Emerald - Chapter One

            In the east, the sun is rising eagerly, wanting to show its shiny face so much so that the people in the Long Island get sunlight. It was a Sunday, and it was a really sunny day. And yet, no one would have thought today is a really lovely day.

             I sit down on a wooden chair by the window, with a cup of coffee in my hand. My hair swings gently as the wind blows. I draw a smile across my face, and around me was very warm and soft and"

            “Wake up, you meat head!!” my head feels like it was about to explode by the time the noisy voice appears. On that time my eyelids starts to function, and they opens a bit, like an inch, to see whether the above statements are true or not.

            Well, no. Instead, I can see a lady with a really long blonde hair which, I think, looked like a mop. She was wearing a piranha figured apron, and she looked totally ugly, and angry. Only then I knew that she was my mom.

            Jedda Joanna Jessica Eleanor, a really talented and wealthy chef, and also, a really fierce tigress in her big mansion which contains of one son (actually it was a daughter, that is me, but I think it was a boy because I looked like a boy with blonde spiky hair cut, and the style of talking like a boy). Jedda was a really scary lady. She is 32, and she may be really hot, too. I mean, not hot like, spicy, or angry, it was hot like, sexyyy. Yeah, sometimes she does, to attract customers to her restaurant. Ever since dad divorced her (that’s what she said to me about dad), she became wild and bad and naughty. Good God, what a disgusting statement that is. But I really think she’s naughty, because once I came back from school, I went to her restaurant which was called as Royal Plum, and then I saw mom sitting down with a Latino kind of man, and they were looking into each others eyes, ignoring the world. Well, I wouldn’t mind having another father, but I guess I want to see mom stay single. But mom told me once that if she married again I have to be really discipline and I have to be a dork. I mean"she didn’t said like that to me okay?"mom told me to be a really genius girl and that one day I can be like Einstein. NO! I don’t want to be Einstein. I don’t want to have freaky looking hair. I don’t want to be a freak!

            I mean, who doesn’t want to be a genius? Everyone wants to be a genius. But I don’t want to be a genius in education. Instead, I want to be a musician. A drummer. Or even a guitarist. I can play the guitar; I learned it from the girl next door, Bernadette Diosandra. Of course! But mom didn’t buy me a guitar. She said ‘what a waste of time!’ No, it isn’t exactly a ‘waste of time!’ kind of activity. You can always be a winner by playing the guitar. I  mean, look at"

             “Have you gone back to sleep already?” mom’s voice shoots straight through my skull. She walks across the room and draws the dark blue colored curtain to let th-e sunshine in.

            “M-u-u-u-m,” I mumble, as the sunshine strikes into my eyes. It’ll make me a blind.  Mom loves to hear me mumbles that, as if like she was winning and receiving the trophy from Michael Jackson.

            “No ‘mom, mom’,” she says, darts toward me and crosses her arms across her chest. “I bet you must have been dreaming, Kristella.” Okay, if she says my full name once again I’ll strangle"wait, I shouldn’t strangle her. She’s my mother. She brought me to this world. I mean, she’s nice (really?). Okay, okay chill.

            I throw the blanket so that I am comfortable to sit up. Mom looks at me with her eyes narrowed. “Well, that’s my girl,” mom shrugs, grinning like crazy. I grumble, eyes closed and mind going to travel far to Spain.

            “No no, honey, today’s a big day for you,” mom is still standing there; the tones in her words are quite faking. “It’s a school day. Don’t you remember, or are you still thinking today’s still a holiday?”

            “I know, I know,” I hold my hand in the air, wishing her to stop letting out those piercing sounds of her voice. I scratch my head. Yeah, I’m like a cat. Mean cat.

            “I’m going downstairs, and the minute I come back in, I want to see you in a nice, clean dress, ready for school. Right?”

            “Yeah, yeah,” I mumble lazily. No one could have imagine how hard to stay awake at six forty in the morning when you didn’t even sleep the whole night yesterday.

            I force myself up, just for the sake of mom. I can’t bear it if mom is going to scold me in front of my friends for getting death-like marks, like I did last year, and she made me totally blush in front of all the pupils in the classroom. Everybody hopped to their friends beside them and whisper something nasty and made me wanted to scream a “This is the end of the world!” and dash out of the classroom and got hit by a car. Yeah, sometimes you do have those feelings, right? Like, wanted to die. Other times, when you come and think about it, you will say that you’re crazy for wishing to die, but actually you want that nasty thing to die.

            I jump off the bed, wishing I had a wheelchair to bring myself to the bathroom. I yawn, twist my body around and make my waist goes ‘CRACK’ and ‘PERK’. I don’t even know how to describe how it feels. Perhaps the best word to describe how it feels was ‘Jacuzzi-like happiness’. I made that word okay? Walking to the bathroom, I notice something amazing and shiny hanging wonderfully on the huge wall-hanged mirror which was hanging on the wall (of course it was hanging on the wall, the name tells us everything) near the dressing room. I make my way to it, curious filled over my soul. As I reach it, I can say that it was a beautiful emerald-and-diamond pendant, carved into a shape of a really beautiful shamrock. Well, I guess it was called shamrock, the plant with three leaves. I frown. I never had one of these before. Mom must have left it here. Or maybe, mom wanted to give it to me as a present! Everything that is in my bedroom is mine. No matter how hard you try to say it was yours, it’s mine. Or if you really want it back, you got to fly me to Paris, London or others, OR you got to buy me a really rocking looking dark blue colored guitar for my birthday next week. Only then you could say that the pendant was yours. Cruel, isn’t it?

            I glare at the pendant, as if it was really beautiful. Well, it was. Indeed, it was. Even though I had the heart of a rocker, I really love the pendant. I don’t know how I loved it. It just came out of nowhere.

            I stare at myself in the mirror, approvingly. Do I look good in this pendant? Do I look charming, lovely, and feminine-like? STOP! The pendant wasn’t even mine, so why would I want to wear it? Ugh, ugly pendant, go away. Oh, the pendant’s freakin’ cute.

            Instead of putting it back to where it was just now, I fasten it around my neck; to see whether it does fits me. Yeah, certainly. The pendant fits perfectly and it hangs unbelievably beautiful on my unbelievably wonderful cleavage (I’m wearing spaghetti, that’s why I can see my cleavage). I touch it. Oh, the surface of the diamond is so cold. I wonder why it was. It gives me a twinkle of tingle on my spine. I shiver. What the hell did this pendant just cursed?

            I ignore all the blah blah blah in my mind. I shouldn’t think of unimportant things. Maybe it was really mine. Or mom’s. I don’t know but why would mom wanted to buy a pendant shaped like a shamrock, for her? She had never liked shamrock before, or known about it. I was the one who was starting to like it. Well, of course the fact that I’m starting to like it is isn’t really great. But I love shamrock, besides, my eyes got a shade of emerald, too!

 

 

            “And it was really awesome, see?” I say as I was telling my best friend, Marie Jane (I call her MJ) about the pendant that I had found just now. We were at our lockers, taking out things for our next class, which is the science class. I lean on my locker, and showing her the pendant. I know I was being like a really noisy and showing off kind of girl, but I can’t help it. The pendant’s making me distracted.

            “Well, wow, if that’s what you wanna hear from me,” MJ takes a glance of the pendant on my cleavage (I was wearing a V neck black printed ‘Metallica’ t-shirt, still could see my cleavage. By the way, I’m not wearing any dress, when mom told me to. I hate dresses, for your information). She closes her locker shut and turns to look at me.

            “Seriously,” I say. But then I thought maybe I was being too showing off. I clear my throat. Thinking of what to change the subject, I try to walk with her to the science lab. “Hey, are you gonna sit beside me in the science lab?”

            “Uh, nope, I’m afraid so,” MJ shrugs. Yeah Marie Jane’s like that. She always changes her seat in the lab, to get a better look of the white board. MJ lost her eye-glasses when she was leaning on a wall of a balcony at the mall, and the eye-glasses fell down the balcony, bidding her goodbyes. Come to think of it, it’s a little funny. And now she’s wishing to get eye-lens from her father, which isn’t coming true. I got to help her, gain funds and buy her lens. “I’m sitting with Alexa Campbell today.” Ugh, why she loves to sit beside that nasty head-full-of-freckles chick? There are so many other seats. The reason why I don’t want to sit up front is because Mrs. Denville’s voices won’t shoot through me. Hmm, whatever, at least she’ll get a better look of the white board.

            “Oh,” I exclaim, being really sorry for getting a seat beside Alexa Campbell’s.

            “Hey, let’s go,” she pulls my right arm to make me to walk faster. I follow her running through the hall to Mrs. Denville’s class.

            We dash ourselves in through the heavy oak door. Looking around, I guess we’re not that late, because everyone is still messing around and lingering about in the wildest glee. Mrs. Denville is not on her seat. She probably must have stomach ache and went to the ladies without telling us to wait for her.

            MJ waves a ‘bye-bye’ at me as I walk pass her to the back, where my seat is. I sit down the minute I arrive, and put my bag on the empty chair beside me. Hmm, nothing fancy. But wait, why is this girl named Sara Ferro with straight brown hair whispering to the girl beside her as she looks at me? Ugh, okay, well maybe the girl is kind of gossipy today, so she kind of, gossiping me right now, even though I saw her doing it. Hey, wait a second. Why is everyone staring at me right now, including MJ? She must have told something bad to about me to Alexa, and is spreading the nasty news. All right, all right, don’t freak out. DON’T. FREAK. OUT!

            “What?” I ask. They make a total annoying face and turn around to their works. Oh my rock ’n’ rolling God. Why are they acting like I’m an alien and who came from other stranger planet?

            I try to ignore them, thinking that maybe they were the aliens. I tuck a few of my golden hair behind my ear. Although my hair was cut into a spiky pixie hair cut, I still think that it was growing long. Yeah, sure enough, my hair is growing up. I mean, growing loooong.

            Suddenly, Mrs. Denville walks in through the door, dragging a really cool looking boy with curly short hair into the lab. I dare say he looks cute. No, no, it is a really, really cute. Super cute. Over-cute. Cut it out! Why am I thinking he’s cute? Beside, boyish girls don’t instantly fall in love. But he’s totally cute. Look at that, the smile of a prince.

            “Kids,” Mrs. Denville starts to talk, with the boy standing like a dork beside her, waiting what to be told. “This is Evan. Evan Shamrock. He’s just moved from Limerick, Ireland to here, and is going to be in the same class with you. Please, make him feel welcomed.”

            Everyone look at him, as murmurs starts. He smile, nodding like a really nerd boy. But wait, Evan Shamrock? Did she just say that his last name was Shamrock? My pendant shaped like a shamrock, too. What a coincidence. Listen, I am trying to hide the nervousness, okay?

            “Hmm,” Mrs. Denville exclaim, looking around. All of a sudden, her eyes set on me. I don't move. Uh-oh. “Aha! All right, Evan, you’re going to sit beside that girl with the spiky short hair. Her name is Kristella Rome. Go,” she pushes Evan and smiles while Evan is coming towards me. Is it just me, or, is today some kind of a weird day?

            “Hi,” Evan says as he arrives in front of me, smiling like he’d had a bottle of champagne just now. I look up at him, and I think my face looks blurred out. I can’t make all of this. Why is today like, the strangest day ever?

            “Yeah, what?” I ask him demandingly. I frown. What’s the matter with him, just standing there, not sitting down?

            “Uh, do you mind?” he asks, pointing at my bag. Oh, my bag. You nasty creature.

            “Yeah, sorry,” I say, blushing, although I have never blush before, and put down the bag. Ugh, this guy here is real polite. I have never met somebody so polite before, and it makes me feel like real impolite. Plus, he got the British accent.

            “Thank you,” he says, sitting down carefully. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”

            “You’re told to,” I answer. What the heck did I just say? Why am I treating him this way? Am I really cruel for a first expression?

            He grins, I know, although I’m not looking at him. His smile was like, the most welcoming alert, and that I just knew. “Is your name Kristella Rome?” he asks in the utmost thick British accent.

            “You heard her,” I replied, being really annoying, “but you just gotta call me Kris, if you must.” And now I have the guts to look at him, and so I twist my head around, and there he is. He looks really handsome. I mean, his face looks like so"matured. I have never felt this way towards a guy. I mean, the other day, a handsome boy named Joe Carlson asked me on a date, but instead, I refused. I know he’s handsome, but I can’t feel the sensation. This Evan boy must be really, really handsome to me.

             Let me describe how he looks like. I take a long gaze at him. His nose is pointed. I look down at his mouth. I really can’t stand it because his mouth is really beautiful. It is like, when he smiles, his teeth flashing white and really is stunning. His hair is like, really curly. He’s wearing a cool white shirt with a small green shamrock on his right chest (I think he got the steadiest body in the whole universe). His pants are black, and his eyes are the most I-can’t-stand-it. And when the sunshine strikes into his eyes, they become really shiny and striking green and" His eyes were emerald green.

            “Hey,” his word startles me. “Are you all right?”

            I gulp. Wow, that is what we call mesmerizing.

            One thing that catches my sight; he smiles a lot when his eyes set on my pendant.

Reviews

[ainaaabdul]

oh goodness thanks! that's very supportive :)

[Syldor]

Nice. I really like how you managed to intertwine Kris's thoughts throughout the writing. You don't just describe how she is acting. You make the sentence style and structure give off all that we need to know.