, Starlight Academy. &lt;em&gt;Where is everyone?&lt;/em&gt; the brunette thought, gazing at the beautiful buildings, and flowery gardens. She had just arrived at the school, and had been told that her bags had already been taken to her room, but they had neglected to direct her to her room. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;So, now she was walking along, hoping to find someone who could help her. Suddenly, she heard excited whoops echoing out in front of her. She smiled, and jogged off toward the noise. She found herself in the open doorway of an indoor tennis court.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SrUJTtgVgoI/AAAAAAAAAEo/ej_dYqu1yKE/s1600-h/BuckeyeIndoorTennisCourt.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383219163828683394" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SrUJTtgVgoI/AAAAAAAAAEo/ej_dYqu1yKE/s320/BuckeyeIndoorTennisCourt.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Two boys where playing, laughing as they whacked the ball back and forth. One boy, a blond, spiky-haired adolescent, was grinning, and laughing as he served the tennis ball to a thin, red-haired boy, who was smiling quietly. They darted around the place, stretching to catch the ball.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Entertaining, isn't it?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Juliana jumped at the sound of someone speaking behind her. She turned around to find herself facing a tall, brown-haired youth. He was smiling at her, one hand in his pocket, while the other loosely gripped a tennis racket. Juliana smiled, and said, "Yeah! It looks like they're really enjoying themselves."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I should think so," he said, a warm amusement glowing in his cinnamon eyes. "They never stop smiling. You'd think they'd had those grins &lt;em&gt;painted&lt;/em&gt; on."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Juliana laughed, blushing in spite of herself. "I'm Juliana."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Enchantee," he whispered, as if he were telling her a secret. He took her hand, and placed a burning kiss on the back of it. His lips had a gentle roughness to them, a commanding, yet thoughtful air.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And the sensation set Juliana's face ablaze. "Likewise," she said awkwardly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;He looked like he was about to say something, but a whoop of victory interrupted him; the blond boy was bouncing in place, his arms stretched above his head.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Prince!" he called &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;to &lt;/span&gt;Juliana's companion. "Prince, I challenge you! I need a worthier opponent than this louse!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"You won by &lt;em&gt;one&lt;/em&gt; serve," protested the red-head. "Don't go getting a swollen head, Alex."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"You're just a sore loser, Gerard," retorted Alex, pointing at him with his racket.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Prince laughed, quickly intervening, saying, "Guys! Stop your arguing and come over here! There's someone I want you to meet!" Prince smiled at Juliana.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;They trotted over, staring at the stranger. "Who's this?" Alex asked.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Guys, this is Juliana. Juliana, Alex Hutchenson. Gerard Stiles."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Hey," she said, lifting a hand in greeting, which Alex grabbed, and eagerly shook.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Pleased to meet you!" he said happily. "I hope you enjoyed the game."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Yeah, it was cool. Um... I'd kind of like to keep my hand attached to my wrist, if you don't mind?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Oh! Of course!" He dropped her hand like it was a hot coal, still beaming. "Are you new to this school?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Yes," Gerard answered before she could even get the word out. "Juliana Paramour. Tenth grade. Good student. Resides in Julie Merchant's Hall." He looked at her. "Is that correct?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Uh... yes. How do you know all that?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I'm in charge of the students' files. I memorize all of the new students and their information."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Oh. Okay? Stalker...."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Gerard looked like he was going to respond, but Prince's hand on his shoulder stopped him. He looked calmly at Juliana, said, "Gerard likes to know &lt;em&gt;everything&lt;/em&gt;. Don't worry about it."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"'Kay. So, if you know everything, does that mean you can help me find my room? The secretaries said my luggage was already there, but I don't know where there is."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Of &lt;em&gt;course&lt;/em&gt; he'll show you how to get there!" interrupted Alex. "Won't you, Gerard?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Very well," he said, leaving the court while Juliana followed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3659314848314384253-1859956980322008682?l=shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/feeds/1859956980322008682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/09/starlight-academy-part-1-introductions.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/1859956980322008682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/1859956980322008682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/09/starlight-academy-part-1-introductions.html' title='Starlight Academy Part 1 - Introductions'/><author><name>Daydreamer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03556731731414064951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/Soxp3Bhm_WI/AAAAAAAAACo/NZYXFgKAdDY/S220/dreamer.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SrUJTtgVgoI/AAAAAAAAAEo/ej_dYqu1yKE/s72-c/BuckeyeIndoorTennisCourt.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3659314848314384253.post-446894612316476312</id><published>2009-09-16T17:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-16T17:43:17.918-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Drive-thru soap operas, part 11 The Finale (Brandon)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Brandon flew down the hall, his heart pounding as he searched for Sharon. At last, he spotted Raven, whom he had seen hanging around Sharon yesterday. He jogged to her side, a hand going to her shoulder. "Raven! Have you seen Sharon? I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; need to talk to her. It's an emergency." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Raven stared at him, a glare darkening her features. "She ran out just a minute ago. I guess she was heading home. You know," she said, rounding on him with a fury that made Brandon's hand jump off of her shoulder, "I stood up for you yesterday. Lisa was trying to scare Sharon out of dating you, but I told her to go ahead. I told her that Lisa was just full of hot air. I guess she wasn't." She jabbed his chest with her finger. "You pretentious, pompous prat! Don't you know what you're losing here? Sharon would have been good for you! She could have turned your wasted life around! And you just went and ruined it! I hope you realize what you've done."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I have," was all he said, before rushing out into the rain that had started a little earlier.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Brandon finally arrived at Sharon's house after pushing through the traffic. It was pouring rain but he didn't care. He hopped out onto the sidewalk in front of her house. He was about to run up to her door, but it was already opening. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Sharon slipped outside, shutting the door, and stepping down the walk.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Was she expecting me?&lt;/em&gt; Brandon thought as he watched her approach.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Hello, Brandon Hall," she said, just as she had the night he had asked her out. She was in front of him now. The rain ran down her face in silvery rivulets. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Sharon," he said. "I'm so-"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"No," she interrupted, and Brandon could hear the steady, unwavering calm in her voice. It was cold, and frightening. "Listen. I knew it was a bad idea to get involved with you. But I decided to do it anyway, and now..." - she sighed - "I'm regretting it."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Don't say that," he said, pleading. "You don't mean that."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"You know what, I do. I'm sorry, Brandon Hall, but I can't go out with you. Not now, not ever." She lifted her face to his, and, for a moment, he thought that she was going to kiss him. But her head passed him, so close that he could feel the warmth of her breath on his cheek, and he blushed. Her lips were at his ear now, and she whispered, "I took a chance on you, but you're the one who lost. Goodbye, Brandon." She turned, and, with all of the grace that she had walking into his life, she walked out of the rain, and out of his life.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 299px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382229520549028786" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SrGFO4_yI7I/AAAAAAAAAEg/9hQPwXVFf94/s320/alone-in-the-rain.jpg" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:180%;"&gt;Fin!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3659314848314384253-446894612316476312?l=shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/feeds/446894612316476312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/09/drive-thru-soap-operas-part-11-finale.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/446894612316476312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/446894612316476312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/09/drive-thru-soap-operas-part-11-finale.html' title='Drive-thru soap operas, part 11 The Finale (Brandon)'/><author><name>Daydreamer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03556731731414064951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/Soxp3Bhm_WI/AAAAAAAAACo/NZYXFgKAdDY/S220/dreamer.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SrGFO4_yI7I/AAAAAAAAAEg/9hQPwXVFf94/s72-c/alone-in-the-rain.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3659314848314384253.post-7538111352228021055</id><published>2009-09-16T14:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-16T15:08:06.249-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Drive-thru soap operas, part 10 What I Wanted (Lisa)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Lisa watched Sharon run off down the hall. She frowned; she had gotten what she wanted, but she was not happy. She looked back at Brandon, and asked, "So, where does this leave us?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Brandon sighed, glancing after the distraught Sharon, and back at the confused Lisa. "I don't know."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Well, maybe... this will help." She leaned up, brushing her lips over his. She felt the familiar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SrFhAomEfSI/AAAAAAAAAEY/TTqQeGpTzq8/s1600-h/Lisa+and+Brandon.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 131px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 130px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382189693209443618" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SrFhAomEfSI/AAAAAAAAAEY/TTqQeGpTzq8/s320/Lisa+and+Brandon.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; warmth of his kiss, and realized how much she had missed it. His arms looped around her waist, pulling her against him. Everything slowed down, and, when he pulled away, she was left dizzy and weak. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I'm sorry," he whispered. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;This brought her out of her daze. She stared at him, not comprehending anything. "W-what?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I'm sorry," he repeated, avoiding her eyes. "I... I can't do this. I've made a lot of mistakes, and... I need to... to make things right."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"What do you mean?" Lisa asked, panic shivering in her stomach.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;He looked at her, and she could see the change that had come over him. "I can't be with you, Lisa. You're not what I wanted. I thought you were, but...." He shook his head, and Lisa shook hers with him, but he did not see it. "I'm sorry, Lisa. I have to go." He broke away from her, chasing after the girl she had chased away. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;His words rang in her head. &lt;em&gt;You're not what I wanted. You're not what I wanted. You're not what I wanted.... &lt;/em&gt;Lisa stared after him, thinking, &lt;em&gt;But you're what I wanted.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3659314848314384253-7538111352228021055?l=shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/feeds/7538111352228021055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/09/drive-thru-soap-operas-part-10-what-i.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/7538111352228021055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/7538111352228021055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/09/drive-thru-soap-operas-part-10-what-i.html' title='Drive-thru soap operas, part 10 What I Wanted (Lisa)'/><author><name>Daydreamer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03556731731414064951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/Soxp3Bhm_WI/AAAAAAAAACo/NZYXFgKAdDY/S220/dreamer.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SrFhAomEfSI/AAAAAAAAAEY/TTqQeGpTzq8/s72-c/Lisa+and+Brandon.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3659314848314384253.post-3434817273758651795</id><published>2009-09-13T13:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T14:07:12.935-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Drive-thru soap operas, part 9 A Distressing Discovery (Sharon)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Sharon made her way to the back entrance of the school the next day, shouldering her back pack while she focused on shifting her math binder to the crook of her left arm. She had woken up late, and had been forced to slide into a parking space that was too far from the school for her comfort. She was really happy with her choice of footwear (a pair of white, running shoes) at the moment as she spied the door. She smiled, and opened the door, but froze when she heard Brandon's voice on the other side.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Lisa, we need to talk!" he said, his voice tight, and upset.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lisa? &lt;/em&gt;Sharon thought, worry pricking the back of her neck. She strained to hear more.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"About what?" Lisa snapped. "What could &lt;em&gt;possibly&lt;/em&gt; be bothering you &lt;em&gt;so&lt;/em&gt; much that you would stoop to talking to little ol' me?" The sarcasm that dripped off of her voice made Sharon grimace, but she was rooted to the spot, unable to move.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Your little rat told Sharon that I only asked her out to make you jealous. Now, where would she hear something like that? Care to enlighten me?" His voice held just as much biting anger as Lisa's.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Lisa was silent for a minute, and Sharon almost thought that she had left, but then she said, softly, "Did you? Did you ask her out to make me jealous?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"No..." he said, but he hesitated. "Well, maybe. You &lt;em&gt;did&lt;/em&gt; dump me."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Yeah... well...."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Wait a minute..." he said, a thought striking in his tone. "Felicia told Sharon about me to get her to break the date. And Felicia isn't smart enough to come up with that on her own... Did &lt;em&gt;you&lt;/em&gt; tell her to do that?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Well... I... I..." She was stammering, clinging to any shred of dignity that she still had. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"You &lt;em&gt;did!&lt;/em&gt; You wanted us to break up!" The mounting fury in his words left just as quickly as it had come, only to be replaced by a smugness that made Sharon's nose crinkle. "You &lt;em&gt;were&lt;/em&gt; jealous. You still like me, don't you?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Another uncharacteristically long pause from Lisa, then, "Yes. Do you still like me?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The silence that stood was too much for Sharon, who was now choking on her feverish, angry tears. She flung open the door, too upset to worry about making a scene. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Brandon and Lisa looked at her, shocked at her appearance. Sharon strode up to Brandon, her face ablaze. "I can't go out with you tonight, Brandon Hall," she said, her voice trembling. "I told you that I am no one's tool. Goodbye!" She had not looked up from his shoes the entire time &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/Sq1esOkQTKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/GgR9Mgj7BLQ/s1600-h/hallway.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 211px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381061243695025314" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/Sq1esOkQTKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/GgR9Mgj7BLQ/s320/hallway.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;she had been speaking, but now she was glaring into his face. She pursed her lips, and ran off, leaving the two behind while the tears hit her face at a run.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3659314848314384253-3434817273758651795?l=shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/feeds/3434817273758651795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/09/drive-thru-soap-operas-part-9.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/3434817273758651795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/3434817273758651795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/09/drive-thru-soap-operas-part-9.html' title='Drive-thru soap operas, part 9 A Distressing Discovery (Sharon)'/><author><name>Daydreamer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03556731731414064951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/Soxp3Bhm_WI/AAAAAAAAACo/NZYXFgKAdDY/S220/dreamer.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/Sq1esOkQTKI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/GgR9Mgj7BLQ/s72-c/hallway.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3659314848314384253.post-7227203017215132157</id><published>2009-09-08T18:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T14:07:36.011-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Drive-thru soap operas, part 8 Crisis Averted (Brandon)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Brandon was in his backyard, resting against the rough bark of the tree that he had been around since when he was a child, and letting the sunshine filter through the lacy leaves, and onto his upturned face. He sighed, content with the silence that did not come often; he may have preferred social interaction, but after a rough day of threats from Tyler and his thugs, he was just happy to be able to relax.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;When all you got to keep is strong!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Move along, move along like I know you do!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And even when your hope is gone!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Move along, move&lt;/em&gt;-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The song, "Move Along," by the All-American Rejects rang out from his cell phone, muffled by his pants pocket. He made a noise of frustration at the interruption, dug out his phone, flipped it open, said, "Hello?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Hi, Brandon Hall," came the discomforted voice of Sharon. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;This brought him to rigid attention, his ears perking at the tone of her voice. "Hey, Sharon. What's up?" he asked, trying not to sound &lt;em&gt;too&lt;/em&gt; concerned.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Not much. Um..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Stammering? &lt;/em&gt;he thought, worry sneaking up on him. Sharon didn't stammer. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Listen, I just wanted to say thank you, for your offer. But... I don't think I can go out with you tomorrow night." Sad. Her voice sounded hurt, upset, barely controlled.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"What d'you mean? Why?" He focused on keeping his tone even, gentle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I... &lt;em&gt;heard &lt;/em&gt;some things. And, well, I don't want to be your tool for some... petty &lt;em&gt;revenge&lt;/em&gt; scheme!" She spat the word, "revenge," her voice cracking.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"What did you here?" Brandon asked, pale fear winding around his nerves.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Just... that you only asked me out because you want to make Lisa jealous."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;He flinched at the spoken truth, but had to fight this to the root. "Who told you that?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;She was silent for a moment, as if she were reconsidering her source of information, even as she said it. "Felicia Morgan."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Sharon, you should know that you can't trust Felicia!" he said, relieved that he had a firm base for rebuilding his case. "She'll do anything for Lisa, and Lisa would do anything to get back at me for the break-up. They're only trying to hurt you," he said, his voice concerned only for her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;He heard her sigh. She said, "Okay. I guess... I can give you a second chance. I'll go out with you Friday."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Thanks, Sharon. I'll see you tomorrow." They said their goodbye's, he shut his phone, smiled. Crisis averted.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 277px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 195px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379289540986934850" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SqcTVjqAFkI/AAAAAAAAAEI/CmhBFkDAFQQ/s320/1202843931Uiuu1z.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3659314848314384253-7227203017215132157?l=shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/feeds/7227203017215132157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/09/drive-thru-soap-operas-part-8-crisis.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/7227203017215132157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/7227203017215132157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/09/drive-thru-soap-operas-part-8-crisis.html' title='Drive-thru soap operas, part 8 Crisis Averted (Brandon)'/><author><name>Daydreamer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03556731731414064951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/Soxp3Bhm_WI/AAAAAAAAACo/NZYXFgKAdDY/S220/dreamer.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SqcTVjqAFkI/AAAAAAAAAEI/CmhBFkDAFQQ/s72-c/1202843931Uiuu1z.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3659314848314384253.post-449222925604497196</id><published>2009-08-31T16:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T17:55:14.937-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Drive-thru soap operas, part 7 - Backup (Lisa)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Lisa was outside, lounging against a brick wall, and watching as the students filed out of school after the dismissal bell. She sighed, flipping her hair over her shoulder impatiently. She adjusted her tube top, and looked back at the doors, just in time to see Felicia darting out. Lisa lifted her chin, made eye contact, shrunk back into her hiding place.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;In less than a minute she was accompanied by Felicia, who was panting slightly, and smiling. "She's coming," she said, a thrill of excitement in her voice. She tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear, her eyes flitting around anxiously.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Good," Lisa said. "After I get her over here, you leave."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"But, Lisa-" Felicia started.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"No buts," she said, holding up a halting hand. "I need to do this alone. She ruined my life by herself, I can scare her away from one little day by &lt;em&gt;my&lt;/em&gt;self. Got it?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Yeah, I got it...." she murmured, like a beaten dog. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Here she comes," Lisa said, peeking around the corner. "Call her over here. Put on a good face."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Felicia took a breath, and stepped out into view, waving, and calling, "Sharon! Over here!" She was grinning, as if nothing had happened - as if nothing was &lt;em&gt;going&lt;/em&gt; to happen. "Okay," she said, drawing back out of sight. "She's on her way."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Good job," she said curtly, as if it were a difficult thing to praise her friend. "Now go." She pointed down a back way, and Felicia was gone in a flash.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Sharon stepped around the corner hesitantly, her books cradled in the crook of her arm.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Hey, Sharon," Lisa said, a shadow hovering over her voice.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Sharon jumped, and, upon seeing Lisa frowning at her, felt her heart beat a little faster. "Oh! Hey, Lisa," she said, ignoring her last name, because it sounded heavy in her mind. She pursed her lips, then said, "Did you see Felicia come down this way? She waved to me, and disappeared." She laughed nervously, an awkward blush heating up her face.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"No, I guess you missed her." Lisa crossed her arms, approaching her. "I heard about you and Brandon. Interesting that he should ask you out the very night I dumped him."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"&lt;em&gt;You &lt;/em&gt;dumped &lt;em&gt;him&lt;/em&gt;?" she asked. "He just said you two broke up. He didn't say who...." she faded off, a feeling of shame sweeping over her. If Brandon had lied about that, then everything else....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Yeah. I bet he didn't tell you that. He would be embarrassed. So, let me make things perfectly clear for you." She was so close that Sharon could see the brush strokes of foundation on her face. "Either you break the date with Brandon or I break you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;A loud, mocking laugh erupted from behind them. Lisa's head whirled around to the source of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SpxwNjFJkaI/AAAAAAAAAD4/lSYOA9Kzoug/s1600-h/Raven.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 196px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376295433230979490" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SpxwNjFJkaI/AAAAAAAAAD4/lSYOA9Kzoug/s320/Raven.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;the sound, a tall, dark-haired girl in a strapless, red-checked dress. She was striding down the outside hall, her red, converse high tops clapping against the pavement. This girl was a stranger to Sharon, but Lisa seemed to recognize her, for she spat, "Raven! What are you doing here, you little freak?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Just heading out," Raven said, smiling. "But, then I heard something really funny."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"And what might that be?" Lisa snarled.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Oh, just you saying that you could beat someone up. Really, hilarious. You should do stand-up. You, know, just in case your career as Drama Queen falls through."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Lisa's glare could have levelled New York, but it didn't even faze Raven. She just walked past her, slung an arm around Sharon's shoulders, and said, "Now, get lost, before I show you what a beating &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; feels like."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Lisa tossed her one more venomous look, then fled to her car.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Thanks," Sharon said, looking at Raven with admiration.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"No problem. I'm Raven Stills. And you must be Sharon Brooks, the new girl. Good to meet you." She shook Sharon's hand, and then began walking away. But, before she vanished, she called, "And I wouldn't worry about Lisa! If she gives you any grief, you just let me know! Later!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Goodbye," Sharon said half-heatedly, smiling. She loosened her grip on her things, having not even noticed that she had been squeezing them until her knuckles had whitened.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3659314848314384253-449222925604497196?l=shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/feeds/449222925604497196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/08/drive-thru-soap-operas-part-7-backup.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/449222925604497196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/449222925604497196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/08/drive-thru-soap-operas-part-7-backup.html' title='Drive-thru soap operas, part 7 - Backup (Lisa)'/><author><name>Daydreamer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03556731731414064951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/Soxp3Bhm_WI/AAAAAAAAACo/NZYXFgKAdDY/S220/dreamer.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SpxwNjFJkaI/AAAAAAAAAD4/lSYOA9Kzoug/s72-c/Raven.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3659314848314384253.post-396862351482885063</id><published>2009-08-28T15:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-29T20:47:36.537-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Drive-thru soap operas, part 6 - "Don't get your hopes up." (Sharon)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SphsKCmjGwI/AAAAAAAAADw/EJVUpM_XULU/s1600-h/felicia.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 214px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 288px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375165075019733762" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SphsKCmjGwI/AAAAAAAAADw/EJVUpM_XULU/s320/felicia.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Sharon sat in her math class, drawing tiny stars in the margins of her paper, and not really paying attention unless she heard something that she deemed particularly important. She couldn't concentrate anyway. She was too preoccupied with the thought of her upcoming date to retain any information. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;She set down her pencil, and rested her chin in her hand. At that moment, Felicia Morgan slid into her seat behind her, unnoticed by the teacher, who's back was to the class.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Hey, Shar&lt;em&gt;on&lt;/em&gt;," Felicia said, stretching the "o" into a long sound. Felicia was a tall girl, with brown hair, half of which was pulled back into a clip. The rest hung to the base of her neck. She was dressed in a light pink shirt, a khaki skirt, and sandals. She leaned forward, grinning.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Oh, hi," Sharon whispered, her eyes on the teacher. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I heard about your date with Brandon. You excited?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It didn't surprise Sharon that Felicia knew about her date, but it still made her blush. She smiled, embarrassed. "Yes, a little," she admitted.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Well, I wouldn't get your hopes up just yet," Felicia said in a confidential whisper.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"What do you mean?" she asked, a nervous sensation creeping up the back of her neck.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"If I know Brandon, and I've known him since we were in kindergarten, then he's only doing this to make Lisa jealous."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Oh," she said, trying to hide the growing disappointment in her voice. "Okay, then. Thanks."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"No prob."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;They looked back at the teacher, and Sharon pursed her lips to keep from crying.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3659314848314384253-396862351482885063?l=shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/feeds/396862351482885063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/08/drive-thru-soap-operas-part-5-dont-get.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/396862351482885063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/396862351482885063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/08/drive-thru-soap-operas-part-5-dont-get.html' title='Drive-thru soap operas, part 6 - &quot;Don&apos;t get your hopes up.&quot; (Sharon)'/><author><name>Daydreamer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03556731731414064951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/Soxp3Bhm_WI/AAAAAAAAACo/NZYXFgKAdDY/S220/dreamer.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SphsKCmjGwI/AAAAAAAAADw/EJVUpM_XULU/s72-c/felicia.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3659314848314384253.post-2064162077881604722</id><published>2009-08-25T20:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-29T20:48:04.541-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Drive-thru soap operas, part 5 - Deadline (Brandon)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SpXTKBIcepI/AAAAAAAAADg/utRIdBXPBlA/s1600-h/08_24_07_1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 219px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 136px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374433899392563858" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SpXTKBIcepI/AAAAAAAAADg/utRIdBXPBlA/s200/08_24_07_1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Brandon slid into his regular parking space the next morning ten minutes before school started. It was a foggy, pale day, making his t-shirt cling to his body as he took the few steps to the entrance. He was immediately confronted with a cacophony of conversation and laughter from his fellow classmates. He smiled, comfortable amongst the sound; this was where he thrived. He &lt;em&gt;craved&lt;/em&gt; social interaction.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Yo! Brandon!" called his best friend, Carter King. He was jogging down the hall, grinning his trademark, ivory smile, made all the more impressive by the ebony skin that surrounded it. Carter was slim, with modest muscles that he rarely showed. He was a top student; he had a love of literature, especially Shakespeare. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Yo, Carter," Brandon said as they high-fived, and Carter wrapped a long arm around Brandon's shoulders. "What's up, man?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Nothin' much. What about you?" he asked with a sly smile. "Anything you wanna &lt;em&gt;tell &lt;/em&gt;me?" The crinkling skin around his eyes hinted at Carter's overwhelming excitement.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And Brandon &lt;em&gt;had&lt;/em&gt; to take advantage of the moment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Mmm..." he murmured thoughtfully. "I can't &lt;em&gt;think&lt;/em&gt; of anything." He shot his friend an amused glance.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Come on, man!" he said, shoving him lightly. "You &lt;em&gt;know&lt;/em&gt; I can't stand anticipation! Now, tell me about you and Sharon?" he said, ending in a question that was obviously meant for him to expand on every minute detail.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Lisa and I broke up, so now I'm going out with Sharon," he said, shrugging. "Simple as that."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Nothing with you is &lt;em&gt;ever&lt;/em&gt; simple."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Brandon smiled, and the bell rang; people started shuffling toward their classes, and Carter was moving away from Brandon, to his first period.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"You tell me more later," he said, pointing at him as he walked backward.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"You got it!" Brandon yelled, and then he was turning to go to his math class. But he was deterred by a wall of a boy: Mike Miller, the football team's star of defense. He almost ran into him, but his quick reflexes permitted him to jump back a step. "Oh! Hey, Mike. What's going on?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Mike just smirked, and suddenly Brandon was aware of another person behind him. He turned, and was confronted with the snarky grin of Tyler Patterson, the quaterback. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Tyler was not as built as Mike, but he was clearly stronger than Brandon, as he had learned from a past scrape he had gotten into with the boy. His hair was a shiny, chocolate brown, and it was always slicked back from his tan forehead. His arms were crossed, and he stood firmly in place.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Oh, Tyler," Brandon said, his voice dark. "'Sup?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Nothin' much, Hall," he sneered. "Just wondering when I'm gonna get that money you owe me."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I don't owe you anything, Patterson," he spat. "I paid you last week."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"You forgot the interest." And with that, Mike grabbed Brandon by his upper arms, and Tyler drove his fist into his stomach.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The air whooshed out of Brandon's lungs, leaving him breathless, and gasping. But Mike would not release him, keeping him straight and tall, so that it was difficult for him to stop panting. Tyler gripped Brandon's chin, saying, "Have that money in my hands tomorrow at the end of the day, or I'll make it so you can't even go to the bathroom without help. Got it?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Brandon's breath hissed through his teeth as he glared at his assailant. "Go... to... Hell!" he gasped.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Tyler flushed. "Fine. Have it your way." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Another fist dug into his stomach, and Brandon's knees buckled under him, leaving him limp in Mike's hold. The giant dropped him on the gleaming tiles at Tyler's feet. He kicked him, and the pair sauntered off, leaving Brandon to choke on the air that entered his lungs in spurts. He ached, and took just a couple of minutes to compose himself, then trudged off to math.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3659314848314384253-2064162077881604722?l=shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/feeds/2064162077881604722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/08/drive-thru-soap-operas-part-5-deadline.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/2064162077881604722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/2064162077881604722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/08/drive-thru-soap-operas-part-5-deadline.html' title='Drive-thru soap operas, part 5 - Deadline (Brandon)'/><author><name>Daydreamer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03556731731414064951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/Soxp3Bhm_WI/AAAAAAAAACo/NZYXFgKAdDY/S220/dreamer.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SpXTKBIcepI/AAAAAAAAADg/utRIdBXPBlA/s72-c/08_24_07_1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3659314848314384253.post-1945419590750057025</id><published>2009-08-24T20:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-29T20:48:14.479-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Drive-thru soap operas, part 4 - The Gossip Team (Lisa)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SpXPT1e5sXI/AAAAAAAAADY/tyRRHfzx83c/s1600-h/red-hair-girl.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 211px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 311px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374429670017708402" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SpXPT1e5sXI/AAAAAAAAADY/tyRRHfzx83c/s320/red-hair-girl.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Lisa Green, head cheerleader at Evans High school and recently single, was currently seated at her vanity mirror, touching up her mascara after her bitter tears had washed it away. She glared at her reflection; her eyes were still a little puffy from her crying despite the thick layer of cover up she had applied. She cursed Brandon for making her force the tears that had ruined her makeup. She cursed that awful Sharon with her sophisticated good looks, and calm attitude. And she cursed herself for not having seen the changes that had taken place the moment that girl had walked into her perfect life, and screwed everything up!&lt;br /&gt;No sooner had she replaced the mascara wand in its tube, then her cell phone rang, the song "Rumors" by Lindsay Lohan played, her best friend's ring tone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm tired of rumors starting!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm sick of being followed!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm tired of people ly-&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lisa snapped it open, greeting her friend distractedly as she daubed on some lip gloss.&lt;br /&gt;"Lisa!" squealed the adolescent, Felicia "Mealy-mouth" Morgan. The girl was the biggest big mouth in the entire school; she knew &lt;em&gt;everything&lt;/em&gt; about &lt;em&gt;everyone&lt;/em&gt;, and had no qualms about leaking the juiciest bits to whoever had the most influence. Consequently, no one went to her with their secrets; not that that deterred her. She had her ways of finding out what she wanted (which mostly included sneaking around, and hiding behind corners). Once, she had been given the position on the school paper as the gossip columnist, "Chit-Chat", she had the chance to snoop even more. Felicia was Lisa's right-hand girl, supplying her with crippling information about her peers.&lt;br /&gt;"Lisa!" she repeated, obviously upset by something. "We have a &lt;em&gt;big&lt;/em&gt; problem!"&lt;br /&gt;"What did you hear?" Lisa asked, straight to the point.&lt;br /&gt;"I didn't hear. I &lt;em&gt;saw&lt;/em&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;"Well, go on. Spit it out."&lt;br /&gt;"I saw Sharon and Brandon! &lt;em&gt;Together!&lt;/em&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;em&gt;What?!" &lt;/em&gt;Lisa&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;screeched, standing up so violently that her cushioned stool toppled over. "What do you mean 'together?!'"&lt;br /&gt;"I mean &lt;em&gt;together&lt;/em&gt;. Like, kissing, together."&lt;br /&gt;Lisa was fuming, her face was bright red, and she was gripping her phone so tightly it was a wonder it did not crack under the pressure. "Tell. Me. Everything," she said slowly, deliberately.&lt;br /&gt;Felicia quickly recapped Brandon's visit, because she lived in the same neighborhood as Sharon, and had just been glancing out her bedroom window when she saw the whole thing. By the time she had finished, Lisa had calmed down just enough to prevent her from splintering her phone.&lt;br /&gt;"Felicia," she said quietly, in a strained voice, "we must find out what is going on here. A strange series of events is unfolding, and I intend to discover the meaning of them. Until I am satisfied, I am ordering you to keep this information to yourself. Should I hear a &lt;em&gt;word&lt;/em&gt; of this mess floating around school, you will find yourself the center of attention when I tell everyone about your... &lt;em&gt;situation&lt;/em&gt;. Understand?" Her voice was sneering now, calculating and shrewd.&lt;br /&gt;Felicia audibly gulped, sent stuttering at the simple innuendo. "Y-yes, Lisa," she stammered. "I u-u-understand."&lt;br /&gt;"Good. Now, get to work. Find out what you can, for tomorrow," she said, glaring fixedly at her mirror image, "there will be a war."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3659314848314384253-1945419590750057025?l=shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/feeds/1945419590750057025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/08/drive-thru-soap-operas-part-4-gossip.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/1945419590750057025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/1945419590750057025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/08/drive-thru-soap-operas-part-4-gossip.html' title='Drive-thru soap operas, part 4 - The Gossip Team (Lisa)'/><author><name>Daydreamer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03556731731414064951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/Soxp3Bhm_WI/AAAAAAAAACo/NZYXFgKAdDY/S220/dreamer.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SpXPT1e5sXI/AAAAAAAAADY/tyRRHfzx83c/s72-c/red-hair-girl.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3659314848314384253.post-3548614292485739037</id><published>2009-08-22T22:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-29T20:49:50.072-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Drive-thru soap operas, part 3 - Worries and Concerns (Sharon)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SpXNnF6x93I/AAAAAAAAADQ/94o-Qe5X9kc/s1600-h/Girl_Thinking.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 247px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374427801823868786" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SpXNnF6x93I/AAAAAAAAADQ/94o-Qe5X9kc/s320/Girl_Thinking.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Sharon was stretched out on her bed, staring at the ceiling. She had just made a date with Brandon Hall, one of the most popular boys in her new school. She had also been the cause of the break-up of him and his girlfriend, an equally popular student. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"How did this happen?" she wondered aloud. There was no way she could go through with the date; she could not ruin someone else's life. But... that kiss. She blushed just at the memory.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Sharon knew already about Brandon's reputation with girls, but something in the way he had kissed her made her feel like she could trust him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;She frowned; her father had always told her that you could trust no one but your family, and your spouse. To even &lt;em&gt;consider&lt;/em&gt; trusting a teenage boy was ridiculous! Her father, Reginald Brooks, had once said, "Boys are like bees. Once they have sucked away all of your honey, they'll just move on to the next flower."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Sharon rolled over onto her side. She knew her father was overprotective (she had once said so herself!), but he was just looking out for her safety. She had had to have him in the room just so she and Brandon could work on their assignments! Yet, he had always protected her, and until he did something that was not in her best interest, she would always trust him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Sharon climbed off of her neatly made bed, and crossed to her closet. Her date with Brandon was two days away, and she needed to start considering what she would wear. He had told her that dressy-casual would do, so she grabbed the first dress she saw, and went to her mirror to examine it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;No, too frilly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Too pink.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Too shiny.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Too old-fashioned.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Perfect! She looked into the mirror, at the dress that was currently layered over her clothes, her head between the dress itself and the hanger. It was a spaghetti-strap number, with a black bodice, while the rest was soft silver. She smiled at her reflection, taking a moment to absorb the circumstances. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;She had broken up a popular couple, she had been kissed by Brandon Hall, and now she had a date with him. All that was left was to clear the idea with her dad, and that was what was worrying her. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Her father was not averse to dating; on the contrary, he thought that the right socializing was important in a young lady's life. But he was still her father, and she was his only daughter. This would not be easy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;She put the discarded dresses back into her closet, steeled her courage, and headed downstairs, where her father was relaxing in his favorite armchair, reading the paper, and humming.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Good&lt;/em&gt;, she thought&lt;em&gt;, he's in a good mood&lt;/em&gt;. She took a breath, and went to his side. "Dad?" she asked.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Yes, dear?" he murmured distractedly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I was wondering if maybe... I could go out Friday night?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Hmmm? With who?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Brandon Hall."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"What?!" he exploded, his head snapping up from the paper.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Daddy, please! It's just a date!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"That's how it always starts," he said, beginning one of his infamous rants. "You're out on a nice date, enjoying yourself, laughing, smiling... when suddenly you're pregnant with no job, and no way to make end's meet! You're at home, feeding the baby, while your husband is working the night shift at the local Super Slushy Shop!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Dad, dad, DAD!" Sharon exclaimed, putting her hands on her father's arms. After he calmed down enough to pay attention, she said, "Dad, I know you're worried about me. But you don't have to be. You've raised me well. You should be able to trust that you instilled me with the right values, and that I can make good decisions." She stared at him, knowing that she was right; her logical thinking almost always persuaded people to side with her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;He looked at her for a moment, before sighing, and saying, "Fine. You can go on the date. But on one condition: I get to formally meet the boy before you leave."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Yes, daddy."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Alright then. Now... go do your homework."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Yes, daddy. Thank you." She leaned down and kissed his cheek, whispering, "Don't worry. I'll make you proud."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I know you will, sweetie. I love you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I love you too. Good night."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"G'night." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3659314848314384253-3548614292485739037?l=shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/feeds/3548614292485739037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/08/sharon-was-stretched-out-on-her-bed.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/3548614292485739037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/3548614292485739037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/08/sharon-was-stretched-out-on-her-bed.html' title='Drive-thru soap operas, part 3 - Worries and Concerns (Sharon)'/><author><name>Daydreamer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03556731731414064951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/Soxp3Bhm_WI/AAAAAAAAACo/NZYXFgKAdDY/S220/dreamer.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SpXNnF6x93I/AAAAAAAAADQ/94o-Qe5X9kc/s72-c/Girl_Thinking.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3659314848314384253.post-6860302065964935850</id><published>2009-08-21T20:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T16:30:33.973-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Drive-thru soap operas, part 2 - The Master at Work (Brandon)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Brandon Hall, a typical highschool sophmore, was stunned. His girlfriend of four months, Lisa Green, had just dumped him. Honestly, he wasn't surprised; they had started having problems a few weeks ago, when Sharon Brooks had transferred to their school, and been assigned to him as a lab partner. Brandon wasn't the smartest guy in school, but he knew jealousy when he saw it, and Lisa practically had a green tint to her skin every time Sharon was near. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And now it had exploded into a catastrophe. Now he was without a girlfriend, and that was going to send his social life into a downward spiral; the star of the soccer team could not be single! He contemplated running after Lisa, trying to convince her to come back to him, but he dismissed it. Brandon Hall did not beg.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Then, a thought struck him: why not date Sharon? He could see it now! Sharon was a beautiful, mysterious girl; no one knew that much about her, except that she came from a fancy private school (like his own) with a prosperous, military family. Dating her would have &lt;em&gt;enormous &lt;/em&gt;benefits: he would be admired for befriending someone new (especially since that someone was a ravishing, raven-haired girl), Sharon's reputation would skyrocket, and Lisa might possibly dissolve into a puddle of envy right on the spot! Brandon was grinning just thinking about it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"That settles it," he said to himself, newly optimistic, "Sharon will be the next lucky girl to date Brandon Hall!" He stood from his seat at the drive-thru speaker, had Bobby take over the rest of his shift (he owed him one), and dashed out to his car. He knew where Sharon lived, because they were often there, working on assignments for science. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;On the way there, he let his mind drift over to Lisa's earlier accusations. They were all true of course, but he felt that he needed to deny them, to preserve his dignity. But he had told the truth too! He really had tripped (a rare thing) and fallen in behind Sharon. It was just a coincidence that they found themselves in a heated make-out. It was purely innocent! He was the victim! First, he was screamed at by a shocked Lisa, then rejected (albeit politely) by Sharon, who believed that she "could not possibly come between such a popular couple." Now, all he had to do was affectively "woo" Sharon, and everything would be fine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;He pulled up to the curb of a charming house with a white, picket fence, and a neatly sculpted privacy hedge. He took out his cell phone, and quickly dialed the popular radio station, putting in a request that was to be immediately attended to (he had connections up there), and waited. While most people knew little about Sharon, she had honored him with the priviledged information that she regularly listened to the radio (her family had no T.V.) and that her favorite song was a sadly romantic ballad called "Still True" by an indie singer, Feist. He had asked that the song be dedicated to "the most beautiful girl in the world." To, Sharon Brooks; from, Brandon Hall. &lt;em&gt;That should do it&lt;/em&gt;, he thought, satisfied. Now he was leaning casually against the hood of his red, 1965 Chevrolette Corvette coupe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;A moment later Sharon's bedroom window opened, and the object of his affections poked her head out into the dusky evening, her sophisticated, black bob ruffled slightly by the breeze. She looked down onto the street, spotted Brandon, and graced him with one of her special "soft looks" that made most blush, but not Brandon; he was too smooth for that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Sharon held up a finger, instructing him to wait a minute. She disappeared into her room, and in less than two minutes had opened the front door, and glided up to him. Now that she was closer, Brandon could see the flecks of silver in her green eyes, the childish dimple in her cheek when she smiled, and the perfect curve of her chin. She was dressed in a navy tank top and grey sweatpants, and she still managed to look like she had just stepped out of a magazine. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Hey," Brandon said in his signature, husky voice. He remained statue-still, never taking his eyes off of hers. (Well, maybe he glanced at her soft, bow lips &lt;em&gt;once&lt;/em&gt;!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Hello, Brandon Hall," she said with that quaint habit of using everyone's full name. Her own voice was nothing to ignore; it was the perfect balance between the airy feminine and the soothingly deep with a certain maturity hidden in it that called for respect and attention. "Did you do that?" she asked, gesturing at her window without looking.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Do what?" he asked, playing along in the inevitable banter; he felt his heart beat a little faster as their game continued. The thrill of the verbal chase was almost more exilerating than that of the physical.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I was reading in my room, when suddenly I heard my favorite song come on the radio, dedicated to me by the only person who knows what my favorite song is."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Imagine that."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"And I wondered to myself, 'Now, why would Brandon Hall do that, when he already has a girlfriend?'" She was still smiling, but her eyes were searching, firm, and curious.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Not anymore," he said, allowing his smile to drop into a somber frown. "Lisa and I just broke up."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Oh!" she said, with just the right amount of surprise and concern. "I'm so sorry! What happened?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"She thought that I had feelings for you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Oh, dear. Did you tell her that she was mistaken?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"No, I didn't."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Why-" she started, obviously upset.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I didn't tell her, because I couldn't lie to her," he interrupted. "No more than I could lie to myself." He gently took her hand in his, leaning just an inch closer. "Sharon, I&lt;em&gt; do&lt;/em&gt; have feelings for you, and I just couldn't lead Lisa on anymore. I can't be with her while thinking about you. It's not fair to her."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;She was falling for it; he could see it in the way her mouth popped open a little. Time to wrap it up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"Sharon, I couldn't give Lisa my whole heart, but, if you were to go out with me, I can &lt;em&gt;promise&lt;/em&gt; you that you will have it. So, what d'you say, Sharon? Will you take a chance with me?" &lt;em&gt;That's gold&lt;/em&gt;! he thought smugly&lt;em&gt;. I should really try being an actor&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Sharon pursed her lips, thinking. Finally, she said, with modest hesitance, "Well, perhaps just &lt;em&gt;one&lt;/em&gt; date wouldn't hurt."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Brandon smiled, mentally pumping a fist in the air. Instead, he whispered, "It's a date then." He leaned in closer, and, after she followed him, their lips met in a warm, glowing kiss. It was brief, but it was enough; when Brandon pulled away, he saw that Sharon had a faint blush dappling her cheeks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SpXEvYPqw4I/AAAAAAAAADI/PKO7TJAy1sw/s1600-h/kiss.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 170px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 121px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374418048577618818" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SpXEvYPqw4I/AAAAAAAAADI/PKO7TJAy1sw/s400/kiss.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;They said their goodbyes, and soon, Brandon was driving home, grinning the entire way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3659314848314384253-6860302065964935850?l=shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/feeds/6860302065964935850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/08/drive-thru-soap-operas-part-2-master-at.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/6860302065964935850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/6860302065964935850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/08/drive-thru-soap-operas-part-2-master-at.html' title='Drive-thru soap operas, part 2 - The Master at Work (Brandon)'/><author><name>Daydreamer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03556731731414064951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/Soxp3Bhm_WI/AAAAAAAAACo/NZYXFgKAdDY/S220/dreamer.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/SpXEvYPqw4I/AAAAAAAAADI/PKO7TJAy1sw/s72-c/kiss.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3659314848314384253.post-1275146880196730660</id><published>2009-08-18T19:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-25T20:27:24.315-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='conversations'/><title type='text'>Drive-thru soap operas</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Yeah, I'll have a Number One, ketchup only, with small fries, and a strawberry shake." I sat in my car, the window down, and leaning out to give my order. I blasted the air conditioning, the music turned down so that it was now just a faint murmur of lyrics and bass. I was on my way home for dinner, when I found myself suddenly craving a burger, so I swung through the drive-thru, and was currently waiting for the cashier to parrot back my order.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I waited for a full minute before I heard a pair of voices crackling through the speaker.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Lisa," pleaded the voice of the adolescent cashier, "please! Let's talk this out."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Talk &lt;em&gt;what&lt;/em&gt; out?" came the hysterical voice of a young woman. "The fact that I caught you with that trashy Sharon? The fact that we haven't been on a date in three weeks? The fact that you have broken my heart?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Lisa, I told you already: there is &lt;em&gt;nothing &lt;/em&gt;between me and Sharon! We're lab partners, we were just working on an assignment!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Yeah, right! What were you doing? Measuring the volume that closet I found you in?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"That was an accident! She went to get a sweater, and I tripped and fell in!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Yeah, then you just &lt;em&gt;fell &lt;/em&gt;on top of her, and your lips just &lt;em&gt;fell &lt;/em&gt;on hers! What do you take me for!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Lisa, come on!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Don't tell me to come on, Brandon! It's over! I'm leaving!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Lisa's voice disappeared, and there was silence. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I waited a minute before saying, "Just cancel that order," and driving off. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3659314848314384253-1275146880196730660?l=shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/feeds/1275146880196730660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/08/drive-thru-soap-operas.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/1275146880196730660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/1275146880196730660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/08/drive-thru-soap-operas.html' title='Drive-thru soap operas'/><author><name>Daydreamer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03556731731414064951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/Soxp3Bhm_WI/AAAAAAAAACo/NZYXFgKAdDY/S220/dreamer.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3659314848314384253.post-3571887012009512007</id><published>2009-08-18T19:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-18T19:53:13.506-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poetry'/><title type='text'>"Lean On Me"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Lean on me, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;and I will not let you fall.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I will hold you up&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;through it all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I will be the one&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;that you can cry to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The one that you &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;don't have to lie to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;As long as you trust me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;and as long as I breathe,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;you can be you,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;and you can lean on me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3659314848314384253-3571887012009512007?l=shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/feeds/3571887012009512007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/08/lean-on-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/3571887012009512007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3659314848314384253/posts/default/3571887012009512007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shortstorygirl-daydreaming.blogspot.com/2009/08/lean-on-me.html' title='&quot;Lean On Me&quot;'/><author><name>Daydreamer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03556731731414064951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iWsVXrzfxKM/Soxp3Bhm_WI/AAAAAAAAACo/NZYXFgKAdDY/S220/dreamer.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
