|Ride of Your Life
Author: JZ65 PM
Mean Girls 2 fanficiton. This is a Jo/Mandi. Don't like, don't read. Are these two the definition of "opposites attract" or are they going to rip each other to pieces? Can they even be friends let alone together? I guess you'll just have to find out.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Hurt/Comfort - Chapters: 8 - Words: 30,464 - Reviews: 67 - Favs: 16 - Follows: 19 - Updated: 06-06-12 - Published: 07-23-11 - id: 7211980
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
All right, I don't really do fanfics for this sort of thing, but this just popped into my head and I literally wrote three chapters in one night. I've been writing for hours, and I just figured that if I put these out there then they won't be swirling around in my head. I'll only be updating according to how many reviews I get. This is strictly a "as inspiration comes to me" type of fanfic. But just as a hint, inspiration always hits me when I receive REVIEWS and/or PM's. So feel free to do so.
I don't own Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2... or anything really.
High school, where if you play your cards right, you only spend four years looking over your shoulder and trying to dodge social chaos. But if you screw up, those four years can feel like forty, killing self pride and murdering your sense of morals. We all know how the race starts. Elementary school, where you find friends, invite everyone to parties, and all the kids are just a bunch of snot nosed, whiny, teary eyed brats. Then comes Middle school, where all the fun begins. You learn valuable lessons, like friends can stab you in the back much easier now, being the hottest couple is way more important than your spelling words, and there are friends that you just hang out with and friends that you would trust your darkest secrets. Middle schools acts as a transition to the hell of high school, giving students little glimpses at the heat and competition in their near future. If you don't burn a little rubber, you sure as hell aren't going fast enough.
High school, now that's where the race track branches off. Freshman year is usually when you find your pit crew for the next years of your hell, or in some people's case, paradise. Your crew needs to have your back, keep you prim and ready for the next time you'll have to bust out onto the track. A good pit crew is like… well, a good pit crew. You can't really win if you can't get new tires and fuel when you need them, or if the information you're getting isn't right. In high school, people call these pit crews "cliques" because… well NASCAR terms aren't "cool" in high school, I guess. Cliques are everywhere. There are the jocks, band geeks, nerds, music heads (who are different than band geeks because they usually are in a band… cool band, not one with a bald guy directing from some big podium), skaters, drama, and you have your computer techs… and pretty much any other thing you can think of. But one clique that no school is complete without, and trust me I would know, is the "Mean Girls" or as I like to call them Fake Bitches.
So there you have it. A special preview at the competition all lined up at North Shore High School, where I'm going to spend my senior year. After this, I'll be able to settle down at college. When I say "settle down" I mean going to the same school for longer than a year. I've been to twelve schools in eight years. I'm not complaining, I understand better than most girls that you adapt. My dad works on NASCAR racecars, and we usually move to be closer to the headquarters of our latest contract. He gets six month contracts, on average, with one racecar, and we work on it and tune it up… all that shit. My dad is great at his job, but income always depends on how the races go… the economy… and the driving capability of the driver. He's worked on racecars all my life, and so have I. I know a lot about cars, trucks, motorcycles… let's just say that if it has an engine, I know how to put it together and take it apart, and probably fix it. Of course, I don't like to waste my time on lawn mowers, so don't get any ideas.
My name is Jo Mitchell, and I'm a seventeen year old tomboy.
Powerful statement, I know. I've learned a lot over the years. I'm not some emotionally crippled, sarcastic chick with an overly developed defense mechanism… okay, I am, but that hardly has anything to do with it. I've got a strict set of rules that I follow:
Never make a spectacle of yourself.
Stick up for yourself, because you is all you've got.
Lay low and don't form any attachments.
Never involve teachers.
Relationships don't end well.
Oh yeah, and I should probably add that I'm gay. I'm a lesbian, so if you've got a problem, either deal with it or tell me to my face, because I'd gladly punch it out of you. I'm partially openly gay… makes sense right? Well here is how I see it. If nobody asks, then there isn't any point in bringing it up. If somebody does ask, acting like your scared certainly won't help so might as well not hide it. I don't hit on every girl I see, because let's all be honest: girls are very emotional. I'm not, and there are some that aren't, but in general… emotions tend to run high for teenage women. And the last thing I need is drama.
Yup, this is a Jo/Mandi fic... So if you don't like it, don't read it. No one is forcing you to. Alright, please leave REVIEWS and/or PM's. Don't forget that anonymous reviews are gladly accepted. I'll only update according to inspiration... so inspire me!