Okay. I know I should be updating one of my chaptered fics. But… this idea just sort of struck me down one day and I figured I just HAD to write it. It's not exactly a chaptered fic, but it's not exactly a one-shot either. And it's just easier to use chapters instead of having to clarify points of view every five seconds.
Disclaimer: I don't own, you don't sue. We clear?
True to Yourself
"We're over? What do you mean we're over? Nobody breaks up with me! You can't do this!"
"Seems like I just did, Meems."
"You think you can trade up? Nobody else will have you! You'll come crawling back!"
"I very much doubt that."
"You will come crawling back! And I won't have you! You'll want me - need me - beg for me - but I won't care! I'll have found someone else and you'll have no chance!"
"This isn't over, Michael! It's not over 'til I say it's over!"
Mimi was sitting next to a deep pond, throwing stones into the sparking water. Each one sent concentric ripples radiating outwards. It was wonderfully calming.
Her relationship with Michael was over. They'd been dating for almost a year and now it was over as if it had never been.
She was upset, naturally. But, oddly, more angry than sad. She felt like a rug had been pulled from beneath her, or that she'd missed a step walking downstairs. Like all her power had been stripped from her. Like all the tables had been turned and now she was just freefalling. It was most unsettling. She was at a loss for what to do. She'd always prided herself on being in control. Being in charge and having everybody else obey her orders. And now that was gone, and she'd never been less sure of herself.
She dangled bare feet into the water and wriggled her toes pensively. It wasn't that Michael was really such a great boyfriend. He wasn't. Mimi craved passion and fire in a relationship. She wanted someone who would challenge and excite her. Someone she could argue with; who wasn't afraid to stand up for himself. She wanted an equal and as yet she'd been unable to find him. Michael was distant, even cold, and about as good to talk to as a pet rock. Nobody was quite as interested in Michael as Michael, so his conversation skills were limited.
But he was a football star. And good-looking. And he could charm even the bitterest old teachers into giving him good grades. He was the sort of boy she was expected to date. The ideal king for the Queen Bee.
She glanced down at her reflection. She supposed she understood why she'd been crowned Queen in the first place. She was pretty, in a stereotypical sort of way. Her long honey blonde hair and wide, dark-lashed caramel eyes were the envy of many a woman. Her delicate features and naturally lithe figure drew admiring glances from men of all ages. This was something she knew and accepted without conceit. After all, to be conceited you had to consider that aspect of yourself to be important.
When she was in school and with her friends, she played her Queen Bee role to perfection. She knew they expected it of her. But when she was on her own, she couldn't help but question it. How many people actually liked her? How many were only pretending? How many talked about her behind her back? How many would care if something awful happened to her? How many were only with her because of the role she played? But most of all, was she really that person?
Because, when she looked at it objectively, that person was not somebody she liked at all.
She shut her eyes and tried to stop such thoughts. She was sitting on a rock plateau, the edge of which hung over the deepest part of the pool. Inching forward, the water slowly swallowed her legs to the shin. It enticed her. She would love to go for a swim. Lie there, oddly weightless and embraced by nature, and let her uncertainties float away. Let the water drain her.
But, of course, she hadn't brought swimmers. The decision to come here had been an impromptu one, and she was regretting not thinking it over more. She cast a glance around. The water was very tempting. And nobody was likely to come by.
Unzipping her skirt, she left all her clothes in a neat pile by the side of the pond and dove in.
Emma's useless facts about nothing in particular
The first passengers in a hot air balloon were a sheep, a duck, and a rooster.