The Troll Files {Plan A}

with every teenager, there's a new story to tell. Plan A: Emma

I used to shave my legs.  Now, I prefer to wax.  I'm not really sure what started the whole thing, but I'm hooked.  It doesn't even hurt anymore.  I just  rub it in real good then rip it off.  And if you have a really good kit, you'll have a small bottle of oil that will remove all the stickiness off your legs in seconds.  So that's why I prefer waxing over shaving.  Besides, shaving takes forever.

I ripped it off my leg, wincing.  Then again, I could change my mind and go back to shaving any time I wanted.  It's not like I was trying to prove something.

"Emma, you're hogging the bathroom!" Rachel snorted, my older sister.

"I'll be out in a minute." I muttered, not bothering wondering if she could even hear me.

"What?" she asked, loudly.

"Mmm." I murmurred, ripping off another strip.  I mean, who even came up with such a painful way to get rid of unwanted hair?  And what did women do before shaving was invented?  Did they use knives?  God, I would slice my skin off if I had to--

"Emma!"

--deal with that.  And if they didn't do anything about it, then how the hell did they present themselves?  How did they have sex?  Wouldn't it have disgusted their mates?  It would disgust myself.  I hate leg hair.  It makes me feel so out of element and manly.  Unfortunately, I'm already ugly-looking as it is, so why would I leave my leg hair to make it worse?

"Jesus Christ, Emma!  Open the f*****g door!"

I threw out the strips and spread some of that oil stuff that came with the kit along my legs.  The good thing about this stuff was that it didn't burn, irritate, or itch.  It just soothed.

I unlocked the door and Rachel came bursting in with a vein popping out of her head.  Well, close enough.  I walked past her and ran back to my room, closing the door behind me.  I checked my cell phone, noticing there was two unread messages.

hey babbee, its pam. gotta tell u something, come over 2night, 8 ok?  luv ya!

Okay.

bring skittles.  we can take sugar and skittles out for a midnight walk later if we gotta.

Skittles is my labrador and Sugar is her golden retriever.  Pam's my s****y bestfriend.  And I'm...just Emma.  I guess it kind of works out in the end.  But somehow I wish I were Skittles instead.  I was thinking I'd wish to be Pam, but my parents would kill me with her kind of reputation.  Either way, I'd rather be anyone else but me.  Okay, or a bird.  It's Skittles or a bird and that's that.  Anyways, I love Pam.  She's always been there for me even when better-looking, more outgoing, interesting groups of people wanted her in their evil clans, but she chose me to be her friend and that's how it started.  The only problem I ever have with Pam is when guys choose her over me.  Now I don't mind it happening every once and a while, but every time?  It just gets so frustrating.  What am I doing wrong?  What is wrong with me?  Do I smell bad?  Do I look bad?  Am I bad?

Or a dinosoar.  It's Skittles, a bird, or a dinosaur.  Obviously, I mean, they can tower over anyone.  Well, they used to.  They were superior, they dominated all---until they were demolished by a meteor, but that's not the point.  The point is...well, I don't know what the point is.  All I know is that I wish I were different.  Maybe a little more unique, a little more proud, maybe a little bit of Pam...and hell, a little bit of Skittles.

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"Okay, so I was out with this guy, Mark, again and he was totally all over me.  I was trying not to laugh at him...I mean, did you see what he looked like?  God, ew.  It's like a troll humping a beautiful, gorgeous princess and--ugh, you cannot imagine." Pam said, flailing her arms as if it would explain everything.

"Uhuh." I murmurred, passing her the popcorn.  "So the date sucked?"

"Oh, you wanna know about Dan?" she asked, batting her eyes.

"Dan?  Who's Dan?"

She slapped her thighs.  "Have you not been listening to anything I've been saying?"

I never understand a word she says, but it's okay.  I never get bored.

"I swear, Emma...sometimes you just amaze me."

I was thinking something along those lines, minus the "amazing" part.

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I may not have mentioned it before...but I have a crush on someone.  He's tall, but not too tall.  He's sexy, but not a man-w***e.  He's smart, but not a total geek.  He's funny, but not in an annoying way.  He's just so perfect for me--if only I were perfect for him.  His name was Peter.  He's a very social guy, but not like "every girl's dream", you know?  Not that blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty that everyone talks about.  Even the guys...  No, he was second closest to that.  Did I mention he was the right amount of perfection?

I try to avoid him every minute of every day.  I don't even want to think about him for fear that someone might read my brain and snicker.  I mean, come on.  You can't honestly tell me you don't believe in psychics.  Anyway, I try to avoid him as best I can.  And whenever I can, at just the right moment, at just the right amount of sunshine pouring through the stained-glass window--okay, I'm getting creepy.  What I mean to say is, sometimes I steal glances at him and his curly dark curls and his amazing body.  But that's not even the best part.  He's like the class clown, but not in a fifth-grader way.  It's cute, really.  Everyone likes him.  He's everyone's best friend.  That is, except me.  Until now.

"I was thinking I'd break you guys up in groups of four but I found extra thermometers, so we'll be breaking up in groups of two instead." Mrs. Thethers told us.

"Can we choose our partners?" Andy, a classmate asked.

"Of course not.  Last time I let you choose partners you abused your powers and used it to chat with your friends..."

The class groaned, rolling their eyes at eachother and slamming their books down, just ready to leave class as early as possible.

"So as you can see on the Smartboard, there are your partners.  Now hussle.  The bell will ring in three minutes and I want to go over the instructions one more time."

She'd gone over them at least a dozen times and oh my God, my partner is Peter.  Jesus Christ, what did I do to deserve this?  I was doing so well ignoring him and setting up a life of misery alone in a dirty, ugly apartment with three dogs and two cats, but no.  This is what God wants?  Is this really what He wants?  To make me suffer?  Why me?

Peter slid in the seat behind me.  I could tell because I heard his stupid shoes make it all the way over here with its obnoxious squeaking.  He leaned over and poked me with his dull pencil.

"So...Emma, right?" he asked me.

I turned around to face him and nodded.

"Oh yeah, I know you.  So do you have any ideas for this project?" he asked.

I snorted.  "Not a clue."

He smiled.  "Me neither.  Oh well, we have three months."

"Actually, two."

He grinned.  "Smartass."

I think that was a complement.  I hope so.  I laughed anyway, so I really hope it was.

"I think Thethers reviewed the instructions with us over a dozen times."

"I know." I agreed.  My thoughts exactly!  God, I told you he was perfect for me, didn't I?

"She's losing her mind."

"Alzheimer's."

"Exaclty." he said, spinning his pencil on the tip.  Which was barely a tip at all.

"So...where do you live?" he asked.

He's asking where I live.  I can't remember.  F**k.  "Uh...Norton's...drive.  That street."

He nodded like he knew exactly what I was muttering about.  "That somewhere around Thornsville?"

"Yeah, you take a left and--"

"Okay, my lovely, intelligent students...pay attention to the powerpoint.  You can take notes if you want...I just need to...plug this cord in..." she said, fumbling with the switches and buttons and other things.  Zac, a student in our class, got up to help her fix the problem.  There's a rumor going around they're having an affair.  And I wouldn't deny it.

"We might as well kick back.  She'll never get that thing running."

"She's useless when it comes to technology.  She's nice and all, but...she's not a very good teacher." I admitted.

"Yeah, I agree.  So...who do you usually hang out with?" he asked me.

"Um...you mean, my friends?"

He raised his brows.  My cheeks grew red.

"Uh-um, yeah, uh, Pam...Jenny, Danielle, Alex...you know Alex?  Ferrald?"

"Wait, you're friends with Pam?" he asked, looking surprised.  Everyone is.

"Yeah, she's like my best friend." I said, smiling.  We had a connection.  We had a connection.

"So you guys like hang out and stuff, right?" he asked.

It's so cute that's he's fumbling for words.  If only he were doing it because of me.

"Yeah," I laughed, "I'm pretty sure that's the definition of friendship."

He laughed nervously.  "Yeah, yeah...sorry."

"S'alright."

"I just never saw you two hanging out before...but anyways--"

The bell rang.  Three minutes?  Already?  What?  But I just--

"So anyways, I'll call you alright?" he suggested and leaned in to say something.  This was my moment.  This was my day.  He was going to call me.  We were going to work together.  Maybe he'd start to like me.  Maybe he'd ask me out.  Maybe, something would happen between us.  Maybe nothing would happen, but I still have a chance, don't I?  I mean, I'm nice, I'm smart, I'm fun to be around sometimes, I'm skilled at chess, I'm a fan of romantic comedies, and...God, I just really want him to like me.  I just want a chance.  Even if it's just hanging out.  I just want a chance.

"Oh, and if you can, could you get me Pam's number?  We were supposed to hang out before, but I lost her number...anyways, anytime, okay?  Bye, Emily." he said, leaving the room.

I stood there as a mass of students moved out, leaving me alone with a teacher who was having an affair on her husband with a student who was trying to help her.  Some students started walking in, staring at me as I stared at them.  I only wanted a chance.  And he didn't even remember my name.  Pam snatched that away from me too.  Every guy I ever liked, she took away from me.  I'm sure she didn't mean it, but she had always ruined my love life.  Whether I want to admit it or not.  As long as Pam is my best friend, I will never have a boyfriend. 

You know what, it's a dinosaur for sure.  So I could crush him under my foot.

"Are you okay?  Emma, you okay?" Mrs. Thethers asked me, adjusting her glasses.

I picked up my books and started for the door.  You know what?  Who the f**k cares?  They'll be known as 'Peter and Pam' anyway.

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Plan B: Pam

 

Reviews

[Lena M. P.]

Cute, funny, believable, good flow from one thought to the next; I liked how you worked in day to day issues. Made it more real.