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Post by Pukkina on Mar 4, 2006 8:39:35 GMT -5
**K, here's a fanfic I jotted down based on the Meg Cabot book Teen Idol...a lot of the same places and daily stuff of me (ie, my name and everything) are the same, but a lot of names have been changed for privacy...that's all though...I hope you like if you don't I can delete it...**
Prologue
I knew it the moment I saw him. His exquisitely carved features, softly falling brown locks, and most of all his piercingly blue eyes.
It started one rainy Saturday afternoon in January. My nineteen-year-old sister Karly had driven me over to our elderly friend Marge’s house. We’d wanted to spend some time with her watching scary movies.
Karly's ideas of scary movies were Red Eye, and Scary Movie 2. We watched Red Eye first, and the whole movie I was affixed to the plot...and his eyes.
“Karly,” I marveled. “Who is that?” I nodded to the screen.
“I don’t know,” she tossed me the cover. Cillian Murphy as Jackson Rippner. Bingo.
“He’s gorgeous,” I remarked. Kristin wrinkled her nose.
“Ew, Rach, no,” she argued. I shrugged my shoulders and watched the rest of the movie.
Two months following, my spare time was spent buying the dvd, getting pictures of him for my locker, and seeing what other films he was in. I purchased his movie 28 Days Later and watched it, mesmerized the whole time. However, I didn’t let myself get to the point of obsession.
I sat in science class, doodling circles on my notebook while Mr. Mackenzie droned on about rocks and minerals. Suddenly his phone rang.
Mr. Mackenzie stopped and went to it.
“Yup,” he said, looking right at me. He hung up. “Miss Wilmot, Ms. Becker's office.”
I sighed and stood up. Not again.
Ms. Becker was the guidance counseler. She always had a different duty for me to undertake. Most of them didn’t even involve what I wanted to major in when I graduated, movie journalism and screenwriting. Currently I was involved in Honor Society, mentoring fifth graders, every music program, art, besides being secretary of my class and valedictorian. Some of these things were my own choosing, but most were purely the result of being sucked in by the counselor or my mother.
I entered her office where a man in a crisp suit sat. She gestured to the chair next to him. I smiled politely at him, slightly nervous.
“Hi,” I greeted him. I wasn’t shy like I usually was around people. For some reason, I wasn’t shy around adults. “Um, not to be rude, but I’m somewhat behind in science, I should be getting back soon.”
“I understand,” Ms Becker nodded. “I’ll get right to the point. Do you by any chance know of the actor,” she shuffled her papers. “Cillian Murphy?”
My heart stopped. “What...I mean, yes, I do,” I was extremely confused.
“Well, perhaps you know but his next project is for the role of a young man who saves a small town school in a shooting,” I nodded, suddenly realizing that the man seated next to me was his agent.
“I’m Mr. Williams,” the man said. “And just so you know, Mr. Murphy never had an American, smalltown highschool experience.”
“Okay,” I answered, no idea where this was going.
“We picked a small school in America, and this was it,” the agent continued.
“Oh, so you’re filming here?” I concluded. Mr. Williams shook his head.
“No, Mr. Murphy wants to shadow here,” he explained. “Get the feel of going to a small school. In the film, he’ll be playing a seventeen-year-old student, who’s in the eleventh grade. We need a person to show him around for about a month, along with doing typical American teenager things.”
“We chose one of the most responsible, academically sound students,” Miss Becker continued. “We chose you.”
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Post by Pukkina on Mar 4, 2006 18:51:25 GMT -5
**OKay, sorry if I got some facts wrong, like anything about him...I don't know everything, so please bear with me!! I was intrigued by the fact that a girl who was pretty much an adult wouldn't want to spend her waking hours with a hot celebrity like Cillian....so please leave comments, if you don't like I'll delete!!**
Chapter Two
DAY ONE
My head spun. “Well, I’m sorry, but...I’m afraid I can’t. I’m just too busy.”
Ms Becker nodded. “I understand. But let me say one thing, this will look fantastic on your resumee.”
I thought. I really didn’t know why I was passing up this opportunity. Sure, I liked Cillian Murphy a lot, but I didn’t know his true personality...what if I was stuck dragging some diva around for a month when my schedule was busy enough as it was? But then again, my resumee was of utmost importance...
“Fine,” I sighed. “When?”
“He arrives tomorrow,” the agent told me. “You may tell your family and friends, but no one else. It is important that he’s not distracted by fans.”
“Not to be rude, but,” I stifled back laughter. Right now Eminem was the current teen idol. “I don’t think anyone knows who he is.”
“You’d be surprised,” Mr. Williams said simply as he left the room.
“That’s great, honey,” my mom encouraged me. I was slightly dumbfounded by her reaction. She wasn’t the biggest fan of him after his shocking entrance in 28 Days Later.
My friends didn’t really care, the exception being my best friend, Beth. She liked him. A lot. I begged her to keep it quiet.
The next day, Friday, I stood in my bathroom curling my hair. I was dressed in a typical outfit for me, a black skirt and white blouse. Professional. That’s how I always wanted to look, despite the current fashion being camoflauge and ripped jeans. I finished my hair and applied lip gloss, eyeshadow, and mascara. I quickly put concealer under my eyes to cover dark circles. My mom constantly critiqued the way my eyes looked. She blamed the circles on running mascara, but I knew that’s not what it was. Frankly, I was exhausted. Too much work, I usually didn’t go to bed until well after ten, doing homework and working on my novel I was writing. I rose at five thirty to get ready for school, which gave me less than enough sleep, and my days were long and difficult.
My mother drove me in since I was meeting with the “new student” early at seven-thirty in the caf.
I gathered myself and walked inside to the cafeteria. I wasn’t going to let myself get dewy-eyed over a stupid celebrity. I wasn’t a little screaming girl, I was good as an adult.
As I stepped off the last step into the cafeteria, I saw him. Though I’d obviously expected him to be there, I was still shocked and drew in my breath. He stood up from the table where he was seated.
“Are you Rachel?" he asked, his voice smooth and Irish accented. I nodded and shook his hand.
“Cillian,” he told me.
“I know,” I laughed. He slapped his forehead and smiled.
“I keep forgetting,” he chuckled. “So, um, well, I see your guidance counseler’s already briefed you that I’ll be going with you to classes, hanging out a few hours after school, a little on the weekend-”
I froze. “The weekend? Sorry, but...I’m usually pretty busy then.”
“What, with your boyfriend?” his voice held a friendly, mocking lilt.
I rolled my eyes, already annoyed. “No, for your information, I have music lessons and it’s the one time I can spend time with my friends. Plus recuperate.”
“From what?” he leaned against the table.
“School. Life,” I answered. He clicked his tongue.
“What is so difficult about school that requires you two days to catch up?” he questioned. I sighed.
“Well, let’s see, shall we?” I snapped. He was already starting to get on my nerves. “Band, jazz band, choir, eight classes, volunteering with the elementary choir, my writing, tutoring, teaching people how to read, art, among other things,” I almost smiled as his eyes widened. My schedule did seem to have that effect on people.
“Jesus Christ, how old are you?” Cillian asked.
“Fifteen in August,” I answered as people began filing off the buses.
“Then...what requires you to do so much work?” he rubbed his head, dumbfounded. I sighed.
“Padding my college resumees,” I answered. “I want to get as many scholarships as possible so I can get the hell out of here,” he nodded as people began staring at him.
“You’d better hope to hell that they don’t recognize you,” I murmured. He slipped on a pair of sunglasses. I immediately yanked them off his face.
“Kay, rule number one, you don’t wear shades inside a building in March in Northern Connecticut,” I scolded. He sighed. He was so ignorant, like a four-year-old.
“Fine, fine,” he sighed again. I rolled my eyes and sat down at the table while my friends began filing in.
“This is going to be so weird,” I muttered. Cillian looked at me.
“What do you mean?” I stared back at him, his eyes like they were burning into my soul.
“You, being here, tailing me, like...like a little shadow,” I pondered.
“It will be fun,” he smiled at me.
“My school?” I snorted. “Yeah, right.”
“Come on, it can’t be that bad,” he argued.
“Oh, no. It can,” I assured him as one of my several close friends, Tara, sidled up.
Oh god, I groaned inwardly. Well, at least we’re biting the bullet and getting the worst done first...
“Hi!” she squealed. She wasn’t Cillian-obsessed, but was attracted to every male lifeform on the planet. Cillian stared uncomfortably at me and then back at her acne-covered face.
“Uh...erm, hi,” he said uncomfortably as she rocked on her heels. I suddenly wondered if Cillian was going by his real name. I looked at him.
“Cillian Crane,” he shook her hand. I fought back laughter.
“Tara Macks,” she grabbed his hand eagerly. I saw him wince slightly. I bit my lip to hold back torrents of giggles and looked away.
“Brace yourself,” I told him as the rest of my friends walked up.
“Kylee,” she smiled strongly at him. One of the most confident people I knew, despite her imperfections. She was known as my twin, as we were born on the same exact day. She had a slightly...perverted...sense of humor. I’d forgotten to forwarn Cillian...oops.
“Mimi,” the year-younger girl with a slightly mean twist. She’d always irked me but my closer friends liked her, so I was powerless. She was the drama freak, and no doubt she’d be pestering Cillian for tips by the end of the week.
“Rosa,” ditzy, sports-centered. Basically unaware of everything going on around her, but generally a sweetheart.
“Fiona,” the infamous, socially-unable girl who none of us except Tasha liked.
“Leah,” the slightly weird, tall skinny girl who had the best sense of humor and often went on swearing tangents.
“Beth,” my best friend. Boy crazy, but down to earth and always there for me. She smiled shyly at Cillian and instantly I knew she would be one of the few people he felt comfortable with.
And the last. The only boy in our little posse, other than...well, we could talk about Nick later. Mark was Chinese, very tall, and a black belt. He shoved his hands into his pockets and shuffled to the side.
Cillian saw his discomfort and spoke. “Hi, I’m Cill-”
“Cillian, I know,” Mark snapped. I stared at him. He was never that malicious. “I’m Mark.”
“Pleasure,” Cillian nodded to him as the bell rang. We made our way upstairs. I had to go a different way than all my other friends, usually with Beth. It almost shocked me when Cillian followed.
“Gonna take me a while to get used to this,” I chuckled. Beth laughed and linked her arm in mine. I noted how Cillian looked. He had a green canvas backpack slung over his shoulder, slightly bunching his red t-shirt at the shoulders. His jeans fit him differently than the baggy ones of the guys from our school.
We slowly made our way upstairs, making idle chatter. I peeled my coat off at the music room, my friends’ hangout, and introduced Cillian to my favorite teacher, Mrs. Christopher.
“Nice to meet you, Cillian,” she said warmly. She was always so friendly and bubbly. “I hope you’ll be taking music!”
“Ah, yes,” he nodded. “I’m actually in a band back home.” I stared fiercely at him, silently urging him to not give away too much information.
“And where is home, might I ask?” I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Ah, Ireland,” he answered. She nodded.
We finally went upstairs to our lockers but on the way three boys walked behind us. They were some of what I liked to call the Junior druggies of our school, who’s lives revolved around sports, pot, and sex.
The three tailing us were Josh, Brandon, and Adam. I heard them whispering but kept walking.
“Who the hell is he?” I heard Josh whisper. “Some of the girls were eyeing him this morning.” I saw Cillian look at me but shifted my gaze to the ground. I could practically feel Beth rolling her eyes next to me.
“f*cking scrawny son of a biatch,” I heard Brandon chuckle behind me. I heard them all hoot with laughter and saw Cillian stop in his tracks.
“Excuse me?” I grabbed his arm as he stepped forward.
“Excuse me?” the mimicked him.
“I haven’t done anything to you, kindly quit with the harassment,” Cillian ordered. They stared at him dumbfounded for a moment, then Adam spoke.
“Figures a prep-geek would hang out with her,” he jerked his head at me. Beth glanced nervously at me as Cillian stepped forward. I pushed him back.
“It’s your first day,” I whispered. I saw anger glinting in his eyes, but he finally nodded and took off down the hallway. I turned to the boys.
“Just because we know vocabulary beyond beer-pong and stoned doesn’t mean we’re geeks,” I retorted as I followed Cillian and Beth down the hall. Typical. They always wanted an excuse to fight. Cillian just gave them another excuse.
Cillian stared at me as I opened my locker. He’d been given one next to me, but he didn’t open it yet.
“What?” I sighed as Beth left us to her own locker. I pulled my Art binder out.
“That was...amazing, what you said to them,” he said in awe, opening his locker. “Really witty.”
“Not really,” I sighed again. I slammed my locker shut and swiftly moved down the hallway despite the slippery pink sequined slides I was wearing. He ran after me.
I quickened my pace as I entered my first class. The guy had already tried to start a fight the first day. Cillian grabbed my shoulder and spun me around to face him. He gazed into my eyes.
“I’m serious,” he told me. I stood there for a moment, looking at him, until I heard Kylee cough behind me. I snapped out of it and quickly sat down. He pulled a chair up next to me and sat down. I pulled out the self-portrait I was currently working on and began sketching.
“That’s quite good,” he nodded as the teacher walked in.
“I hate art,” I grumbled.
“Guys,” Mrs. Cornell addressed the class. “ This is...” she checked her notes. “Cillian Crane. He is an exchange student from Ireland.” The class looked up as Cillian rose uncomfortably from his chair.
“Hi,” he smiled awkwardly. I marveled at how despite being twice the age he looked just like a highschooler. I noticed his discomfort.
Gee, I thought. For being a celebrity he’s pretty easily intimidated by a bunch of kids.
I also noticed the eyes of all the females in the class on him. Typical.
Cillian sat back down and looked at me so he wouldn’t have to face everyone else.
I handed him a piece of paper. “Draw.”
“Myself?” I gave him a no duh look. He sighed and picked up a piece of paper.
A few minutes later, I glanced at his paper.
“You look like Freddy Krueger,” I laughed. He scoffed.
“Oh come on now,” he said. “It’s not that bad. Ooh, good movie though.”
“I think it’s great,” a voice purred behind us. I jumped and turned around. Kelly Gellar. The prettiest, most popular girl in my class. She already had a boyfriend, a person who’d made my life a living hell, Scott Paston.
“Um, thanks,” Cillian smiled at her. I sighed. He’d been sucked into her siren-like charms. It would be funny, actually. I was wondering what he’d do when girls started fawning over him. He was married, after all, but he couldn’t tell them that. Seventeen-year-olds traditionally do not wed.
Luckily, Kelsey retreated and classes went on. We moved next to Math. Cillian jumped at the smell of the room.
“What the f*ck?” he asked me, waving over his nose. I saw the teacher, Mr. Holland, shoot daggers at him.
“Okay, Cillian, mouth,” I sighed as Mr. Holland began to walk over.
He brushed at his mouth. “Thanks, did I get it?”
I sighed, exasperated. “No, don’t swear in class. You’ll get in trouble.”
I couldn’t believe he’d already forgotten this from when he’d been in school.
“Sorry,” he grinned at me and ran a hand through his hair. Mr. Holland stepped up to him as we sat down at two desks next to each other.
“Cillian Crane, I’m presuming?” the teacher leered over us, sending shivers up my spine. However, even sitting, Cillian was nearly as tall as him. He pronounced Cillian’s name with an ‘s’ sound.
“Ah, Cillian, yes,” Cillian said, correcting him with a winning smile.
“That’s an unusual name,” Mr. Holland said, sarcasm etched into his voice.
“I’m from Ireland,” Cillian answered, and nodded his head at me. “Rachel is showing me around.”
“She’s a good girl, huh?” the teacher patted my shoulder and I tensed, memories flooding my head. Cillian noticed my discomfort and shot me a weird look as class started.
After class, walking into science, Cillian ran up beside me.
“What was that all about?” he questioned. I sighed.
“Mr. Holland...has...a bad reputation,” I looked at him. He nodded, somewhat understanding.
“I see. Well, why does it reek in there, anyways?” he asked, seeing that I didn’t want to discuss the topic further.
“Just do one thing and don't look too closely at the floor,” I answered coyly, sitting at a black lab table.
The teacher entered the room in his usual brusque way and strode up to Cillian.
“You,” he shot at him. “Who are you?”
Cillian nervously stood up, his chair tumbling behind him I caught it and stood it back up.
“Uh, Cillian Crane, sir,” he answered. I stifled a laugh.
“You study Earth Science before?” he asked. Cillian shook his head.
“Uh, no, sir, not that much,” he answered nervously. He sat back down and class began. "Just physics and what I had in school."
“Really slick, there, Cill,” I laughed in a whisper. He glared at me.
“Bloody hell, this is way harder than it looks,” he muttered as we went to our next class, French. “I don’t understand any of this sh*t.”
“I’ll help you,” I assured him, sitting down.
Cillian was somewhat more confident after French, a subject he knew fairly well. I opened my locker and shoved my books away. Cillian leaned against his.
“So,” he began. I didn’t look at him as I pulled out my purse. “You know, it’s been almost a whole day and I still haven’t met your boyfriend.”
“Please,” I rolled my eyes and slammed my locker shut.
“Oh come on, you must have one,” he argued, following me downstairs.
“Why would you assume that?” I snapped, temper rising.
“Because you’re...” he paused. “Really smart, pretty, and a good person.”
I tried to conceal the blush creeping up my face by rolling my eyes. “Come on. First of all, I’m not that great, and second of all, the guys in my school are all immature, sex-obsessed pricks.”
“Well it’s obvious they all like you,” he stated. I laughed sharply.
“Get your head out of the clouds, Cillian,” I retorted. “Guys in this school don’t like you unless you play three million sports, smoke after school, and have the perfect figure.”
“I think that’s f*cking stupid,” Cillian said quietly. After a few moments, he said, “Well, what about this Mark character? Who’s boyfriend is he?”
“No one’s,” I gave him a weird look.
“Then why does he hang out with all you girls?” he asked.
“He just does,” I sighed. Did this guy ever stopped with the friggin interrogations? We entered my last class, Music, before lunch.
“So what group meets today?” I’d told him the rotating music schedule of Jazz Band, Choir, Band.
“Choir,” I grinned at him. “You have to sit with the men.”
“Great,” he sighed. “I get to spend forty minutes with these pricks you were speaking of.”
“Well, sit next to Mark,” I suggested, sitting down with the sopranos.
The minute choir was over Cillian ran up to me.
“f*cking hell,” he whispered. “Do they talk about anything of substance?”
“Fun, huh?” I shot him a grin as we made our way downstairs for lunch with the rest of my friends.
“Did you bring a lunch?” I asked. Cillian shook his head no. “And the fun really begins.”
We stepped up to the lunch line. Cillian noticed what was being served up and beamed. “Oh, I love pizza!” He cried. “Two for me, please.”
We continued through the line and sat down at a table with my friends, along with several younger students.
Cillian eyed my tray and sat next to me. “You don’t eat much, do you?”
“Why’d you say that?” I asked.
“You only got one piece,” he said dumbfoundedly. I didn’t mention that the reason I ate so little was because I was watching my weight.
“Um, take a bite before you make that judgement,” I nodded at his plate. He lifted a bite to his mouth and chewed, and a second later a look of disgust crossed his face as he spit the bite back into his napkin. The whole table laughed.
“Bloody hell,” he cursed. “What the f*ck is that?”
“We’re not sure, but we think that’s where all the nuclear waste is going,” I laughed as a member of the druggies named Bethany strolled up. She eyed Cillian like a piece of meat.
“Hey,” she cooed. “I’m Bethany.”
“Uh hi,” Cillian smiled at her. I rolled my eyes. He was way too polite.
“So, uh,” she giggled. “I was wondering, you know, if you wanted to come hang out with me and a few others after school.” She batted her eyelashes.
“Well, actually, I kind of have plans,” he apologized. “With my...girlfriend.” Poor Cillian. Having to create an imaginary girlfriend.
“Oh,” her face fell, and then, as if detecting his bluff, said, “Who’s your girlfriend?”
Cillian didn’t waste a moment and threw his arm around my shoulders. “Rachel.” I tried not to gasp but I heard my friends’ quick intake of breath. Bethany muttered a quick goodbye and walked away. As soon as she was out of earshot I shoved Cillian hard in the chest and asked angrily, “What the hell was that all about?” It confused me, because really what girl wouldn’t want to be Cillian’s fake girlfriend?
Cillian shrugged. “I had to be in some sort of a relationship, and if she went to school here, they’d leave me alone.”
I sighed, realizing he had a point. “What does Yvonne think about this?”
“About you being my fake girlfriend? She doesn’t know,” he shot me a confused glance.
“No, dumbass, about this project,” I sighed in exasperation.
“Oh. She thinks it’s awesome. Doesn’t really like me being gone so long, though,” he explained. “Malachy’s teething.”
“It’d be great to meet them someday,” I pondered.
“Maybe you can, sometime,” he said eagerly.
“Cillian, you live in London,” I laughed. He raised his eyebrows.
“So?”
The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. Cillian boarded the bus and sat down next to me.
“Jesus hell, it’s loud,” he noticed. I nodded.
“Yup,” I agreed as we began moving.
The bus soon stopped and I stood, slinging my bag over my shoulders. Cillian followed me and my sister from the bus. As soon as the bus had pulled away, Maura stared at him.
“Uh, hi,” he chuckled to her. “I’m Cillian.”
She nodded but didn’t say anything, still transfixed.
“Cillian, this is Maura,” I rolled my eyes and grabbed the mail. We walked through the snow down my long driveway as more snow kept falling. I unlocked my front door and went inside.
“Your parents aren’t home?” he asked, stepping inside.
“Nope. Mom works until six. and Dad owns his own business, so they usually don’t arrive until at least seven,” I answered, tossing my backpack to the floor and shutting the door. Cillian looked around.
“Nice place,” he nodded.
“Thanks,” I peeled off my coat. “My dad designed it."
“All of it? Wow,” he marveled, slinging his bag to the floor also. I went to my room and he followed, much to my discomfort.
“It’s pretty,” he remarked at the blue, sea-designed room. “Bit girly, though.”
“Well, duh,” I rolled my eyes and set my books down on the desk. I turned and saw him eying my journalism posters.
“You want to be a journalist?” he asked me. I nodded.
“More specifically, a movie reviewer or screenwriter, but any journalism works for me,” he nodded and laughed at the huge picture of John Stamos tacked to the blue.
“You know, I’m hurt,” he clapped a hand over his heart. “I thought I’d be up there.”
“If it makes you feel better,” I reached over to my huge movie rack and tossed him my copies of Red Eye, 28 Days Later, and Batman Begins.
“I’m touched,” he said simply, smiling at me. “You bought my movies.”
“Yup,” I reached over to my desk for a tie and pulled my hair into a bun.
“I never did ask if you were a fan,” he realized, setting down at my roll-top cherry desk. “Are you?”
I sighed and threw down my brush. “You could say that.” He grinned.
“You don’t act like it.”
“Sorry that I’m not leaping to have you sign my butt,” I snapped, blushing. He chuckled.
“Good point.”
I walked back out to the kitchen. “Want a snack? You didn’t eat lunch.”
“Sure,” he answered.
I spent the next two hours reviewing algebra problems and French vocabulary with Cillian. Finally my mom opened the door as Cillian threw down his pen in frustration.
“Hey, guys,” she called. I smiled at her and gave her a hug.
“Hey, mom,” I said. Cillian stood up. “Cillian stood up and shook her hand.
“Hello, ma’am,” he said politely. I saw in her eyes that she couldn’t help but remember his debut in 28 Days Later.
She invited Cillian for dinner, which was chicken and rice. As it began cooking, I glowered and stomped over to the refrigerator.
"Mom, how many times do I have to tell you I don't eat meat," I grumbled, pulling out a box of veggie burgers. Cillian's ears perked up.
"You don't?" he marveled. "Weird, me neither." I smiled and sat down to eat.
He complimented my mother on her cooking and my sister on her pretty eyes. The next person he needed to suck up to was my dad.
“The house looks great, sir,” he said kindly. My dad nodded.
“Don’t you screw her up, Murphy,” my dad said harshly. I dropped my fork to stare at him. “She’s doing good right now without some goddamn diva wasting her time.”
“Dad!” I cried. But Cillian remained nonchalant. “I assure you, sir, I’m just shadowing.”
My dad gruffly nodded and continued eating. As soon as we’d finished, Cillian stood up.
“I hate to eat and run, but I promised Yvonne I’d call before eight,” he smiled. It was weird, because up until now he’d seemed like a typical teenager, instead of a married man with a baby.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Rachel?” he asked, pulling on his jacket.
“Yea-wait. Tomorrow’s Saturday. We talked about this?” I said.
“Please, come on. I want to see what your life is like,” he begged. I shook my head.
“Please?”
“No, Cillian.”
“Come on, please?” he sounded like a puppy dog. I glared at him.
“She’ll see you tomorrow, Cillian,” my mom answered for me. I shot her a look and stomped to my room, where I immediately fell asleep.
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Post by Pukkina on Mar 6, 2006 17:22:47 GMT -5
Day Two
The next day I dressed in jeans and a teal blazer and was just finishing my hair when a knock sounded at the door. I went to answer it where Cillian stood dressed in a long-sleeved black shirt and jean jacket.
“Hi,” I greeted him. He came inside.
“So, what are we doing today?” he asked with the eagerness of a first-grader.
“My sister has lacrosse and I have piano lessons,” I answered.
“You play piano?” he followed me to my room and peered at my frames with pictures of my friends, family, and other people.
“Yea,” I answered, grabbing my purse and piano books. “Come on. My mom’s waiting in the car.”
We walked outside to where his black Trailblazer was parked next to the van.
“Hey, ride with me, we’ll follow your mom,” he jumped in his car and tugged my arm.
“Ninth-graders don’t drive,” I pointed out.
“Seventeen-year-old ones do,” he argued. I sighed and told my mom and soon we were off down the road.
“Sorry about my dad last night,” I apologized. “He just doesn’t want me to get distracted right now, and helping you is just another thing for my to-do list. No offense.”
“No,” Cillian corrected me, glancing quickly in his rearview mirror. “He doesn’t want me to try anything with you.”
I stared at him in shock. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I saw it in his face,” he chuckled. “He knows that I’ll be spending lots of time with you, and that I’m obviously an older guy.”
“But...you’re married,” I stated the obvious.
“I know, but to a dad that means absolutely nothing,” Cillian said. “Don’t tell him about pretending to be my girlfriend. That will freak him out even more.”
I nodded and looked out my window.
“So, your sister is a lacrosse player?” he changed the subject. I nodded again.
“Yup. The only one in my family with any athletic bone in her body. My older sister and I are complete sh*t at sports.”
“I see,” he chuckled. “I’m not the best either. So you have another sister?”
“Yeah,” I informed him. “She’s nineteen.”
“In college?” he inquired.
“Yes, at the community one, but she’s going to be going away to study abroad soon,” I said. Then my voice volume dropped a bit. “I can’t wait to go to college.”
“Where do you plan on going?” he questioned. “Yale? Harvard?”
I laughed lightly. “I wish I could go to Yale, but...I don’t really have the money. I was thinking of NYU instead.”
“I’ve heard of them,” he nodded. “Journalism. Hm. I should hate you. You’ll be tracking me and pestering me, huh?”
“No,” I laughed. “I’ll just write sh*tty reviews for your movies. I’d advise you to get on my good side now while you still have the chance.”
“Oh, I will,” he chuckled. “Alright, this exit?” I nodded as he pulled off.
“It’s so small,” he marveled about the town. “I mean, you guys consider this a city, but...it’s not even close.”
“I know,” I sighed. “I hate it.”
He laughed as he finally pulled to a stop outside the field where my sister had class.
“So, we just go in and...watch?” he asked, pulling the keys out of the ignition.
“It’s what I usually do, but you can leave if you want,” I offered. He waved off my suggestion.
“Nah, I want to stay with you,” the words, innocent as they were, gave me a strange feeling.
We followed my mother and sister over and went to find seats on the bleachers.
Cillian sat next to me on one side, my mother on the other. I noticed again how cosmic this whole situation was.
Five minutes later, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned to see my other sister staring at Cillian. I hadn’t seen her for a week, and hadn’t had the chance to inform her of his visit. Her jaw dropped and she stared at him.
“Cillian,” I tapped him on the shoulder. He twisted around to face Kristin. “This is my sister, Karly.”
“Hello, Karly,” he smiled warmly at her. “Nice to meet you.”
She sat down behind us and I turned to talk to her. I explained in a low voice what he was doing.
As we left the gym she pulled me to the side.
“He is...way cuter in person,” she gaped. I nodded. He was absolutely gorgeous.
“He’s married, Karly,” I laughed lightly.
“I know, but..”she eyed him as he chatted to my mom like they were old friends. “You should definitely try to get some.”
My jaw dropped. “Karly! He’s like, twice my age!”
“C’mon, Rache, don’t be so naive,” she snapped. “Today’s thirty is like what twenty was fifty years ago.”
I just rolled my eyes and followed them out.
“So...lunch?” my mom asked as we went to the cars.
Cillian nodded along with the rest of us. One thing I’d noticed in the brief time I’d spent with him was for being that skinny, boy that man could eat.
“Applebee’s?” she suggested. We nodded again and got in the cars.
As we began to drive, I spoke. “What’s it like?” Cillian shot me a confused glance.
“To act,” I finished. “Being...famous.”
He smiled. “It’s awesome. But stressful. Everything you do is under intense scrutiny, and I’m not even that well known.”
I nodded.
“You should enjoy being in school while you can,” he sighed. “You work too hard.”
I shot him a look. “No, I don’t.”
He shook his head. “I’m telling you. You’re fifteen and look worn out. I see it in your eyes.”
“Listen, you don’t even know me,” I snapped. He’d no right to make these accusations on my lifestyle.
“I’m trying to,” he snapped, the first time I’d ever seen him angry out of character. “But you won’t let me in.”
“Because I’m afraid,” I finally collapsed as we pulled up to the restaurant.
“Of what?” he stopped the car.
“I’m afraid...because if I get attached it’s harder to let go,” I looked away.
“What are you talking about?” he asked softly.
“One of my best friends is dying,” I said quietly, a tear sliding from my face. It was the first time...I’d cried over this. Cillian’s face broke. “He has a terminal bone disease. He’s only fifteen.”
“I...don’t know...what to say,” Cillian whispered. My tears slid down my face. He pulled me into a friendly embrace and for once...I was glad he was there.
A few minutes later he handed me a tissue from his glove compartment and I wiped my face.
“Is he going to be okay?” Cillian asked. I shrugged.
“I don’t know,” I said quietly. “He’s been quite sick lately, and...giving up hope.”
“That’s horrible,” Cillian said sincerely.
“I just...can’t deal with any more sh*t,” I felt my voice crack but didn’t cry again. “Any more death, more sickness, bad sh*t...”Cillian patted my arm.
“It’s all right,” he murmured softly. I smiled at him. He was good at comforting people, and it was good, too, because I was acting like a f*cking moron right now.
We stepped out of the car finally and walked inside to the restaurant.
I slid into a booth across from my mother and sisters and Cillian slid in next to me. For once I didn’t feel awkward. He felt like a best friend to me.
“What’ll it be?” the waitress asked, pulling out a pad of paper.
“Um, Diet Coke,” I requested. Cillian ordered the same and she left with the other orders. I caught the glance she shot me and Cillian. An ‘aw, they’re so cute together’ glance. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. This could get old fast.
Suddenly a camera flash whizzed through the air. I jumped, and looked out the window where at least five people stood clicking away at us.
“sh*t,” Cillian jumped up, his knees bumping the table. He grabbed my hand. “Come on. We have to go. Now.”
I looked frantically at my mother who looked at Cillian who yelled, “We’ll call you.”
He half dragged me, half led me outside to the car. I quickly got in and buckled off as we sped off down the street.
“Why,” I panted for air. “Did we have to leave?”
“Come on, can’t you see the tabloids now?” he scoffed. “Those were reporters, Rachel. Hopefully the shots in the restaurant were the only ones they got.”
“Why?” I questioned, feeling slightly worried.
“Can you imagine if they got one of me hugging you?” he rubbed his head. “Yvonne’d had a fit, no matter how it was just friends.”
I nodded and tried to think.
“So where are we going?” I asked quietly.
“Somewhere they’d least expect us,” he grinned at me as he pulled the car to a stop. I looked out the window at our wherabouts. The skating rink?
“You like rollerskating?” Cillian opened my door. I hopped out.
“I suck at it,” I agreed.
“That makes two of us,” he laughed as we walked inside.
The rink was packed as we got our skates. I yanked mine on and gingerly rose to my feet. I moved forward a little but then stumbled. Cillian darted in front of me and I tumbled not to the ground but into him.
“Thanks.”
He led me around the rink three times before I realized he’d lied. He was a great skater.
We skated around a bit more, Cillian awkwardly guiding me around the rink. Finally we pulled off to rest a bit and got some food.
“Seeing how we didn’t eat,” he justified.
We sat eating junk food until a few songs later an announcement came over the loudspeaker announcing couples’ skate. I saw Cillian look at me.
“No,” I argued. “It’s just too weird.”
“Please,” he pleaded. “It won’t mean anything. I promise.”
I looked at his begging eyes and sighed. “Fine.”
We glided around the rink to some sappy love song and I felt myself growing more and more weirded out. I felt the eyes of every girl in the rink boring jealously into me. Cillian took my hand and my head spun.
Girls all over the world would be dying to be in my place, and here I was running away from it. What was wrong with me?
The song ended and finally we left the building, the call to my mother and music lessons forgotten entirely.
Cillian pulled the Trailblazer to a stop in front of my house and we got out.
“Well,” he stretched as we began walking to my door. “That was fun.”
“Though running from the press isn’t what I traditionally do on a Saturday,” I giggled. He shrugged.
“Next week, then. I’ll see you Monday.”
I nodded as he waved one last good-bye and left.
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Post by Pukkina on Jun 1, 2006 18:44:01 GMT -5
Day Four
“It’s a low pressure system,” I corrected. Cillian shook his head wildly.
“No, its not!” he cried. “It’s a high!”
“Cillian, how in God’s name do you get that?” I inquired, glancing at his page. “A hurricane has extremely low pressure, causing high winds and heavy precipitation.”
“No, its not-oh,” he flushed a brilliant shade or red. I smiled triumphantly as he glared at me.
“Know-it-all.”
It was science class on Monday. I was learning to not get so exasperated with my little tag-along, but I have to admit it was hard.
“Peter, can you help us?” I begged for the next review question. Peter sullenly glanced at my paper.
“Cillian can help you,” he glowered. I raised an eyebrow.
“Pete, have you seen his papers?” I laughed. “He knows less about science than Beth, and that’s saying something.”
“Hey!” Beth cried indignantly, but smiled. Peter ignored us. I sighed as the bell rang.
After French I took the prodigal student to Jazz Band with me.
“Yes!” he yelled, sliding the guitar strap over his shoulder and strumming a few chords. “I feel so at home now!”
“Don’t. Show. Off,” I said warningly as I took my seat at the piano. He rolled his eyes and nodded.
After a few songs, he was beginning to draw stares and excessive compliments from the music teacher. I just nervously played the songs, hoping he wouldn’t get himself too much attention.
Once rehearsal was over, several boys ran over.
“Crane, man, that was awesome!” Luke cried. “You sing, too, right?”
“Yeah, of course,” Cillian nodded.
“I play bass, Alex does drums,” Luke explained excitedly. “We’ve been looking for a guitarist and vocalist for a long time now. If we work hard, we have a gig this weekend. You in?”
Cillian looked hesitant. I walked over.
“I don’t know,” he shrugged and looked at me. “What do you think, Rach?”
“Um...” I looked at Luke’s desperate face and sighed. “I think you’d be great, Cill.”
“Really?” he cried excitedly and hugged me tightly. I rolled my eyes and pushed him away.
“Let’s just go to lunch,” I grumbled. He smiled and followed me to the cafeteria.
“You are possibly the most boring person in the world,” Cillian grumbled later that day. I stared at him.
“Excuse me?”
“You don’t do...anything,” he shrugged. “Sports or no?”
“That’s because I think chasing after a minuscule ball on a field filled with ticks is a waste of time,” I explained irritably.
“And because you suck at them,” Beth interjected, scribbling in her notebook. I glared at her.
“Excuse me, but it’s a waste of time,” I repeated. “Time that could be better filled.”
“Like by figuring out that pesky ozone problem,” Cillian tsked. “By the way, I think your solution to the bird flu issue is a little too costly for the American government, dear.”
I began to raise an eyebrow in disbelief, but burst out laughing.
“Geez,” Peter grumbled in the study hall, standing up and moving to a seat farther away as Cillian joined in my chortling.
The final bell rang and I gathered up my things. “So I need to walk to the library today, want to come?”
“Um...sure,” he nodded in agreement. “Why?”
“Cillian,” I said in disbelief. “The history project?”
“What history...” he thought, and then nodded. “Ohhhh.”
“Oh my god,” I sighed. “If you want to stay in school, you really need to start paying more attention.”
“Sorry, Mum,” he grumbled as he slung his backpack over his broad shoulders. I rolled my eyes but forced a smile as we stepped outside.
“Let’s walk,” he offered.
“Ok. We can come back up for your car after, yeah?” he nodded.
He began running across the street to the convenience store. I frowned.
“What are you doing?” I called.
“Coffee!” he shouted back. I moaned and ran after him.
He ordered his drink and then asked me.
“I’m fine,” I replied.
“No, order something,” he insisted.
“Cillian, they don’t allow drinks around the books, and anyway, its just a short walk,” I complained.
“ORDER SOMETHING.”
I sighed. “Raspberry iced tea, please.”
When we entered back out into the blinding sunlight we made the unspoken decision to sit and drink our drinks for a while, instead of walking with them. Well, it was mostly Cillian, as he had already accidentally spilled half the searing hot coffee down his shirt.
I slid onto the brick wall dividing the convenience store and the hospital and watched as several boys from my class, Martin, David, and Scott walked over to the picnic tables and began lounging. I tried to ignore them as Cillian and I began discussing the band Franz Ferdinand but it became impossible as they started harassing some younger kids nearby.
“...so I love his voice in Four Kicks,” Cillian gushed. “It was amazing, that lilt in it...”
“Yeah,” I said absently. Finally I stood up and walked over to Scott as he shot another biting comment back at the kid, something along the lines of, “skank.”
“Excuse me,” I said loudly. Scott looked at me with disgust.
“Leave him alone,” I ordered, my voice cracking. I wasn’t usually this assertive. Cillian ran over and looked at me.
“Why?” Scott snorted.
“Because you’re an arsehole that acts his IQ instead of his age,” I snapped. Scott glared at me and moved to push me but Cillian intervened.
“Stop,” he ordered simply. I looked at him.
“Come on, let’s just go,” I muttered, turning to leave. He also turned on his heel but when Scott grabbed my arm I heard a sickening thud when Cillian spun around.
I really don’t remember much about the fight other than that Cillian was on top most of the time. It scared me, though. I was well out of the way, except for the brief period in which I tried to pull them off each other. When the smoke cleared (which was well after the cashier inside had called the cops) Cillian ended up with a severely bloodied nose, Scott with, I noted with surprise, a missing tooth. So much for his award-winning smile.
When the police arrived I felt angry, ashamed, and actually, in a way, grateful to Cillian for intervening. I also felt incredibly stupid.
“We’re going to have to take you all in.”
I groaned. So much for my perfect record.
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Thank you for commenting. I feel special, LOL. Like your avatar, its oh-so true.
