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Subject: Too Much Dialogue?
Author: Aly Jones   (guest,
Date: January 20, 2013 at 12:19:35 PM
I was reading a book, a big book at that. She was reading People magazine. It was one of the sleaziest magazines, in my opinion. It was filled with nothing but the latest rumors, who was sleeping with who, and so on. She was offended that I would read such a thick book.

Kristina,” Bethany said, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder, “what are you reading?”

“A book,” I said without looking up.

She sighed, muttering about how I’m such a nerd and without her I’d be dead meat. I ignored her and continued reading my book. It was about ancient mythologies. I was doing a report on it for extra credit.

The noises in the lunchroom made it hard to concentrate, but I forced myself to focus. I needed the credtis.

Bethany began nudging my arm. I tried to ignore her at first, but eventually I was so annoyed that I found myself snapping, “What?”

“Oh my gosh, Kristie! Hot guys alert! Overload!” Bethany whispered.

“So?” I grumbled, readjusting my glasses as I stared at the words on the book. Hot guys never paid me any attention.

It wasn’t that I was ugly or anything. I actually considered myself as a very attractive person. My wavy brown hair, pastel green eyes, and tall, lean body, I think that I’m very good-looking. I don’t have many curves on me, but at least I have long legs. Guys like that, right? Of course not.

“Oh my gosh! Kristina!” Bethany said, gripping my arm like her life depended on it, digging her nails deep into the flesh. “They’re coming over!”

I sighed and attempted to shake Bethany off. She didn’t loosen her grip even slightly. I sighed again and took off my glasses to rub my eyes. “Bethany, get off,” I whispered in annoyance. She didn’t seem to hear me. I tried shaking her off again. She seemed frozen.

“Mind if we sit here?” a British accent asked, very deep and very masculine.

I slowly tilted my head up, looking into the most magnificent blue eyes I had ever seen.

“No, not at all,” Bethany said as I sat, dumbfounded by the gorgeous blue eyes. “Sit, please.”

The two boys smiled and sat down across from us.

One had brown hair that was long and had bangs that were swept to one side. He smiled shyly at us as he set his tray down and swung a leg over the chair to sit down. His pale, lanky body slouched in the seat, like as if he really felt awkward being here.

The other boy had darker hair, nearly black hair and intense blue eyes. He smiled. He was tan and muscular, buff without being bulky. He looked hot and confident and totally out of my reach.

I sighed and slouched in my chair. If only I was gorgeous like Bethany. With her platinum blonde hair, sky blue eyes, tan skin, and boobs, she attracted all kinds of guys. She was every guys dream, physically. But even I had to admit that on the inside she was a selfish, manipulative bitch.

You’re probably wondering why I’m friends with her then. Well, when worse comes to worse, I know Bethany will always have my back.

“So, what are your names?” Bethany asked, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously.

Jackson,” the confident one said, “and this is my mate, Luke.”

Luke gave a small wave without raising his head to meet our eyes.

“I’m Bethany,” she said, smiling and flipping her blonde hair to one side again, “and this is Kristina. K not ch.”

Unique,” Luke commented quietly, glancing up at me before his eyes snapped down again.

Jackson rolled his eyes at him. “Quit being shy,” he snapped, more joking than serious.

“God, I know what you’re going through!” Bethany gushed. “This one over here is so shy that she hardly talks around anyone.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but as soon as both boys looked at me, I closed it and stuffed my face in a book.


I glanced up at them briefly from above my book as Bethany continued on about how shy I was to Jackson.

The lunch bell rang, and Bethany pouted. “I guess we’ll be seeing you,” she said brightly, her mood changing in an instant.

“Of course,” Jackson said, an amazing smile decorating his features. “And I hope to see you again, Kristina.”

The way my name rolled off his tongue sent a shiver down my spine. It sent a special tingle down there. I shook myself mentally. I could not get so worked up over this boy. This boy that will want nothing to do with me. Ever.

Bethany squealed once they were out of earshot. “Oh my gosh! Kristie! Jackson is so into you!”

I rolled my eyes, setting my book down and grabbing my bag. I picked my book back up and waited for Bethany to finish gathering her things.

“I don’t think so,” I whispered as she linked her arm through mine. I pushed my glasses back up on my nose. “He’s probably just trying to be nice to me to get with you.”

Bethany pondered this. “Perhaps, Kristie,” she said. “Or maybe he’s genuinely being nice to you. That way we’re both wrong.”

We began walking toward the exit of the school cafeteria. I chuckled at Bethany’s assumption of someone being nice to me. Majority of the school didn’t even acknowledge my presence, and if they did, it was because they knew Bethany. I was a loner all through high school until Bethany transfered here from somewhere on the East Coast. Virginia, I think.

“You know, in Louisville, everybody’s nice to each other. Most of the time, anyway. Of course we have that horrible bullying problem that I have yet to see here, but most of the guys aren’t douches,” she said, almost absentmindedly. “Most of the guys are genuinely sweet, Kristie.”

I rolled my eyes again. Based on my high school experience, all guys are douches. The only time they’re nice to you are when they’re trying to get in your pants. Bethany should know this better than anyone considering on how many times this has happened to her.

I don’t consider Bethany a slut because of all the guys she’s slept with. She had feelings for them, and really wanted them to have feelings for her. She was misled and had poor judgement when dealing with these guys. The poor girl didn’t stand a chance with half of them.

“That Luke guy seems just like you,” Bethany said suddenly. “Maybe you two can become friends.”

I snorted. Maybe Luke wasn’t the most attractive when compared, but he was still considerably good looking. He’ll have the girls drooling over him in a matter of days. I can almost hear them gushing about the hot, quiet guy who’s so sweet. He’ll have a mysterious thing going for him. Plus, with his hot, confident buddy, they’re likely to be the best thing since Bradley Cooper. I can already see it.

Kristina,” Bethany said, snapping her fingers inches away from my face. “Hello?”

“Sorry,” I muttered, looking down at my feet as she stood disapprovingly in front of me.

“Oh, it’s okay,” Bethany said, hugging me. “I wasn’t saying anything important, anyway.”

I nodded, hugging her back. “It was very important, Beth, whatever it was.”

She laughed as we broke apart, a loud, awkward sound that never really seemed genuine in my opinion. Not when you knew her.

“I was just gossiping as always,” she said, rolling her eyes and turning the combination on our locker. Since there weren’t enough lockers for everyone to have their own, Bethany and I share. Part of how we became such great friends.

“Who did what this time?” I asked to get her started. Bethany was always such a gossip. Everybody felt comfortable around her, and so they confessed everything to her. She always knew what was going on in this town, which was surprising since it wasn’t exactly the smallest in the state of Oregon.

“Well, you know Cindy Smith?” she said, pulling out her textbooks that she’d need for the next few periods. I nodded. “She’s pregnant.”

I gasped. “No way!”

“Yes, she is,” she whispered. “She made me swear not to tell anyone, but I know you won’t go around saying stuff to God knows who.”

I giggled as she linked her arm through mine. “Is she going to keep it?”

“Oh, no,” Bethany said, shaking her head, making her hair go wild and whack me in the face several times. “It was totally accident, and her boyfriend agrees that it’d be better to put it up for adoption.”

I nodded. That was good. Two teenagers defiantly couldn’t take care of a baby by themselves.

Bethany went on to tell me more details about Cindy’s baby. How she dropped off the cheerleading squad and was going to be homeschooled until the baby was born and she lost all the weight off. Her mom was in on the entire thing, and even though she wasn’t exactly proud...

I lost interest in what she was saying by the point. Gossip wasn’t exactly something I liked listening to. It made me feel weird to know all this stuff about people, yet they have no idea that I even exist, let alone know their secrets.

We split up at Bethany’s French class. She waved as she walked through the door, wishing me luck as I rushed to make it to my Advanced Science class. I all but ran to make it before the final bell rang and the doors were locked for classes. Ever since the Sandy Hook shooting, every school in the country has been paranoid. My school decided to lock the doors during classes. It was less dramatic than what other schools were proposing: handing teachers and other faculty guns to arm themselves incase of an attack.

None of this has been made official yet, from what I hear. I don’t know for sure, though, since this small town is usually the last to recieve valuable news like that. It was nearly a week after the shooting before we heard any word of that.

Kristina!” Hunter yelled.

Hunter was a very good looking guy. He had blonde hair that was in desperate need of a haircut since it was beginning to flop into his bluish-gray eyes. Tan skin, muscled build, and not a zit on that gorgeous face of his, he’d be the hottest guy in school if he didn’t value his grades so much. He joined nearly every club in school: the Debate Team, Math Club, Future Poets and Other Literature, and so many more. He really wanted to get into a good college.

“Yes?” I whispered.

“The meeting has been relocated,” Hunter said. “We have been moved to the boys’ restroom.”

I felt my eyes widen at the news.

“Nah, I’m just kidding,” he said, laughing. I started laughing with him. He had really gotten me. “We’ll be in Room 7, Building 4.”

I nodded. “Same time?” I asked as I continued walking toward my class with Hunter.

He nodded. “Right after school.”

I nodded again and thanked him as we seperated. I started running toward my class, desperate not to be late. Again.

I barely made it to the door on time, but I still made it.

The teacher barely gave me a second glance as he started counting the kids in his class, making sure everyone was here. He double checked before closing and locking the door. I rushed to my seat in the back with Yvonne, the head cheerleader. She wasn’t particularly mean. The only thing she cared about was who was wearing what, and since I never seemed to appeal to her with my T-shirts and blue jeans, she usually just ignored me and talked to her friends behind us.

Yvonne was a redhead with hazel eyes. She had a stunning body that drove every guy in the school, faculty included, to their knees. She was typically dressed in skirts, short or long, and ruffled, dark colored shirts. Today was no exception.

“What’s your shirt say today?” Yvonne asked, glancing at what I was wearing as her friends snickered. Yvonne’s friends weren’t even half as considerate as her when it came to what I was wearing.

My shirts didn’t always say something, and today was one of those days. I sighed and showed them that I was just wearing a plain purple V-neck that I matched with my black skinny jeans.

“Have you ever considered wearing a skirt?” Yvonne asked. “You have really long legs, and a skirt would just make you look taller.”

She was always filled with fashion tips. If Yvonne had her way, everyone would probably look like Hollywood stars. Most people took her advice when it came to how they looked. Whether it was from the kindness of her heart, or that she was just really so shallow as to only want us to dress like her and her friends, I’ll never know.

I nodded and smiled politely. “I’ll try to buy one soon,” I said.

“You don’t even own a skirt?” Yvonne’s friend, Cassidy, said, turning her nose up literally at the statement. “What kind of girl doesn’t own a skirt?”

“A girl who isn’t a girl. Or a lesbian,” Geanie said, snorting as she laughed at her hurtful joke.

I sighed and turned away from them, facing the teacher as he began the lesson.

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