Sometimes, the normalest lives are touched by magic. Sometimes, happy endings are possible. Sometimes, we get our fairytales after all. Sometimes, the one person we want more than anyone else sees the fire inside us. Kim's life is a disaster- the bleak and average kind of disaster. She fixates through the mess on one perfect, unattainable goal. And then she gets it. In a way she never would have expected, in her wildest dreams.
In case you couldn't tell from the summary, this is a Jared/Kim chaptered piece. I'm projecting at about seven chapters, but it may end up closer to ten.
2. Chapter 2
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Speak of the devil, and the devil shall disappear mysteriously from school for way too long.
Jared’s been out for six consecutive school days. I have a little tally in the corner of my diary, right under the place where I’ve written Jared and Kim forever eight hundred times.
Yes, it’s embarrassing. Scratch that, it’s humiliating. I’m not usually the kind of girl who gets giant whopper monster crushes like this. I’ve been mostly neutral to the male species as a whole my entire life. I liked a couple of guys in junior high, sure, but it was nothing like this.
This incapacitating, aching, painful obsession. I can’t breathe when he’s in the same room. I can’t breathe when he’s not in the same room. I can’t stop thinking about him. Every thought I have that isn’t directly related to him I find some way to bring back to him.
I’m walking down the football field after school, for instance, and I remember that Jared’s friend Paul is on the football team. I’m in the library doing my homework when I catch sight of a novel called Rainbow Boys, and I remember the kid in front of him teasing Jared for reading a book about gay teenagers. I’m at home in my room, painting my fingernails as per my orders, and I remember Jared saying something about how just because Leah Clearwater got her nails done at that little place in Port Angeles doesn’t necessarily mean she’s back on the market, since she and Sam have been going out for like five years, and Paul really needs to keep his raunchy hands to himself.
I think I need professional help at this point. It’s become deeply unhealthy. I can’t think of anything else. I manage not to talk about it too much, though I’ve mentioned it to my girlfriends once or twice. I’m pretty sure my parents have absolutely no idea. Not that they pay any attention to me anyway. When I’m not fulfilling their overwhelming expectations they pretty much ignore me all the time.
Fine with me, really. I’d rather sit in my room with the music turned up all the way in my ears and doodle absentmindedly on a sheet of notebook paper than have them actually care whether I live or die.
I might be too hard on them. They really do think they do what’s best for me. Even if it’s frustrating and humiliating and saddening and all that stuff.
I rip the piece of paper in half and grimace. Then I flop backwards on the bed, closing my eyes.
I really wish Jared would come back to school. It’s so much easier to be ludicrously possessed with him if he’s right there for me to ogle insanely while he isn’t looking. Seriously, staring at his yearbook picture is so much less satisfying.
I do it anyway. I have his signature, right there. It says, HAGS, Jared.
Probably the least satisfying note ever. How about, Eternal love and devotion, Jared?
That’d be great.
Then again, it’s not very likely. He’s never going to notice I exist. I should just get used to that now.