Hey guys! How's everybody been doing?
Well, first off, I'll start on a sad note. My other fic, Choices, is going to be put on hold right now. I'm really, really sorry! But it's just temporary. I just seem to have lost my mojo for that one. I'll try to post a.s.a.p. when I make a new chapter so please don't hate me. Pretty please.
And secondly, I want to thank everyone who read, reviewed, or both to my one-shot, I'm Sorry. Thank you, thank you, thank you so much! Mwah!
Okay, lastly, I made another fic! And you're about to read it in a few more seconds! Yay! Hopefully I'll finish this one (*crosses fingers*). It's going to be a different take on my OTP – Jesse/Suze – since it's an AU. Hahaha.
So, anyway! I'm now presenting to you…
AU. Suze Simon is popular, beautiful, and with a personality to boot. Perfect, right? Well, there's just one problem in the picture: she still doesn't have a boyfriend. But, one person just might be perfect for that role. The new guy, Jesse de Silva. With the help of a few shoves, dares, alcohol, and drugs, it just might help them realize that losing everything to each other is probably the only thing they'll ever need.
1 Funny Girl.
"Oh my God."
"What?" I asked Kelly Prescott as I plopped down next to her on the sand.
"Eww, Suze, you just got seawater on my fish tacos!" The brunette girl sitting on the next beach towel on my other side exclaimed while flicking some sand off her food.
"Oh," I said, glancing at the girl, "sorry, Debs. Don't worry though, that fish in your taco used to live in the seawater so all's good."
"You betcha," I chuckled lightly before turning back to the blond girl I was talking to earlier, "So, Kels, what's the reason you used the name of God in vain this time?"
I rolled my eyes as she said the name. Great, here we go again about Jake Ackerman.
"What?" Kelly asked, turning her blue-eyed gaze to me, "He's hot."
Oh, did I just say the last part out loud?
"Yeah," Debbie Mancuso piped in, looking all dreamily as she stared at the boys coming out from the water, "Brad too."
I rolled my eyes again. Obviously these girls haven't seen my stepbrothers eat. It's like I was sitting with a pair of overgrown, starving crocodiles during mealtimes. Before I could even be through with half of my plate, they were already on their second or third helpings. Seriously. It's like they don't even chew. Just swallow and swallow and swallow…
"Okay, first off, yuck," I told them as I stood up, wriggling out of my now-soaked oversized T-shirt, revealing the black vinyl bikini I wore underneath. Apparently some of the boys in our class thought it'd be fun to pick me to be their next victim in their stupid Throw-A-Girl-In-The-Water game. Boys and their childish games, "and second, change topic please. I am so over this conversation."
"You just don't see it, Suze," Kelly told me, "they are totally hot for their own good."
"But since you live in the same house," Debbie added, "I guess it's okay you don't see them in that way because then, we might have a problem."
"Now that," I said as I slipped on my Donna Karan sunglasses and reclaimed my spot in between the two girls, "is really disturbing. Incest doesn't work for me, if you wanna know. But hey, if you want to get freaky with my knucklehead stepbrothers, be my guest. I just don't see why you're wasting your time anyway."
That shut them up. Finally.
I really don't see why would anyone like my stepbrothers. Jake, the oldest, just seemed to be out of it most of the time. With his night shifts delivering 'zas from the Peninsula Pizza, I find it a miracle that he's gonna graduate high school this year. And not once was he held back. Amazing, I know.
And the second, Brad, who's just a few weeks older than me actually, is just this lumbering lump of muscle of the Mission Academy wrestling team. Don't even ask about his brain. I personally think that it atrophied after all those moves they do in the game. He even almost flunked English last year. English, his native language! Can you believe that?
But the youngest of all my stepbrothers, David, is probably the smartest out of all of us, me included. And he's only in middle school! But he's got an IQ of 180 or something. Nerdy, I know. But the kids cool though, if you're willing to sit through his talks of How Things Came To Be.
These three stepbrothers of mine was what I got when my mom remarried Andy Ackerman, local TV show host of Carmel-By-The-Sea, California. When my dad died from a heart attack when I was six years old, it was just me and my mom for ten years. And then along came Andy, who lost his wife due to cancer a few years back, they socialized, they married, and then bam! I was to transfer from New York to sunny California to complete the whole family. Oh joy.
Well, at first, that is.
Back in New York, I had one best friend… okay, one friend. Gina Augustin. People in school thought that I was kind of weird and scary for some reason. But Gina was the only one that stuck by me. And it sucked that I had to leave her when I transferred to the West Coast. But amazingly enough, in Mission Academy, Kelly Prescott and Debbie Mancuso, the two It girls of the school, welcomed me into their circle. The popular circle. Which, by extension, meant that I was now popular too.
And vice president of the senior class.
Gina had a fit when I told her too.
Honestly, being with the popular crowd was just as amazing as I always thought it to be. The parties, the boys, the perks, the clothes, the boys… Oh yeah, the boys.
And yet, I still haven't ever had a boyfriend.
Not that there aren't any trying to be. There are. It's just that they're so… what's the word?… boring and so not my type. I just put it that I haven't found the right guy yet.
And it's not even a question about my looks. I find my self, as well as Kelly, Debbie and a couple of guys saying so, quite pretty. With my chestnut brown hair, bright green eyes, amazing make-up and fashion sense, I look great.
Sorry, but being in the popular crowd surely inflated my ego.
But still zilch in the boyfriend department. And all that entails in that area. You know what I mean. I haven't even had my first kiss yet!
Maybe I was just kidding myself. Maybe the boys here also thought that I was weird and scary too, like the boys back in New York.
I mean, I would too. Find myself weird and scary, that is. With the things I've done and behaved in the past, no wonder boys aren't piling around the house asking me out. No, back in the Big Apple maybe. But not here.
No one in California knows my secret.
No one here knows that I can talk to the dead.
And I'm not even joking. Seriously. I've been able to see and talk to the dead ever since I could remember. But it wasn't until my Dad died and he came back as a ghost that I got to know what I really was – a mediator. A guide to help the lost souls cross over to the other side. Or something.
But I try not to use this "gift" as much as possible. In fact, I try to avoid situations that would make me come in contact with ghosts. See a ghost in the hallway? Fine, I'll go around. Oh, there's another ghost there? Fine, Plan B then. Duck and avoid eye contact. The latter is usually almost always foolproof.
But then there are also some ghosts who actually go to my room in the wee hours in the morning and wake the hell out of me so that I could help them. Considerate, or what? I don't even know how they know I'm a mediator. Or even where to find me. It's not like the ghosts go around house to house and scream their heads off and find out who's going to wake up. Well, at least, I think they don't.
It's cases like that in which I have to help. Not for their sake but mine. And if I want to get a good night's sleep again. I tried ignoring them once, oh boy, was that a huge mistake. Not only did I have to go on 5 days without so much as an hour of sleep at night, I also had to come to my room completely trashed.
And they don't even pay me a single stinking cent! And the unfinished things they want me to do? Yeah, not really a piece of cake. Like the most recent ghost I had to mediate, she wanted me to take her knitting needles, or whatever they're called, and give them to her niece who lived on the other side of Carmel. And that's just an example of the peaceful ones that I get. Which, if you want to know, rarely happens in my case.
Most of the times I get psycho nutjobs who doesn't realize or care that the mediator they're seeking help from is actually a seventeen year old girl. And when they get violent? Ugh, the worst. I've had bruises, cuts, and fractures and trips downtown to the police station or the hospital that could last me a lifetime already. Try explaining that to anyone, especially my poor mother who probably only wanted a normal girl but got me instead. But then I guess that lately, she's happy that I'm finally fitting in with the "in" crowd, like she did back when she was my age.
Then again, she wasn't the schmuck that had to deal with ghosts.
"Oh look," Kelly suddenly drawled, "it's Whitester and FagTavish."
Debbie and I craned our necks and saw that a few meters away from where we were, this albino girl – CeeCee Webb, I think was her name – and a boy – Adam McTavish, I think – were setting up their place on the sand. They were also from our class, I knew. I had nothing against them but since Kelly thought they weren't worthy enough of her recognition, I haven't really spent that much time around them. But I guess they were okay though. If ever I had the chance to chat with them, I will, screw what Kelly Prescott thinks. She's not the boss of me.
Debbie let out a guffaw. She repeated, "FagTavish, that's hilarious."
"Oh, come on," I said, ignoring Debbie, "that's rude."
"Who cares?" Kelly stared at me with her steely-blue gaze, as if she was sending me a message that said, "shut it".
Before I could retort with something witty, Debbie suddenly cried out, "Oh look!"
Both Kelly and I turned our attention to Rick, the hottie lifeguard, after raising the yellow flag – which urged beachgoers to take caution in the water – jumped catlike from his tower and dove gracefully into the water to save some kid screaming at the top of his lungs.
I took off my DK's to have a better look at the victim, which also seemed to have caught the attention of all the beachgoers in the vicinity, and to my utter amusement, it was actually Brad. He was screaming like a girl as the lifeguard swam to him and dragged him to shore. There was, adding to my fun, this whitish mass of a jellyfish that was clinging to the side of his leg.
I don't know if it was because I was a mediator and my senses were a bit sharper or something else, but it was only when my stepbrother was being dragged to the shoreline that my two companions realized who the unsightly victim was. To which they both said, "Oh my God, Brad!" at the same time and took off to their "hottie"-in-distress.
Putting back my sunglasses on, I stood up and went to where my bestfriends were, making sure I was taking my time. A smirk crept to my face as I couldn't help but mumble to myself, "Now that is what I call hilarious."
Okay, I know the first chapter is all about intro and stuff but I'd really like to know what you think about it. Like it? Hate it? Let me know!
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I'll post the next chapter soon. I promise.
'Til next time,