MUST READ TO UNDERSTAND THE BOOK:
I always hated having to look someone in the face while they break your self-confidence down one syllable at a time. Especially when that’s all they’ve been doing for ten years straight no matter how hard you try to please them. But as I sat there in front of my dad at the age of twenty, now a well-known physicist & engineer (although still in college), being screamed at about smoking, drinking, having a little fun in life. I had waked outside after he had disrespected my best friend (which I had known and loved since the fifth grade), my clothes (which I am very fond of my style), and my work. He had called me a mad scientist, a tacky dresser, and my friend a failure and useless. Why? Because I noted that he married a stripper. Yes, my father at the age of 50-years-old married a stripper. So he had back-fired and went off saying that it was a “one-time thing” and that I was a “disrespectful twat”. So I had walked outside and lit up a cigarette.
He stormed after me waving his hands in the air like a mad man, I hadn’t seen him since I left college and as I was standing there I didn’t know why I came back to this god-awful place. “Don’t you walk away from me? Hey! Put out that!” I ignored him, I mean he wasn’t going to hit me, he’d been down that road before when I was younger and he found out that eventually, if the police didn’t help, I fought back. But stupidly he smacked it from my hand and ground it out with his foot. I was wearing a simple dress at the time, so before he could grab me and drag me inside, I lifted the dress (with is built in bra) over my head and ran over to my car. His wife had walked out by then and she screamed as I ran past her. I got into my car just as he called the police and drove off.
When I had gotten to the stop sign at the end of the road I slipped the dress back over my head and zoomed off for the lake. I picked up my cell phone and dialed a friend, “Hey!” I said when they picked up.
“Ah, Mrs. Recklessness, how’d the visit go?” Roman Chandler Barnes; I’d known the kid since 7th grade. Ever since then we had had this awkward lust thing going on and when we found out dating didn’t work, we to being buddies.
“Oh gosh, it was horrid! He and the little whore kept denigrating my work, friends, clothes, and etcetera. So I stripped and drove off. Not that that would be unusual since he gets it every day.” I said with a smirk, Roman laughed, “Anyway, grab the boys & meet me by the lake in about ten minutes!” I hung up and slammed my foot on the gas pedal.
Upon reaching the lake, I found that Roman, Levi, & Orson had beaten me and were in there swim trunks. I was immediately suffocated in hugs. Levi and Orson I had known since I was eight. They were a grade under Roman, and a grade ahead of me. Levi had brown hair that wrapped around his head and deep brown eyes with a cute little mole on his right cheek. Orson was dark-skinned with black curly hair and dark eyes; Roman wan tall, thin, with jet-black hair and dark green eyes. My brothers and my lover, not really true, but hey! It rhymed.
“Want something to drink? We got lemonade, the special kind.” Levi nudged me and smiled. I giggle girlishly to myself.
“Alright,” Roman said sitting down on one of the four logs that wrapped around a camp fire that Orson was lighting, patting the spot next to him, “Tell us your story.”
As I told them what all had happened they laughed and when I told them I had drove away naked Orson almost fell off his log. “So he called the police on me and they should be here in, eh, like… now.” I said, and as I had suspected, sirens wailed over the hill leading down to the lake. When they pulled up next to my car, my favorite cop pulled out: Officer Knight. Or what I liked to call him, “nine fingers”. He walked over and sat down on the log next to me and looked at all of and rolled his eyes.
“When I heard you were in town I knew I’d be getting a call. So what happened exactly? You undressed and drove off?” he asked, not able to keep a straight face.
“Do I look undressed? And don’t say ‘Witnesses, Della! Witnesses!’ because guess what!” I yelled jumping on top of the log, “I am clothed!” I thrust my hands into the air and back flipped off of the log. “Besides,” I continued, “even if I was undressed I was on private property and the only neighbors that could see me were on vacation. Yeah, I do my research.” I said and plopped back down on the log.
Nine fingers nodded, “It’s a horrible thing for you to know what’s legal and what is illegal.” he said dragging his hands down his face. “Well, I’m not going to take you to the slammer,” he said standing up, but the he stopped and turned around, “this time.” He smiled and walked off to his car. When he drove off, we all broke out into insane laughter. The night ended up with Roman’s car next to us blaring out music and all of us fell asleep on the sand.
Sounds fun right? Being able to disrespect your parents and get away with it. Well I went through a hell of a path to be able to do it. The name’s Della Claire Anderson. Over the last ten years I’ve gone through abuse, depression, bullying, and hell. It’s turned me into a reckless yet cautious, ecstatic and live-in-the-moment-happy-go-lucky kind of person. A bit awkward, a bit insane, but with a 200 point IQ doesn’t that kind of give me the right to be? Anyways, carry on reading or put down the book. Either way, I’m still going to write and you’re still going to be narrow-minded.
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