The Life of a Watermelon Rind

Hey guys this is a chapter from my story "The Life of a Watermelon Rind" I am putting the first chapter out..to see if any of you guys like it! Thanks :)

Paris

“Karma. No need for revenge. Just sit back and wait. Those who hurt you will eventually screw up themselves, and if you’re lucky God will let you watch.”   

            People are different types, different flavors. Divide them up into fruits for an instant. Some people are a sweet as a strawberry, all the lusciousness and tastefulness. Others can be a sour lemon, all the bitterness and stinging. What fruit would you be?

I think I would be a watermelon. A watermelon is filled with different flavors that touch your tongue at one time. After eating away at the sweetness of the fruit, you reach the rind. The tough, tasteless, and not at all likeable piece. I wouldn’t be a watermelon for the sweetness of fruit, I would be the rind. A rind of a watermelon, tough, tasteless, and not likable at all.

If you have the time to study different fruits (which I have lots of time to do) you notice they could describe different personalities. Like I said before; strawberries. Strawberries describe sweet, desirable, and beautiful people. Lemons describe hardcore, bitter, and strong people. I’m a rind. A tough, boring, non-likable, ugly girl.

***

I wake up to rain pounding the windows, I watch as it slides off the glass in shimmery streaks. I groan. Why can’t school cancel for a precaution of a flood? Oh that’s right because that’s a stupid thought. I love rain, but I hate school.

My room is painted creamy white"I hate that color, it’s just so…clean. The only reason I agreed to have it painted that color was so I could write on my walls. I write a lot every day, over the years it has filled up the once creamy white walls. Now I can only spot little specks of white in between words.

I have Daughtry and Black Veil Brides posters hung up around my room. Daughtry and Black Veil Brides are my favorite bands, an interesting choice really. I don’t own a mirror, but I am forced to see my reflection every day in the mirror above the bathroom sink, that I share with my younger sister, who is fourteen years old. Speaking of her she comes bounding into my room"without knocking. What a crime.

“Paris!” Kaitlyn sings in a high pitched vocal. Kaitlyn is the opposite of me. She’s peppy, light, enthusiastic, undyingly gorgeous, and Mom and Dad love her. The only thing that might not be perfect about Kaitlyn is that she has like man abs, but I guess that means she’s pretty strong.

Kaitlyn has Mom’s blond hair, it’s like blond. She has Dad’s glassy blue eyes, she’s quite tall, and skinny. She’s perfect, she’s beautiful, she’s everything I’m not. Every blessing that was stolen from me, got transferred to her. I absolutely loathe her.

“Ugh! Get out Kaitlyn! What have I told you about knocking?! Next time, I’ll kill you!” I shriek at her, anger edging my words. I glare at her, when she doesn’t budge. Instead she smiles, I want to slap it off her perfect face. She doesn’t get that I hate and envy her. It bugs the crap out of me.

“Mom says to get off your perse and get ready for school,” Kaitlyn says smiling sweetly. Kaitlyn’s teeth are straight and a snowy white, she’ll never need braces.

Kaitlyn has this thing with insults. She learns a few in a different language and she says them to people and they will have no clue what they mean. Her last language was Yiddish which was very hard to interpret. I think perse means ‘a*s’ in Finnish. I guess she’s in a Finnish phase right now.

“Finnish?” I ask skeptically, still fuming about the door incident.

“Wow you actually got that one right, now get up before mom yells paska at you,” Kaitlyn demands and glares at me. I can only guess what paska means, dear lord help me.

“Well Yiddish isn’t exactly a known language,” I mutter dryly and throw her out my room. I literally throw her, she barely weighs over a hundred pounds.

“Narttu!” I hear Kaitlyn’s muffled scream behind my door. I just chuckle, I have no idea what that means. Go ahead and look it up, it’s Finnish.

I throw on a baggy dark gray shirt that barely goes past my bellybutton, when I raise my hands the shirt comes up with them. I pick a pair of black skinny jeans that are crumpled on my floor and smooth them out before I put them on.

I head to the bathroom, and stare at myself, I look like hell. My hair is dark brown and long, it goes a little past my chest. When I was fifteen I died some of my hair red, now at sixteen I have a few red streaks in my hair, it looks good.

My eyes are dark gray, with flecks of gold and brown in them. I slowly draw the pencil against the bottom of my eye, it comes out in a nice clean line. The eyeliner makes me eyes look more dangerous than they already are. Then I brush my eyelashes lightly with some mascara and I smile. I will never be able to make myself look pretty, I will never make my Mom love me.

I head downstairs my shirt droops down on one shoulder, I hastily pull it up before I make an appearance in the kitchen. I suspect my Dad already left work, and when I get a glance at the kitchen I’m right, he’s gone. He’s usually a little bit more kind to me. Now I have to deal with Kaitlyn and Mom.

I walk into the kitchen, and I see Kaitlyn on her phone and Mom pouring some milk in her Honey Bunches of Oats cereal. Mom takes one look at me, grimaces, rolls her eyes, snorts, and then looks away, after her eyes scan my outfit. Really I think Kaitlyn is trapped inside Mom’s body, and Mom is trapped inside Kaitlyn, because sometimes Kaitlyn is actually nice to me.

I glance at what Kaitlyn is wearing. She has her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail and her face is masked, I hardly recognize her. Her eyes look bigger with mascara and eyeliner on them. She probably has blush and foundation on her face, how is this girl not tired? It must take like five hours to put all that. Her lips tinted with a light pink lip gloss. I almost barf, nobody can compare to Kaitlyn’s beauty.

Other than beauty and athleticism, she doesn’t really have anything going for her. Sure she has lots of friends and she could be a freaking model someday, but I’d choose substance over style any day. You forgot already? Remember I’m the rind.

She’s wearing a silky white blouse and dark blue jeans, and her favorite pair of boots. Diamond studs that she got for her twelfth birthday dazzle me as I see the glittering stones in her ears.

“Look how pretty Kaitlyn looks,” Mom compliments, smiling at Kaitlyn, but also shooting me a hinting glare.

“Always beautiful I know,” I mutter and turn away to get a piece of fruit.

“You should’ve come down earlier, like Kaitlyn had said. We have to go now, I’ve got an important job to do at work.”

“Kuten sonni,” Kaitlyn says quietly, but she doesn’t object. I snort, Mom probably has no idea what that means but nor do I.

 Mom grabs the car keys and I grouchily follow Kaitlyn and her, my friends better not mess with me.

“Stop groaning Paris,” Mom snaps. I ignore her and stare out the window of the car.

The car feels cramped with Mom’s snotty behavior and Kaitlyn’s cheerfulness, I let down the window of the car and let fresh air flow through the car.

I peak over the head of Kaitlyn’s seat. She sits shotgun, even though I’m older, Mom said she could. A wave of shame comes upon me, you know your Mom hates you when she let’s your younger, irresponsible sister sit up shotgun instead of you.

I see who Kaitlyn is texting. Gabriel Roberts. He’s in my grade, and I’ve spoken to him once or twice about homework but nothing more. Why would she be texting a junior? She’s a freshman, she doesn’t know anybody"at least that’s what I thought.

Well actually I take that back. She knows a few of my friends, and she doesn’t think much of them. My friends are unique, each and every one of them. That’s why I’m friends with them. We all became friends, joined by our differences, but somehow we were the same inside. I’ve noticed how Kaitlyn’s friends act around her, they all want to please her, and do something for her. My friends really just don’t care. We all do our own thing but we all have each other’s backs. My friends know that if we do something, the rest of us will be there to do with them or pick them up if they fall. My friends are basically the one light spot left in my life.

Charlie Sparrow. She’s my best friend, she’s been my best friend since seventh grade, when she “accidently” tripped when I was running down the hall. I flew halfway down the hall and ironically I landed right underneath Principal Whitman’s feet. I forgave her, and she forgave me and then we laughed and we kept talking, but we still got detention and we’ve been friends ever since that “accident”.

Kaitlyn has met Charlie a couple of times when we’ve hung out and I know Kaitlyn looks down on her, at least fashion wise. But Charlie doesn’t give a crap and nor do I, Kaitlyn dresses like the freaking Queen of England.

Charlie’s usual outfit is something that’s been recycled, she’s big into that go green stuff. It’s surprising for a girl like Charlie, because she’s not into anything girly at all, I’m not saying recycling is girly but it’s just surprising. She does all the boy stuff like skateboarding, dirt biking, and just slightly more boyish stuff.

She has short black spiky hair that sticks out in every which way and icy blue eyes, that seem to pierce you and make you shiver. She always wears a black hat, it’s not like a baseball cap it’s like a beanie hat. She always wears it until the teachers say for her to take it off because of respect or some crap like that.

Charlie wears baggy jeans with holes in it and usually long baggy t-shirts as well, with her black beat up Converses. She has numerous necklaces that have been recycled hanging from her neck as well. She has a piercing in her right ear up near her cartilage, she also bears one on her lower lip. She actually looks really scary, but I guess she’s going for the ‘Kill or Be Killed’ look.

One time when we were swimming together at her brother’s lake house, I saw a flash of black on her stomach.

“What’s that?” I had asked.

“Nothing,” Charlie had said quickly trying to run into the water.

I pulled her back and stared at her stomach. It was a tattoo. Of a butterfly. Of all things Charlie could pick, a butterfly really?

“A butterfly,” is all I said. Charlie nodded and tears sprang into her eyes, Charlie never cried, so I knew it was serious. We talked, and after that our friendship was stronger than ever, and we promised never to break it.

So yes my best friend has a tattoo of a butterfly on her stomach. So what? Charlie is one of the best things to happen to me. She’s always there for me.

Thayne Warren. Thayne…Thayne….Thayne. Thayne is the love of my life. We both know it but have never mentioned it. He knows that I like him, and I know that he likes me. We are just meant to be. We’re just scared of what would happen if we actually hooked up together. So that’s why we’re like this. Not really dating, and not really not dating.

I know he loves me because he’s told me, more than a million times and I’ve never seen the look he’s given to me to anyone else.

Thayne has dark brown hair like me, and dark brown eyes, that can be happy, sad, angry, and compassionate. He’s everything. He’s strong, handsome, smart, and with no doubt the best guy I’ve ever met. He’s always there for me. Even when I don’t want it, need it, deserve it, and even when I do want it, need it, and deserve it. I’m not going to deny that I love him.

Thayne’s getups are simple. He wears a t-shirt that show’s off his toned biceps, and usually shorts or jeans, and sneakers. Kaitlyn is fond of him, but that’s only because he’s a boy. Mom likes him as well, because he’s polite to her, so at least I have one thing on my side.

Adrian Pullman. Adrian is my save haven. Not like Thayne but like Adrian. I met Adrian when I was a freshman. He was this quiet, lanky, careful guy. He always spoke so soft I had to ask him to repeat what he said half the time. Over the years though he has come out of his shell.

Now I don’t have to ask him to repeat anything. He has really strong opinions, that’s one thing you should know about Adrian. If he disagrees with something that you agree with, just say that you disagree too or you’re in for a long conversation.

Adrian is with no doubt my long lost brother. I’m kidding, but I love him so much, he’s like my brother.

Adrian is the brain of us. He keeps us in place, most people would describe him as quiet and a goody goody or teacher’s pet. But he’s not, he’s just smart.

Adrian is a little less wealthy than us so usually he wears stuff that comes from Goodwill and such. We never mention it but I think he senses that we don’t because maybe it would make him feel bad. But we never mention it because wealth does not freaking matter.

 Jones Funnybones. Ha, Jones. Funnybones isn’t really his last name, but he’s hilarious. Well I think he is. Thayne doesn’t. They compete in a lot of things, but they are friends at the heart. Jones keeps us a light and happy.

He’s wealthier than us and he wears nice clothes, but he’s really apart of us. We first thought he was a jerk, but he turned out to be decent.

My part? I don’t know what it is. I like to think sometimes that I keep us together. Kaitlyn won’t have a problem about keeping friends or losing them. Everything goes her way.

I want Kaitlyn to be a nobody. I want her to be the kind of person that when people look at her their gazes just slide over her, and wave someone else over that’s behind her to come sit with them. It’s kind of cruel but I’ve had sixteen years of cruel, almost seventeen. Mom’s last name is cruel. I don’t want her to stand out, I want her to be invisible to everyone, I don’t want her to be popular or have friends.

I guess that’s not going to happen. It doesn’t matter how hard I wish, hope, or pray my sister will always stand out, and not in a bad way. Every time my Mom had asked me to pick up Kaitlyn at her old school, she was always surrounded by friends. Her friends ranged from girls, boys, big, small, fat, skinny, mean, kind, popular, unpopular. She’s just not the type of person to have to worry about not having friends. Those kinds of people know they will be loved and wanted, no matter what. Kaitlyn is one of them.

I look back to their conversation and I can see in the mirror in the car that Kaitlyn is smiling. Gabriel has never been to my house before, and I think I’ve only mentioned him once. How would she know Gabriel?

“Kaitlyn he’s three years older than you, you have no chance,” I say loud enough so that Mom can hear.

Kaitlyn’s face scrunches up in unhidden anger, and her face flushes.

“What is Paris talking about honey?” Mom asks Kaitlyn not taking her eyes off the road.

“He’s just this guy that I’m talking to from Paris’s class, okay no big deal,” Kaitlyn replies shooting me an infuriated glare through the mirror. Mom sees it.

“How old is he?” Mom questions.

“Seventeen,” I say automatically.

“Honey you know the rules. You can only text guys that are in your class or are the same age as you,” Mom says to Kaitlyn shooting her a knowing glance. Kaitlyn sighs pathetically.

“Paris please block the number,” Mom tells me her voice cold again.

“Why her?” Kaitlyn whines.

“Because I know that she will and I doubt you will yourself.”

“You know me so well Mom.”

“Now pass your phone back to Paris.”

Kaitlyn reluctantly gave me her phone, giving me her death stare. I chuckle. I see their messages. I block his number and seethe in rage. They were talking about me and something else.

Once again Kaitlyn was talking bad about me behind my back, I didn’t bother looking at Gabriel’s responses.

Gabriel Roberts. I rack my brain for any memory of him. I found a few. He pulled the fire alarm once in his freshman and he was then named the coolest guy of the year. He always talked back to teachers, he got detention four out of five days. He was ruthless, he had the attitude of “I don’t give a s**t” about him.

How do I know so much about him? Maybe I watch him more than I intend to…but no I do not. I do not like him.

I gave Kaitlyn’s phone back and she smiled sweetly and then we pulled up to Jersey High School.

The school is pretty new, established in 1989, today’s date is August 28, 2008, so yeah pretty new. But it’s really pathetic for a high school, small in size, but pretty spacey on the inside. There is a courtyard on the lower grounds, and then on the upper grounds fields for various sports.

There are some bleachers, and my friends always sits on the bleachers furthest away from everything and everyone else. I see Charlie’s black hat from the far distance, my heart quickens with relief.

“Bye sweetie,” Mom says kissing the top of Kaitlyn’s head.

“Take care of her, make sure to help her,” Mom says grudgingly to me. Mom drives away before I can reply. I can feel the words almost take shape in my mouth but I don’t speak them out loud. She won’t freaking need it, because she’s freaking perfect right?

I see Kaitlyn race over to her already waiting friends. I hear them squeal and I hear her squeal back, it makes me sick to my stomach. I steal a glance at her and she sees me and smirks, letting her eyes drift down my pitiable outfit and back up and flips me off. Such an idiot.

I head up to the upper ground where some of my other classmates are playing soccer, basketball, or something like that, but I don’t really pay attention.

I look for Charlie and see her, her face looking glum. When she sees me her face lights up into what can be the closest thing to a smile for Charlie. That turns my whole day around, I smile back tentatively.

“SRB?” Charlie immediately sees where my anger is directed.

“Yup,” I say coming over to sit on the bleachers, under the shade of the trees.

At the beginning of high school Charlie and I decided to make up this club. It would be our club, only ours. It was made for anger. SRB stood for Sisters R B*****s. Charlie’s parents are almost as bad as mine"only worse. Charlie has PRF, Parents R Freaks.

We would tell each other about what happened to be able to call a SRB or PRF emergency. Then we would go make hot chocolate and count the days until we were out of the sight of sisters and parents.

“Did you spot any new kids?” I ask coming around the bleachers and then walk up a few benches to sit on the same bench as her. Charlie nods her head in the general direction to her left. I smile.

Thayne is leading a girl over here, she looks fair enough. Dark blond hair, green eyes but no smile. I let out a growl low in my throat.

“Hey Paris,” Thayne exclaims a he makes his way over to me, the girl follows him.

“Hey.”

“Still not happy for the first day of school?” Thayne asks me his eyes twinkling.

“Never have been, never will be,” I mutter darkly. I gesture to the girl, “Who’s that?”

“Oh this is Frankie. She just moved here over the summer,” Thayne explains smiling at Frankie.

“Nice to meet you Frankie, I’m Paris,” I introduce myself.

“I’ve heard,” she replies dryly. I raise my eyebrows at Thayne, and he just smiles and looks away.

I study Frankie for a moment. She looks like the kind of person that knows everything. She stands there with a smug expression on her face, like she thinks she’s above everyone and everything else. She kind of reminds me of a s**t.

“Where’s Adrian and Jones?” Thayne questions.

“I don’t know. Adrian’s probably off kissing up to the teachers, and Jones is probably in a dark alley dealing drugs,” I reply airily.

“Are you okay?” Thayne asks concern littering his gaze. I ignore him.

I get up from the bleachers and Charlie follows me.

“Frankie looks like a s**t,” Charlie says echoing my thoughts.

“I know.”

“Look,” Charlie points off into the distance. I follow her gaze and see a girl with shiny auburn hair and dark brown eyes.

“So?” I reply. I study her more closely. I’ve never seen her before, I think she’s new.

“Do you think we should invite her over here?” Charlie asks, as she tugs on her hat.

“Go for it.”

I watch as Charlie stalks away from me. Really underneath all that black is a beautiful girl. I’ve never really seen Charlie with a guy before, actually I haven’t. As far as I know she hasn’t dated anyone except for Mark Crater in seventh grade, which was a dare.

A thought strikes me but I quickly terminate the thought. I flush with guilt, I can’t assume anything.

I watch as Charlie brings back the girl, the girl seems happy enough, smiling even. I look skeptically at Charlie.

“Paris this is September, she used to be homeschooled, but her mother transferred her to here, a few weeks before school started,” Charlie explains looking enthusiastically at the girl.

“Why September?” I ask my eyes narrowing at Charlie.

“Well, you know a lot of people are named April, June, and May? My mother wanted my name to be a month, but not something common, so she picked September,” September says brightly, flipping her auburn hair out of her eyes.

I nod and fake a smile. Luckily the bell rings, thank god. I cannot put up with anyone today.

I run down from the upper fields and down to the lower ground. I run in through the door and take a whiff of the air. For some strange impossible reason I like the smell of Jersey High School. It smells like a freshly baked apple pie.

Collins is the chef for our school, and he always surprises one person with an apple pie in the morning. Collins is really young, he only like two years older than us. Our cafeteria food is so good, that basically no one bothers to bring a home lunch, or go out to eat as a matter of fact.

This year my homeroom teacher is TJ Barnes. TJ is also really young he’s in his early twenties, a lot of girls gush over him. I guess you could call him cute, he’s got that chiseled jaw, soft blue eyes, and he’s cool. Wouldn’t that be something? Having an illicit affair with your eleventh grade teacher? Haha no. There are serious consequences for those things.

TJ says to call him by his first name"TJ because he says ‘Mr. Barnes’ seems too old. He’s an okay teacher, he was hired three years ago. At least TJ is better than Old Fart Granny Hooper. Charlie and I joke around with it.

Old Fart Granny Hooper. Okay let me explain. One day in class last year, she’s our history teacher, she was talking about the Civil War or something like that, and in the middle of class she let out the biggest fart. It was like a bomb in the Civil War. The whole class cracked up to pieces, but the funny part was that she didn’t notice. Her exact words:

“What are you kids laughing at? Be quiet and listen or go to detention!” she had yelled. Then she let out another explosion, but she kept on reading.

Ms. Hooper is ancient, she’s around the age of sixty something. Now we call her Old Fart Granny Hooper. It’s quite funny. The class has a growing streak of how long it is until she farts and notices it. The lady is practically deaf.

My other teachers are really boring or really crazy. Mr. Lapern has to be my favorite teacher. He listens to you, and he doesn’t yell, and he has great control over the class. Mrs. Libby on the other hand is crazy, and I think the school is crazy for hiring her. She always brings in doughnuts for the class and we watch YouTube all the time. How the heck to we get anything done in her class?

The principal is strict. Mr. and Mrs. Conrad. Mrs. Conrad is the principal and Mr. Conrad is the secretary. They have a sixteen year old daughter, who’s in my grade named, Jennifer. She owns the junior class.

I walk into the classroom, TJ is writing something on the board, and I see everyone else trying to find a decent seat. The classroom is painted a faint yellow, and all the boards are bare, soon the boards will be filled with artwork, and other things that should be remembered.

TJ has the desks arranged in groups of six. TJ believes that loners are no good, he makes us sit together. I groan and look at one of the desks. Kenny Briggs. This is fantastic, so so SO great, assigned seating arrangements. What teacher does that?"TJ.  

I look to where my name is, it’s on a desk to the far left corner of the room. I sit down and look who else it sitting with me. Dominique Rocks, great that’s Jennifer’s best friend. I look to the side at of Dominique’s seat, Jennifer. Oh crap. This is definitely what I need today.

I look across my desk, Yates Matthews sits there. I stifle a groan. Yates has been crushing on me since we were in freshman! Next to Yates sits, Michael Lo, and next to him sits Thayne. God I’m glad Thayne’s sitting here, Michael is our dominate male moose. He’s dating Jennifer.

I look at the group of six next to me, Charlie’s sitting there with September and another girl, whose name I’ve forgotten. Adrian and Jones sit with them, and this weird guy we call Spoony sits with them also. Charlie shoots me an apologetic stare. No stare can make up for this mistake though.

I watch as Dominique and Jennifer approach the desks. They smile and wave hi. Maybe they aren’t so bad…but then I watch as they both give kisses to Thayne. Thayne’s face get’s red and he avoids meeting my eyes. I really want to strangle them right now.

“Oh hey Paris,” Dominique says grudgingly.

“Oh yeah, I didn’t know you sat here,” Jennifer also puts in her face snide with obvious pain.

“You think I want to sit here?” I shoot back, sending them fiery glances.

“Hey babe,” I hear Michael’s low intimate voice come in.

“Hi, I missed you so much!” I hear Jennifer’s voice squeal and they sit down. Yates comes next.

His eyes flicker to mine as he sits down, unhidden pleasure in them. Yates Matthews. He’s a good guy, he hangs with Michael but he’s okay. He’s got honey blond hair, and brown eyes, he works out, plays football, and get’s good grades. Every girl would think I was lucky to have Yates liking me, but not really. He’s really shallow. He doesn’t have a lot of substance.

I glance up and see Michael staring at me cold intuitive eyes. I shudder, I remember last year, I don’t need to be reminded again.

My heart actually stops as he gets up to approach me. 

Author's Note

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I might publish the second chapter if I get any people that like this one :).
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