In spirit of beach week with my family and the spirit of John Green's Paper Towns, I have written this. I have the prologue and most of chapter one. It's a slightly slow beginning. But stick to it. :3 ---- Prologue Beach week. The two words every private school in North Carolina knows so well. A full week at the beach, with your grade level, and if you're lucky, no parents. Or at least the cool ones. The ones who buy beer and don't force you to go anywhere. Freshman beach week was supposed to be the best week ever. It was the first year the school choose to move us to Kitty Hawk and not induce us to hazing by the seniors at Emerald Isle. Not that they knew about the hazing.... Officially they didn't. Why was freshman beach week so great? My best friends were going and a handful of our closer friends. Half of the guys were and no one cares what went on as long as you made it to bed at twelve. Well according to the parents who went with us it was DANDY until Friday when, a certain friend of mine didn't get on the bus. This action was followed by me and three others refusing to get on. What the hell happened during beach week? A lot. Nothing good. Sarjah disappeared on Monday, four hours after we got there. Winston and I's plan of lounging on the beach with wine coolers getting tan was called off. I mean, it was Sarjah. We didn't think about it till she didn't show up for dinner. Sarjah was model thin and tall with mocha skin. She had a perfect figure, but she would never miss a meal. Never. Especially not a meal of steak, bonfire baked potatoes, and creamed corn. Ridiculous beach food, but that's what you get from the rich.
Chapter one: ROAD TRIP Freshmen technically weren't allowed to drive from High Point to Kitty Hawk, but most freshmen don't own minivans and have a permit. Emily did though. And Emily had the most awesome brother ever, he's twenty-five, who agreed to sit in the back of a van with three girls and a guy for five hours while his baby sister drove. Needless to say, the trip was great. No sarcasm. Emily drove for two hours, got bored and Zack took over. Everything was normal. Winston ignored us to read comic books about Johnny The Homicidal Killer. That was typical. Sarjah and I immediately started to look through magazines to oogle over guys. Emily joined us and we switched to gossiping. Then we saw the bridges. We all appropriately "ooed" and "awwed" at the magnificent waves below us. After that I left Sarjah and Emily to gossip while I crawled back next to Winston to write in silence. He greeted me with a little grunt and a bit of teasing as he poked me with his toes. I shot him a look, one I save for the times when I'm about to write. It's not a mean one or a particularly special one, it just means business. Winston gave me one of his sheepish grins and allowed me to lay on him as I wrote for the last hour as I smiled and allowed him to read what I wrote. All was good till we reached the third bridge. It seemed normal at first, then it got bumpy. Not pothole every two seconds bumpy, but waves rocking beneath the boat bumpy. Soon Sarjah and Emily were giggling. Their tanned and ruddy from blushing-because-we-are-giggling faces popped over the seat back. After a second of Winston and I switching between staring at them and each other while they did the same, Sarjah started singing. This wasn't unusual, she has a fantastic voice and sang often. But the lyrics were.... odd. Odd for most people but not us. "Hump, hu-hump, hump hump!" Sarjah sung the line over and over to the tune of some song none of us had heard. Within an instant we were all laughing hard. Winston's comic landed in my hair as he wiped away the tears. My notepad fell on the ground as I buried my face into his jacket. I managed to speak after a few minutes of silent laughter, "You guys are too much. That's so sick!" At that second I heard Winston mutter two very very very familiar words to us all: "Rapist van". I look to our left. A short, overly paunchy guy sits behind the wheel of an over-sized, unmarked, windowless, white work van. He stared at us through the open window. We smiled and waved, he waved back. At the stoplight Sarjah clambered over us to sing the chorus of "Call me maybe" to him on top of her lungs. I think he ran the light after that.
Chapter two: Not that Romantic Before I state what happened that evening, I would to talk about Winston. You see Winston is not gay as all the guys make him out to be. He's also not very courageous or romantic when it comes to love or dates (I would know). So this was a bit shocking and would be to anyone if this happened with their best friend for ever and evermore. --- I wound up rooming on the top floor in a smaller room with Sarjah. There was a bunk bed pushed against the wall with a window. The window was between the bunks, so if you slept on the bottom you could look out it. A garishly large dresser was next to the closet with a T.V. on top of it. Sarjah immediately claimed the closer and we began to unpack. Half way through my suitcase, in what I call the shorts layer which is located between underwear/bikinis and shirts, I found a piece of grey paper folded around a belt loop. I set the shorts aside to look at later, and returned to packing. Sarjah had to've noticed something. Those shorts were not particularly nice or cute. They were light blue and tattered on the ends with all but one belt loop torn off, the one with note. She came running over, "OHMYGANHDI those are sooooo cute!!!" "Uhhh, they're, like falling apart, Sar," I mutter looking past her as she picks them up. "Wow! You wear a one?! Me too!!! I soooooooo wanna bo- Oh what's this?" "NOTH- I mean I honestly don't know," I watch her pick at the tape encrusting the paper. "Let's find out," she hums softly and has that smile saying she already knows who it's from. (To be finished after.... clothes shopping with family. I didn't have time till today to write this because I have been having too much fun . And then today it started raining ;-