Uno
~~~~~
ONCE IN A BLUE MOON
by: smokeline
Disclaimer: HA! I don’t need one like with all the other fics I write! This time the characters are ALL MINE to play with! *grin*
A.N: In case you hadn’t guessed, my first real attempt at using my own characters. Go me.
~~~~~
“MOTHER!” she screamed as she frantically tore through the piles of stuff in her room.
“Yes, Madrigal?” was the prim reply that echoed up the stairs. Apparently, Mrs. Montgomery believed that if she spoke respectfully, her daughter would as well. No such luck.
“KEEP AMY OUT OF MY THINGS!” Madrigal yelled back.
A few stomping footsteps sounded outside of her bedroom, followed by her mom’s face appearing around the doorframe. Mrs. Montgomery knew her daughter well; if they continued the conversation from so far away, Madrigal’s voice would grow louder and louder until the police were called because neighbors thought they heard a wild animal screeching somewhere. Calmly, she replied, “She is only eight. She doesn’t know any better.”
“Well then, perhaps I shall just have to teach her,” Madrigal grumbled angrily.
“You will do nothing of the sort. With your temper, ‘teaching’ would end up becoming some sort of attack that would leave her in the hospital for two weeks with severe burn marks on her arms, a bloody or broken nose, and some sort of sticky object in her hair that refuses to come out without giving her an awful haircut.”
“So?”
Mrs. Montgomery sighed and went back to her work downstairs.
Madrigal kicked aside more of her crap in search of the journal that she was sure Amy had stolen. After several minutes, she stormed across the hall to her younger sister’s room, finding what she was looking for within minutes. Eight year olds really had no sense of discretion. The journal was under the pillow...such a creative hiding place. Madrigal sighed in relief as she noticed a small note on the bedside table; it read, “Go find key.” Madrigal herself didn’t even know where the damn key was; she’d just mastered the art of picking the lock. So it hadn’t been read. All was fine again. But if her sister ever decided to go back into her room, there would most definitely be hell to pay.
She’d earned the room. It had taken years of alternating tantrums and sucking up to get her own room. Until April of this past year, she’d shared with Amy and her other sister, Mariana, who was eleven. It had been a birthday present. She had to move back when guests came because she’d taken the only extra room, but that didn’t happen often. Her parents were afraid to force her to clean up the tornado that was her sanctuary. Something about loss of sanity on their parts....
Madrigal returned to her room, journal in hand, to write down her latest entry.
“Joy of all joys, my stupid little sister has stolen this journal. Again. Will the little brat never give it a rest? Le sigh. But anyways, that’s not what I got this out to say. Just felt like commenting that school is evil. I know, I know, what else is new, right? Really, it was extra bad yesterday. It was a Friday, so I was all happy to be leaving the hellhole in several hours for a whole weekend. And then it went and had to prove that it was a hellhole. In English, we’ve got to do poetry projects. As in write one. About the meaning of life. What are they playing at? I don’t know the meaning of life!! I really don’t know what they were asking for. Like they don’t know that the meaning of life to all fifteen-year-olds is probably sex. Oooh, idea! Freak out the school administration by writing a naughty poem...I wonder how many times you have to use the word ‘fuck’ before it becomes inappropriate...? Grin. This might end up being fun.
Wait. No it won’t. See? That’s how bad my partner is. I can’t go three seconds without crashing rapidly down from my happy place concerning this assignment. Old Mr. Smithers (our stupid English teacher who really should have died twenty years ago, let alone retired) decided that for this project, he should pick our partners rather than letting us choose. So, being the lazy bag that he is, he said we’ve got to pair up with the person sitting next to us. And, of course, my two best friends, Shamara and Parker, happen to be placed in such a way that they are parters. But not me.
As the odd one out, I am stuck with Kedin. The most annoying prat known to humankind. Who, never failingly, taps me on the left shoulder while standing on my right when I come into class, and laughs when I, never failingly, turn the wrong direction. I’m usually reading something as I walk in and am not completely all there. Which I should probably stop doing, but I don’t want to. It’s still cruel. But that’s not all. He always finds a way make my writing sound like that of a third-grader, which it’s NOT, thank you very much.
But the one thing that I absolutely can’t stand about him is that, no matter what, he ALWAYS calls me Maddy. I DESPISE that name. It’s Madrigal. And I swear, if he uses it ONCE while we are collaborating for the stupid poem, I am going hurt him. Badly. With much torture. The only question is: hot, cold, sharp, or dull?
And now I’ve got to actually work with him and be productive. For something that matters for a GRADE. Sure, I don’t usually try quite as hard as I could, preferring to learn about my own stuff, but I still don’t want to FAIL. The little bastard better not do anything...”
She snapped the journal shut, redid the lock, and walked over to the phone to have a verbal tantrum with Shamara. It was okay. She wouldn’t mind. Shamara had a worse temper than Madrigal, and would most definitely not have a problem listening to ranting. She may even decide to add in a few choice words herself. Madrigal grinned.
After all, what were friends for?
~~~~~
“Madrigal, you’re being slightly unreasonable,” Parker said scoldingly as they walked to their locker before English the next day.
She just glared at him. He knew that she had anger issues. He knew that she knew they did tend to get out of hand sometimes. But he never stopped trying. And it never worked. “I don’t care,” she replied. Playfully, she added, “You do know that the only reason I didn’t rip your head off for even mentioning the possibility of unreasonableness is that you’re my bestest friend, right?”
“Hey!” Shamara added, her dark brown face looking indignantly at Madrigal.
“–Sorry, one of my bestest friends,” she corrected.
They always did this; the goofing around. Most people thought they were slightly crazy. They were probably right. Except for Parker. He was the only semi-normal one in the trio. Sort of kept them grounded.
“Come on,” he said with a glint in his eye that happened to be directed at Madrigal. “We wouldn’t want to be late for our first day of working on those poems!”
Madrigal just glared again. She liked that; the glaring. And with the bright green eyes that she had never seen on anyone else, the glares were that much more intense.
The three friends went back to their normal easy chatter the rest of the way to the classroom.
~~~~~
“No, no, no,” Madrigal said, exasperated, rejecting the newest idea from her partner.
“What are you talking about? Reproducing is most definitely the purpose of life,” Kedin said firmly. Madrigal didn’t tell him that she’d thought of the very same thing herself (well, sort of).
“But that’s boring. That’s the meaning of a cricket’s life or something. We’re talking about people.”
“Well fine, Maddy, have it your way.”
“I TOLD YOU NOT TO CALL ME THAT!” she yelled, gaining herself several odd stares from the groups around her.
“Why do you think I did?” he said with a smirk.
“Because you’re an insufferable prat who wants us to fail this assignment.”
“No I don’t. And besides, I haven’t heard you come up with any brilliant ideas yourself.”
“Yes I have.”
“We are NOT going to say that the meaning of life is to live in it. It’s overused and corny.”
“But it’s true!”
“I don’t care.”
With a small ‘hmmph’ Madrigal crossed her arms and sat back in her seat. This was going to be harder than she thought.
~~~~~
On to Dos
Back to Once in a Blue Moon
