maybelline1802

even the stars are ill at ease

2007-08-03T08:24:54Z

You know, it's hard to get your Harry Potter fanfiction read, simply because of the sheer volume of it. It's like being the needle in the haystack, and you're jumping around trying to get your fic read, but no one sees you because they're too distracted by this other needle that's really big and a lot less like a matchstick than yours is (the end would still catch on fire if you struck it against something).

Anyway, I'm rambling. The point is, READ MY FIC, DAMMIT! Please.

“Karida!” Mackenzie called to her kitten on Platform Nine and Three Quarters, “Karida! Oh, please come here!” She spotted a pale grey tale disappear behind someone’s leg, and hurried over, diving on her kitten. She accidentally bumped into the owner of the leg Karida was hiding behind.

“Hey!” said the voice of a young boy. A touch of haughtiness was evident in his tone. She looked up, seeing a pale blonde boy who was the spitting image of the man standing next to him.

“S-sorry,” Mackenzie said, standing up and backing away, “I just wanted my kitten.”

The boy looked down his nose at her for a moment before turning away to talk with his parents. She hurried off back to her parents, feeling distinctly humiliated.

“There you are. I knew that cat was a bad idea. You’re already losing him, and you’ve only had him a week.”

“It’s a girl mum,” Mackenzie corrected her mother. She pretended not to have heard.

“Well you should probably get on the train now,” Justine said, looking a lot less sure of herself. It was a huge thing, letting your youngest child go away to school. Nathan put his arm around his wife and gave her a brief squeeze before offering to help his girls with their trunks.

“You’ll sit with her on the train ride down, won’t you Montana?” he said in a way that was more of an order than a question. It was all Mackenzie could do to keep from sighing in relief. She was afraid she would have to sit by herself for the entire train ride.

Montana rolled her eyes, and plopped down across from her sister in an empty compartment.

“Thank you, kiddo,” her dad reached out to ruffle her hair. She ducked out of his reach, smoothing down the twin braids that kept her hair neatly under control.

“Bye, dad,” she said through gritted teeth. She was blushing pink, hoping none of her friends had seen her.

Nathan shook his head, and bent down to hug Mackenzie, “I’ll see you at Christmas, girlie. Have fun! Behave yourself! I expect an owl sometime tomorrow telling me about your classes and what house you’re in,” he lowered his voice, “You know it doesn’t matter what house you’re in. I’ll love you just the same.”

Mackenzie nodded and watched him leave the compartment, clambering off the train. She pressed her face to the window, watching her mother wave from the platform. She blew her a kiss, and Justine blew a kiss back, desperately trying to hide the tears in her eyes. She rested her head on Nathan’s shoulder as he put his arm around her again. As the train began to chug away from the platform, Mackenzie didn’t dare blink; scared she would miss the final view of her parents until Christmas.

“I’ll miss them, Montana,” she sighed, turning back to her sister. She realized she was talking to an empty compartment. Tears filled her eyes as she realized that her sister had taken off the moment her father had left the train. Mackenzie cuddled Karida for a moment, thankful for a friend in the midst of her strange surroundings. She hastily wiped her tears away, remembering she was supposed to be a big girl now. Big girls don’t cry.

As soon as she had dried her eyes, there was a knock on the compartment door. Shadows moved behind the tinted glass, and she reached over to unlatch the door. Any fear she had instantly dissipated when the door flung open to reveal Albus and a pretty young girl in Hogwarts robes with brilliant red hair following behind him.

“Albus!” she exclaimed, jumping up to hug him. She had never been happier to see her friend. Karida tried to escape the compartment, but the red headed girl scooped her up, stroking her soft fur. Albus laughed good naturedly at the warm welcome and patted Mackenzie awkwardly on her back. He was still very unsure of how to treat girls.

The red head handed Karida back to Mackenzie, who suddenly became very shy. “I’m Rose,” she said softly.

“Mackenzie McKinnon,” Mackenzie replied, finding her voice.

“Rose is my cousin, Kenz. Her last name is Weasley, just like my mum’s used to be,” Albus said conversationally as he and Rose sat down opposite Mackenzie.

Mackenzie nodded, unsure of what to say next. Fortunately, she was spared the task of coming up with something to say when a tall, skinny blonde boy burst into the compartment, falling onto Mackenzie’s lap. Karida gave an agitated meow and leapt away from the newcomer.

“Sorry,” the boy said, red faced and clearly flustered as he pushed himself upright, shoving his square glasses higher up onto his nose. He plopped himself down next to Mackenzie.

“I was being chased by some awfully big guys. They said I was in their compartment. As if I was supposed to know that. There’s not a lot I do know, unfortunately. I only just found out I was a wizard last week, when my mum and I moved into London! I can’t wait to learn everything though. It’s so fascinating, being able to make magic with a wand” he said this rather quickly, as if concerned that he had to say everything before someone told him to stop talking. “Oh, I’m Kevin, by the way. Kevin Lewis.”

The three already in the compartment just stared. He spoke with a funny accent that Mackenzie had never heard before. She furrowed her brow, before surprising herself with her own courage as she said bluntly, “I’m Mackenzie McKinnon. Where did you live before you moved to London?”

Kevin’s face split into a huge grin, “I lived in Vancouver! That’s in Canada,” he pointed out happily.

“Oh, cool!” Mackenzie said, intrigued now by this strange boy from a foreign land.

“That is cool. I’m Albus,” Albus introduced himself, deliberately omitting his last name. He had become aware at a very young age that the name ‘Potter’ was a famous one that usually caused people to stare.

Kevin wrinkled his nose, “That’s a funny name. It sort of reminds me of a bird, you know? The albatross is a really big bird. My mum has a picture of one that she took when she was in Bermuda! That’s where the Bermuda Triangle is –”

Thankfully, Kevin was interrupted by the food trolley. A grizzly haired witch tottered along behind it. “Do you want anything off the trolley?” she asked in a scratchy voice.

“Yes, please,” Rose said enthusiastically. She loved food, and got quite the armload. “I’ve been saving my money for this,” she explained. “Dad always talked about how good the sweets were on the Hogwarts Express, and Mum hardly ever lets us have them at home.”

“What about when you go visit your grandparents?” Kevin asked curiously as he examined a Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Bean.

“Well, my mum’s parents are dentists, and their idea of sweets is yogurt covered raisins,” she said, clearly disgusted.

“I like raisins,” Mackenzie said as she pulled the wrapper off of a Pumpkin Pasty.

Rose gave her a dark look, “Teddy says they’re flies.”

“Who’s Teddy?” Kevin asked.

“My god-brother,” Albus said after he recovered from a beetle flavoured bean.

They ate the different sweets contentedly, occasionally laughing at each other’s faces after a particularly unpleasant flavour of jelly bean. They lounged in the compartment, and were enjoying themselves so much that they didn’t even realize it had begun to get dark.

“So why did you and your mum move to London?” Albus finally asked Kevin as the sky outside darkened to black.

“There’s a war starting up that the President of the United States is waging against China, and mum doesn’t agree with it. Canada’s Prime Minister agreed that we’d ally with the United States, and that made Mum really angry, because she’d voted for our Prime Minister’s party because they were anti-war. She said that she’s lost faith in the Canadian government, so she packed us up and moved to London,” he shrugged, telling his new friends his mother’s reasons almost verbatim what she had told him.

“Dad says she was flakey, and that’s why he left her.” There was a touch of sadness in the young boy’s voice.

“That doesn’t sound flakey to me,” Mackenzie said thoughtfully. She didn’t understand politics at all, let alone Muggle politics, but she had to think that losing faith in a government was a pretty good reason not to associate with them anymore. She made a mental note to borrow Montana’s owl, Cambria, to ask her dad about it.

Suddenly the train slowed, putting a halt to their conversation. Mackenzie grabbed her robes and shooed the boys from the compartment so that she could change. Suddenly, she was uncomfortable in front of Rose, and turned around as she changed.

A moment later, the boys re-entered the compartment, dressed in their black robes. Kevin looked awkward in them, clearly not yet comfortable in wizard’s robes. “I feel like I’m wearing a dress,” he commented as the compartments began to spill into the corridors.

The haughty blonde boy Mackenzie had bumped into on the platform ran into her from behind. She turned to see who it was, and as their eyes met, his pale face flushed. “Sorry,” he mumbled, the tone of superiority gone from his voice.

“It’s ok,” she smiled warmly at him, hoping he understood that she was also forgiving him for his behaviour on the platform. He smiled hesitantly back at her.

“Firs’ years! Firs’ years over ‘ere!” a booming voice called over the crowd.

“Hagrid!” Rose and Albus exclaimed, hurrying over to the source of the voice. Mackenzie looked up in shock. The man waving the lantern was huge in stature, and had grizzled grey hair and a tangled beard to match that obscured most of his ruddy face.

Kevin looked positively frightened, “Is that a giant?”

Mackenzie shrugged, also unsure, “I don’t think so. Montana said giants are as big as mountains.”

“We’re going in boats?” Kevin asked skeptically. The tiny wooden boats didn’t look like they could hold the weight of one person, let alone the four that the man apparently called Hagrid said they should get into each boat.

“I guess,” Mackenzie shrugged. She tried to follow Albus, but he and Rose had already been joined in their boat by two other first years. Kevin and Mackenzie clambered into their own boat and were joined by the blonde boy and a round, curly haired girl that seemed to have lost the ability to speak.

“Hi again,” the boy said, “We weren’t properly introduced before… I’m Scorpious Malfoy.”

“Mackenzie McKinnon. This is Kevin Lewis,” she said gesturing to him.

“Nice to meet you,” he said awkwardly. They were spared conversation as the boats rose and flew across the dark lake. They came over a small hill, and caught their first glimpse of Hogwarts.

It was a magnificent castle, with the light in windows glittering like jewels in the dark night. People gasped as they took in the majestic view.

The boats came to a halt that almost threw the four overboard, and they clambered out onto the rocks and pebbles of the underground cave. “Where are we?” people were whispering. They followed Hagrid single file out of the cave and onto the lush green grass and onto the stone steps that lead to a gigantic pair of double doors. Hagrid knocked, and they were ushered inside by a young man with a round face who looked vaguely familiar.

“Neville!” exclaimed Albus as he tiptoed to see.

Neville grinned, “Professor Longbottom, Albus.”

“Oh right, sorry Professor Longbottom,” Albus flushed as he sank back into the crowd. A few people laughed nervously, and some looked awestruck. Many children from wizarding families had heard of Neville Longbottom. He had been a vital member of the self proclaimed Dumbledore’s Army many years ago at the start of Lord Voldemort’s second ascent to power.

They followed Professor Longbottom into the Entrance Hall. Mackenzie gasped at the splendour of the castle: a beautiful, sweeping staircase; four huge hourglasses filled with citrines, emeralds, rubies and sapphires; a Great Hall to the right that chatter of excited students was spilling out of.

They did not stop here, however, but they continued on into a small antechamber with no windows, and only the one door. “I’ll be back shortly to take you to be sorted,” Deputy Headmaster Neville Longbottom informed the nervous first year students.

They barely acknowledged him as he left the room in a swish of dark blue robes. There was silence for a long moment before Albus turned to Rose and Mackenzie heard him whisper, “You’ll be my friend if I get put in Slytherin, right?”

Rose’s eyes widened, “If you get put in Slytherin, I’ll get put in Slytherin,” she sounded terrified at the thought, and Mackenzie wondered vaguely if she should want to be in Slytherin… she knew her mother would be so pleased! But what did she want?

“No, you won’t get put in Slytherin,” Albus whispered urgently as the conversation continued, “But promise me, that we’ll still be friends. I’ll try really hard not to be evil.”

“Evil?” a voice cut across the hushed conversations that were being held in the room. “Slytherins are not evil!” Scorpius said defiantly. “My dad was a Slytherin, and he wasn’t evil. He was part of the war that brought down Lord Voldemort!” There was a hushed murmur in response to this declaration. Maybe Slytherin wasn’t so bad after all?

Mackenzie noticed that Albus looked surprised. He whispered to Rose, “His dad obviously never told him what side of the war he was on.” They laughed out loud, and Mackenzie turned to Kevin.

“What house do you think you’ll be in?” she asked, forgetting momentarily that he came from a Muggle family.

“Er… well… I hope not Slytherin, because Albus thinks its evil…”he was very hesitant.

Mackenzie laughed nervously. No, she did not want to be in Slytherin. The people she considered her friends were set against this particular house. “Perhaps Gryffindor sounds like a good house.”

“Oh it’s the best!” Rose said enthusiastically, “my dad said that the greatest wizards were from Gryffindor,” she lowered her voice as she spoke the next sentence aloud, “Dumbledore himself was a Gryffindor.”

People began loudly swapping reasons as to why their house of choice was the best one. They didn’t get very far into there discussion, because before it could get too heated, Professor Longbottom returned. “Are we ready?” he asked. When the group nodded at him, the anxiety returned to their eyes, he gave instructions. “We’re going to go into the Great Hall single file, and your name will be called alphabetically by last. Please come forward, and try on the Hat. It will sort you into your house.”

There was a sigh of relief from many of the students. All they had to do was put the ragged old hat on their heads, and hope they did not contract head-lice. So, the sorting began with a long song sung by the Sorting Hat that described each of the four houses that they could potentially be in.

“Ackerley, Maia,” read Professor Longbottom from a long scroll. The unusually short girl bustled up towards the Sorting Hat and hoisted herself up on the stool. She gently placed the hat upon her head. After a brief moment, a tear in the brim of the faded hat opened and yelled for the entire hall to hear:

“HUFFLEPUFF!

Mackenzie watched nervously as Professor Longbottom read down the list. Her heart beat faster in her chest as they passed through the ‘D’s… the ‘G’s… the single ‘K’ – Kirke, Gertrude who was sorted into Gryffindor – and finally,

“Lewis, Kevin.”

Kevin hurried up towards the Sorting Hat, pushing his glasses higher up on his long, thin nose as he went. He stumbled and flushed a brilliant shade of magenta before jamming the hat as far down onto his head as he could make it go. Less than a second later, the hat screamed “RAVENCLAW!” and the magenta in his cheeks intensified as he rushed over to join the Ravenclaw table, who were cheering madly for him.

Finally, Mackenzie’s name was called. She strode up to the front, trying to look confident and sure of herself. She placed the hat on her head. To her great surprise, it began to talk to her, “A McKinnon, hey? The lot of you’ve been in Gryffindor… but hmm… there’s quite a bit of talent here… a strong desire to learn… scared your mother wants you in Slytherin?”

Mackenzie was shocked that the Hat had known what she was afraid of, but then decided maybe she shouldn’t be… it was magic after all.

“Don’t you worry about that, dearie… you definitely do not belong in Slytherin… but now to decide… I think you do belong in RAVENCLAW!” Mackenzie winced as the hat shouted the last word to the entire hall.

Mackenzie grinned and went to join Kevin at the Ravenclaw table. She glanced across the tables and found Montana’s face in the crowd, looking shocked. She waved, and her sister waved nervously back.

Mackenzie crossed her fingers under the table when, “Potter, Albus,” was called to the hat. There was a great deal of whispering and murmuring at the mention of his name. The Gryffindor table erupted into a cheer when the Hat placed him in their house only moments after it touched Albus’ head. He looked immensely pleased with himself, and also vaguely relieved. Mackenzie couldn’t help but feel sad that her friend was not in her house.

Finally, the sorting concluded with, “Weasley, Rose,” who was placed in Gryffindor. Headmistress Minerva McGonagall (A/N: I know JKR said that McGonagall will have moved on to other things, but I can’t picture her anywhere else but in the position of Headmistress… so here she is!) stood up to make her start of term speech. The hall listened attentively as she reminded everyone that the Forbidden Forest was strictly out of bounds, and that all items from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes were banned from the school grounds by caretaker Ben Kitch.

Mackenzie was pleasantly surprised when food finally appeared on the table. Kevin looked positively dumbfounded and was peering under the tablecloth to see where the food had come from. An older student chuckled at this display of curiosity.

“Don’t worry,” she said, turning towards Kevin and Mackenzie, revealing a shiny silver badge emblazoned with a ‘P’ on her chest, “lots of people do that their first night here. I’m Rayven Clearwater by the way. I’m a prefect, so if you ever need any help with anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Mackenzie McKinnon,” Mackenzie felt as if she was doing an awful lot of this introduction business today and was getting rather tired of it. Rather than say anything else, she spooned deliciously creamy mashed potatoes into her mouth.

“I’m Kevin Lewis,” Kevin said excitedly, his food forgotten on his plate, “I just love it here already, I can’t wait for classes to start, it’s going to be fantastic! What’s a prefect?”

Rayven looked a bit taken aback by the amount he managed to spew from his O shaped mouth in one breath. She did answer his question after a moment though, “A prefect is an older student that is in a leadership position in the school. We have permission to give and take points from the four houses. We’re sort of like McGonagall’s extra eyes and ears so to speak.”

Kevin nodded solemnly, and seemed to remember the food on his plate. He dove back into the roast, all talk, for once, forgotten as he enjoyed a wonderful meal with his new friend.

even the stars are ill at ease

2007-07-29T09:41:07Z

Ok, so reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows has made me want to write Harry Potter fanfiction. I know I'm probably just butchering JK's perfect world, but whatever. I felt like writing, and this is what came to me. Set in the 'nineteen years later' timeframethingerbopper. I'm so articulate. Anyway. MAJOR DEATHLY HALLOW SPOILERS... yeah. You've been warned.

“It’s not fair, Mum, why does she get to do magic? She hasn’t even been to school yet!” whined thirteen year old Montana McKinnon. Montana was entering her third year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and was once again bemoaning the fact that Under-aged witches and wizards could not do magic over the summer holidays.

Montana’s eleven year old sister, Mackenzie, stuck her tongue out at her older sister, while prodding a biscuit with a wand, trying to make it fly in a wholly unsuccessful attempt. She studied her sister’s old spell book, The Standard Book of Spells: Grade One, and mouthed the incantation that it said would make objects fly.

Justine McKinnon, the girls’ mother, flicked her wand with ease at the grocery bags sitting on the kitchen counter, and all of the new purchases flew onto the shelves where they belonged before Justine turned to her daughters. “Montana, your sister gets to do magic because she has not yet been to Hogwarts, and the Trace hasn’t yet been put on her –” Montana crossed her arms and frowned, “– and Kenz, dear? It’s a flick rather than a prod.”

The corners of Mackenzie’s mouth twisted into a smile as her mother confirmed what her spell book had just told her. She flicked at the end of a long swish while saying clearly, “Wingardium Leviosa!” and the biscuit hovered feebly for a moment an inch above the table top, before dropping back onto the highly polished wood.

“Ooh, Mum! Look! She did it!” Montana squealed, momentarily forgetting her resentment towards her sister in favour of the pride she felt that her younger sister finally performed some real magic. Mackenzie flushed with pleasure and then handed the wand to her sister.

“Thanks for letting me borrow your wand,” she said with a devilish grin on her heart shaped face.

Montana flushed with fury, snatching the wand out of her sister’s hand exclaiming, “I never said you could use my wand!” She turned on her heel and marched out of the room and down the hallway.

Justine and Mackenzie heard her bedroom door slam a moment later. Justine rounded on her daughter, “Don’t use other peoples’ wands without their express permission. It’s extremely rude, and frankly quite dangerous!”

“Sorry, Mum,” Mackenzie said quietly.

“Now, when your father gets home, we can take a trip out to Diagon Alley. It’s getting late to be picking this stuff up; I know… school starts next week. But your dad wanted to do this all together as a family. It’s a big deal you know, getting your first wand.”

Mackenzie didn’t need to be told it was a big deal. She was excited. She had been waiting for this day since she was nine, and went to Diagon Alley with her family, and watched Montana try wand after wand after wand in Ollivander’s shop.

“Now, go keep yourself occupied for a bit. Your dad should be home any minute now,” Justine said, shooing Mackenzie from the kitchen. Justine pulled her sheet of shiny black hair onto a loose ponytail at the base of her neck before proceeding to tidy the kitchen. Justine was a graceful beauty; full, red lips blossoming against a flawless, snow white complexion. Pale grey eyes tempted from beneath thick lashes, and everyone teased her that this was why her husband married her.

Nathan McKinnon had curly brown hair and dark brown eyes, and was of the muscular build generally found in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; he was a Patrolwizard with the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol. He had met his wife at Hogwarts (both had been in Gryffindor house) and they had married at the age of nineteen. A year later, they moved into the house Nathan grew up in when his parents decided that a peaceful, ocean-side cottage was more suited to their retirement than an elegant two story house on the outskirts of London.

At the age of twenty two, they welcomed the arrival of their first child, Montana. A feisty, dark haired little girl with a devilish glint in her chocolate brown eyes, Montana had been a handful from the moment she learned to walk. Her greatest pleasure was taunting her sister Mackenzie, who was born when she was two.

Mackenzie and Montana were as opposite as they came. Mackenzie was tall and slender where her sister was shorter and rather chubby (she insisted it was ‘woman meat’). Her black hair hung in loose spirals that trailed down past her shoulder blades, but Montana’s hair was lighter and pin straight.

Montana was outgoing and friendly; both intelligent and athletic – a Beater on the Gryffindor Quidditch team – and made friends quickly and easily. Mackenzie was a bit softer spoken, but a far cry from being considered ‘shy’. She was intelligent like her sister, and thoroughly enjoyed the logic puzzles in the back of the Daily Prophet. Growing up in a Muggle neighbourhood, the opportunities to make friends were limited (it was difficult for youngsters to keep their secrets), so Mackenzie only had one friend: Albus Potter, the youngest son of Ginny and Harry Potter.

Ginny and Justine had been acquaintances during school, but had not become friends until their sixth year when Lord Voldemort was at the height of his power, and everyone became a lot closer to each other than they normally would have been. Mackenzie and Albus were forced friends, because their families often had dinner together. Similar in personality, they got along quite well.

Mackenzie lay flat on her back on her bed, taking in her bedroom that starting next week, she would not see for several long months. Her walls were a pale lilac, and the curtains on the windows and the linens on her single bed matched. Her furniture was a pristine white. That was where the perfect order that Justine prized so much in her home ended. Mackenzie’s walls were a hodgepodge of posters and photos. Her family waved at her in black and white from next to a poster of the Puddlemere United Quidditch team, in their robes of navy blue.

She heard her father’s voice float down the hall. It was time to go to Diagon Alley! She raced into the kitchen, slamming her door against the wall and causing her mother to wince. She threw her arms around her father, “Hi Dad! Can we go to Diagon Alley now? Pleeeeeeease!”

At the mention of Diagon Alley, Montana made an appearance in the doorway, her favourite pink robes on over a pair of faded denim jeans. During the holidays, Montana dressed in what her mother considered a strange style; a mixture of Muggle and wizarding attire. She strode over to the fireplace, grasping the ceramic urn that held their Floo powder. She opened the lid, and Justine dipped her hand into it, pulling out a handful of the powdery green substance, and tossing it into the pleasantly crackling fire that was highly unnecessary in the summer heat.

“Diagon Alley!” she called, before spinning off into oblivion. Montana followed suit, then Mackenzie. She fell out of the grate, colliding with Montana – much to her sister’s distaste – and stood up to take in Diagon Alley.

The famously bustling Diagon Alley was filled with interesting shops and interesting people. They set off once Nathan stepped out of the gate, heading towards Gringotts Bank.

Once the elder McKinnons had filled their pockets with money (and given their daughters a few Sickles to spend on their whims), they headed off towards Ollivander’s. The shop was no longer run solely by the old Ollivander. He had picked up an apprentice several years ago whose name was Andrew Kirke.

“Welcome,” he said with a smile as they stepped into the musty shop. “Good to see you, Nathan. How’s everything at the Ministry?”

“It’s going quite well, all things considering. We had someone trying to enchant a telephone booth this morning, but that was minor. No harm done,” Nathan smiled conversationally at an old Hogwarts classmate.

“Excellent, excellent,” he said, turning towards Mackenzie, who flushed under his gaze. “What can we do for you today, young lady?” he asked.

“I’m – I’m here to get a wand,” she said, finding her voice stronger than she’d thought it would be.

Andrew clapped his hands together in excitement, “Well then, we’d better get your measurements!” He whipped out a tape measure and left it to measure and record all of Mackenzie’s measurements while he ran around the shop, pulling wands off of the shelf.

Mackenzie had waved only two wands, when she picked up a third, deciding to have another attempt at making objects fly. She pointed at the empty box she had just removed her wand from, and said quickly, “Wingardium Leviosa!”

Much to her surprise, the box soared into the air and hovered feet above their heads. Mackenzie flushed, and set it down softly on the stack of wands beside her. Mr. Kirke looked shocked.

“Well, well, well! It certainly looks as though we’ve found you a wand!” he said happily. “That certainly didn’t take very long,” he glanced at the wand. “It’s made of willow; quite springy. Nine and three quarter inches long, with a phoenix feather core. Good wand, this one. Seems to like you a lot,” he rambled, shutting the lid of the box with Mackenzie’s wand safely inside.

They left the shop, Mackenzie happily clutching her new wand, and headed down to Flourish and Blotts bookshop. Her parents had agreed that they would buy her a new set of books that would be completely her own, so she was free to write and highlight whatever she needed in them. Montana still often referred to her spell books from first year, and wasn’t very keen on letting her younger sister have them. They selected the complete set of books she would need, as well as the new books Montana required for her new courses: Arithmancy and Muggle Studies.

Justine had scoffed at first at Montana’s choice of Muggle Studies. She was a pure-blood witch that married into a pure-blood family, and was very proud of her lineage. Friends were convinced that Nathan kept her grounded, and her own family had been surprised when she was not placed in Slytherin, as her entire family, as well as extended (her second cousin, Draco Malfoy, was a Slytherin during his days in Hogwarts) had been.

They stopped at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour for sundaes, and Mackenzie set her wand in the centre of the table, opening the lid so she could look at it. She couldn’t wait to try out the spells in her new books. She worried that perhaps she wouldn’t be able to do everything the other students could. Maybe they would laugh at her. She bit her lip and tried not to think about it.

Their next stop was Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. She stood on a stool, the black Hogwarts robes that would soon be hers being pinned and fitted just right for her slim build. Montana yawned openly, wanting nothing more than to go home. “Be patient,” Nathan whispered, “she was patient for you two years ago.”

Finally it was time to go home. On their way back to the grate they had come out of, Mackenzie noticed a young blonde woman sitting beside a box, with a sign that said “For Sale: Four Sickles” pasted on the front. Mackenzie grabbed her father’s hand and dragged him over to peer in the box. Six gambolling kittens were falling all over each other in the bottom of the box.

The woman popped her gum, “Four sickles if you want one. They’re good at finding things you’ve lost.”

“Oh, Dad, can I have one, please?” Mackenzie tugged on his sleeve.

Nathan shrugged, “You’ll be taking it to Hogwarts with you, and you have enough money. I don’t see why not.”

Mackenzie let out a squeal of delight. She reached into her pocket and grasped the four Sickles her parents had given her at the start of the day and handed them to the woman. She bent down into the box to select a kitten.

After watching them for a moment, she pulled a pale grey striped one from the litter. “Thank you,” she said to the woman, cradling the kitten in her arms as they walked away.

“Can we go home now?” Montana asked her parents with a heavy sigh.

Justine chuckled, “Yes, we can.”

It didn't make sense not to live for fun

2007-07-26T18:36:52Z

SoOoOoOoOoOoOo excited. That's right. Campingggg in twelve days! My mum booked me some campsites yesterday!! (thumbs up) And... yeah... I'm just really stoked. So there. Thought I'd tell the world.

Keyboard Mashing

2007-07-13T07:38:30Z

Yeah... I want to move out of my house.

My mother is driving me crazy. I feel so incredibly trapped by her rules and everything... I just need to get out. Unfortunately, I have to wait til I graduate 'til I'm allowed to leave, because of money for university. Basically, if I try to leave before I graduate I won't get any money help with university.

I think I just need to keyboard mash. So.

;AEsfmnzslfgn;;awqlnFS;kndLFANSDNGAL;DSMVFXKNLKjlkwsjd;lfkasngKLSJ"gjklljdz;kjatnglhekn[oWQVLM;DCS,Z/X.L,RELKNGAL,agmzdfmvclmngflNQWOLK23 409UPOTAWRSLMFD,.WM.AKNDc vwlekjknfas,.t' Qi#T02

Yeah. Ok. I'm alright now.

twisted angel

2007-07-12T09:46:49Z

Yay! An update! I really don't have a lot to say... other than it feels really disjointed to me. This is sort of a filler chapter before I get to the stuff I really want to write, but some important stuff happens in it that is more 'therapy' that plot progression.

Anyway, hope you enjoy. See if you can spot my insanity leaking out in the paragraphs ;)

I apologize for the nature of these ramblings. I'm in a weird mood.

Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three

Something's just about to break
- Breaking Benjamin

Addison put a bottle of Advil on the counter beside the box of soda crackers and a bottle of ginger ale. She knew her daughter was going to be hungover, judging by the amount of noise Samantha had made stumbling in the door the night before. She was the worried mother, as much as she tried to deny it, and had finally decided that it was time she let Samantha in on the fact that she knew about her daughter’s drinking.

Addison wasn’t entirely sure what was to be accomplished by this revelation; only that she was doing it in the form of something a lot like sympathy. No… it wasn’t sympathy, for Addison had no compassion for those who inflicted pain upon themselves through the consumption of an excess of alcohol. She herself had been there, and while she was empathetic and understood one hundred percent what her daughter was experiencing while trying to vomit silently (a thoroughly impossible task) and pretending that she did not have a headache (the barely perceptible wincing at light and noise gave it away every time), she did not feel sorry for her daughter at all.

At any rate, she found herself laying out food, drink and drug on her way to work on that Saturday morning, thoughts of Mark and his letters beginning to slowly encroach upon her mind. She drove to work, more distracted than usual and almost caused an accident just outside the clinic. Walking into the office, heart still pounding and the screeching of tires still screaming in her ears, she tried hard to forget everything in her life other than work. Not that it was difficult, as Naomi was already hurrying over with an armful of client files and a concerned look on her face.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said, pausing a brief moment before dumping the files in Addison’s arms.

“Not a ghost. Almost caused a freeway accident,” Addison responded, moving quickly to prevent herself dropping the topmost file.

“What’s on your mind?” Naomi asked. As the best friend, it was her job to be aware of what caused Addison’s driving to worsen and, as it was with many people, thought overload was the usual culprit.

“Just… stuff. I let Sam know that I know she drinks – did that make sense? – And –” here she hesitated, unsure for a fleeting moment if she should tell Naomi of her correspondence with Mark. She decided against it, wanting to wait until he’d replied to her letter before she started telling people that they talked, in some fashion, “– I ran out of milk this morning, so I couldn’t have my Cheerios or milk in my coffee,” she said hurriedly, not telling a lie, but putting forth something that should not have been very believable or worthy of such hesitation.

Luckily, Naomi had not noticed this subtly, but focused instead on the subject of Samantha and the alcohol, “What made you do it?” Naomi asked, curious.

Addison shrugged, shifting the files in her arms as she hurried towards her office, “I’m worried she’s going to get herself in trouble, and… maybe I can talk her out of it?” the last part was more of a question, a display of how much she had no idea what she was doing.

“Good luck with that,” Naomi grimaced and checked her watch, “I’ve got to go meet a patient now, so…”

“Lunch,” Addison sighed.

“Lunch.”

---

She’d never had a hangover this bad. Samantha was curled up with her duvet cover in the bathtub beside the toilet, and tried to sip the ginger ale that had been left on the counter. She wretched as she thought of the fact that her mother knew of her escapades, and the horrifying thought that she would soon be in trouble, coupled with far too much scotch, caused her to lean over and empty the contents of her stomach once again.

So much for that ginger ale.

She nibbled on a soda cracker and winced when she hit her head on the shower wall. She should have thought to bring a pillow. She sighed, squeezing her eyes shut and groaning. This is going to end. It’s just a hangover.

With a start, she realized that through the brutality of the morning, she had completely forgotten the events of the night before. Ben had kissed her. It hadn’t felt awkward, and she knew it wasn’t just a drunken hook-up. They were such good friends, and finally – perhaps under the influence of alcohol, but Samantha wasn’t complaining – finally circumstances had arisen where her dreams had come true… as cheesy and cliché as that sounded.

She couldn’t help but smile to herself at the thought of the two of them in a relationship, which was actually plausible now. Unfortunately, her hangover was all but forgotten and she found herself leaning over the toilet bowl once more.

---

Addison chewed on the end of a pencil, staring at the first line of a new patient’s medical records. She was supposed to be reviewing the records to detect potential causes of the increased fetal heart rate in the twins her client was carrying. Unfortunately, thoughts of her daughter’s extra curricular activities and her …. Mark filled her head and made it impossible to concentrate on the task at hand.

Lunch with Naomi had not been very helpful towards her problem with Samantha. She was still unsure as what path to take in the situation. She didn’t want to have to ground her daughter, because that would be the beginning of a vicious circle of Samantha sneaking out, and Addison trying to find a privilege to take away. She also didn’t want her daughter drinking, especially at such a young age. She had an addictive personality, and Addison worried that it could lead to future problems along the lines of alcoholism.

And then there was Mark. She hated that snail mail could take days to process, and to top it off, she’d sent the letter on the weekend so that would add an extra two days to delivery time. She wanted to talk to Mark now. She wanted to apologize for taking off. She wanted to be held in his arms. She wanted to cry all her tears of anger, hurt and frustration that she had kept safely bottled up inside of her for sixteen years.

Addison was used to bottling things up. She’d had to remain strong for her daughter and, when she’d first arrived in LA, she’d also had to stay strong for Naomi, who was going through her divorce. But by the time Addison had an opportunity to let it all out she was too far into the habit of pushing her own emotions aside in favour of others’ needs.

She didn’t think she’d be able to ignore everything for too much longer.

---

5:43 pm, Benj22 has signed in.

Sammie83: hey, how’re u feeling?

Benj22: not great, haha

Sammie83: me neither… too much booze last night

Sammie83: i had fun tho

Benj22: ya i did too

Benj22: great birthday party

Sammie83: agreed

Sammie83: so whats going on between us now?

Benj22: uh what do you mean?

Sammie83: do you remember last night?

Benj22: lol i wasn’t that drunk

Sammie83: well then you know what i mean

Benj22: …well…i…don’t…know… what… to… say…

Sammie83: start with… maybe, why you kissed me?

Benj22: i don’t really know. felt right i guess.

Sammie83: yeah it did

Benj22: well i don’t think we should worry bout it. its not like it meant anything.

Sammie83: oh

Sammie83: yeah it didn’t mean anything

Benj22: anyway, im gonna header

Benj22: peace babe

6:04 pm, Benj22 has signed out.

---

Addison noticed that Samantha was oddly quiet during dinner. She poked her peas half-heartedly, and barely touched her potatoes, which were usually the first things gone from her dinner plate. She didn’t press much, preferring to let her daughter suffer with the hangover that Addison assumed was causing the odd behaviour.

Finally with a heavy sigh, Samantha pushed her chair back and removed her largely uneaten dinner from the table. She kept her face hidden behind the mass of red hair as she ambled sullenly into the kitchen. Addison heard her wrapping the plate in plastic wrap and stowing it in the fridge for later.

Addison let her daughter go to her room and allowed herself to drown once again in thoughts of Mark, and what he might look like after all of these years. Had he retained his handsome, chiselled features? Were his eyes as expressive as always? For some reason, she allowed herself to believe she would find out soon.

---

Samantha brushed her teeth for the fourth time that day, trying desperately to remove the taste of alcohol from her mouth; as if she could clear away any remnants of the kiss she and Ben had shared. She spat into the sink with disgust. The normally white foam was tinged a pale pink. Her eyebrows furrowed as she checked her gums in the mirror. Her ferocious brushing had made her gums bleed. Overcome by her hurt, she gripped the sink with both hands, and allowed her toothbrush to fall from her mouth into the slowly oozing pink foam.

Samantha couldn’t ever remember feeling so hurt. It meant nothing. She’d been such a fool, believing that he’d ever go for her. A tear fell into the sink and startled her, for she hadn’t realized she was crying. She squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in air, holding back a sob. She couldn’t let her mother hear. Then she’d ask what was wrong, and ‘nothing’ was not a satisfying answer. This wasn’t something she was going to talk about with her mother. This wasn’t something she was going to talk about with anyone. She’d been completely humiliated, and it was all her fault.

If she hadn’t allowed herself to fall into the stupid delusions that she could ever have something with Ben, the guy who could have any girl he wanted, she wouldn’t be in this situation. But naturally, she had fallen into his trap just as so many girls had before her. He was charming, sweet, funny and there was something about the way he treated girls that was simply irresistible. Everything inside of Samantha screamed that he was the perfect guy for her. Obviously, judging by how their kiss had meant ‘nothing’… he wasn’t.

She’d once heard Tia telling Kate Somers that Ben was bad news. She’d said that if Kate expressed any interest in a relationship, Ben would give her the ‘I’m a lone horse’ speech, about how he couldn’t be tied into a relationship right now. She hadn’t taken it seriously at the time, as Tia had despised Kate since grade school, and Samantha thought it was nothing more than a bitchy attempt at keeping Kate away from her friend. Now though, that she’d experienced the way Ben deals with people he hooks up with… it was becoming clear to her that he wasn’t the amazing guy she thought he was.

She rinsed out the sink in defeat, placed her toothbrush in the cup with a soft clink, and shuffled out of the bathroom. Crawling into bed, she buried her face in her pillow and cried.

When Addison heard the muffled sobs from the room next door, somehow, she knew what her daughter was crying over a boy. Not just any boy either, but one who had hurt her beyond belief. Far too aware of the feeling, Addison’s heart broke at every gut wrenching sob. She quietly set down her book on the end table and removed her glasses, setting them carefully atop her novel. Taking a deep breath, she walked down the hall and knocked softly on the door.

The sobs stopped quite suddenly, but no response was received. She pushed open the door slowly, hearing it creak softly on its hinges. Samantha was curled up in the fetal position, facing the wall. She seemed to be trying to make herself as small as possible. She did not move as her mum crossed the room and slid carefully under the blankets with her daughter, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close.

Samantha was tense for a moment before letting out a great shuddering breath that turned into a choking sob. Addison pulled her closer and with her free hand stroked her hair. She kissed the top of her head and whispered, “I’m right here, baby.”

A/N: So... er.... yeah... what do you think?

twisted angel

2007-07-10T09:31:39Z

Alright... I definitely feel bad for not updating this in so long, but I sort of hit a writer's block.... Anyway, my muse has returned, and here's the next chapter!

Edit: The links should work now!

Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two

...losing all semblance of coherence to a former self
you know, I am becoming the choices we're making.
                                                                     - Against Me

           The most annoying, obnoxious sound shook Samantha from her sleep. Disoriented, she felt around in the dark for the source of the sound; it definitely was not her alarm clock. Her hand connected with something hard on her nightstand, sending whatever it was crashing to the floor. “Dammit,” she muttered, feeling around on the floor. It was the phone, and it was ringing. She’d taken too long to answer it though, and it had ceased in its insufferably shrill ringing. She put the phone back on her nightstand and pulled the covers closer around her chin.

She was drifting back to sleep again when she was ever so rudely yanked into reality by the ringing phone. She answered it without a care for the usual niceties, grunting, “What?”

“You don’t have to speak to me like that,” Addison was slightly shocked at the intensity in her daughter’s voice. “I was just calling to make sure you were up. I had to leave early because of an emergency down here with a patient.”

“Mum, I’m sixteen years old. I can get myself up and out of bed,” Samantha protested. A tiny voice in the back of her mind told her to stop talking and be nicer, but she was too tired to comprehend.

“I don’t want to hear that tone of voice, Samantha! Get out of bed and go to school. I’ll be phoning in twenty minutes so you have time to shower, and you’d better answer the phone,” she hung up abruptly, leaving Samantha hanging on the end of the line. Samantha slammed the phone down and, in a stroke of brilliance, turned off the ringer before slipping back into a glorious sleep.

---

Addison sat in her office with the final letter from Mark. She’d spent the night reading, and when she’d realized she was at the last unopened letter, she’d put everything away and slid the sealed envelope into the drawer. Now she was about to read the last one, postmarked two weeks ago and addressed to the Oceanside Wellness Group, C/O Addison Montgomery.

Addison,

It’s been awhile; months, in fact, since my last letter. It’s right around our child’s sixteenth birthday. I know, because even though I could barely remember my own birthday, I’ve been marking your due date from sixteen years ago on every calendar I’ve bought since then. I thought maybe you could tell her who I am for her birthday present this year. I’m sure she’s beautiful and looks just like you. Give her a birthday hug from me.

Mark

Addison can’t quite believe that he’s written to her fairly regularly for the past sixteen years. Despite the evidence in her hands, it was still a remarkable thought to process. She couldn’t believe she had not once read any of those letters before. A part of her wished maybe she had. It was really difficult for her to go through them; letter after letter of subtleties she still understood after all these years. It was painfully obvious that he missed her as much as she missed him, and maybe life would be different now if she’d paid attention and read that first letter so many years before.

Maybe she wouldn’t be a single mother, struggling to balance home life and work. Maybe she wouldn’t be constantly at war with a daughter that reminded her of Mark every time Addison looked at her. Maybe she wouldn’t have had to deal with Pete and his desperate attempts to ask her out that had not changed, but simply grown more infrequent over the years. Maybe, Addison thought, I could actually let myself be happy.

Being happy was a major blocker in Addison’s life. She appeared happy so much of the time, and did enjoy herself. But in a perspective broader than that of day to day life, she knew she wasn’t fulfilled. She had not yet found her bliss. Sometimes, she dared to hazard a guess as to what might make her happy. The result was always the same, and it scared her that she might have missed out already.

It kept coming back to Mark.

Hands shaking slightly, Addison smoothed out the envelope and studied the return address on the letter. It was a Manhattan address, although Addison was unsure if it was the same address he resided at sixteen years prior. It really didn’t matter if it was… it was just easier to think of him writing from a familiar place than a strange one. Addison held onto this unrealistic notion that if she were to go back, everything would be as she left it; everyone would be the same. She knew it wouldn’t be, but it was a comfort to think there was some sort of constancy in the world.

She twisted her favourite pen so the ballpoint poked out the tip and pressed it to a clean sheet of paper with her very own Oceanside Wellness Group letterhead, From the Office of Dr. Addison Forbes Montgomery. She thought it looked ridiculous, but the rest of the office had voted on them. Biting her lip, she decided to quit procrastinating and actually get something on paper.

Mark,

It’s been awhile, I know… too long in fact. I have no excuses for never replying… except that I had not read a single one of your letters before last night. I’m not proud of my avoidance, because it made it so our daughter wouldn’t grow up with a father. Her name is Samantha Leigh Montgomery. No, she doesn’t have your last name… I decided that I’d let her decide if she wanted it when she was old enough to make the decision for herself.

Enclosed is a picture of Sammy. She has your eyes.

Addison

Addison sealed the envelope and addressed it to the return address on the latest letter from him. She couldn’t believe that in all the forms of communication that there were these days, she was using snail mail. Subconsciously, she knew it was her way of trying to delay the inevitable of a return letter with him asking her if he could meet their daughter.

She licked the stamp and pressed it to the corner of the envelope before sliding it inconspicuously under another piece of paper in her outbox.

---

“Where the hell have you been?” Tia hissed as Samantha slid into the seat in front of her moments after the bell rang to signal the start of class after lunch.

“Sleeping,” Samantha whispered back, staring straight ahead at what their English teacher was writing on the board.

“Your mum let you?”

“She doesn’t know.”

“How’d you get here?”

“I skateboarded.”

Tia sometimes didn’t understand Samantha. Tia was a rebellious teenager like the best of them, but didn’t understand the concept of sleeping in on a school day simply because she could. She knew her mum would completely flip out if she ever went to school ‘when she felt like it’.

To Samantha’s left sat Ben. “Happy Birthday,” she said quietly, grinning.

“Hey thanks,” he whispered softly, “good to see you.”

Samantha smiled, “Yeah, I came just for you,” she teased. Deep down she knew there was more truth to the sentence than she let on. Ben had the cutest, slightly crooked smile, and black hair that he was often sweeping out of his intense green eyes. She’d gotten herself lost in those eyes more than once, which always lead to the scary, awkward silence that should never happen between ‘just friends’.

She noticed he was wearing the Anti-Flag t-shirt she’d gotten him at the last concert she went to. They were his favourite band, and he’d been so disappointed that he couldn’t go with her; she had to bring him back a souvenir. As usual, concert paraphernalia was ridiculously overpriced at the show, but it had all been worth it for the hug she’d received when she’d presented it to him, and his exclamation of ‘You’re the best, Sammy!’ Not that he would ever notice her in a way beyond that of close friendship…

Forcing herself to stare ahead again, Samantha let herself drown in other thoughts. She thought about the handsome man in the picture who was her father, and her mother’s ex husband… who, now that she was thinking about it, looked vaguely like a young Russell Crowe. Her father’s face swam into view, and it shocked her momentarily that she had a face to go with the name that went with the idea. She had a father, his name was Mark, and they shared the same eyes.

She was suddenly struck by the overwhelming desire to meet this stranger. She didn’t really know why, but she thought that she needed to. After sixteen years of not knowing who her father was, she almost felt obligated. On the other hand, why hadn’t he ever tried to come meet her? Before Samantha allowed a decent amount of fury and hurt to build up at this revelation, she remembered who her mother was.

Addison was a force to be reckoned with. Stubborn and proud, she always worked it out so she won the argument. Samantha had had difficulties with that throughout the years; the most common argument being one of Addison forgetting something Samantha had told her, but claiming she’d never informed her mother in the first place. This one was actually impossible to win, because neither side had solid proof they were right, and it was always Addison, ‘because she said so’.

Samantha doubted that her difficulties with her mother were any different than the difficulties Mark had faced if he’d tried to contact Addison or visit Samantha. He may have tried, but she’d probably manipulated, convinced, or otherwise forced him into leaving and not returning.

“Earth to Sam!” whispered Tia.

“What?” Samantha snapped rudely. She was not a fan of being yanked out of things like sleep or deep thought.

“Jeez, bite my head off. Anyway, here,” she slipped a folded piece of paper into Sam’s hand.

Are you coming tonight?

“Coming where?” Sam asked. Tia put her finger to her lips and hissed at her before hastily scribbling something else. She handed her a second piece of paper.

Ben’s SURPRISE birthday party on the beach, of course. Jared is getting us a keg.

Jared was Tia’s older brother, and often served as a boot for the young girls. Samantha couldn’t believe that she had not been informed of this party. She knew it was Ben’s birthday – he was, after all, only two days younger than her. This age difference of less than forty eight hours was something she took pride in lording over him. But Samantha thought it was weird she didn’t know about it, as between the four of them – herself, Tia, Ben and their other friend Luke – you would be hard pressed to find a closer set of friends. Appalled, Samantha wrote back in an angry scribble,

Must be a real surprise. No one told me about it.

What?! I told you yesterday!

No you didn’t.

Yes! I did! You said, “Of course I’ll be there! Who’s bringing the alcohol?”

Samantha screwed up her face, as it did seem like something she would say. She could not, for the life of her, remember the situation though. She shrugged as the bell rang, “Yeah I’m coming.”

“Coming where?” Ben asked, swinging his backpack onto one shoulder.

“To the lake tonight to hang out after dinner,” Tia said casually without missing a beat. “Do you want to come?”

“Why not?” he shrugged, “I’ll just have to eat dinner at home… my mum’s big on ‘family birthdays’,” he laughed, putting those words ‘family birthday’ in air quotes.

“Alright. See you out there then,” Tia said waving as they went off in separate directions.

---

“I’m going to the beach with Tia, mum!” Samantha yelled from the kitchen as she stood on tiptoe, carefully slipping a bottle of scotch into her backpack, tugging up the zipper as quietly as she could. She frequently took alcohol from her mother, and it shocked her that she was never caught.

“Alright, be home by one, please!” Addison called back, after hearing the door of the alcohol cupboard shut in the muffled fashion of someone trying to be sneaky.

Addison knew her daughter had been drinking for the past four months, ever since that first bottle of vodka had gone missing from the cupboard. She never said anything, because while she didn’t approve of underage drinking, she knew it would happen and she’d rather her daughter drink something from home than a possibly dangerous drink that someone handed her in a plastic cup. She never had worked out why she pretended not to know.

Addison heard the front door slam, and once more pulled out the photograph of her and Mark atop the Empire State Building.

Samantha carelessly tossed her skateboard down on the smooth pavement and leapt on with a grace borne of ballet lessons until the age of ten. Gaining speed as she boarded down the hill, she brushed her hair carelessly out of her face and rounded the corner to follow the road that would take her to the beach. She knew she was lucky, living only about a ten minute walk from the beach.

When she arrived at the beach, she stepped on the end of her skateboard, kicking it up into her hand just as rough pavement met soft sand. A fire was blazing beside a keg and there were about thirty people already milling about. Samantha knew there were more on their way. It took her no time to find her best friend, who was holding court amongst a crowd of young men. Tia was clearly a bit buzzed already, judging from the screech of “Sammy! You made it!” that sprung from her lips mid sentence at the sight of her friend.

“Yes I most certainly did,” Samantha laughed, removing the bottle of scotch from her backpack and cracking the seal. “Is Ben here yet?” she asked in what she hoped was a nonchalant way. It didn’t matter, of course, because the subtlety was obviously lost on anyone in earshot.

“Nope! He’s family dinnering,” Tia smirked, taking another swig of her beer.

“Ah,” Samantha sipped her scotch, scanning the crowd for familiar faces. Suddenly the world went black as hands covered her eyes. She jumped in surprise, but knew who it was immediately. Spinning around, she found herself with her hands on Ben’s chest and his arms still around her shoulders. “Happy birthday,” she grinned, offering him her scotch.

He shook his head, nodding to the keg, “I don’t know how you drink that foul stuff,” he said.

Samantha shrugged, “It gets me drunk fast, and I don’t mind the taste.”

“Lucky you. I’ll stick to the beer for now,” he grinned, his eyes twinkling in the firelight. He pulled her forward, one arm casually draped over her shoulder as they made their way to the keg.

Luke grabbed Ben’s arm and yanked him into a tight group of guys, ready to give the unfortunate Ben a rowdy set of birthday bumps, and Samantha stepped back to watch with Tia, taking another sip of her drink and laughing at the show. The festivities really began as people treaded further along the path of intoxication, and skinny dipping and fire jumping was started by the adventurous souls.

Samantha was sitting on a log with Tia a short way away from the fire. A guy she had never seen before grabbed Tia by the arm and dragged her away to dance, Tia laughing and spilling whatever drink was in her cup. Samantha was left alone with her less than sober thoughts for a moment before Ben came and plopped down beside her.

“This is the life,” he said, nudging her in the ribs.

“Yeah,” she smiled, the soft haze of the scotch blurring the edges of her mind.

Her senses gave a half hearted prickle as he brushed a loose strand of hair from her eyes. She leaned into him with a pleased sigh and he pulled her closer. She wasn’t really aware of what was going on in the same way she normally would have been, but suddenly his mouth was on hers and she dropped her bottle of scotch, forgotten in the sand at her feet as she indulged in what she was sure was a dream.

Chapter Four

rest in peace, puppy

2007-07-01T07:44:47Z

My mum and dad put my dog down the other day... he wasn't old. Just unpredictable. And we have too many little kids in the neighborhood to keep him around... so my baby's gone. Rest in peace, Louie.

zomg

2007-06-21T16:58:12Z

I gots new mood smileys... they make me happy!!!!! Woo.
K, I just wanted an excuse to use them... so here.

Take a step back

2007-06-20T08:25:50Z

So here's me, looking at the world from outerspace. Maybe standing on a star or something. And I realize just how small and insignificant any 'problems' i think I have are. In the grand scheme of things, I have a damn good life. I hate that I forget that sometimes while getting caught up in the little things.

twisted angel

2007-06-19T07:44:34Z

Alright, so this update is coming WAY sooner than I'd anticipated. It's because I didn't spend enough time studying... hm. Anyway, enjoy!

Prologue
Chapter One

Tell me, baby, what’s your story?

-Red Hot Chili Peppers

The clink of utensils against plates cut across the guitar riffs of The Clash that was playing softly in the background. Addison loved The Clash; an obsession Samantha never understood because they were closer to her own preferred genre than her mother’s. The Clash had played at Warped Tour back in the day, a big punk rock tour that Samantha was planning to go next summer with Tia, Luke, and Ben.

Samantha wore the locket around her neck; a new accessory that looked strange with her faded Alexisonfire concert tee. She’d spent so much of the day thinking about the inscription on the back and playing different scenarios in her head where she asked her mother about the locket. It was going to be gentle and tactful. It would be a well thought out inquiry.

Samantha learned at a young age not to ask questions about her mother’s past, or the seemingly non-existent father. She remembered one rainy morning when she was about seven, playing in her mother’s jewellery box. She’d found two gold rings that fit together perfectly. Addison had walked into the room just as she had removed them from their resting place and taken them out of Samantha’s hands. When she’d asked what they were, Addison had said they were wedding rings. Samantha asked where her husband was.

‘It doesn’t matter.’

Something about the tone in her mother’s voice that scared Samantha into not asking questions. Now, however, she was getting curious.

“Who’s Mark?” she blurted out. There was no clink of utensils for a long moment.

Addison neatly set her fork down on the linen tablecloth. She had been expecting this. Taking a deep breath she spoke. “Mark Sloan is a plastic surgeon that is working in Manhattan at a private practice. He’s your father.”

Samantha sat in shocked silence. She finally had a name. After sixteen long years, she had a name to go on. When she finally managed to speak, her first question was not what she’d thought it would be when she finally found out the name of her father. She’d thought maybe, “Why isn’t he living with us?” would be the first question. Or perhaps, “Does he know I exist?” But no. She didn’t quite know what possessed her, but her first question was, “Why aren’t you wearing your wedding rings?”

Addison sighed, and remembered that day she’d caught Samantha with her wedding rings nine years ago. She knew the question would come up eventually. She knew she’d eventually have to tell her daughter about everything, but she’d spent a lot of time putting it off. Too much time, she’d decided last week. That was when she pulled the locket out of her jewellery box, disturbing the wedding rings it had lain beside.

“I was never married to your father,” Addison began, and was acutely aware of the immediate confusion that spread across her daughter’s face. “I was married to a man named Derek Shepherd. He and your father were best friends.”

Addison ran her tongue over her dry, cracked lips. Trying to keep her voice steady, she began to tell her daughter all of the facts. “Derek and I were married eleven years. We were both busy, successful surgeons with our time full with work, and trying to get ahead. We stopped making time for each other. Mark, Derek and I worked in the same practice where Mark is now. Mark would sometimes come over after work to keep me company if Derek had to work late. We were all friends; I thought nothing of it.”

Addison looked down at the table, ashamed of what she was about to reveal. She felt her cheeks redden as she spoke, “One night, after several glasses of wine, I found myself in bed with Mark. Derek came home and found us there. And then he left. He flew across the country to Seattle to work there. Mark and I lived together for two months. I fell in love with him, a love that I’d never had with Derek.”

Addison paused, and looked across the table at Samantha taking it all in. Samantha’s brows were furrowed in her usual expression of great concentration. She realized her mother had stopped talking and looked up to meet her eyes. “Don’t stop,” she said.

“I found out I was pregnant with you. I almost aborted my pregnancy. Mark though… he went out and bought this ridiculous Yankees onesie… told me he loved me. So I didn’t. I went out to Seattle to consult on a case for a friend. Derek had a new girlfriend. We signed the divorce papers, and I ended up flying back to Manhattan a day early. I arrived at work just in time that morning to see Mark coming out of an on call room with a nurse. That’s when I left. I came out here to see my very best friend, and have lived here ever since.”

They sat in silence. Addison picked up her fork again and prodded at her now cold potatoes. They slid around on her plate, soaking up the barbeque sauce that was all that remained of the steak. She looked across the table to see Samantha doing the same.

This was all a lot to digest for Samantha. Years and years without any information of her father; no pictures, no names, and now she had a name, and a story to go with it. She even knew what he did for work, and where he was. He was a plastic surgeon in Manhattan; a surgeon, just like her mother. “Do you have any pictures?” came the next inevitable question.

Addison smiled. “Yeah I do. I have wedding pictures, and staff pictures.”

“Can I see them?” Samantha asked, suddenly shy.

“Sure, I’ll go get them,” Addison stood up carefully from the table and went down the hallway to retrieve the box that hid at the back of her closet. It was a large shoebox, one that had at one point housed a pair of black suede Jimmy Choo knee high boots. The pair their old dog had chewed up one quiet evening. That was a sad day indeed. She opened the box, and dug through the multitude of envelopes that occupied the box and came to a large manila envelope that was wrinkled and torn on the sides from the many times it had been opened.

Stowing the box away again, she took the envelope out to Samantha. “These are mostly wedding pictures,” she said hesitantly. She stood behind her daughter’s chair as she slowly extracted the photographs from their hiding place. A much younger self beamed back at them, brilliant red hair flowing down the back of her long white dress. Addison smiled as the memories of that day came back. She’d been so happy. Derek held her close to him, his arms around her waist, and looking at her with nothing but pure adoration in his eyes.

“Derek?” Samantha asked, turning slightly in her seat to face her mother and pointing to a handsome dark haired man with bad 90’s hair. Addison nodded, and she turned back to the picture, taking in the fairytale atmosphere. It was hard to believe the young woman in this picture was the same person standing behind her, playing with a stray piece of Samantha’s hair. “You were beautiful, Mum.”

Addison smiled and kissed the top of her daughter’s head. Samantha smiled too, and turned to the next photograph. It was picture of Derek and another man standing side by side in tuxedos and laughing. “Mark,” Samantha said, more as a statement than a question. She knew immediately who it was. They had the same eyes; the same crinkle at the corners when they smiled. She also had his face shape; his sharp jaw-line. She grinned and said in a teasing tone, “you have good taste.”

Addison gave her a playful smack but said nothing as Samantha continued to flip through the photograph. They passed pictures of Addison’s first dance with Derek, and then more pictures of couples dancing. There was also, hidden amongst the pile, a candid photograph of Mark twirling her. The expression on his face was happy, but otherwise unreadable. He’d fallen in love with her, the romantic in Samantha nearly said aloud. She thought it best to keep her mouth shut about that subject for the moment.

“Mum,” she asked after she put the pictures down, “when was the last time you talked to Dad?” The word felt strange on her tongue. “Mark,” she added almost as an afterthought.

“I haven’t talked to him since I left,” Addison said honestly.

“So, he never tried to contact you?” Samantha asked, face falling. She was glad her mother was standing behind her and couldn’t see her face.

“I never said that. I didn’t want to talk to him though, so I never responded.” Addison said, feeling remorseful.

“Oh.”

They stayed stationary for several long moments. Samantha finally stood. “I think I’m going to go to bed,” she said. She had a lot to think about, and while it was still early in the evening, she wanted to be as alone as she could possibly get. Addison didn’t try and stop her, for she understood the need to be alone sometimes. She watched her daughter walk towards her bedroom; her sanctuary. Samantha fingered the locket around her neck as she sauntered down the hall.

After Addison had cleaned up the kitchen, she took the photos back into her room to put them away in their shoebox. She hesitated, seeing the pile of letters in the box once more. She searched around for a moment, pulled out the oldest letter, postmarked more than sixteen years ago, and slid her finger under the flap. The glue had long ago dried up, and it didn’t take much effort for the flap to loosen under her fingernail. She pulled out a short letter, and for the first time in more than sixteen years, she began to read.

Addison,

Please hear me out. I know that if you’ve finally sat down and agreed to read my letter that something big has happened. I hope this big event happens before too long, because I need to talk to you. Addison, I love you, and I realize now just what a huge mistake going into that on call room was. I need to tell you though, that I didn’t have sex with that nurse. I admit, I was planning on it, but when I got in there and she kissed me, all I could think of was you. I told her I couldn’t; that she wasn’t you. I wish you’d given me the chance to explain, although I can’t think that I’d really deserved it. But we’re good together, you and me. We’re good together, and I hope that you’ll give us one more chance; if not for us, then for our baby.

Let me try,
Mark

Addison wasn’t sure she believed the words he had written, based on the letter alone. But after a hundred more delivered to the Oceanside Wellness Clinic – Mark didn’t have her address, but made a good guess that she’d gone to her best friends – she knew that he was sorry (or, if not sorry, at least very, very desperate). She folded the letter and slid it carefully back into its envelope, before rifling around for the next one.

Midway into the third letter, she was startled by a tear on the paper, and sorrowful guitar chords coming muffled through the wall. She realized just how much she missed him, and reading for the first time words he had written so very long ago brought back the painful ache of loneliness she had learned to dull by delving into work and loving her beautiful daughter.

Samantha sat in her room with her six string acoustic across her lap. She plucked out slow chords and bit her lip as she thought of what’d she’d just been told. She let the sound of her slightly out of tune guitar wash over her in a discordant, slightly off kilter way. She struck a major chord and smiled as she thought of Mark’s face, happy beside her mother’s; spinning and twirling on the dance floor at her mother’s wedding to another man. She put her pick between her teeth and fingered the locket around her neck once more.

There was still so much to figure out. She knew she didn’t have the whole story, because she still had too many questions to ask. She’d save it for another night. Right now, she just wanted to play.

Chapter Three

Allergic to Numbers

2007-06-19T06:26:56Z

So I've been studying my ass off tonight. And it was definitely not fun. I think I'm developing an allergy to numbers. Plus, I can't figure out what log x = 2 cos x is... and it's driving me insane. Blah. Not to mention, my mum decided to be psycho bitch today and she tells me "You can't go play in National Band if you're not on the Principal's List!" Go suck pickles mum. I'm a good student and you know it.

Sigh. I miss my National Band bubble of non-reality where 9 hour rehearsals were normal and everyone was as nerdy as me.

Twisted Angel

2007-06-17T10:46:13Z

Alrighty, so here's the first chapter of Twisted Angel. I'm not exactly sure where I'm going with this fic, but as I said before, it's my self prescribed therapy... so... here goes.

Prologue

And I don't know, how we woke up one day somehow thought we knew,
Exactly what we're supposed to do.
-Rise Against

When Samantha’s alarm clock went off the next morning, she shut it off again. School was over rated. She’d tell her mum she didn’t feel well… it’s not like her mother stuck around in the mornings to actually see if she got off to school. She was probably already gone anyway.

“Sam, get out of bed. I’ll give you a ride to school,” came a knock at the door and the exact voice she didn’t want to hear right now.

“Yeah, yeah,” she groaned, throwing back the covers. So much for plan A. Her feet hit the cold hardwood floor with a faint smack and she saunters into the bathroom, passing her mother in the hallway.

“Good morning to you too,” she said, buttoning up her designer blouse as her daughter slouches by.

“Sorry mum, just not a morning person,” Samantha’s voice comes through the bathroom door right before any other words spoken are drowned out by the running water. Peace; at last. Samantha let the hot water run over her small frame longer than necessary before she finally began to shampoo her brilliantly red hair. She fingered the belly button piercing she’d let her friend do the night before and winced. It was red and tender still. It had better not get infected… she didn’t want to have to show her mother.

She padded back across the hall into her room, shivering all the while; the soft pink towel could only keep so much of the cool morning air off her porcelain skin. She dressed quickly in her usual uniform of faded jeans and an oversized concert tee, hating every second of being awake.

“Are you almost ready?” came her mother’s voice from the hallway, moments before Samantha blasted the hair dryer to make an attempt at looking presentable. Hot people don’t look like drowned rats. It just doesn’t happen.

Out in the hall, Samantha’s mother sighed and brushed a shock of her own bright red hair out of her eyes, glancing down at her wristwatch. She had patients to see, and her first scheduled client for the morning was, as a general rule, not happy when things did not run on her own, perfect time. “I’ll be in the car,” she finally said to the bedroom door.

“Yeah, whatever,” Samantha muttered, shutting off the hairdryer and tossing it aside onto the pile of dirty clothes. She grabbed her tattered backpack that held all of her most important possessions, and went into the kitchen in search of food. Sitting on the kitchen table was a small, brightly wrapped package with a crooked bow on top, amidst melted candles on tarnished silver candlesticks. Immediately she felt a twinge of guilt tugging at the pit of her stomach. She remembered her mum telling her to be home for dinner. It had been, after all, her sixteenth birthday. But she’d wanted to spend it with her friends, so she hadn’t bothered to even call home.

She carefully put the present into her backpack and swung it onto her back, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter before heading out the door. She loved her backpack. It was old, grubby, and falling apart. Her sewing whiz friend Jenn had more than once mended gaping holes in it. Yet Samantha refused to throw it out. Her mother had once gone out and bought her an identical, brand new backpack, but Samantha wouldn’t use it. Her mother didn’t get that money couldn’t buy the history this one had. It had housed her books for the past two years, and carried her alcohol the first time she’d gotten drunk. It had been stolen once, but returned to the office at school… missing her wallet and math homework of all things.

She slid into the passenger seat of the car, resting her backpack on the floor between her feet. Anti-Flag blasted from the headphones of her iPod as she prepared for a long awkward car ride. They drove for several moments in silence, passing the bus Samantha usually took in the mornings. “I’m sorry,” Samantha finally muttered, removing an ear bud from her ear.

“It’s fine.”

There was more silence. Samantha shifted awkwardly in her seat. She knew that tone of voice. It was definitely not fine. Her mother was livid and she was always sort of wary about how she approached these situations. She looked at the faded carry handle on her backpack and bit her lip.

“I do everything I can for you,” her mother’s voice came out soft and steady, and Samantha had to listen carefully to hear what was being said. She turned down the volume of her iPod. “I don’t know what else there is for me to do. What more do you want from me?”

“Nothing,” Samantha said in a hoarse whisper.

There was a silence as her mother tried to figure out what it was that was going on with her daughter. “If you’re not home by six o’clock tonight, that summer vacation that’s going to start next week? You’ll get to watch it fly by from your bedroom window.”

“Fine!” Samantha wrenched open the door as they pulled to a stop in front of the school.

“Oh, and happy birthday,” her mother spat out as Samantha slammed the car door and stalked away. Addison hit the steering wheel with both hands in frustration. She had simply no clue what to do about the direction she was afraid her daughter was heading.

The sun blasted onto her skin as she strode into the reception of the Oceanside Wellness Group, the current temperature foreshadowing the heat of the day. Addison pushed through the doors into the air conditioned room, and was immediately bombarded by Naomi and Dell; Dell with messages for me regarding cancellations and re-bookings, and Naomi wanting a consult.

“Guys, I just need a minute,” she said, wincing at the muddle of voices that she was hearing. It’s that incomprehensible assailment of sound that makes a person want to shut down when their brain already feels like it’s going to explode. In Addison’s case, she was already stressing about what to do with Samantha. The kind of high pressure situation she normally thrived on what sending her into sensory overload. She hurried into her office and shut the door behind her, breathing a sigh of relief at the momentary peace.

A minute later, a hesitant knock came at the door. Addison took a deep breath and opened the door, to see the concerned face of her best friend. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah – no – I don’t know,” Addison slouched into her chair.

“Samantha?” Naomi asked. There was something about the ‘best friend’ label that makes a person a mind reader.

“Ten points for Naomi,” Addison said. “She came home late last night, missed dinner, and then apologized this morning… but I didn’t accept her apology. I just sort of flipped out. I feel like I’m losing her.”

Naomi’s face became sympathetic and understanding; this was a situation that only a mother could relate to. “I went through that stage with Maya. It will pass. They’ll come back to you eventually. Don’t worry too much. She’s a good kid with a good head on her shoulders. She’s also a teenager.”

“I hate that I think you’re right but I can’t quite believe you anyway,” Addison sighed, adjusting her glasses. The phone rang, interrupting her thoughts and the progress of this conversation.

“Addison Montgomery,” she answered. It was Dell, informing her that her first patient of the morning, Delilah Fisher, was here and getting cranky about having to wait so long. “I’ve got to go, Naomi. Maybe we can do lunch?”

“Sure, I’ll be available,” Naomi smiled. “Don’t stress too much, ok?”

Addison nodded, perhaps only to placate her friend. “I won’t.”

---

“So are we going out to Luke’s tonight?” Samantha’s friend Tia caught up with her in the hallway.

“No I can’t. I have to be home by six tonight,” Samantha sighed.

Tia laughed, nudging into Samantha’s side, “That’s crap, it’s Friday night.”

“Mum said, and I quote, “If you’re not home by six o’clock tonight, that summer vacation that’s going to start next week? You’ll get to watch it fly by from your bedroom window.””

“She wouldn’t do that,” Tia said after a moment of careful consideration. Samantha often thought she could hear the gears clunking around in Tia’s brain.

“Yeah she would. You didn’t see her this morning. I think I really screwed up by not going home last night when she wanted me to. She made me dinner, I think. And there was a present still on the table this morning.”

“Ooh, what was it?” Tia said.

“I don’t know; I haven’t opened it yet…” She was starkly aware of the package weighing heavily in her backpack.

“You’re weird. I would have opened it right away.”

“Yeah well, hasn’t exactly been the best morning.”

“Fair enough.” The pair entered the History classroom as the bell rang.

“Hurry up, hurry up! Take your seats please, young ladies,” the History teacher, Ms. Moldenhaur took control of the class.

Ms. Moldenhaur began her lecture to the class, today on Hitler’s involvement in World War I. This subject usually intrigued Samantha, but this morning she found her mind wandering. It went around in circles, thinking about the night before and this morning’s interactions, but continually coming back to the package in her backpack. Finally, curiosity got the best of her, and in a sudden movement she unzipped her backpack and pulled out the brightly wrapped present. She untied the bow carefully, and tried to unwrap it with as little noise as possible.

A plain white box presented itself to her. She removed the lid, and there, lying on the cotton lining of the box, was a gold heart shaped locket on a delicate chain that she’d often seen her mother wearing. Samantha bit her lip, and suddenly felt incredibly guilty. She had to talk to her mum. She had to. Her hand shot into the air.

“… and Hitler’s Nazis – yes, Miss. Montgomery?”

“May I use the washroom please?” Ms. Mouldenhaur looked entirely displeased at being interrupted, for she liked to talk and listen to the sound of her own voice.

“Well, I suppose. Make it fast.”

“Thanks,” Samantha said, getting up out of her chair and hurrying from the room, the locket clasped tightly in her fist. Once outside the front doors of her school, she pulled her cell phone out of its case on her belt and pressed the number ‘2’. Her mother was on speed dial.

“Addison Montgomery,” came the familiar, friendly voice.

“Hi, Mum. It’s me.”

“What’s going on? Are you alright? Shouldn’t you be in class?”

Samantha couldn’t help but roll her eyes and smile at the over-protective concern. “Yes Mum, I’m fine. I just needed to talk to you,” she bit her lip and tucked a lock of red hair behind her ears.

“About what?” she asked warily.

“About your locket.”

“So – so you opened your present,” Addison couldn’t hide the shock in her voice.

“Yeah I did. It’s beautiful, mum. Thank you.”

Addison bit her lip and closed her eyes, fighting back the memories that threatened to make her cry. “You’re welcome,” was all she could manage. “Baby, I have to go. You need to get back to class. I’ll see you tonight. Six o’clock.”

“Yeah, ok.” Samantha flipped her phone shut, and turned the locket over in her fingers, the sun glinting off the surface. On the back was an inscription she’d never noticed before; Addison and Mark it read. Now Samantha was just confused. Who the hell was Mark? She flipped open her phone again and dialled her mum’s number. It rang through to voicemail and Samantha hung up in frustration. It was clearly time she returned to class.

So, that was ... interesting. Didn't end up how I'd planned. Oh well. Please let me know what you think so far.

xoxo, May

Chapter 2

Twisted Angel

2007-06-16T06:03:02Z

Ok, so I really shouldn't be starting another fic before I finish Flavour of the Week, but I have to, because writing is my therapy, and this is where I'm at right now.

Addison Montgomery hovered on the outskirts of the dim glow of candlelight that flickered, about to go out. The waxy stubs melted over the tarnished silver candle holders that had been a strange gift at a small, uncomfortable party nearly sixteen years ago. She glanced out the window into the street for the thousandth time that evening, this time to gaze upon the gloomy sight of a California sunset long past.

She sighed, and picked up the phone that was warm against her elbow, and pressed the faded numbers automatically. She bit her bottom lip as it once again never even rang and went straight to voicemail. The pre-recorded operator’s voice grated against her nerves as she hung up without leaving a message, and set the handset down with perhaps a bit more force than was necessary.

She stared for a moment at the single, empty chair at the opposite end of the small table, willing it to be filled. A small, brightly wrapped package lay just above the pristine white plate. Her sad blue eyes fell upon the tiny ribbon bow that she’d spent too much time perfecting drooped over the corner of the box, and she sighed again.

Her chair scraped and echoed through the empty house as she slid it back along the hardwood floor. Addison slowly began to cover the small dishes of cold food that adorned the table. After filling the fridge with what could be eaten tomorrow, she grabbed a box of cereal from under the counter and started eating Cheerios by the handful, right out of the box. She needed to curb the hunger in the pit of her stomach.

Real classy, she thought to herself as a few hit the linoleum and one fell down her shirt. She put the box away and picked the runaway Cheerios up off the floor. On second thought, maybe she was just eating for comfort. She shut off the kitchen light, and headed down the hall to bed.

She lay awake in the dark, tossing and turning, but not really trying to get to sleep. She was waiting for some reassurance before she would be able to. Finally, after about an hour of the slow torture, she heard the front door creak open and shut, and the sound of the deadbolt being dropped into place. Now she could finally sleep.

Chapter One

And it's all over now

2007-04-28T18:06:05Z

Gala for musicfest is tonight. They're going to be presenting awards (I won two), and some of my friends will be performing. They announced scholarship winners last night as well at the scholarship competition. Speech arts won $1000. And, I don't care how good you are at speech arts, or how much you like it... but it should not be in a MUSIC festival. A performing arts festival, sure. Anyway, it just frustrates me when a poem who's only word I remember is "incomprehensible" wins over a Mozart Horn concerto and a Beethoven piano sonata.

But on a happier note, I'm glad musicfest is over tonight. Now, I'll be able to get back to working my butt off in math, and maybe handing in some of my English homework on time.

Hm, so.

2007-04-25T07:06:33Z

Alright... so I've never posted a journal entry before. And I kind of have no idea what to say. So... because I'm sooooo interesting, I'll tell you about my piano competition.

So. I played my third piece in the festival tonight.
I've played so far:

Fox Dance - Leo Weiner
          - Didn't go very well... had a few momentary memory lapses... got second.
Le CouCou (Rondeau) - C. Daquin
          - Went well until the final couplet where I went completely blank... got first, surprisingly enough.
Waltz Op. 70 No. 2 - Chopin
          - Went VERY well (and I didn't forget it) ... got first!

and tomorrow is Sonate Op 14 No 2 - Beethoven. Wish me luck!

Yeah... that's my boring life ;)