PennyBassett Fanfiction

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Upcoming Series?

Eugene and Katrina's Infertility
1
14%
What happened to Buck between GRC and TTTB
2
29%
Early 2000s (Trent, Mandy, Marvin, etc.) kids in high school
3
43%
Something with the Barclays
1
14%
 
Total votes: 7

Jo March
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Wow. WELL DONE.
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Jo March
"There is no such thing as impossible. The word itself says I'm possible."-Audrey Hepburn
“You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.” –C.S. Lewis
“No one ever made a difference by being like everyone else.” P.T. Barnum
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Katie10
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When will the next chapter be out. It's s really good story and you've got me excited for the next chapter.
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PennyBassett
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Pff Idk to be honest. I'm pretty focused on my book rn and not 100% sure where I wanna go with this story. Someone probably read it, but I did post the next chapter and took it down the next day cuz it was, I guess more mature than I usually post. So I don't know. It's also hard to know how many people read what I post and what their comfort level is. So, if anyone has suggestions or opinions on that it'd be helpful.
"Let me get this straight. I bet all those non-friends of yours try to embarrass you about your love for that stuff, right? So, you almost feel like you have to hide your treasures away and can only take them out in secret on rainy days when your mom goes to the store to get more liver and nobody is around to berate your sensitive spirit. Is that what you’re saying?" -Jay Smouse
djchatswithu
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I saw that chapter and (as an aspiring writer myself) thought it was written rather well. the only thing I thought was a bit too intense was having a character 'killed off'. i think, alternatively, you could just have them hurt like the other person, they then go though some trauma because of the event and have them maybe shut out their 'other half', who's trying to work out how to help. you could try it with the other person too, with the family supporting them. I think the maturity of the 'action' scenes depends on how serious the subject is, and I think the idea of a story where Christians are being 'labelled' is an intriguing one. I love where your series has been going, and i hope you do write the rest at some point.

Sorry about the vagueness, i didn't want to reveal what happen in that chapter because 1, it's your story, and 2, it might upset/anger fans of those characters, and i wouldn't want to be the cause of an arguement.
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PennyBassett
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Okay that's helps a lot! Thank you! Those are fantastic suggestions.
"Let me get this straight. I bet all those non-friends of yours try to embarrass you about your love for that stuff, right? So, you almost feel like you have to hide your treasures away and can only take them out in secret on rainy days when your mom goes to the store to get more liver and nobody is around to berate your sensitive spirit. Is that what you’re saying?" -Jay Smouse
djchatswithu
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That's alright. I've been thinking of writing some of my own Odyssey fanfiction ideas down myself.
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Mr. Clever
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djchatswithu wrote:I saw that chapter and (as an aspiring writer myself) thought it was written rather well. the only thing I thought was a bit too intense was having a character 'killed off'. i think, alternatively, you could just have them hurt like the other person, they then go though some trauma because of the event and have them maybe shut out their 'other half', who's trying to work out how to help. you could try it with the other person too, with the family supporting them. I think the maturity of the 'action' scenes depends on how serious the subject is, and I think the idea of a story where Christians are being 'labelled' is an intriguing one. I love where your series has been going, and i hope you do write the rest at some point.

Sorry about the vagueness, i didn't want to reveal what happen in that chapter because 1, it's your story, and 2, it might upset/anger fans of those characters, and i wouldn't want to be the cause of an arguement.

I would actually disagree. Since it's a fanfic I believe that it can go to places that AIO would never go. AIO has killed of many characters
(Mitch kinda, Mrs. Kendall, The Cancer girl, etc..)
So I believe that killing off characters makes things more interesting. Not many people want to read a fanfic that is a basic AIO episode. Plus when you see a character die that's when you see the most character development. We see the most of Connie and Donna in episodes where people they know and love die. So just adding a lil disagreement. :)
“We all change. When you think about it, we’re all different people, all through our lives. And that’s okay, that’s good, you gotta keep moving, so long as you remember all the people that you used to be. I will not forget one line of this, not one day. I swear. I will always remember when the Doctor was me.” - Matt Smith
djchatswithu
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According to the writers, Karen was written specifically to be killed off, I suggested what I did because the character was a fan favourite (not one of my favourites, in case anyone thinks I was being biased in my suggestion), and I didn't want people accusing PennyBassett of deliberately killing off a fan favourite character.
i'm not against killing off charcters, I just didn't want to see any 'you killed them off because you don't like them' type comments against Penny. I was thinking if they were, for example, paralysed instead then it would still be serious enough to give the affect without any or as much back lash from fans of that character. I liked how the blackgaard and novocom sagas had someone (or rather, multiple people) in both die because of how intense they were.
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GJFH
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penny, if i could bring up something. i find that personally, it's hard to transitions from where the show currently is, to where i want my story to be. it's unnerving because as fans we're used to the show being a specific way, and as writers we have ideas that deviate just a little bit.
your writing is really good. you've got such a bold approach, turning your ideas into a story with actual plot lines, it's awesome that you can deliever.

but basically, yeah, we're used to having the characters face everyday-ish things, and it seems odd to see such a change. i hope this helps in some way.
I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us - Romans 8:18

It’s not enough to be against something. You have to be for something better. – Tony Stark
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PennyBassett
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Okay, I think I understand what you're saying. To clarify, since there's so much slice of life in the show, having fanfiction that's more dramatic feels too different?
"Let me get this straight. I bet all those non-friends of yours try to embarrass you about your love for that stuff, right? So, you almost feel like you have to hide your treasures away and can only take them out in secret on rainy days when your mom goes to the store to get more liver and nobody is around to berate your sensitive spirit. Is that what you’re saying?" -Jay Smouse
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GJFH
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PennyBassett wrote:Okay, I think I understand what you're saying. To clarify, since there's so much slice of life in the show, having fanfiction that's more dramatic feels too different?
sort of. it's just a huge jump from where we are and what we're accustomed with, to the threat of global persecution in your story. or any major impact or effect. for example, i would be v happy if jason got married, and i drew up a story where he does (over the course of about a year) but writing it is difficult because i almost don't want to conflict with what they writers will give us in future episodes. at the same time, there are things i'd like to hear on the show. (give jason a wife, u cowards) - i'm joking.

it could also be that aio is a show that has seemingly changed a ton, and not at all since its beginning (in style, at least.)

definitely keep writing! if this comes across as sounding too negative, i've failed. your stories have generally been more mature than what the writers give us, and that isn't necessarily a bad thing! we have had some mature episodes (and sagas, and those tend to be among the best.) you've also written the original characters well. however, if you don't have motivation, go on and take a break. sometimes it's good to just write what you're most motivated to. and i know firsthand, balancing both fanfic and original content is haaaard.

sorry for the rambling. :)
Last edited by GJFH on Sat Feb 09, 2019 8:50 pm, edited 1 time in total.
I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us - Romans 8:18

It’s not enough to be against something. You have to be for something better. – Tony Stark
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PennyBassett
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Yes it is! If it helps I'm kind of thinking of this story as an AU starting from a certain point in the show. Post Up in the Air I think. Thanks for the feedback! These help a lot!
"Let me get this straight. I bet all those non-friends of yours try to embarrass you about your love for that stuff, right? So, you almost feel like you have to hide your treasures away and can only take them out in secret on rainy days when your mom goes to the store to get more liver and nobody is around to berate your sensitive spirit. Is that what you’re saying?" -Jay Smouse
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PennyBassett
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Would ya even believe it? Finally, a new chapter. And it only took me like four months. I rewrote some of the one I posted and then erased. It doesn't give as much info as the last one, but it's longer than a normal chapter. Let me know what you guys think!

Chapter 15
"So, does anyone actually know what we're doing?"
Buck sat in the corner of Dion's living room tuning his guitar. His eyes searched for some remnant of competence.
"Well..." Dion began.
"Nope."
Jay had no problem admitting the truth.
"Okay," my boyfriend ran his fingers through his hair, his lips curling into a restrained smile. He was getting cocky. I gave him a look. A sliver of pride shed from his brow, and his gaze returned to the neck of his guitar.
"What genre are we going for?" I asked, folding my legs onto the couch to avoid Sunny, who was now lying between my legs and the coffee table. Dion opened his phone, presumably to take notes.
"Somewhere between Twenty-one Pilots and Dodie Clark."
I nodded- not quite understanding.
"Okay. Do we have a violin or cellist?” Buck's guitar was now tuned.
"No," Jay snorted, “Is that vital?”
“It’s better.”
"I can find someone."
"What?"
"Don't worry about it," Dion shrugged, sending a text.
"Great. Anyone have lyrics written out?"
Jay shifted in his seat.
"I've got- a few songs."
"You have chords?"
"Just what I could figure out on my ukulele."
“That’s fine. You wanna play one for us?"
Jay's eyes locked with Dion's. Dion looked confused for a second, then gave a reassuring nod. Jay smiled slightly.
"Okay."
I underestimated Jay Smouse. His songs were good. Very good- and I'd forgotten how impressive his voice was.
"So- we can all sing," I confirmed, as Buck edited Jay's paper of scribbled lyrics and chords. The boys nodded.
"Is it crazy to suggest we all sing an equal amount then? We could do some really cool harmonies."
"That sounds fine," Dion agreed.
"Okay. The harmonies shouldn't be too hard to learn."
"Do we need another female voice, then?"
"Yeah. And… I know someone," Dion was texting again.
Jay laughed,
"Do you have some sort of list of talented people, or-”
"Yes."


Before we knew what was happening, we had two more members.
“Hey guys.”
“Hey, come on in. You can put your backpack wherever. Buck, Jules, this is Tamika Washington. She’s our second female singer.”
“Nice to meet you,” I outstretched my hand and she shook it cordially, “I’ve seen you at school. You’re dating Vance.”
“I am,” she smiled. She had a nice smile. I miss it.
“Oh, and you’re Kelly’s sister, right?” Buck asked, messing with the soundboard of the little theatre.
“Yeah, you know her?”
“There was a foster kid Christmas thing a couple years ago. I met her there.”
“Okay yeah, I think I remember that.”
Tamika was a short, attractive high schooler, with tastefully applied makeup and a sense of style that kept up with the latest trends, despite her wardrobe restrictions. There’d been some revisions as far as what Christians could wear. “Faded” colors were the new rule. We were all sent a color code explaining what that meant. Basically, the only remotely bright color we could wear was white. Everything else had to be dark or faded. It was interesting how quickly everyone else took to wearing colorful clothing. The only color that was still completely off limits was purple. My favorite color. When we found out about that one, Eugene mentioned that purple often stood for royalty. So, I guess that might’ve meant something.
Tamika crossed the recording studio and sat down in front of the mic Buck had assigned to her.
“Trent’s coming soon right?” She asked, scrolling through her phone.
“He should be.”
“Dion, could I talk to you alone for a second?” Jay asked, inching towards the door. Dion glanced at us, then nodded and followed him out.


DION’S POV
“Why are we going into the bathroom?”
“You knew Tamika was dating Vance.”
“That’s what this is about?”
“Yes, that’s what this is about!”
He was taking this more personally than I’d expected. I looked into his dark brown eyes. They blinked anxiously. I’d messed up.
“So… are you jealous or-”
“What? No. I just-” he took a breath, “You knew how hard that was.”
“But Vance is a Christian now.”
“Yeah,” he nearly laughed, “I know. It doesn’t change anything I-” I could hear the lump in his throat as his hands strung together.
“I can’t look at him,” he forced out through heavy tears.
“Okay. Okay,” I kissed his head that was suddenly buried in my chest. He cried for a few minutes, dampening my sweatshirt. I’d forgotten how abusive their relationship had gotten. I don’t know why… he was happy with me, so I assumed he was over it. Obviously, I was wrong. We ended up sitting on the bathroom floor. Jay was gripping a crumpled piece of toilet paper in his left hand. His right was strung into mine.
“I hate him,” his hoarse tone gave a slight release from the silence the empty washroom gave off. My first instinct was to agree. I bit my tongue.
It was true. I did hate him. How could I not? He’d hurt my boyfriend. As my palm rested on cold tile, my mind drifted to six months ago. When I’d found Jay in the bathroom. When I’d seen his bone-thin frame latched onto the toilet bowl he was straining to vomit into. When he’d collapsed in exhaustion onto the stone floor. I’d said his name. He’d turned around, terror in his eyes. He’d broken down and told me everything. So quickly I’d gone from envying Vance to loathing him. I never stopped. But at that moment, Jay needed me to be the sensible one. The strong one. The one that said the right thing.
“I know,” I whispered. My mind grappled for another sentence. “You don’t have to see him. I’ll talk to Tamika.”
He didn’t say anything.
“Hey, look at me.”
He lifted his head.
“I’m gonna keep you safe.”



BUCK’S POV
Trent showed up not long after Tamika. I’d never talked to him before. Seen him around. He was a tall eighteen-year-old of what I assumed to be Brazilian descent. He wore wire-rimmed glasses and a very 90s retro sweater. His shoes looked like they came from the same decade, as their battered frames kept close together and squeaked on the tiled flooring of Whit’s End. He came in with a cute brunette, who was quickly introduced as Mandy Strausberg. She had a similar vintage look, her pink collared dress reminding me of one from the 1930s. I assumed they were together.
“You’re Eugene and Katrina’s foster kid, right?” He asked as I handed him a jack for his cello.
“I was. Elizabeth and I were adopted a little over a year ago.”
“Oh, that’s right. Well, congratulations.”
“Thanks. How long have you been playing?”
“Cello? Seven years.”
“Nice.”
“You play guitar, right?”
“Mhm. Don’t ask me how long it’s been. I sort of grew up with it.”
“You’re giving me instrument envy. It’s so cool when people can spend that much time on their music.”
Dion and Jay were back by now. He gave Tamika a slight smile, to which she responded with a forgiving nod.
“Alright. We’ve practiced alone, we have until eight tonight. Do you want to just try recording the music first?”
We nodded, and Dion began telling us where to sit, how close to the mic we need to be, etc. The girls sat behind the soundboards. Apparently, Mandy had enough experience to run the sound when Dion couldn’t.
And that’s how it started. We had a band. We’d meet every other night to practice, write songs, and try to come up with a name.
“So how do we feel about Smallpox?” Mandy asked, repeating Tamika’s earlier suggestion.
“…not bad,” I bit into my sandwich.
“It’s easy to remember,” Trent brushed his hair from his forehead, “I’m getting like a grunge yellow vibe.”
“Works for me,” Jules shrugged, taking one of my baby carrots and dipping it into my plastic Chipotle cup of guacamole.
From that point on, we were ‘Smallpox.’

Within a month, we had an album recorded. To launch it, we threw a party and live show at Whit’s End. Everyone was invited. We played live and gave away albums. Heaps of compliments were paid as we basked in the fruits of our labor. That was hands down the best night of our lives. Our final good memories before the bad ones took over. A last hurrah as teenagers. For the next day, we’d be forced into the shoes of adults.



DION’S POV
It was a Monday. I was tired. The night before we’d gone out for dinner and came back to the party celebrities. We had signed an autograph for about every kid in Odyssey by the time we were able to go home- at two in the morning. I twisted my wrist. It was understandably sore. It’s funny to think about now. I mean, we were an unknown group outside our small town. I guess everyone needed something to be excited about. The attention didn’t stop that night either. Coming back to school we were very quickly thrown into a whirlwind of social media, praise, and more autographs. We were even scheduled to go on TV that night for an interview with Ted Humphry. Out of nowhere, I was expected to behave perfectly. To dress perfectly. To be on constant alert. I kissed Jay before going to geometry and the next day it was on Instagram drawn as fan art. We weren’t making out or anything- it was one kiss- I didn’t know anyone had taken a picture. Now I’m really glad they did.
Classes were a comfort. They were the only points during the day when I felt normal- like myself. I so miss normal.
Um. I was- sorry. It’s… hard to think about.
I was sitting at my desk. I had just written an answer to a test, then looked at the clock. It was 1:18 when-
“What was that?” Alex asked from across the room. We’d all heard it. Four slow, consecutive bangs. I turned to Mrs. Meltsner.
“I think something dropped,” her voice sounded unnatural. As she turned to her left, I expected her to leave the room- to see what had dropped. She didn’t. She locked it. Then looked directly at me.
“Dion, would you help me move my desk?”
“What,” my answer stuck to my throat. You’d think I would realize what was going on at that point- but I didn’t.
“Dion,” I’ll never forget how she said my name. It was all she could say- a sob sort of got in the way. That’s when I realized what was wrong. I stood up heavily. It was like a dream- when you try to run or jump or move quickly but all you can do is drag yourself to the intended destination. I want to believe I got to her as fast as possible. I’m not sure. I’d just reached her desk when the tormentor of my future nightmares appeared at the window of the door. He had dark brown hair, streaked with white. He wasn’t old- just over 40, but the bulging veins beneath his forehead told me he was sixty at least. He had blue eyes. I wish I could say they were like ice. That they were dark and deadly. They weren’t. They were kind. Fatherly. Clouded. With one swift movement, he had broken in.
Gunshots are loud. People underestimate that. How loud a gunshot is. He shot Katrina first. I saw him shoot her. The only adult that never shunned, never gave up, never judged me, was suddenly on the ground at my feet. So, I ran in the opposite direction. I grabbed Jay’s hand on the way to the back of the room and pulled him under the table with me when we got there. We put chairs in front of us, then huddled as close to the wall as possible. Through Jay’s hand, I could feel his heart pounding. My pulse was just as quick. I closed my eyes. There were a lot of gunshots, lots of people screaming, Jay crying. I brought him closer. I felt like crying. I don’t know why I didn’t. It was just an instinct. If Jay was crying, I wasn’t. He needed me. We stayed under there for maybe five minutes? During that time, I thought about getting shot. What it would feel like. If I would die or not. If anyone would miss me if I did. And I just kept waiting for a bullet to zip between the two metal chairs we were using for protection. But it didn’t. And the screaming stopped eventually. There was no more shooting. The chairs in front of us were practically thrown out of the way, and then I couldn’t hear for a second. Something had set my thigh on fire, and everything else went blurry. When my surroundings returned to normal, the first thing I saw was a dozen teens, huddled into the corner of the room- untouched. Jay and I were dug for. I new wave of pain attacked my leg. Michael was tackled by two police officers before I could take a full breath. I was dragged out from under the table by a medic. I must’ve looked panicked because he kept saying stuff like,
“I need to you calm down,” and “You’re gonna be okay.”
I was put on a stretcher and was beginning to feel lightheaded when I saw him. Jay. On a stretcher next to mine. There was so much blood. One medic was trying to stop the blood flow, while another gave Jay an oxygen mask. I don’t think he was breathing.




EUGENE'S POV

“Oh my god.”
I’d never heard Connie say that.
“Oh my god.”
Was she praying?
“Connie!” I finished wiping off a class before going to find her. She was at the counter, staring at her phone. She looked up at me. A terror, three shades darker than I’d ever seen tinted her green pupils. She handed me her phone. And I read the texts from Jules. I swallowed a throat of vomit before looking at her again.
“Is this a joke?”
“It’s not. I swear it’s not.”
“Okay.”
There’s a certain horror. I can’t describe it. The slow meticulous realization that your wife and son could be dead. I mechanically took Connie’s hand and led her to my car. Saying nothing. I mean, Connie started crying once we were driving, and I wanted to, but we couldn’t actually form words. I tried to comfort her. I held her hand. We couldn’t get to the high school soon enough. I didn’t bother parking when we did. I stumbled out of the vehicle to see-
“Dad!”
Buck.
I ran to him.


BUCK’S POV
I don’t like being touched. I don’t like being hugged. I don’t like feeling helpless or helped. So, I hugged my dad. Because I knew he was scared. And I knew I had to tell him something that had the potential to destroy him.
“She wasn’t breathing when they put her in the ambulance.”
"Let me get this straight. I bet all those non-friends of yours try to embarrass you about your love for that stuff, right? So, you almost feel like you have to hide your treasures away and can only take them out in secret on rainy days when your mom goes to the store to get more liver and nobody is around to berate your sensitive spirit. Is that what you’re saying?" -Jay Smouse
djchatswithu
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wow, just finished reading it, and I like how its different, but the same as before at the same time. before I was like 'what! ok, wait what, oh no, wow, struth and oh no those poor guys'. this time was 'ok, o-kay, mm really?, wait what, oh cool, oh no here it comes, What the, you heartless maniac you shot HER!?, now that's really low, and 'whoa, that was intense'. It was like 'two sides to every story' where two different versions of an event have the same outcome ie, no one died, 'yet', and it still had the same effect on me as the first version. anyone else get that same feeling.
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PennyBassett
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So I'm taking a quick pause to post this. (Don't worry, I WILL finish my current series) But a few of us decided to write the same story with our own interpretation of everything. Miah just posted hers, and even though we have very similar concepts in our fanfics, I promise I wrote this before reading hers. :lol:
Also, this will be interesting because I ended up taking a more diary-style approach. So yeah. That's about it. Enjoy!
JULES: There’s this movie. ‘Isn’t it Romantic.’ I hate it. Okay, that’s probably not surprising. I just thought it would be a good way to begin this story. My story. It wasn’t really my idea to write all this down. My husband thought it would be a sort of therapy session for me, and maybe help others. So, let me go back to the beginning. I don’t like ‘Isn’t it Romantic.’ I’ve only seen it once. With my sister, Connie. She’s my half-sister. That’s- sort of important to this story. My half sister Connie and I lived together after I ran away- okay ran away is a harsh term. I left. My divorced parents had joint custody over me when I was 15-years-old, and it just got to be too much. Turned out I wasn’t as much of an LA girl as people thought. Sure, I loved the city and there were always things to do there. But it’s all fake. And I wasn’t fake. My mom had been fake. Maybe not my dad. He had stated his opinions very genuinely. So, I chose my religious big sister over my perfection pushing parents.
Connie was fun. She became one of my best friends after we got over our differences. And there were a lot of them. Mainly the natural ones that kind of age gab brings. She’s fifteen years older than me. There were so many late nights we spent arguing about the dumbest things. Now I can say with full confidence that she had been right every time. We really started to get along after I turned sixteen. She had to teach me how to drive, and we quickly found it was a great way to learn how we really feel about each other, and why. Yes. Sometimes our driving sessions would end in tears… once or twice in blood… but in the end, it was therapeutic. We worked out our differences. Once I got my driver’s license we began doing more together. Our late nights were spent in front of teen tv dramas and never-ending games of Settlers of Catan. We’d usually have the Meltsners or the Bassetts over on those nights. We went ice skating in the winter and rollerblading in the spring. During the summer we’d have photoshoots with the camera my mom sent me for my birthday. Connie taught me how to have fun again. Like the type of fun kids have. And in the fall, when it was cold and Saturday and there was nothing to do, we would go to a movie.
It was November 8th when Connie suggested ‘Isn’t it Romantic.’ I was bored and Buck was visiting a college in Chicago. So, I went along with the idea. I figured it couldn’t be too dull and it wasn’t. It was a good movie. But about three fourths of the way through-
“Don’t stop! Believing! Hold onto that fee-ee-eelin’!”
“Connie! Turn that off!”
“Sorry! Sorry! I thought I put it on silent!” She whisper-shouted to me and everyone else in the theatre. She immediately pressed the red off button.
“Who was that?”
“I have no idea. Wrong number maybe? I don’t recognize it. LA area code though.”
“Wait what? Can I see?”
“Sure,” she reopened her phone, keeping her eyes on the large screen in front of us, then handed the device to me. I recognized the number immediately.
“That’s Daniel.”
“Who?”
“Daniel Drake. He’s one of dad’s friends.”
“And you have his number?!” This phrase was shut down by some close-by hushes.
“He used to pick me up from parties and stuff. He was my safety buddy- I guess. Don’t worry. He’s not much older than me.”
“Oh okay.”
“Yeah. And he’s kind of a geek. The only reason he did anything with me is because I’m pretty.”
“Oh.”
“I can’t figure out why he’d be calling you though. Maybe you should call him back.”
“Oh. Okay. Sure. I’ll be right back.”
She gave my shoulder a squeeze before shuffling out of our isle. I sat there and ate my popcorn in silence. I don’t think Connie was gone for long. I don’t remember what I thought of while she was outside. I only remember what happened when she came back. I was watching the movie- not really paying attention when her hand was on my back. Not my shoulder, not a mock-demeaning pat on the head. A touch of pity on my back. And then she said my name. Not my nickname. My name.
“July.”
So, I set down my bag of popcorn, stood up, and followed her out of the theatre.
“Connie. Connie? What’s wrong?”
“I think we should go home.”
“Why?”
“We need to talk.”
“Talk about what?”
“Dad.”
“What about dad? We had our monthly phone call yesterday,” I laughed.
We drove home in complete silence. I couldn’t talk. Not to Connie. Not about this. I didn’t say anything until I was back in the house, back in my room. Connie left for Whit’s End. I took out my phone.
“Hey, Jules. What’s up?”
“Buck,” was all I could get out before breaking down. I just started crying over the phone. Buck had never heard me cry before.
“Hey. Okay. Okay, what’s wrong? What happened?”
“My dad died,” I choked on sobs.
“…what?” He whispered.
“My dad. He was in a car accident. They think he was drinking. The other person died too.” “Jules.”
“Can you come back, please?” I walked into the bathroom and ripped off a few squares of toilet paper.
“I don’t know babe. I’ll really try, but I have an audition tomorrow.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“The soonest will be tomorrow night.”
“Okay,” I sniffed and wiped my nose.
“Hey, is there anything else I can do?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t have anyone to talk to.”
“I’m here.”
“Okay.”
So, we talked about it. For like three hours I just ranted about my dad. The funny memories we had together. All the elaborate birthday celebrations he ever threw for me. The long lectures and demeaning looks that would frequent our spotless beach house regardless of my behavior. All the fights we had. Poured out to my boyfriend, who somehow, was able to listen so intently. I didn’t cry again until the next night. Never in front of Connie. She expected me to be the cold, realistic one, and I played the part well. It was easier than being sentimental.


BUCK: Today Jules called me. She told me her dad had died. In a car accident. Just like mine. I’m empathetic. And it made me realize. I never grieved that loss. Not properly. Jules and I talked on the phone for three hours. She talked about her dad, and I cried. Silently. I spoke when I could. I didn’t want her to know. I’m the boyfriend. I don’t cry. I comfort. And it seemed rude. To be crying over someone I never met, years after I knew about their death, while she was experiencing such a huge, current loss. I haven’t really stopped.
Eugene and Katrina went out five hours ago. We’re in Missouri right now visiting Mid America Nazarene University. It’s weird. I’ve only cried two other times since getting out of JD. After getting beat up by Vance’s gang. I cried walking home. I cried when I got home. I cried after finding out that my mom was dead. I went through a period of grief. It was a hope lost. It’s hard to admit, but I thought she’d come back for me. And Katrina? Without realizing it, I was thinking about her as a babysitter. Like a substitute-mom while mine was away. She was my foster mom. That’s what I referred to her as. Calling her mom just felt wrong, because my mom was going to come for me. But I was wrong. Because she never did. She was just dead. So, I wiped away the few tears that fell on the way home and let them fall freely when I could be alone. They never saw that. They don’t know I cried about it. Maybe they guessed though. Or assumed. I ignored the first couple times they knocked on my door. What is it with me? The thought of crying in front of anyone is just terrifying. Although, the last person I cried in front of slammed me into a wall and gave me a concussion. I know it’s unhealthy. I should be able to show negative emotion, right? I will. I will in front of Jules. I don’t think I could with Eugene or Katrina. But I will with Jules. I will.
JULES: But something about Buck. When he came up to the little theatre, made me forget I’d put on eye makeup to impress him. I let myself cry. Maybe I just assumed he was stronger than me. It’s easy to forget how broken someone’s insides are when their skin looks so flawless. He played his part just as uniform. The supportive boyfriend to be there for physical and emotional comfort. I fell for it every time. The memories of our mutual moments of weakness sort of faded when he looked on me with pity. Buck is an emotionally unstable person. And he was hiding that for my sake.

BUCK: I couldn’t do it. I saw her again. She started crying the second we hugged, and I just went numb. I held her. I comforted her as best as I could. But I couldn’t feel it anymore. My survival mechanisms were too strong. She and Connie are leaving tomorrow for the funeral, which is apparently being put together by his last girlfriend. I don’t think Connie’s very happy about that.

JULES: We went to the funeral a few days later. It wasn’t big. A few businessmen showed up. So did my mom. She accused Connie of stealing her daughter, so we left before lunch. I stopped by to see a couple of friends. Who were all very sorry that they couldn’t make it to the funeral, but were sending thoughts and prayers. Whatever that meant in Hollywood. We got a hotel room, went to bed early, and left the next day. We were barely gone twenty-four hours.

BUCK: Earlier tonight Jules, Connie, and Jeff came over for dinner. That surprised me. I’d seen Jeff just a couple times before. I didn’t know he and Connie were together.

JULES: Connie started confiding in Jeff more after that and talking less to me. Some days she’d leave at six in the morning and not get back until midnight. I didn’t know where she spent all that time. I mean, she was working, obviously, but she wasn’t taking classes at the college then. I few times I wondered if she and Jeff were just getting more serious. I’d have to remind myself that Christians don’t touch each other before marriage, and I’d go back to wondering. Some of it made sense after we went to the Meltsners though. Connie mentioned that she’d been talking to Katrina. Maybe I should have known. She was talking to people who’d lost their dad.
"Let me get this straight. I bet all those non-friends of yours try to embarrass you about your love for that stuff, right? So, you almost feel like you have to hide your treasures away and can only take them out in secret on rainy days when your mom goes to the store to get more liver and nobody is around to berate your sensitive spirit. Is that what you’re saying?" -Jay Smouse
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Miah Robinson
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Ooo! I love it! You did an amazing job!
"Well, that wasn't Shakespeare's Henry IV, but it'll have to do." -Don Polehaus
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Kathy0
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So I just went through and read everything and caught up on all of the new chapters and oh. Mah. Gosh. Duuuuuude, it is so good!
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Katie10
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Your really good at writing! I know I've said this before but your really amazing!
(Edit)
I think it made it more interesting with Katrina and all that. It worked out really well.
Last edited by Katie10 on Fri Apr 12, 2019 3:44 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Mr. Clever
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Katie10 wrote:Your really good at writing! I know I've said this before but your really amazing!
Like, obviously? *Glares at Penny with a jealous look
“We all change. When you think about it, we’re all different people, all through our lives. And that’s okay, that’s good, you gotta keep moving, so long as you remember all the people that you used to be. I will not forget one line of this, not one day. I swear. I will always remember when the Doctor was me.” - Matt Smith
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PennyBassett
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Legit. Comments like these are what keep me writing. (Btw the next chapter is coming very soon :wacky: )
"Let me get this straight. I bet all those non-friends of yours try to embarrass you about your love for that stuff, right? So, you almost feel like you have to hide your treasures away and can only take them out in secret on rainy days when your mom goes to the store to get more liver and nobody is around to berate your sensitive spirit. Is that what you’re saying?" -Jay Smouse
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