A bit of nostalgia ~ how time changes things

This is far from an update, I know, but I was just shifting through some old posts of my 100 baby challenge with Destiny (long before I did this legacy, for those of you who don't know), and I just realized...

...What a complete idiot I was back then. :D

Back in the year 2011, when I started the whole challenge thing, I was actually 14, almost 15 years old, and looking back, you'd think that someone that old would be able to write a lot better than I did. I'm pretty surprised I got so many followers. >.>

I made so many mistakes that I want to kick myself because of it. I mostly wrote "your" instead of "you're", and I did this thing where I said "Kudos" at the end of the post but I didn't even know what it meant (and I really dunno why I added that even). I hardly wrote captions for the pictures, too. I was following the example of other baby challenges, thinking that if I were like them, I'd be a good writer...

And don't get me started on the pictures! Here are some visual aids: 

This is how I used to take pictures back in 2011. It was low quality, there were freakin' holes in the roof that I looked past, and it didn't look very...interesting, to say the least.

And this is how I take pictures now. I'm not saying they're perfect or anything...

They just look a lot better than what I used to take - at least, to me.

I've realized just how time really does change things: You gain experience while doing something, you learn from old mistakes, you make new friends who influence you...

I guess what I'm trying to say here is that, these three years of writing have had a positive influence on me, and I dunno, I want to thank those who take the time to read my story and even leave some feedback. I learned from you guys not to try and be like other writers, and now I'm doing my own thing which I'm proud of.

This post sounds so selfish which wasn't how I intended to make it sound, so I'm gonna shut up now.

<3

*hugs for everyone*

Generation 5: Chapter three

For once I wished that something like an invisibility cloak existed. Devin acted like a small kid on Christmas who just got an amazing present; his eyes alight with interest and...I couldn't quite place it...amazement? I couldn't care less when a guy would look at me usually, but with him, it was a lot harder to ignore. His gaze was on me like super glue, making it impossible to act normal without accidentally looking in his direction.

So if all else failed…

Running away would be a good idea, right?

Right at that moment, where he had previously been blocking my escape route, a drunken student conveniently bumped into him, spilling the contents of his drink all over Devin’s shirt and starting an argument that gave me the window of opportunity to get the hell out of there…

But it didn't end up being as easy as that.

Once the music stopped the one thing that fueled the attendees to keep swaying their hips and not fall flat on the floor, a row formed. All around me, insults were thrown like sharp stones and I had no shield to hide behind. With an apologetic smile plastered all over face, I gave a weak wave goodbye, repeatedly excusing myself for being ‘too drunk to operate any machinery anymore’. Not saving any time to check what the reaction was upon that, I ducked through one of the doors and ran towards the bathroom.

The chaos that ensued outside could have made the headlines of the university’s newspaper: Friends became foes, ramming into each other and tumbling into the pool, while a group of girls started a cat fight, earning the admiration of a few nerds that sneaked into the party. I could have wept for humanity – who could believe that the species that sent up a spacecraft and landed on the moon could behave like this?

If this was what alcohol did to a person, I never wanted to touch it. Call me stupid, or unwilling to face reality, but I was still clinging desperately to the idea that the world held no evil, and that people were truly good in their hearts…God, I’m an idiot. Repeating that in my own head made me sound like I was high on some sort of experimental drug that was probably meant to make people a little bit happier.

“Hello there,” a sultry voice greeted me from behind. The voice was so smooth, so enigmatic; it literally gave me chills at the back of my neck and made my knees buckle slightly with surprise or maybe even fear, making me forget all about my quarrels that I had been pondering. It was impossible that a voice so dark and mysterious could belong to a human being, and yet it did (to an extremely handsome one at that, too).

“And what would your name be?” he asked.

Don’t say a word.

“Come on, I won’t bite.”

Not a peep, nope.

No one would dare debate that I didn't have some social anxiety issues, albeit small, when it came to speaking guys that were, as Cara would say, “drop dead gorgeous”. So when I felt him caressing my skin and the pressure of his hand on my shoulder…needless to say, I flipped.

“’Scuse me,” avoiding his eyes at all costs, I rushed towards the bathroom door that was calling my name and would guarantee me safety – at least for a little while. 

The door closed behind me with an audible click, signalling I was safe. A few seconds went by, and no determined male was knocking at the door, demanding my presence.

Crisis averted – finally.

My legs seemed to agree, as my knees no longer knocked against each other, and I was left in silence to get out of my bathing suit and dressed into something a little more suitable for walking around campus.  

I had to stifle a laugh as I caught sight of my own expression in the mirror. The fear had left my limbs, but was still sculpted into my facial features. “Dear lord, when am I going to stop running away from my problems?” It had turned into my modus operandi during my high school years, a habit that I wasn't likely to get rid of, and because there was still the issue of getting back home without bumping into the almighty wooer…why stop now?

With the door opened just a fraction, just big enough to see what was going on outside, I slipped out as soon as I knew it was safe…

...and bolted.

Several hours later

"Gah!" I pulled back from the sight of Cara's painted fingernails in my face, hiding behind my arm.

"Hey, sleepy head! What took you so long?"

"What do you mean?"

Her smile grew wider with each passing second. "What do I mean? You’re not serious. It’s already twelve in the afternoon. In the time that has passed, I’ve already gotten spray tanned, got my nails done, had lunch, went to class…that’s pretty much it.”

A quick peek at the clock on the wall confirmed the time. “Jeepers, it must’ve been all the running I did last night that tired me out…,” I muttered under my breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Cara got to her knees and stood up, seemingly irked that I wasn't the happiest person I could be in the morning. What can I say? The morning is evil. “Could you at least explain one thing to me: Why did you crash on the floor instead of your bed, which is right over yonder?”

“Honestly? I have no idea.”

“Well, when you get an idea,” she paused to catch her breath, “Don’t tell me about it. I’m too scared to hear what the reason could be.”

I gave a feeble wave as Cara stomped out of the room, my face still finding comfort from the flower-shaped rug we had on our floor. “I had a nice time chatting to you. We should totally have those more often.” Having more time to lie on the floor and snooze was all I wanted at that point, but with the minutes ticking by, and a class scheduled in just under half an hour, there was no point in trying to not get up.

At least I had a reason to get up and be excited. For once, us musical students were excused from all the rambling of the artsy people and allowed to get in some practice time with our favorite instrument. I was someone who had absolutely no talent in sketching or painting, or even writing, making it was pretty hard to get a good grade in most of my classes. Even though most of the students were novices themselves and far away from creating a masterpiece, it was hard not to notice the curious glances in my direction and at the monstrosity I was drawing. But, I wasn't going to be discouraged. A few extra hours behind the drawing board and some time with my nose in a book studying different textures and styles for painting should hopefully improve my skills, with the emphasis on ‘hopefully’. The teachers themselves have raised eyebrows at my work, and have each tried to politely tell me that art and I just weren't compatible.

What they, the so-called "professionals", kept forgetting was that art wasn't just limited to physical creations. I was talented in a different field of art (at least I thought so), which the lecturers weren't keen on catering for. 

It was shocking to learn later on that the university had no musical room, or even an empty room that wasn't being used. Instead, Claremont University was dependent upon the local hangout spots that had all the equipment for a musician like me. In fact, I was the only person there that really wanted to make a career out of music. Sure, there was someone else, but she didn't seem very serious about it.

Anyhow, just a quick bike’s ride away was where I would be spending most of my day at. I never did get the name of the building, the manager being a foreigner with an extremely heavy accent. On the first floor it resembled your typical hangout, with a bar stocked with drinks, a pool table in the corner and a couple of dart boards that covered parts of the wall. The second floor was a whole different story, and right in the corner was where I ended up practicing.

One really bad habit of mine was that when I started playing the piano, I lost myself in the music and paid no attention to my surroundings. A guy with a knife could steal up on me and I wouldn't even hear him. It was only when a shadow fell upon the wooden keys that I stopped and realized I had company.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Raymond Carter casually leaned against the piano, and grinned as I met his gaze. “You said you majored in music, but I didn't know you were so good at it. Word around campus is that there’s a girl, with a mixture of turquoise and cyan colored hair, who is apparently failing her art class.”

I pouted. “And you think they’re talking about me? I feel insulted.”

“No, I didn't mean to-“

“Hey, don’t worry,” I dismissed his concern, quickly putting away my sheet music with practiced ease. “It’s not like I’m failing my theory papers, just…the practical, is all.”

Raymond kept his pose at the piano, stroking his beard as if he were deep in thought. “Good to know, because I actually require some input from you…”

“Oh?”

“It’s nothing that you have to risk your neck for, though,” he shrugged, “Just a simple business project of mine that happens to be about some art festival thingamajig…and I have no knowledge of the target group we have to keep in mind, so I’m stumped at this point. I've done a little research into the matter, and, well, I felt like an idiot.”

“Do you have your research on you? I’d like to take a look at it ‘cause it can’t be that bad.”

He cleared his throat, picking up the briefcase from behind him and walking towards the middle of the room, expertly setting up a workstation with the notes that he had on his project. “You might want to think twice about what you just said.” 

By quickly skimming over the main headings and some of the information that he was piecing together, it was clear that Raymond’s assumption was indeed true. While it was a business project and it does require logical thinking, he didn't keep it mind that artists’ personalities differed from theirs most of the time. “Eh, how can I put this...”

“Don’t bother.” As I stood there in silence, Raymond collected his stacks of paper and started placing it back in the suitcase. “That’s why I need help from you, or someone that knows of artsy things, you know.”

My mouth opened and closed as I struggled to form the words in my mind. “Well, I mean, I can help you a little bit I guess, but the only person who can really help you is someone who’s an expert on it, like a teacher.” Just thinking about art classes gave me an idea. “Which reminds me, I got permission to bail on a lecture about some art shenanigans to practice piano, but… what if I end up going and you tag along?"

"Seriously?" he perked up at the thought of the idea. "You think they'd let me sit in?"

"Why not?" my lips were itching to form a smile, but it soon vanished. Appearing prim and proper, Raymond extended his arm like a gentleman would as he was escorting his date towards the dance floor. The comfortable and amusing atmosphere that had been created turned into a tense vibe that felt like it was suffocating me. There it was. That insane fear I had of romantic interactions, and guys in general. When I met Raymond at the orientation, I didn’t have that issue, because it was clear to me that we could be friends - just friends and nothing else. The smirk he was showcasing now told a different story, and even though it was probably just another joke or some way to be friendly, it still had that ability to make my heart beat a little faster.

But what was the point of being afraid when there was nothing to fear?

Fear was a choice right?

And I was going to have to face my fears sometime or another.

With my nose in the air, I valiantly accepted his arm and he escorted me down the stairs and towards his car, while the entire time, my heart was trying to climb its way out of my throat.

Although I imagined our arrival at the lecture hall to be a little less theatrical and our entrance into the building unnoticed, our lecturer had a different idea in mind as I tip-toed into the room with Raymond hot on my heels. “How nice of you to join us, Miss Duff; I had heard that you had permission to be absent today, and I wonder what the dean would think if he knew you were sneaking around with this pleasant looking gentleman.”

“Good day, Misses Huckleberry,” I gritted my teeth, fighting the urge to walk towards her and give her a well-deserved slap through the face. “I was busy with piano practice, but my friend here-“

“Raymond Carter,” he quickly interjected.

“-needs some help with his business project. It’s all about art festivals, and I thought that you of all people must be an expert on the topic.”

The subtle hint at flattery seemed to have the desired effect. Her gaze shifted to Raymond, and she motioned that we take a seat. “Well, I would be honored to help a Business student such as you. First of all, you need to understand that there is a big personality difference between artistic people, and someone like you, no offense intended…”

What followed was one of the worst hours of my entire life.

Raymond seemed to be soaking up every bit of information – it was his project, after all – even though he didn’t have a notebook in front of him. I, on the other hand, had a pencil and paper in front of me, and as hard as I tried, I just couldn’t pay attention to what Misses Huckleberry was rambling on about.

“That was quite an insightful lesson,” the blue-haired male whispered as the class came to an end.

I rolled my eyes. “Tell me about it.”

After a day of heart throbbing, being yelled at by my least favorite lecturer and running around campus hoping I wouldn't be late for another class, my body was aching for a nice bubble bath. Sadly, there weren't any such luxuries around this dormitory. All we had were standardized bathrooms meant for both boys and girls. Not to mention the fact that if there had been a humongous tub, there would always be an argument in progress about whose turn it was. Maybe it would have been better to rent a nice apartment, but that was way more than what my budget allowed.

Around 6 PM, I finally got back to my dormitory, only to see candles and flowers cluttered around the door. That only meant one thing: Some guy was trying to impress a girl, they’d have dinner, put on some music, and the rest of the dorm would probably never hear the end of the gossip that would surround this spectacle. 

Beneath one tree a group of rebels were hanging out and catching a smoke break, taking advantage of the fact that the supervisor was already out like a light in his room by this time. "Hey, chick over there," a guy pointed at me with his cigarette and spoke in a disinterested tone. "You don't wanna go in there. So many flowers in there the stench could make you puke."

The only stench that's gonna make me puke is the smell of the smoke..., I thought to myself, but nodded in response. "Eh, thanks for the warning, I guess."

My tone had been less than grateful towards the one that had warned me, but as soon as I walked through the front door, I knew I’d been wrong. If I hadn’t been prepared for the onslaught on the senses, I’d probably have ran out the door again and never come back.

It was just that bad.

However, it went from ‘bad’ to ‘worse’ as I noticed the mess made in the dorm’s version of a dining room, where the tables were littered with flower vases, all stuffed with pink roses.

And the worst part of it all: Seeing the one who was responsible for all of it.

Lounged against the back wall of the room was the man I had met not-entirely-face-to-face only the previous night. 'The Wooer', 'The Ladies man', 'The guy I ran away from' - whatever name people knew him by, there he was, in my dorm, winking at me from across the room.

He pulled a crooked smile and jerked his chin towards the clock. "You're right on time, Miss Duff.”

Sooner or later, that horrible sensation of fear would take control of me, and I’d stand there gawking at him as if he were a god. That was one ego boost he definitely didn’t need. As long as I had control of my tongue and most of my vocabulary, I’d make the best of it.

Eyes narrowing, I opened my mouth to speak. “You did all this for me?”

Devin kept on smiling. “Of course! After the way you blew me off at the swimming pool, I’d thought I’d do something big to get your attention, so I asked around about who you are and what you liked… And that’s how all of this happened.”

“That’s great and all,” I hesitated, and then pointed at the flowers, “but I don’t like pink roses at all. And if that’s macaroni and cheese you got over there, I don’t like that much either.” The bravado was slowly draining from his face, and he one bowl behind his back - as if that would make a difference.

 “Come on, throw me a bone here.” With slumped shoulders, Devin pulled out a chair from the table. “Just do me this one favor of having dinner with me, pretty please? I already paid for all of it.”

"Why? It's not like I owe you anything? I don’t even know, except for all of the gossip on the campus that describes you…”

The sly smile was creeping back into his features. “You blew me off, for one. I was being extremely courteous, and, for the lack of a better description, you just ran away without an explanation. So if you’re not gonna explain yourself, you might as well suffer through an hour of sharing my company.”

While thinking of a reasonable response, I heard students chattering behind me, probably curious enough to peek into the room and see what Devin Jameson was up to now and who the next victim of his sweet-talking would be. I was forced to choose between only two options: Sit down and have dinner with the most notorious player on campus, or explain the whole situation to those nosy students.

Option one seemed to be better than the alternative.

Sighing, I took a seat at the table and stared at the bowl of food in front of me which didn’t exactly seem appetizing. “You win,” I admitted reluctantly. 

"Thank you," he heaved a sigh of relief. "It's not every day I have to grovel at someone's feet to have them agree to have dinner with me. You're probably the first girl that I've met that's like that, making it tons of fun to chase after you…”

Everything would have been perfect if he hadn’t said that. I nudged the bowl away from me, looking him squarely in the eyes. By now, fear should have made me unable to even engage in a normal conversation, much less scold a guy for being a jerk.

But it didn’t. It was impossible that I could have conquered my biggest flaw in the span of one day. Perhaps I was only given the chance of righting this wrong before the fear came back to suffocate me.

“Listen, all of this was really nice of you, Devin, and I appreciate it…but I’m not going to be some ‘conquest’ of yours. I’m not some cheap slut who falls for the first guy that gives her some form of affection. So let me just put this bluntly: There’s no way you’re getting in my pants, okay?”  

For a split second, his eyes widened, but he recovered quickly. “What made you think I’d do something like that?”

“Dude,” I couldn’t believe this innocent façade he had created for himself, “I don’t know what world you live in, but you’re not exactly a poster child for respectable men out there. You’re a liar and a cheater and you’re notorious for going around and having one-night-stands with most of the girls on campus.”

He abandoned his own plate of mac and cheese, looking everywhere in the room except at me. Through the years, I’ve tried to read people like a book by looking at their faces, but like King Duncan said in Macbeth, “There is no art to find the mind's construction in the face.” It wasn’t an exact science: People were unpredictable, and often good at hiding their intentions. Devin was even more deceptive than your average guy.

“It’s true, everything you said is true…,” he nodded slowly, “But what if it wasn’t? What if we just got to know each other, with no existing prejudices in play? Like this is a blind date of some kind?”

There was no air of deception around him as he spoke, his eyes feeling as if they were looking right into my soul. The sight gave me a light case of the goose bumps and some butterflies in the stomach, but I had to control myself. It could have been just another angle he was working. “Okay, I’ll play.”

“Great,” he paused to take a breath. “So…what did you say your name was, miss?”

“Kristine, but everyone calls be ‘Krissy’, and, to be honest, I like it a lot more than my real name. It’s sounds so old-fashioned almost.”

He chuckled, eyeing the candle that stood in the middle of the table. “I think it’s a lovely name. I don’t exactly have an interesting name or back story even, like, being raised in the backstreets of some city. I’m Devin, and I’m here at university because of a sports scholarship I got back in high school. What about you?”

“Me? Not much to tell. I’m majoring in Fine Arts because my best friend dragged me all the way with her to come and party. I don’t exactly have the perfect history…,” I paused, realizing I was about to reveal my entire past to a guy that I barely knew. It would be best to keep it plain and simple, like he did.  “I’m from Appaloosa Plains, the most boring place on earth. My parents are very protective of me, you know. I was like a little chick being nurtured by its mother its entire life. So yeah, I should probably thank my friend huh?”

“Probably,” he agreed, and we both laughed a little. “See? I’m not the bad company you were expecting, right?”

I had to agree with him on that. “Surprisingly no. It kind of makes me wonder if the rumors were over-exaggerated…

But then again, he admitted it was true, the thought passed my mind.

The ‘blind date’ came to an end, and Devin kissed me goodnight on the cheek and asked if he could see me again. What was the harm in going out with him one more time? We enjoyed each other’s company, and I already stated that there was no way in hell we were going to hook up anytime soon. Did he expect that, given enough time, I’d budge and give in?

Well, I wasn’t going to give him that kind of power over me.

“No, sorry,” I wiggled my index finger at him. “I’m not gonna make this easy for you.”

He grumbled as he walked past me and out the door, leaving me to laugh at his antics. This wasn’t some kind of puppy-love I was suffering from. I didn’t feel any sort of real attraction towards him, nor did I see myself in a relationship anytime soon. But it did present the perfect opportunity for me to work on getting over my fears.  So, if I thought about this logically, none of us could complain. He was happy thinking that he was going to have a girl to woo, while I had someone to talk to and challenge my social anxiety problems.

It was a win-win situation, no matter how you looked at it...

...As long as I didn't fall for his charms, that is.

~♥~
*eh hem* Hi, and thank you for reading this latest chapter. I'm really sorry for the lack of chapters as of late, but I truly have been stuck behind my text books and studying for exams the entire time. Luckily, my exams end next week and Tuesday, so I'm hoping to be able to fit in some writing time, as I already have all the pictures for this generation up and till chapter 8.

Just a side note to anyone who has seen the character bios (that are still WIP), I made a slight change there. The character, Shaun Steen, used to be this tanned guy with orange hair, but I made another male sim later on that I fell in love with, and he is now the new Shaun Steen. I'll update the bios later on with his picture.

I also promise this generation will become more interesting as time passes. I just need to build the foundation before I break it down (yeah, sadly, that's what I'm doing).

I got tumblr (again >.>)

I really don't know WHY I was idiotic enough to have deleted my old tumblr just because I wasn't using it too much, because now I realize that, in time, I would have gone back to using it a lot.

So anyhow.

Here's the link to the new tumblr I made myself. 

Simulated Pixels

There's nothing there at the moment, but there will be in time. 

And I promise, I won't be deleting it, ever.

:)

Gen. 5: Character bios

Generation 5: Character bios

Heiress

Kristine "Krissy" Wilson
(a.k.a Krissy Duff)

Kristine, nicknamed Krissy (which she has also adopted as her first name), is the daughter of Nicolette and Kristopher Wilson. Her mother had been a professional photographer, while her father was part of the local football team. At the age of five, Kristine was responsible for causing a house fire by accident, which claimed the lives of her parents while she miraculously survived without a scratch.

After the accident, Krissy was adopted by a loving couple, namely Mister and Mrs Ferrell. Though they do not have a lot of money, they strive to make sure Krissy has a good future.

In the past, this girl was extremely shy, following the rule book down to the last dot, but since she met Cara, the years of friendship has changed her, and the years that have yet to come will be the most challenging, as Krissy will deal with losing more and more loved ones, until eventually...her entire life and personality will take a u-turn.

Other

Raymond Carter

Raymond is one of the students Krissy meets on her first at Claremont University. He majors in Business, though isn't as stuck-up as the rest of his classmates.

Although he can have a fun time, he is quite serious, not seeing the world at a deeper level the way Krissy does, and accepts everything as it is.

Devin Jameson

This man has been the reason why many girls have landed in the infirmary of the university. Devin is mostly known for being able to woo a girl off of her feet, which has the girls on campus all waiting in tow to spend a night with him.

On the surface, he seems entirely materialistic, supposedly focused on just how many girls he can score while at university, but as time goes by, it will be revealed that there's a lot more to him than meets the eye.

Summer Marlow

To be added

Phillip and June Ferrell

To be added

Cara Bradford

Cara has been Krissy's best friend since they were kids, and the main reason Krissy has gotten into trouble with the law on multiple occasions. These two were inseparable in high school, until Cara's family moved away to the city. Although her family had moved, the two friends stayed in touched, and now that both have graduated high school, they have reunited, now attending university together (another one of Cara's bright ideas).

Cara is a fun-loving person, always full of jokes and quite impulsive. Her main weakness is her attraction to attractive boys.

Theo Hobbs

Theo is a good friend of Devin Jameson, and is an enthusiast towards Devin's sort of "lifestyle". 

Isabella Meade

To be added

Michaela Novak

To be added

Generation 5: Chapter two

“And you’ll call us every day, you hear me?” June’s muffled sniffling rang in my ears as I stood on the pavement, hugging my adoptive father goodbye. Either I was imagining, or I actually saw a teardrop trickling down his cheek just before he pretended to scratch his face.

“Don’t worry, misses J. I’ll be protecting Krissy, and keeping her company at the same time,” Cara flashed a smile at June, placing a consoling hand on her shoulder.

“That’s what I’m worried about, you girls have a knack for getting up to no good,” Phillip shook his head, releasing me from his grip and dug around in his pockets, frantically searching for something.

Today was the day. It was the day that I was climbing out from behind my protective shell and venturing into the unfamiliar, outside world. At least, that’s what it felt like to me. When you’ve been huddled up in a small town like I had been for my whole life, the idea of taking a step outside your comfort zone ends up being a big deal.

After careful consideration, soaking up each word of wisdom my real parents and the caring couple of Ferrell’s had given me throughout the years, I had come to a satisfactory conclusion to what path I would follow: Music. My life revolved around creating music, listening to it, or figuring out the hidden meanings behind lyrics. When I listened to music, be it modern or old school, I loved to curl up in bed and listen to the instrumental of the song, thankful for it, because if it weren’t for the background music, all you would have is a voice that gave me a headache at times.

So it was a good thing that, from an early age, I had been preparing myself for a career in it, mastering several arts. Piano, guitar, and so much more...but my ultimate favourite would be the piano. The soft melodies that the instrument produced could always soothe me, even when I was in a terrible mood, ready to strangle someone.

The shiny object that Phillip tenderly removed from his right side pocket caught my attention, and he stretched out his palms, presenting it to me as a gift. “We only realized now that we’ve been skipping out on keeping you up to date with the latest technology...,” he paused, stealing a glimpse at his wife. She nodded reassuringly. “June’s sister has grandchildren who are always talking about the wonders of a phone and how you can keep in touch with people...so we got you one as well.”

“R-r-really?” The two had already done so much for me; it felt like a crime, accepting yet another gift. Out of the corner of my I caught Cara smiling broadly at the scene in front of her, as if she had a hand in what was going on.

All I knew was that I had amazing parents, adoptive or not, and a great best friend that cared about me. With them in my life, I felt like I could change the world.

Slowly but surely Cara and I packed the remaining suitcases into the trunk of the rental car, trying to ignore the nervous chatter coming from the two on the pavement. Just as my hand slid to open the car door, Cara stopped me. “You sure you want to do this?” she asked in a low voice.

“No,” sighing, I shook my head. “But if I don’t leave now,” I answered in the same low tone, “I’ll run back into that house and never go out again.” After giving a small nod, she left my side and climbed into the passenger’s seat. “Besides, I’ve already been accepted!”

It was a miracle that my application form had been accepted so late into the year, but according to Cara, they do make exceptions now and then, especially to those that show great potential. The fact that I got accepted on a whim reinforced the idea that I was on the right path.

“Alrighty, it’s just that I don’t want you to accuse me of bullying you into this when we reach our dormitory, okay...?”

I held back a chuckle. “Um...”

“What?”

“You actually DID bully me into this.”

“That’s your word against mine, and everyone seems to believe me, so you’ve lost that fight already,” she smirked, holding back a hand to examine her newly done nails.

With a swift roll of the eyes, I dismissed the conversation, turning my attention back to my parents on the side of the street. They were snuggled up close to each other, protecting themselves against the nip in the air. With a push of the button, the window whirred past me and I could stick my head out of the car to yell goodbye. “Goodbye...mom and dad.”

Instantly, the cold was forgotten, their faces alight with surprise. Sure, I had always called them by their names. I knew very well they weren’t my parents, and I would n't easily call them by a pet name, but never had I considered just what an impact that would have on them. So, the fact that I changed my usual greeting to something a little more personal seemed to brighten their day.

“G-goodbye sweetie,” June Ferrell, who I would, from that day onward, refer to as ‘mom’, stuttered briefly before recovering, and waved ‘goodbye’ alongside her husband. 

"Do you think there'll be any cute guys on campus?" Cara asked, snapping her fingers in my face as the car started speeding forward. "I mean, I've been there before to check it out, but everyone seemed to be in class at the time...total shitty timing on my part."

"Well." I took a breath. "I think if there are any around, they'll probably be too old for you anyhow."

She fell back in her chair with a huff. "Shit."

Chuckling at her frustration, I repeatedly checked the GPS to make sure that we were following the right path. Thank God for GPS. School didn’t exactly teach us how to read a map efficiently, and neither of us joined Girl Scouts or any kind of camp that helped us with direction. For two people that were raised in the countryside, we were surprisingly more like a city gal than anything else. After a few minutes of silence in the car, the GPS started beeping. We had just left the boundary of Appaloosa Plains, now on the road to the university campus.

“You have no idea how good it feels to get out of there.”

“Oh, I do,” Cara winked. “I’ve left plenty of times, but for some reason, I keep coming back. Probably because one of my most favourite people on this planet lives in that planet...otherwise, I’d never go back to that place.”

If it hadn’t been me that was driving, I would have peeked over my shoulder, watching how Appaloosa Plains was shrinking in the background.  Something was weighing heavily on my mind, something that should be kept a secret always. If I didn’t, a lot of people would get hurt.

The thing was...

I believed that, after university...

I wasn’t going to go back to Appaloosa Plains...

At all.

Coupled with all the good memories were horrible ones, the image of my parents’ death still haunting me at times when I was all alone, when there was no music to console me, no arms to keep me safe. Some may say I was running away from my problems. I wasn’t: I was simply putting the past behind me. What was the point of clinging to something familiar when that something only made me feel like crying inside?

That’s how I ended up rapidly wiping away the stray tears that were running down my cheek. “It’s too quiet in here,” I croaked, fumbling around with the controls of the radio.  Gosh, I only noticed now just what a depressed, selfish person I had been all along, always worrying about my own problems and feelings while never taking the time to listen to what others wanted to share.

That would change...but maybe five more minutes of self-loathing before I enforce that little promise on myself.

~

She jumped out of the car, just like a six year old that was excited to see her new dog. With the same carefree nature, she twirled around, catching the interest of a few new students. Oh yeah, I had a crazy best friend. “I don’t know her, nope,” smiling sheepishly I grabbed a suitcase and started lugging it towards the door.

Hands extended into the air, Cara made an announcement. “Stand back, bitches. The party has arrived at this dormitory.” The building had been in dire need of what Cara defined as a “party”. The exterior was coated with a gray paint, lacking imagination in oh so many ways. With the two of us staying at this dorm, we were going to put the life back into the dreary place..

“Let’s go check out our rooms,” my best friend started dancing into the dormitory, leaving her suitcase outside. One could only hope that no one was stupid enough to steal it.

“The rooms will probably look better than the outside, I think.”

Worst. Assumption. Ever.

When the door of our new room swung open, Cara and I stood there for at least 10 minutes, trying to find the right word to describe it.

Finally, I cleared my throat. “Um...”

“...Yeah.”

“It’s so green...”

“So green...”

“...And UGLY.”

“So ugly...”

Cara recovered, albeit unwillingly, checking underneath the beds (most likely for spider webs) and flitting through the books on the shelf. “It’s pretty clear no one’s been in this room for a while. And when I say ‘while’, I mean a REALLY long time.”

My best friend was all about being spontaneous. For once, I was going to take a page out of her book.

“What are you doing?” she enquired, her eyes following my every movement across the room as I started tearing the wallpaper off.

Holding out a piece of the broken wallpaper, I jerked my chin towards it. “Do you want to live in a room that looks like this?”

She bit down on her lip. “No…”

“Then what’s the problem? We can get furniture from other rooms that haven’t been occupied yet, and we can secretly repaint and redecorate this place. Trust me; we’re doing the place a favour. We can just blame everything on someone else that dropped out of university.”

“Krissy Duff,” Cara exhaled, “I like this side of you.”

My lips were twisted into a broad smile. “Let’s do this then.”

Not long after Cara reminded me to attend orientation, we found ourselves sliding down the rails of the staircase just like we used to when we were kids, hurrying through the door and nearly getting lost on the campus as we tried to find the welcoming party. Just for in case, I grabbed my camera on the way out. 

Hey, it was the first day of university: you never knew when something exciting could happen…or if your friend could make a fool of themselves in front of a crowd of people. Something that wasn’t unheard of.

As we strolled around, I found myself tugging at the dress, wishing that it would cover more of the skin that was now left barren and vulnerable. According to Cara, the dress code had been formal, but with the way she giggled at how uncomfortable I looked, as well as the way she dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, it had to be yet another practical joke.

When would I ever learn not to listen to my best friend?

Another thing that seemed like a joke was how friendly people on campus were, so friendly it surprised us both. Around every corner of a building there were students huddled together, but as soon as they saw us, they were eager to help us if we were lost (which we definitely were). What had happened to all the stories of how students were supposedly snobs, who only rolled their eyes in your direction?

Guess that only applied to high school.

“Seems like you’re going to be Miss Popular,” Cara whispered as we passed a group of boys that had been so absorbed in their books until we had come along. “Did you see the way they looked at you?! Total instant-crush if you ask me,” she smiled slyly, pulling me towards the building we had been looking for the entire time.

And right at that moment, just as we were about to step inside…a senior student jogged by, wearing no shirt and flaunting his muscles that could have been sculpted by Michelangelo himself. It didn’t take a genius to figure out I was going to be attending orientation all by myself.

Taking a deep breath, calming myself, I sighed. “If you want to run after the guy, go ahead.”

She beamed with delight. “Thank you! Take a picture just in case I don’t catch him, okay?”

“Fine,” as soon as I snapped a picture of the stranger (that I would be calling Cara’s future husband from that day onward), I waved goodbye, grumbling all the way till I entered the hall.

The entrance hall was filled with tables, all of them decked with snacks and cans of sodas, while some even had a few goodie bags stashed between the junk food. Unlike the tables, the walls were covered with banners with the university logo adorned across it, with a bunch of school flags were bundled together in a container, a sort of souvenir of your time here, I suppose.

Only after I heard someone ticking on a microphone to test its quality did I remember my real purpose here.

"Eh..." The speaker slammed at his chest while the rest of the audience chuckled at this show of professionalism gone bad. Whoever he was, I didn't think he was a lecturer. At least, that's what I hoped. "I know this speech was supposed to be orchestrated by my professor, Professor Frederick, but since he has, uh, taken ill I suppose, he asked that I take his place instead." He paused, taking a moment to collect his thoughts.  "Ladies and gentleman, I bid you welcome to today's events, specifically to the new students that have enrolled and are here today. As my professor once told me, not everyone is good enough to qualify for Claremont University, and the fact that you are here just goes to show that you are dedicated and talented, and this university wants to help you further that talent. I don't exactly want to give a history lesson today of all of Claremont's accomplishments and the exemplary students it has delivered, so if you are not yet convinced that you might the right choice, I advise that you take a whole afternoon and sift through the books at the library, where we have record of just how successful Claremont University is. For all of the new students, in the entrance hall you will find a map of the campus that you can take with you. Your class schedule with most likely be emailed to you, or you can pick it up from the main building in the center of the campus."

"Well..." The speaker tapped at the podium, breaking the silence that had ensued.  “I guess that concludes my speech. Does anyone have any questions for me? I'll try to answer as best as I can, but since I’m a student myself, I can’t make any promises that I will have the right answer.”

A blonde girl in the audience eagerly raised her hand. “Um, what’s the deal with our dorms? Like, what are our options?”

“Ah, I can answer that,” he smiled with obvious relief. “There are sororities and fraternities, of course, but we actually have two buildings that are for both genders if you don’t object to the way guys play loud music and walk around half-naked all the time.” That definitely got the blonde girl thinking, and just from looking at how she and her friends were chatting excitedly, it seemed like they were picking that type of dormitory.

Just for sports, I raised my hand. “Yes, the girl at the back, what’s your question?” he called to me.

I couldn’t help but smiled as I answered. “Well, for one, what’s your name?”

“Oh shi-, I mean, um…My apologies, I should have introduced myself at the beginning of my little speech. I’m Raymond Carter…and if you don’t mind, I’m gonna go now. Still have to study…and stuff.” He waved (quite theatrically) and shuffled off of the slightly elevated stage and towards the food table. 

“So…” Slowly, I approached the blue-haired male, afraid that he would run off – he looked truly jittery when he was on the stage. “What do you major in, Raymond Carter?”

As I was talking, he piled a load of pastries onto his own plate, offering some to me. I shook my head, and he continued. “I’m one of those crazy ones, you know, those who study Business.”

“Oh,” I nodded, understanding what he meant. In high school, we classified those people as Einstein’s, because the work they did and the subjects they had made absolute no sense to us. “You’re one of those. Not that it’s a bad thing, I mean,” 

I babbled. “I mean, people probably think I’m a crazy one, too.”

“Why would they…?”

I shrugged as I searched for something on the table that looked safe to eat. “There’s this stereotype surrounding artsy people. I’m majoring in Fine Arts, specifically music, actually. My name’s Krissy, by the way.”

He extended his hand politely for a hand shake. “It’s nice to meet you, Krissy. And you’re right, there is this generalization surrounding artistic people, but I’ll let you in on a little secret…”

Surprisingly enough, I was enjoying his company, and found myself asking the obvious follow-up question. “Which would be?”

“I don’t care about those stories,” Raymond winked, proceeding to stuff his mouth with a delicacy (making me hungry in the process, damn him) and swallowing it down with a sip of ice cold Coca-Cola.

“Well, it’s nice to know there are people like that around here,” peeking over my shoulder, I found Cara waiting in the entrance hall, dissatisfaction etched into her features. My shoulders slumped slightly, and I pointed at the door as if it would explain the whole situation. “I have to go offer my shoulder to a friend in need, but maybe I’ll see you around, Raymond.” As I waved goodbye, walking backwards towards the door, I nearly fell over my own heels, catching the attention of the entire room and making myself look like a complete fool.

Yet again, thanks to Cara for telling me I had to wear something formal.

Weeks passed by in a blur at Claremont University, and before I knew it, I was swamped under books I had to study and assignments I had to complete. 

Strangely though, I didn’t feel like I was following my dream, but I had to realize some time or another: Along with the fun, practical work (i.e., playing the piano, making music and whatnot), there’s also the case of the theoretical work that has to be done, whether we liked it or not. While there was still plenty of time before we had exams, our lecturer reminded us every day to prepare for finals.

I had been majoring in Fine Arts, while Cara had it a little bit easier, majoring in Communications. It was easy breezing for almost everyone there, though the class was filled with a large amount of people with no sense of humor – that was the rant that Cara gave every night. Something included in her daily rant was the guy I referred to as “Cara’s future husband”. In the time that has passed since our arrival, I had made friends with a lot of people on campus, and his name was on everyone’s lips. 

Devin Jameson. He made the girls on campus swoon like crazy. He was a player through and through, yet girls didn't mind spending one night with him just to be dumped the very next day. With him, there were no emotional ties; just a night to remember for the rest of your life, or so some of my new friends figured. The rumors were that even in towns close by, he was a well known visitor, as well as a regular at the hottest clubs in town.

Either these girls were insane, or I was. Why the heck would they be so desperate for the appreciation and acceptance of one guy when there were dozens, of guys on campus?

Yup, the logic of some people still had a knack of astounding me every once in a while.

It wasn't like he was trying to hide these relationships with other girls, either. I had the horrible luck of entering the living room of our unisex dormitory, only to find Mister Jameson smooching one of my classmates named Charissa, his hands exploring every inch of her body, probably begging her to abandon the clothing she had on.

That was certainly going to be the main topic to discuss in the next class.

Sure, he was probably attractive, with his muscular build complimenting his face which had an odd, rather "hard" look to it, especially his jaw line. And his eyes...Those had to be his instruments of war, the tool he used to put girls under his spell. One look from him and girls were mesmerized. I'll admit, even I felt my knees turn to jelly when I looked into his eyes.

But that was still a crappy reason to want to go out with him for just one night.

“He’s at it again,” at first I thought it was my own head that conjured that line, but a quick inspection of the room revealed another individual eyeing the rather disturbing picture in front of me. “She’s one of my best friends, and as much as we’ve talked about how much of an ass that guy is, there she goes, falling for him just because he paid her a bit of attention.”

“So what you’re saying is, he goes for loner girls that are begging for attention?”

The girl shook her head quickly. “No, that’s not it. He knows exactly when to say the right thing, I think. I heard the way he talked to her, and wow, it was pretty interesting.”

Averting my gaze from the couple in the corner, I shrugged, still not accepting that as a good excuse.  If that were the case, girls would have been all over poets, but it seems that they never get that kind of attention.  “At the end of the day, you still have free will. Do me a favor: Go take your friend by the arm and shake her till she comes to her senses.”

“If it’s not too late, I’ll try that.”

I had never been one to watch chick flicks, or any type of movie that involved a major amount of making out, so I left the room with no excuse or goodbye to the girl I had been talking to; instead, I took refuge in my revamped dorm room that I shared with Cara.

While there was still some peace and quiet in the room, I took the time to work on one of my art assignments. I certainly wasn't the best sketch artist on the planet, always messing up the eyes or the shape of the head, or lacking originality when I could go freestyle, so I didn't expect good marks for that class.

At least there was room for improvement, right?

As I sat there on my bed, drawing and occasionally rubbing out my idiotic mistakes and ruining the sketch, forcing me to start over again, my fingers were itching to stroke the strings of a guitar, to hear the soft sound that made my world feel complete. Alas, it was a wish I couldn't act on, with the girls next door yelling at how "irritating" the sound was. How superficial. Those were girls that were obsessed with the color pink, that wore only the best. 
In my opinion, their definition of "best" sucked.

"I GOT AN INVITE!" My pencil flew out of my hand, landing across the room just Cara burst into the room with a huge smile on her face, thrusting her smartphone in my face. "Read that. Not only did I get an invite to an awesome party at the swimming pool tonight, but you did as well! Check your phone!"

Rather than rub it into Cara's face that I had received plenty of invites in the past but had ignored them all, I checked my phone, and sure enough, there was a new message. "Yeah, I did. And here I thought I was going to stay in tonight and finish all these assignments of mine..."

Quite violently, she grabbed my arm, pushing me towards the wardrobe. "No 'buts'. Get dressed, or, in this case, undressed."

The walk to the swimming pool felt like it lasted forever. It was pretty secluded, far away from most of the dorms, so no one, that happened to find themselves closed up in their room and studying on a Friday night, could say that we were disturbing them.

Possibly the worst thing about walking all the way to the venue was that, well, we were half naked, with nothing to hide under, other than mere scraps of clothing. While most people felt pretty comfortable in swim suits, there were those that didn’t have the leanest of bodies to show off. I definitely fit into that category.

“Nonsense,” Cara brushed off my mumbled complaints. “You look great. It’s high time you start showing off more of those assets that you were blessed with.”

“You disturb me on so many levels, you know that?”

She simply shrugged. “When are you going to realize that you are pretty? I mean, you have a great tan even, and what do I have? All I have is the inability to tan and the gift of money to supply myself with a fake tan. But trust me, the fake stuff doesn’t last…which reminds me, I have to make another appointment…”

We still had two blocks to walk till we got to the swimming pool, but from far away I could see the party being set up. A DJ booth, some party lights, and a juice keg barrel were some of the things that were in the process of being hauled out of a delivery van.

Since it didn’t look like there were too many people around just yet, Cara and I split up, looking for something to do or to help set something up. In the meantime, I acquainted myself with the barkeep, which didn’t look too happy with his shift that evening.

“Is the bar open yet?” I asked, unsure whether or not I should be disturbing him. From the way he glared at the guests arriving, it probably wasn’t.

“Yeah, I guess,” he grumbled. “I just don’t know for how long; I’m gonna lose my job for sure. The DJ cancelled at the last moment.”

An idea sparked in my mind. “Oh. Well, uh, I can fill in for him? I’m pretty skilled in music, and I’m a fast learner, so maybe I can make it work.”

“Seriously? That’d be great!” he heaved a sigh of relief. “If you can, you’d be saving my ass.”

It can’t be THAT hard…, I figured

I hadn’t been too wrong. The DJ booth was pretty high-tech, and even came with an instruction manual for beginners, which helped a lot, but a book can only teach you so much – after that, it’s time to experiment, make mistakes and learn from them until you had the ultimate recipe for success; a musical melody that could give people the urge to dance and set the floor on fire. More and more students were arriving in cars by the time I had nearly mastered the art, and there were even a few new students like us that had to walk all the way to the venue. Already there were guys and girls dancing together (Cara being one of them, having grabbed a random person to dance with her). “Yo, DJ! Can you switch to dub step?” someone yelled from the edge of the pool, bobbing his head to the tune while he carried a drink in his hand.

The fact that people were swaying their hips, dancing with smiles on their faces or just simply bobbing their head to the music like that creepy dude from the side of the pool meant that I wasn’t the worst DJ on the planet, even though I had no real clue what I was doing right.

Along with requests for a certain song, a few individuals sneaked a tip over the edge of the booth, showing me ‘thumbs up’.  Should I give all the proceeds that I had rightly earned to the owner of this establishment? Probably, but it was, yet again, a time to follow a piece of advice I had gotten from Cara: Sometimes it’s a good thing to bend or break the rules.

Everything would have been perfect if it weren’t for a certain male’s presence that was skulking around the girls who were dancing in groups on the dance floor. Devin Jameson seemed to be picking out his next victim, and he did so discreetly, wearing a black t-shirt that accentuated his muscles rather than stripping down to his bare undies. Most of the girls would probably have fainted if he did do that.

With a drink in the hand, holding his head high over the crowd, he moved between the crowds until he found a spot close to the booth. The way he looked at me, his eyes studying my every move…it made it pretty hard to not look at him, or even do my job properly.

Then I realized.

He was scoping out his next target.

And he found her.

Me.

I was his next target.