3.2: Abandonment?

     It had been exactly one year since I started dating Jason. A year since my relationship with my family grew rocky. School wasn't in; it was a Saturday. A guilty piece of me was tugging on my emotions to go see them. So I did.

    As I stood outside the gates, confusion overwhelmed me. Boxes, a moving van- what was happening? I saw my mom and went over to her, slowly. What to say?

    "Hey, mom." I guess that.

    "Gabrielle?!" She gasped, her eyes full of pain.

    "What's going on?" 

    "Dad and Antoinette are in England...we decided....after you left, we reported you a runaway to the police. They shrugged it off; a rich girl, bound to come home after she realizes what harshness makes up the real world. We waited....we lost hope. Antoinette  needs us. We're moving to England."

    "Wha-"

    "We tried. You didn't want us."

    "I was a dumb teenager....I-"

    "I love you. Francois and I have decided to give you the property and home. Sell it, remodel, whatever. Antoinette's changed her last name to Bonaparle, so we'd all have the same last name....well....Gabrielle, I love you." Her voice filled with emotion. "But I don't know if you do." She climbed into a truck and drove away.

     "I DO!" I yelled. I sat on the ground, crying. I truly lost my family, now. They where all away. All away. Who was I? Gabrielle Janes. Alone.

     The movers finished packing boxes and left, one by one. Soon it was dark and I was crying on the front lawn. 

     "G? Madame G?"

     "Jason...my parents moved to England."

     "G..." He hugged me and helped me stand. 

     "Let's go inside...Jason, do you wanna mob here? My parents gave me the property...."

     "Sure." He whispered. "Of course. We walked inside. The rooms where bear. A TV left in the losing room, the counters and cabinets in the kitchen, my basement room was left untouched. Upstairs, my parents room had nothing. What use to be a gorgeous room was now empty. The study empty, Antoinette's room had nothing. The house felt hollow. Finally, I walked down to me old room. 

      "No!" I gasped. "No, no…" They'd taken my old room, along with the hall way and turned it into a laboratory. This wasn't even my room any ore; I was surprised they left the basement untouched, but it still stung. They replace it. Replaced me.

      "Wha-oh."

      "They replace me!" Look how easily they replaced me!"

      "They didn't replace you."

      "But-"

      "Gabrielle, maybe it was too painful for them. They had to move on, because of the hole you ripped in their hearts. They love you, and you ran away."

       "I love you....they...I love my family." I suddenly realized it. 

       "I was going to wait, but now seems as good a time as any other."

       "What, Jason?"

       "Gabrielle Janes, Madame G, G. I've known you for two years. We've dated for one. You make my life happier and I cherish every moment."

       "What's going on?"

       "G....I love you. More then anything I've ever loved before." 

       "I love you, too. Seriously what's-"

       "G. I know it's rushed, I know we're only seventeen, I know I don't have a ring but-"

      "Ring? Wait-oh my gawsh!" Realization hit me.

      "G, will you marry me?"

      "Yes! Yes!" I screamed, hugging him.

      "When you turn eighteen....I don't have a ring, but I'll work for one. G, I've been thinking since that day....I love you. I don't want to have to postpone all the happy moments. I love you and that's all I really know."

       "Yes, yes, yes!" I gasped; in shock.

----

    "He PROPOSED
?"

   "Yes..." I felt a little piece of me become overwhelmed with sadness.

   "Did you marry him?"

   "We never got the chance...." I whispered, nearly crying. 

----

  

      Nothing had changed in the past few months, after his proposal. We don't know why the hell we where getting married. Legal benefits? We where poor and didn't have any friends that weren't hiding from drug lords or some other sugar in the WPP or family that wasn't dead or who'd left, leaving no address or wphone number or email address, to live in some foreign and scarf down bangers and mash, crumpets, and tea in little China cups. We couldn't afford a ceremony; who would attend? We decided on going to the court house, me in a black dress, him in a tux. We could pretend like life wasn't fudged  up for a few minutes, make out in front of a judge and witness, end up doing it in the judge's chambers, run like hell from security, and go back to life.

       It was happy, in a sugary way. Until New Year's. Everything began falling together, and apart that day. There was nothing I could do to keep it from falling down, around my ears. Nothing. 

       I was singing in my PJs, spinning around the living room. School was out for break, Jason was at work. Eleven a.m. In my PJs. This was living. This was happiness. I had the home; it was legally mine plus buckets of cash raining down on me once I turned eighteen. I had sung at a holiday concert for the humane society, and I'd been tipped generously; I wouldn't have to work until New Year's Eve, which was tonight, starting at ten.

      "La, la, la." I hummed. "Da, dee, da, la, la." I was attempting to write my own song, for the party. While singing on a street corner in front of a party wear house, a frazzled lady with glasses, a  tight bun, and pants suit passed by, gabbing on a cell.

      "Yes, ma'am. No, no. They-yes. They quit. Today-I. Yes. I know. No, no! I love this job. No. Not a problem. Consider it done." She snapped her gum and pulled her iPhone away from her ear, throwing it in a knock off designer purse. "What am I going to do?"

      "Uh, are you talking to me?"

      "Duh, guitar girl. Here." She threw a fifty at my feet. 

      "Thanks!"

      "Boss' money. She won't miss it."

      "Thanks."

      "Do you preform? Because I need something new, something fresh for the New Year's Eve party tomorrow."

       "Um, like at venues? I do, I defiantly do."

       "Great. Look, honey, I work for stars so famous, you don't even know they exist. I need something cool. The band quit. Ya got an agent?"

        "No....I'm independent."

        "Fabulous. You got a name?"

         "Gabrielle."

         "Gabrielle? Hmm....can I sell it? You got anythin' better? A stage name?"

         "Madame G."

         "I like it. You French?"

         "Half."

          "Perfect. I can sell the rising French beauty who'll be singing her brand new, first single ever at the party. I can work with that. How old are you?"

          "Seventeen."

          "Not legal yet....when do you turn eighteen?"

          "Five months."

          "We can work with that. Avoid the vodka and don't sleep with the boss' fiancé, boyfriend, or stylist, oh, or butler, best friend, and ex-hubbie and we're good."

           "I'm engaged."

           "Honey, you're a kid. You are not engaged. You're the cute rebel who every high school guy wants. That's what I'm selling to the boss. Good?"

           "Oui."

           "Perfect. Now, if you do want to play around, I suggest a scotch and the cutie twenty-one year old male model turned corporate giant. Money, looks, and he really can't hold his liquor. He won't even remember you. Unless, you're into the whole gal thing. Try wine and the waitress. With the black dyed orange hair and pierced n-"

           "I'm not-"

           "Just, wear something cute. Be there by ten." Se scribbled an address on a gum wrapper and handed it to me. "I have the BEST thing ever!" We was back on her cell phone. "The Jo-no, no. Better. Please, we aren't in elementary school. You'll love it. Half French, Goth-punk, teenager. She's got the voice-yes, she's ready. I figured half-a third? Hmm...we could do half up front, and half later." She turned to me. "A third the band got, with half for your outfit and half tomorrow night. If you puke on the rug, we'll take that half and ruin your career. You get," She scribbled a number with more zeros than my last name and a huge one in front."

          "I'll take it!"

          "Good."

      No back at home, struggling to come up with a song. La la la. "That's it!" I stopped dancing and ran to my basement room, sitting on the bed with a notebook and guitar.

La, la, oh, di, da

Can't keep telling me baby

Cause I love ya

It's time that we finally 

Decide to get our own lives

Mine's sitting on the porch

Wonderin' where I went

You stole me away from who-o-o I am-m-m

Baby I keeping buying you

And I can't keep myself from saying that I'm busy lovin' you

I don't love ya baby 

Oh, la di da ah  hey-ey-ey 

So go away, if I say-ay-ay

Mayb-ay-ay I won't let the needle in

To keep the pain away from no end

Not that it'll keep us from fallin' back to the start

Singing songs and lovin' the enemy 

You hypnotize me, can't I say

Now as you melt away into my veins

Pulsing through my brains

Why-y-y-y can't you see

I'm an addict through and through

Met and stopped and stared

Not believing what needle just pierced our skin

Oh baby, hey-ey-ey can't we just stay away

But I keep pulling and you're pushing and now we're sitting stuck without the perfection

I don't love ya baby 

Oh, la di da ah  hey-ey-ey 

So go away, if I say-ay-ay

Mayb-ay-ay we could try again

Not that it'll keep us from fallin' back to the start

Kiss me slowly

As I slip away to another world

Where we can love each other 

Without poisoning our lives

But we can't stop, cause it's toxic

And I'm addicted

I just need a last line, to finish the song. I remembered something my mother told me once, about her writing. "Rebellious sells. People love you, people hate. They talk and scream. When they don't know what you really mean, they need more and they need a definate answer. They make one up and argue how they're right. It makes you popular and that, on its own, is priceless." This is what I wanted. Something daring to make me popular; give me fame. Something people disliked on principal and something over thought. I turned on the television and sat on the couch, thinking.

    "-oung boy, estimated to in between sixteen and twenty, was found dead this morning. According to authorities, he's been dead approximately twelve hours. I turned my attention to the middle aged news anchor who was talking about a murder. It wasn't unheard of, but it wasn't common either. "The victim has been identified. As-" My heart stopped. Jason's limp, bloodied body was in my gigantic television screen. Jason. Dead? No. No. This is a prank. A joke. No. No. "Police are saying that the victim was out late last
night and was killed in a gang shoot out. They warn Bridgeport citizens to stay away from the shipping ports and loading docks, a common gang hang out during the night. This is Bridgeport News, with this special live report. Good afternoon and if you have any information regarding the victim, Jason, a seventeen year old senior call the police at," Jason. Dead? No. No. I began crying and grabbed my cell phone. 

      "Hello? Yes-es-s it's Madame G. I-I ha-ave to can-ce-cel. I know it-t's las-t-t min-ute bu-t I hav-v-e family issues. I understand. Really?" She hung up. I'd been offered a deal to publish my single.

Kiss me slowly

As I slip into another world

Where we can love each other 

Without poisoning our lives

But we can't stop, cause its toxic

And I'm addicted

Now that you're gone

Now that you're gone

I love you more than an-n-ny-thang 

But I can't let myself give in

Now that you're gone

I have to mo-oo-oo-ve right on

Without you 

Without y-o-o-ou-u

     People could say it's about drugs. A really bad relationship that you can't get out of. A really good one that steals your personality away. Depression. Grief. Emotions that swallow you whole. Anger. It's confusion and not knowing how to feel, but knowing you're suppose to feel something. Not nothing. I felt empty inside; hollow. I felt something. And it resembled pushing my emotions away and hiding them. I'd see a thearipist for a few months, but recover later. I'd release my debut single. I'd recover. But right now, I felt nothing. And it was horrible.

   

3.1: Shattered Trust and a Mended Heart

       I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling. Silence filled the empty room as the cool April night over took the world. Jason and I had been dating for seven months, in secret. My parents knew of my love for music and I would always make up things I had to go to. Music Club twice a week to practice my guitar and vocals, a performance at a park maybe, and rehearsal with the Glee club that our school didn't even have. Tutoring the other day. I only went to Music Club on Mondays and Wednesday because I needed practice. I couldn't do it at home. It was too odd; everything else, however was code for seeing Jason. We'd meet at the the docks or shipping storage units. Never my home. Never his. I knew lying wasn't the way to build trust, but after the night in September and my fight with mom i didn't really care if they trusted me or not. My relationship was tense with her, and I didn't have a much better one with dad. At least I had Jason. Now that school was out, though, it was getting harder to see him in private.

     "Gabrielle!" I heard Antoinette's high pitched shrill voice pierce the silence. "Mom and I are driving to the airport. We'll be back day after next." Antoinette had an interview at a private English school. Nothing in the States was prestigious enough; suited her tastes. With every school from Boston to New Hampshire to  Denver to LA begging her attendance (and my parent's money) she needed something actually worthy of her attendance, according to her smug britches. Smugworth Prep mumble-jumble-whatever was the best private academy available to her intelligence level. Having made things easier, as well. "G'bye!"

      The garage door sounded and I heard the car open. It was six o'clock. Dad would still be at work; he always was. I grabbed my cell phone  and dialed Jason's number. 

      "Hey." I smiled, hearing his voice.

      "Hey, sooo, um, I was wondering…" I asked, growing nervous.

      "What?"

      "I have the house to myself…do you wanna....you know." Why couldn't I just ask him? 

      "Wait, are you-"

      "Oh my gaw-NO! Not that I wouldn't with you, wait, I mean I'm not like-not a slut-I mean just to talk. I-none of that…I wanted to see you. See, I'm a virgin and you where my first kiss and I should shut up." I ended up babbling like an idiot. I just wanted to see him. To talk to him. Not, like do it. The other line was silent. "Jason?"

      "You where my first kiss, too." He whispered. "I'll come over." 

      "Great. I live," I rambled off my address. 

     A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. I ran downstairs and answered the d

     "Hey." I smiled at him. He greeted me with a kiss. I stood in my sneakers on my tippy toes. He was taller than I was.

      "You look great." I glanced down at my outfit and blushed. I was wearing a tank top and some shorts I usually reserved for my  gym class clothing or PJs. 

      "Thanks. Do you want something to drink or something?"

      "Sure." He followed me to the kitchen. 

      I glanced in the fridge. Milk, OJ, and cherry Kool-Aid. "Let's see, milk, orange juice, or Kool-Aid. Or, I could make coffee. Or-" I rambled and blushed some more.

      "Madame G." He smiled, saying his little nickname for me. "Don't worry about me."

       "I know, I know. Wait. I know." An idea sparked. I walked to my parent's wine rack that was concealed in a cabinet. "1932 antique French-words-I-can't-pronounce." I poured us each a glass and handed him his. 

       "I've never drank alcohol before." He admitted. 

       "Neither have I." Suddenly feeling less daring. I sat on one of the counters that had a China cabinet above it. Jason leaned on the one next to me. "So…" We both took a deep breath and took a sip. The liquid seeped down my throat. I didn't care much for the last, but it made me feel more adult so I drank. I grabbed the bottle as Jason took my torso in his arms. I leaned my head back, letting him kiss my neck as I held the bottle up and poured the wine down my throat. I tried setting the bottle down and moving my legs so they where also on top of the cabinet. "Sugar!" I cussed, as my head hit the China cabinet, causing a plate to crash and the wine to spill on Jason's shirt. "Sorry!" I gushed. 

      "It's fine." 

      "Here." I maneuvered his shirt off, leaving his chest bare. I wanted him so badly; to rip the rest of his clothing off and proceed to turn our make out session into something else, with my body pressed against the wall. I threw the shirt aside and hopped off the counter. "Come on," I gestured for him to follow me upstairs. I lead him to my bedroom.

      "G." He said, as I tried to pull him onto my bed. "I think you're drunk." 

      "I am not!"

      "Not know, then. Later."

      "You are the only guy ever to turn down sex." I sighed.

      "Silly." He laughed, taking me in an embrace as we began kissing each other in the center of the room.

      "Oh!" I gasped.  I guess we're doing it French… I felt stupid beyond compare. You are half French. And he's a damn good kisser. I began returning the kisses, letting my body be pressed against his abs.

    "Gabrielle?!?!" I heard a voice scream. Fudge. Fudge, fudge, fudge. My father was home from work early. "And-?"

     "Um, hi dad." I said, pulling away from Jason. "This is, uh, Jason." 

     "Hello, sir." He stuck out his hand. Dad didn't shake it.

     "Gabrielle, would you care o explain why there's a half naked man in your bedroom."

     "Um, see, he spilled  wiiiiii- Kool-Aid on his shirt. So he took it off." Telling him about the wine would only make it worse.

      "I saw the wine. Don't lie." He turned to my boyfriend. "You. What did you do with my daughter."

      "Uh, we kissed…we didn't do it. I mean I wouldn't uh-

      "Are you implying that you're to good for my daughter?"

      "No-not that I'm better than her- well, we uh um-"

      "Are you calling her a slut?!" Smoke was practically coming out of his ears.

      "No, she isn't easy at all-er- not that she's hard. I wouldn't kn-she isn't stuck up or a biiii-biscuit. Gabrielle-"

      "Whether you where going to say bitch or bimbo is beyond me. It doesn't matter, though. Go."

      "Can I get my shirt, first?"

      "Get the HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE."

      "Bye, G." I watched
him go away. My heart shattered.

      "What was THAT?!" I screamed.

      "Gabrielle, I love you. I don't want you to be hurt....he's just-"

      "No."

      "Gabrielle, please. I saw the wine and his shirt and I thought the worst."

      "Huh. So I guess you and mom don't trust me."

     "You're a hormonal teenager and there was a good chance that you where, for lack of a better word, ivre comme peut l'être." Drunk as can be. "The fact that we left the wine unlocked shows that we trust you. You don't deserve it."

      "Get out!"

      "We'll talk again when you mother comes home. Never see that boy again. Ever. He sighed. "And Gabrielle." I didn't answer. "The wedding is in four days." He said, as he shut the door. That made me snap. I began crying. 

     I tore my room apart, trashing everything accept my Junior Prom photo and crown. I was queen. He was king. He sold his crown, to a bunch of wannabes to help cover the bills. Damn. I lost him. I stood in the middle of my room, tears flowing. This was a wreck. I was a wreck. I grabbed my guitar and smashed it against the window, sending glass flying. A piece of glass hit my arm. I stood there, bleeding. I wasn't a sweet girl girly anymore.

     The days past. I ended up taking over the new basement expansion and decorated it myself. I bought an electric guitar and had everything match in a dark violet-gray-black color scale. My only step left was me. I needed a new look. I wanted a tattoo, but knowing the slutty rep they had at my school, I decided to wait until I was legal. I didn't need to do anything that would hurt my career. 

      I took a pair of scissors and a match to my old clothing and bought my new clothing, in e same color scheme as my room. I glanced at myself in the mirror. My parents would hate it. I love it. Jason....I hadn't seen, or heard from him in four days. Four days without him was like hell.

     

     I stood awkwardly in my dress. My parents wedding had a yellow-blue theme, but considering that it was private I decided to wear a skimpy black thing. Calling it a dress wasn't accurate, .Considering the amount of fabric used. Antoinette had been accepted into the English school and was leaving in June. My parents had decided to take a two month vacation in Paris, with us, well, her. I was invited, but I couldn't stand a moment longer than I needed with them. It was the last effort to have a family trip before she left for England for four years, only coming home when she had to. I doubted that it'd be often.

    "I do." My mom said, as Antoinette started bawling.

    "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the-" I burst into tears, I couldn't take it. This was the future I could have had with Jason the future my dad ruined.

     "Are you alright?" Mom asked.

     "NO! I'm not! I'm fudging not." I ran to the subway station, lost. I rode to the nearest station I knew. I pressed the call button. 

     "Hello?"

     "Hey. I panted. Can I come up?" 

     "G?"

     "It's a long story....."

     "Gabrielle." He only said my full name when it was important. "Come on up." I waited on the elevator, then rode to the hall. I knocked on the door, waiting.

      "Jason, I  sorry." I awkwardly stood at his doorway. I stared at my feet in my bridesmaid dress. 
      "What happened?" He took my arm and pulled me inside.

      "You must think I'm an idiot." I wiped away my tears and sat at his dining isn't table. His apartment was small and sparsely furnished, but it felt home-y. 

     "Gabrielle." He kissed my cheek. "I'd never think that."

     "Damn you for being so sweet...." I launched into my story; everything that happened. "Hence the purple-y hair and black clothing." I said, once I finished. "And Jason, please don't tell me that I should go home and work it out. Please."

      "I won't. G, do you have a plan?" 

      "I do-well kinda-I mean....you live by yourself, I though you could give me some advice...I turn seventeen soon.....I might pass for eighteen. And I know you probably think that I'm stupid- I have a great life and a huge house b-bu-t I just- I need you."

      "Do you want to stay here?" 

      "What?"

      "Until you get back on your feet...or as long as you want."

      "Really?" I sniffled, leaning over and hugging him.

      "I'll help, with the bills and all. I can sing on street corners for tips and-"

      "Don't worry about it."

      "I'm going to help. I don't need to be treated specially." 

      "Okay." He sighed.

     I started living with Jason, cleaning and cooking with what little we had. Jason would do odd jobs, but mostly he'd work at the graveyard. People had to die. It was a stable job. I'd sing on street corners, occasionally even getting enough tips to pay for a special treat, like ice cream from the grocery store. When I sang, I always got more tips. I hoped one day, someone would notice me. They'd like the girl with the guitar and give her their card. She sign on and start performing small gigs, rising to fame. But it never worked that way. I'd sing, occasionally earning compliments, occasionally getting remarks from guys about how I was in bed. I'd try and flirt back, batting my eyelashes sticking out my chest. I was getting pretty good at appeal, without actually letting anyone in. Jason would insist on sleeping on the floor, I'd insist we trade off. Bed, floor, bed, floor. Soon, it had been a month.

     "G, what would you like for your birthday?" 

     "You." I whispered. "You know that." I easily resisted the men on the streets, who wanted my body. Jason, on the other hand, didn't seem to. It drove me crazy. It made me want him even more.

     "What else?"

     "Well…" I sighed, then I twirled into a fit of coughs. 

     "Are you alright?"

     "Yeah." Lately, I felt like a bus had hit me. I was achy and had a fever and was coughing like crazy. It was just a common cold, nothing that wouldn't be gone soon; I didn't tell Jason, we couldn't afford him to freak out and drag me to a doctor.

     "You get the bed tonight."

     "It's your day." 

     "You could be sick."

     "I'm a doctor's daughter, I know every symptom for every common disease out there."  

     "G."

     "J."

     "G."

     "Jay-ay-ay." I sang song.

    "Do you feel we'll enough to do something?"

    "Course. What's in mind?""

    "Not much." He shrugged, winking. 

    "Come on, tell me."

    "You've been wearing your dress or PJs," PJs. That was an exaggeration. I had one outfit and undergarments. I'd wear one of Jason's shirts when I did laundry, to keep myself modest. My parents where on their trip, as was Antoinette; I could go home, but I knew if I did I'd want to stay. It was selfish, I though, but I liked this life. I like simple with Jason. 

    "Mmhm." I nodded.

    "I thought maybe you'd like some more clothing."

    "So we're trying to cover me up?" I laughed. "You know I was thinking something with a little less clothing."

     

----

     "Gabrielle, is that the man?"

     "Now the one you're thinking of."

     "Did you really-?"

     "Have to practically beg him? Yes. Jason was kinda traditional. Marriage first. I know, odd for a seventeen year old." 

     "That's good." My mom nodded; she obviously thought that I kept it out of my pants when it came to him. I laughed. "What."

     "You'll see."

----

     I love, loved my new makeover. It was cutesy and dark at the same time. I still was debating about cutting my hair; it'd be easier to care for, but I had a sort of attachment. My hair, even with purple highlights, was the only remainder of my old life. A good life, prior to last September.

     "Jason...." I sighed. I was laying on the bed, cuddling with him. He was running his hand through my hair. "School starts in one week...." The days flew by; before I knew it, it was August. 

     "You should go."

     "But-"

     "Gabrielle. You need a high school diploma. I can get through my life doing odd jobs at minimum wage; do you know what minimum wage means? The employer wants to pay you less, but they legally can't. You can have something better."

     "Better? What's better than this?" I asked, kissing his nose.

     "Lots of things. G, you need an education."

     "But I could work singing. Pay the bills. I'm trying to get gigs. I know they'll come. And there's open mic night at the karaoke club. I'm doing that. And-"

     "G, you-" I began moving so I was on top of him. We began kissing. I felt Jason's hand slip down my shirt, slipping lower and lower. Then, he pulled off my shirt and I wrestled with his. I felt my bra become unhooked when- "We can't." Jason stopped trying to undress me. Dammit. 

     "But-" I protested, slipping my shirt back on. 

     "I promise, we will. I just-" He glanced away. "G...I don't want...it would be unfair, to bring...we can't afford a mistake and I wouldn't be able to provide. You need a better home..."

     "Jason." I gasped. This wasn't about marriage, or even me for that matter. He was afraid that I would become pregnant. "...I don't want to have kids now, either. I just...we can be safe. Besides, you care so much- see? You'd be a great dad. I just...I don't know...I guess the intimacy thing is kinda my way of saying I love you. I feel so guarded around everyone, but I can be free with you. It feels like we can share everything."

      "I love you, Madame G." He whispered.

      "I-I love you, too."

      "I want your life to be good. A teenager who's pregnant and living in the sugary part of town, with a former homeless guy doesn't help. Especially with your career."

      "I'm not pregnant. So...we don't have to worry. I have yet to ever do something that would cause me to be pregnant."

      "Okay." He sighed. "I'm going to shower. I have a shift starting at six." I glanced at the clock. It was four thirty-seven.

       I heard the water turn on. I heard it pour out, in cool gallons of icey cold. He did that for me. Shower cold so I'd get a semi-warm one. It was one of the many ways he cared. Wait. Jason's worried that I'll get pregnant, but- an idea struck me. I quickly removed my new shreds of modesty onto the floor and walked into the bathroom, once that water shut off. Jason's back was to me, as he dried himself off.

      "Bonjour." I whispered.

      "Madame G?" He spun around, then his eyes got wide. My body was pretty well proportioned. "G-you-" his jaw, along with his towel, dropped. "What about-"

      "Don't  worry." I bent down onto my knees. I couldn't get pregnant, and this counted.

      "Really?" He glanced down at me, awkwardly. 

----

     "GABRIELLE?!" She looked like she was about to have a heart attack.

     "You said you wanted to know everything. This is part of it."

     "B-b-b-but."

     "Should I stop? Look, I know it's though listening. I was a teenager and I was stupid."

     "Good thing your father isn't around." She sighed.

----

     I stood up, off the tile. Jason was shocked. Clearly.

    "So...." I stood there, my arms to the side, my body bare for him. He began kissing me and helped raise me on top of the washing machine. "Here." I whispered, handing him something. I waited a few seconds, then we finished what we started. All the things we did; I'd never look at the washing machine the same way again. 

      "Guess neither of us are....anymore."

       "Defiantly." I nodded. "That was..."

      "For a first time..." There was a bit of kissing, then we both dressed ourselves and Jason hurried off to work. I suppose what I wanted was done. Now that I didn't have to beg...it felt weird. I could only imagine what Jason felt. 

----

     "Gabrielle…was that-"

     "First and only with him. Don't worry, there isn't more," suddenly I felt uncomfortable saying the word. I had left out details for her sake, but now I was realizing it was for mine as well. "More for awhile."

      Jason....he was so special to me....it was a shame it'd all end so quickly....

3.0: Songstress

   NOTE: I don't want to use to horrid language on this blog, so the rating stays PG/PG-13, therefore I'm going to use substitute words that keep this PG-13. (Like fudge. I'll probably use fudge. SO, if you're reading something and suddenly words like fudge or sugar, they're replacing "bad" words.  ) It may seem silly, but there are younger Simmers who like legacies and I want everything to stay okay-ish for them. Okay? Okay. Here's a lollypop.
P.S. This chapter switches between Gabrielle talking in "present day" to her remembering her past. Evey time you see ---- that means that I'm switching time periods. =)

    "What? How could this happen?!" My mother looked panicked.
    "Biology. I really hope I don't have to explain it any further than that."
    "But-that-it's impo-no. You're lying."
    "Quit the in denial act mom. I'm not your stupid innocent little girl anymore. I haven't been for a long time."
     "You-you-no. How?"
     "Mom. Dad's a doctor. It's simple. Do I really have to-" I looked at her face. She was shocked. That was clear as day. This on top of what she was going through with me. Clearly I needed to spell everything out for her.
     "You didn't really, you know, it. Did you?"
     "Yeah, I fudgin' did." I sighed. "S-E-X. I had sex. No one called that it since middle school. Happy?"
      "How? What about everything else?"
      "I was still in high school…when it began. Not the sex…just. Everything." I sighed. I wasn't eager to walk down memory lane. "Everything…there was guys and I got upset, then the fame and singing…and him. It was insane. I graduated, barely, and…high school. It started the mess."
     "Sweetie…" She whispered.
     "The talent show. The first one I preformed at." I stared at my feet, then launched into my story.

----

     I took a deep breath, as I peeked on stage. A couple cheerleaders where doing a gymnastics routine. One more act, a boy with a puppet who happened to call himself a ventriloquist, and I'd be on that stage. Singing. The annual September talent show would be my first formal show. My first time actually singing in front of people. I chickened out when I was a freshman, and now as a fifteen year old sophomore, I knew this was my time to shine. I crossed my fingers that everyone would like my voice; it would be the confidence I needed to start preforming at other small venues; coffee houses and at the park. I slipped out of the back door, onto the play ground that was for the elementary school.
   "Hey." A voice from behind startled me; interrupting my thoughts.
    "Um, hey."
     "Why are you out here? You're performing, right?" He gestured to my guitar.
     "Yeah. Why are you here?"
     "Quiet." He shrugged. "I can think."
     "Cool." I smiled at him. "Not a lot of high school guys seem to do that."
     "So, what's your name? Or are we not going to tell each other and leave me guessing?"
     "I'm Gab-G. G." I don't know why I said G instead of Gabrielle. He was mysterious and charming and cute. I recognized him from the halls; he was my age. He didn't appear in class often, though.
    "G. Huh. I thought I was worthy of knowing your full name." He laughed. "I'm J. Only I go byJason." Jason. A name to a face. "What are you doing out here?"
     "Dunno." I shrugged.
     "You do, too." He flashed me a boyish grin. "You just don't want to tell me."
      "You already asked me why I was out here." I shrugged.
       "I answered. You just told me that you where performing."
      "Fine." I let out an over dramatic sigh. "I'm scared of preforming infront of my classmates. I don't want to be the lame girl and getteased for it." I admitted. "But I'm doing a pretty good job of hiding it by acting like I'm all that, right?"
     "Never knew." We stood for a few moments, in silence. It wasn't awkward. It was comfortable. Like we understood each other well enough to not have to talk.
     My cell phone beeped. Jessa texted me. UR on in 2 min!  
    "I have to go."

    "Bye, G." He winked at me, then slowly ran away. I stood there for a few moments. He was mysterious. He was hot. He was- dammit, my new crush. Jason. I remembered him from a class. Class. He didn't seem to come often.

    "And now, our final act of the night, Gabrielle Janes who'll be singing Love Song by Sarah Bareilles." The audience began clapping on cue. I stood on stage, shaking. I memorized the lyrics so perfectly that it was natural. Words began flowing and my heart started pumping.

  I'm not gonna write you a love song
'cause you asked for it
'cause you need one, you see
I'm not gonna write you a love song
'cause you tell me it's make or break in this
If you're on your way
I'm not gonna write you to stay
If all you have is leaving I'ma need a better reason to write you a love song today .

     Jason. My thoughts turned away from impressing people, even from  winning the one hundred dollar Visa gift card, to him. I had to see him again. Had to.

Promise me that you'll leave the light on
To help me see with daylight, my guide, gone
'cause I believe there's a way you can love me
Because I say
I won't write you a love song
'cause you asked for it
'cause you need one, you see
I'm not gonna write you a love song
'cause you tell me it's make or break in this
Is that why you wanted a love song?
'cause you asked for it
'cause you need one, you see
I'm not gonna write you a love song
'cause you tell me it's make or break in this
If you're on your way
I'm not gonna write you to stay
If your heart is nowhere in it
I don't want it for a minute
Babe, I'll walk the seven seas when I believe that there's a reason to write you a love song today, today.

    The audience erupted in a standing ovation as I finished.  It felt fabulous. People actually liked my singing! And it wasn't just Jessa! I nervously smiled at everyone, as the rest of the performers gathered on stage, early awaiting to find out who had won.

     "And the winner is.....drum role, please." The teacher sang song. "The talented drummer," I felt my heart sink. The damn drummer beat me.I felt my confidence crumbling away. I was good, wasn't I? 

     "Hey." Jessa came up with my parents, after the show and hugged me. "You alright?"

     "You where great, sweetie." My mum smiled.

     "Vous êtes un chanteur talentueux." You're a talented vocalist.  "The drummer wasn't anything compared to you."

     "Thanks." I said, halfheartedly. It was my first performance; I shouldn't be disappointed. But I was.

     "Wanna go grab some ice cream?" Jess smiled. 

     "Nah." I shrugged. I'd lost. I felt like crying. But I couldn't. Because the world wasn't. Dammit, I'm going to win next year. This is just a learning experience. 

----

      

     "You…you met a boy? That boy?"

     "Yeah." I nodded. "Jason…" I whispered sadly. A pang of sadness filled my heart.

     "How does this-how-today-everything-how? How is-this-how did that start everything?"

     "I met Jason…I didn't see him for another year…"

----

    Last year. That was all behind me. Except for Jason. He was still my secret crush. I stood on stage again, in the same position as last year. I was waiting with everyone to find out who won this years talent show. Sixteen. I was sixteen. So close to becoming an adult. Yet so childish. So innocent. That would change soon, regrettably. 

    "And the winner is…Gabrielle Janes! Who sang Hey Soul Sister by Train."

    I won! I actually won first place! My self esteem and confidence shot thought the auditorium's roof. "I just, I'm so, oh my gos-thank you." I said, stuttering as I accepted my gift card. One hundred dollars. My family had money; I didn't need it, but something about actually earning it, working hard, made it feel so much better. It made me feel that much prouder.

    "Yay!" Jessa ran up to me, squealing. "I knew you'd win!"

    "Congrats!" My father beamed. 

     "It was perfect!" Jessa smiled. She was just as happy as I was. "Will you sign this?" She held up the program.

      "Sure." I took a pen from Antoinette and signed it.

       "Love ya, girl! I'd be lost without you! XOXO, Gabrielle." Jesse read. "Wow." She gasped, going total fan girl. "I got the famous Gabrielle Janes signature."

       "You can say you knew her when." My mom laughed. "Congratulations, honey."

        "Thanks!"

        "What are you going to do with the money." Antoinette bluntly asked.

        "I dunno." I shrugged. "Save it."

         "You're contradicting yourself." She stared at me, frowning.

         "I-never mind." I can't explain things to Antoinette. She's so literal. An eighth grade who's really trying hard to convince Mom to ship her off to some private school for high school, her social skills where horrible.Especially for a thirteen year old.

         "Antoinette." My mother sighed. "Be happy for your sister."

         "Why? It isn't like it was me singing. Truthfully, if she put more effort into academics, she wouldn't be flailing around with her 3.2 GPA. Maybe she'd even get an A."

         "Antoinette!" My father snapped. "We're going to go to the car while you finish up here." He gave mom the 'I don't know what to do with the child' look.  

         "Okay." She sighed.

          "Hey, want to go out and celebrate?" Jessa asked.

          "Sure." I shrugged glancing at mom. 

          "Fine with me."

          "Yay!" We both cheered.

----

           

       "You won. That was happy." She interrupted.

       "What you knew was." I sighed. I hadn't told her anything about the night.

       "What happened?"

       "Jesse and I went to the diner. We both got cookies and cream milkshakes, extra whip, no cherry.  Her treat."

        "Happy? Right? Nothing bad."

         "It was.....until…" Until the news.

----

        "Thanks." I smiled as we walked down the sidewalk. It was nearing eleven and the streets where empty. It was creepy. Every shadow lurked, threateningly. Every noise was criminal. 

         "No problem. You deserve it." She threw her cup into the trashcan, and I did the same. "Gabrielle…I have…news."

         "What? You don't have a secret boyfriend, do you?" I joked. She was silent. "Sugar, Jessa! You aren't p-"

          "No....nothing like that.....I'm moving."

           "What?!" I stopped walking. "When?" 

           "Soon. Tomorrow." 

           "Tomorrow!? What?! When did you find out?"

           "The day before the talent show."

            "Yesterday?"

            "No…last year."

            "Why didn't you tell me?" I said, hurt.

            "Uh…" she shrugged.

            "It doesn't matter." I said, trying to hug her.

             "Don't." She pushed me away. "I can't…look. I'm not suppose to be telling you this. My mom…she witnessed something in her journal. I read about it…I-they're looking for me. I have to-never look for Jessa again. Because she won't exist. I told you to much. My covers here is blown. I have to go. They're moving me."

            "What are you in the WPP?" Witness Protection Program. It seemed unreal. But it might just make sense.

            She glanced around then mouthed: Yes. My name isn't Jessa. Everything I told you was real. Except for the uncle part. The man I live with is my foster dad. I was put into the program…when I was old enough, I was told everything and given the journals. The people didn't know what was in them. They assumed it was harmless. There's a huge illegal drug scandal going on. We don't know if my mom is alive or not. She fled…we think because she was receiving threats from the gang leader. I have to leave now. She turned away, and slowly began walking away. 

           "I'll miss you." I whispered. I watched her go away, into the night. Jessa Hart. Only that wasn't her name. I didn't know it.

----

        "Gabrielle? That Jessa girl was she really."

        "Yep." I nodded. "I haven't seen her since that night…"

        "That poor child…sixteen years in the WPP. Who knows if she's out now…if she'll ever get a normal life…it sounds like a novel I once wrote."

         "Mom. Tiffani. Please…I just. Listen? No comparisons to real life, or anything. This just seems to unreal." I wiped away a stray tear. "But it's my life "

----

      I began walking on the bridge, miserably. I felt lost and depressed and sad. I had lost my best friend. My only friend. Without her, what was I? I could sing. A million, no billion, other people could, too. But not everyone sings well. That's one thing I got. I rested on the railing, staring at the cool water. It was so peaceful. So calm. 

      "Hey."  A voice said behind me.

      "I don't have any money I screamed!" Turning around quickly and punching the voice in the stomach.

      "Oomph." The guy doubled over. 

      "Wait…Jason?" 

      "Nice to see you, too, G." He said, still doubled over.

      "Oh my gosh! Are you okay?" I blushed crimson. I just punched my crush. Great. Guess who wasn't getting a date to the Junior Prom.

       "I'm fine. I think." He said, standing back up again. "There's just one thing."

       "What?" I asked, maybe a little too eagerly. Maybe a little too quick.

       "I feel sorry for anyone that gives you sugar." He laughed.

        "I'm sorry." I apologized. "I'm a fudging idiot."

        "No, you're not." He leaned against the railing, next to me.

        He was gorgeous in the moonlight. I wanted to lean over and kiss him on the cheek and tell him everything. I felt a little too vulnerable and depressed to be standing next to him. He was so sweet. We talked for awhile, about life. Jason lived by himself in a run down apartment. When he was fourteen, his  dad died in a car crash. His mom had died thirteen years prior to that because of cancer. He ended up in the foster system, like Jessa, and was taken in by an elderly lady.

      "She was nice…she had a heart attack last  year…in June. I ended avoiding the system...I got a job, working nights…and occasionally I'd do odd jobs during the day." So that's why he cut class so often. "I bought my own little apartment."

       "Can you pay the bills?" I realized how stupid that question was. "You don't-"

       "It's okay…I can. It's better than the streets…"

       "You where homeless?" I gasped.

       "For a month. I got a job right before school started last year…it works." He shrugged. I felt guilty as hell. I had this fabulous home and everything I could dream of and he was barely making it. 

       "Jason…I-I like you." I glanced over at him and smiled. "I mean a lot. Like," I turned into a rambling blubbering fool. 

       "I like you, too." He smiled at me with his silly little grin that made my legs turn to jelly.

       "Really?" I gasped. I was shocked. What sane person would like me?

       "Yes, really." His eyes shined.

       "Like, like like?" I was still wrapping my brain around the fact that he liked me- I hope, as more than a friend.

         He leaned forwards and kissed me on the lips. "Does that answer your question?" He asked as he pulled away.

         I stood there, shocked. My first kiss. "Actually," I moved myself so I was sitting haphazardly on the bridge railing. "It could be a little clearer." I pulled him forwards and we began making out. His arms  around me, keeping me from falling...everything moved so fast. We where kissing as the wind began picking up. It swirled around us, locking us in our own perfect universes. Nothing else was real. This was too perfect.

           "You don't know how long I've wanted this." I whispered.

           "I'd say the same thing," he paused. "But it wouldn't sound half as cute." He helped me off the railing, and took my hand. 

            We walked down the bridge, the world at our footsteps. I left with something that I didn't have before. A boyfriend.

----

     "Mom? Are you okay?" She was bawling.

     "I-I-it-t's jus-s-s-st so-so-o romantic!"

     "I guess." I shrugged, though secretly I thought it was too.

     "Keep telling the story."

----

     I was on cloud nine, until I snuck through the front door. I assumed no on would be there; they'd be sleeping. I didn't know what time it was, but I knew it was late. I was greeted by my mom, instead of a peaceful people-free living room.

     "We're have you been?"

     "With Jessa…"

     "It's one thirty in the morning!"

     "Um…" I said, trying to make up an excuse, "We, uh, see."

     "No. I don't!"

      "Does it matter? I'm home safe. I promise I'm not drunk, high, or pregnant."

      "It does matter, very damn much!"

      "What?!" I felt all my anger bubbling up, "Why the fudge does it matter? Of you not trust me?!"

      "GABRIELLE. Calm down and you will NOT talk to your mother like that." 

     "NO! You-never mind." I tried calming myself down.

     "Apologize, please."

     "Why?"

      "Because-"

       "Never mind." I turned and began stomping up the stairs. 

      "You're grounded! Grounded until you turn eighteen go you don't get back down here."

      "Whatever." I stomped upstairs and slammed my door. I felt guilty. I don't know why I snapped. I was so happy, but something about her not trusting me....I was a teenager. I know she's afraid I

L mess up my life...but. I stared at my room. Pink and purple. I hated it. I had freedom with Jason....freedom I wanted so bad yet couldn't grasp. It felt horrible.

----

     "Gabrielle...." She leaned over and hugged me. "I'm so sorry."

      "I am, too. I shouldn't have snapped."

      "What happened next," she was like a little child, begging for story time. 

      "It was April," I continued telling her everything about my life up to now. It was so odd, looking back at everything. I felt a weight being lifted as I recounted every event. Life was crazy and wild; sometimes all we needed was to know someone was listening.

NOTE: Until further notice, Gabrielle will be telling her mother the events that lead up to what her life is now. I may not have the little snippets of conversation between the two, but that's what's happening. =) Thanks for reading!

And the Generation Heir is.....

Gabrielle Janes! Gabrielle recieved almost three times as many votes, as her sister, Antoinette:
Antoinette: 3
Gabrielle: 7
Total: 10

A chapter will be out soon, thanks for reading, voting, and commenting!

Generation Two Heir Vote

   I don't have much for generation two, so that brings us to the heir vote! I could prolong it, give you silly filler chapters, and bore everyone to death, or I could do a heir vote and start on the super exciting generation three I have planned for you guys! ☺ Unless you don't vote for the Sim I was hoping you'd vote for. Then I have no idea what I'll do. Try and guess who I have a fabulous future for and who I have no clue what I'll do with but will probably end up being a scientist like her Daddy and marry her shy lab partner from Junior AP Chem and have four kids and live in a mansion, but she's still is shy as can be and hates being in the spotlight.


    Antoinette
Please don't get offended, Antoinette is extremely OCD, I know that not all intelligent people are like this, (I consider myself a "nerd" and I'm not.)

    I sat at the table, doing my homework. I was eleven years old, going into sixth grade. Technically, since it was summer I wasn't doing homework. I was researching biochemical reactions for entertainment and writing up a thesis and research paper for Daddy. My Daddy's a scientist. My Mom's a writer, and I don't get why. Why imagine something that isn't real; explore it, when you have this one to explore?
    Mom says that I should invite my friends over sometime. I don't have any. They're all dumber then I am. They like sports, or boys, or teasing, or stupid jokes. I like science. I'm going to be a scientist. Daddy once said that he was in trouble when I started noticing boys. I won't. They're imbecilic people.
      I'm a genius, good, and a coward. I hate the dark. And the water. And being left home alone. And being in large crowds. Or talking in front of large crowds. Or getting anything less than a 100.  My sister had a C. Gabrielle's fourteen and going into ninth grade. I don't understand her. She has sleepovers and sings and plays the guitar Mom and Daddy bought her for her birthday. She doesn't care if she has a 90 or 100 or 79.99999. Or a 99.9999999. I hate those. It rounds up to 100, but still. So close to perfection. I'm OCD according to my parents. Mommy blames herself. I'm not OCD, I just like nothing to ever ever change and I like all my socks to match the color of my shoes and my shoes to match my wallpaper. And if I buy one doll from the 'Princess Tea Party' set, I have to have them all so nothing's missing.  And all the plates have to match the cups and napkins and knifes. But I'm not OCD.

So, after you read what Antoinette is like, here's a few pictures as her as a child (Her current age) and what she'll look like as a Young Adult.

Gabrielle

    Gabrielle dreams of being a vocal legend. Her traits are rebellious, star quality, virtuoso, and easily impressed. As she goes through high school, she'll face some challenges and her rebellious side will begin to show through. If Gabrielle is heir, her generation will be extremely dramatic and exciting! ;)

So, who do you think should be the heir? *Throws glitter* The poll ends Wednesday at four pm eastern (New York City) time.

Antoinette-3
Gabrielle-6

Or, vote on the forums! 

    

2.9: Maybe's All She's Got

IMPORTANT: I  forgot to take pictures before Gabrielle aged up, so there's not a lot of pictures, but I also wanted you guys to use some imagination for the last bit. Sometimes, that can be more dramatic then all the quickly edited photos in the world. =) Also, this chapter is a little sad....I practically cried when making it up and writing it all down....that's why it took me a little longer to publish a chapter. Please just don't skim because there aren't a ton of pictures.

Thanks, you guys are fabulous!  *Squishy hugs* ;)

P.S. There's some mature themes......so yeah..... *Cues evil laughter* You have been warned. =)

And while I'm at it, I didn't get many pictures of Jessa. She's available for download, though.  Also, if you go to the Family Tree tab, there's a sentence at the top that says 'Click HERE for minor character downloads' so, go there for minor character downloads, like Jamie's children or any high school sweethearts, etc. =)
 
     "Gabrielle." My teacher called out.
     "Huh? Here?" I looked up from the poem I was scribbling in my notebook.
     "Do you have your extra credit?" She glanced up from her list of people who didn't need extra credit; 4.0's  where hardly bad grades, but they decided to do the project anyway. The overachievers seemed to be the only ones who actually did bonus projects or extra assignments that weren't required, just because they wanted to or their 102.8 (which rounded up to 103) simply wasn't cutting it. Needless to say, I wasn't an overachiever. I had a social life; or at least three fourths of something that resembled one.
     "Um, yeah." I blushed. I grabbed my notebook that had all sorts of poems and songs, I loved singing and music. Nobody knows that I inherited the author's gene from Mom and spent my spare time writing poems and lyrics down. I've been practicing in the shower; I think I'm getting pretty good. "So," I said to a bunch of half asleep eighth graders in the teacher's headset mic, I loved speaking in a microphone, "Instead of doing a PowerPoint or poster for the area, circumference, and perimeter, I decided to do something, a little...different." I glanced at Mrs. Epp, the young twenty-something Math teacher at Bridgeport Public Junior High, who I had for seventh, my last, period. Seventh; advanced. Lucky me did so well on seventh grade standardized testing, I got into the top notch class filled to the brim with 105 averages, making my current 77, C, seem like an F.
     With my fourteenth birthday looming around the corner, Mom and Papa said I had to get a B if I wanted to keep the (nonrefundable) concert tickets I begged for. If all else failed, I had B's in every other class, and it would be enough to scrap my GPA up to a 2.9 and I'd get the concert tickets as an eighth grade graduation present. "Graduation" was two days away, standardized testing and finals where finished, leaving the teachers with nothing for the students to do.
      "Perfect! I love creativity." She nodded and smiled.
      "I'm going to do a song." I looked down and then began singing. I let myself flow into the words, smiling. This felt natural; I loved preforming. I sand about pi being multiplied by the radius squared, and pi multiplied by the diameter. It was over to soon.
       "Very good, Gabrielle!" Mrs. Epp clapped. "Now class, the last day is two, one now that today's over, away. Tomorrow is the eighth grade picnic at the beach, and sadly today's the last day I'll see you. Sadly that isn't true for some of my other classes." She quietly added the last sentence, only I, who was still standing at the front of the room, could hear it. "I want to wish you all the best in high school. Class is," she paused a second for the clock to go from 2:59 to 3:00, "Dismissed." The announcements began and everyone gathered up there things, rushing to get to their lockers before the buses left. "Gabrielle" Mrs. Epp pulled me aside.
       "Yes?" I wasn't in trouble, was I? I couldn't be. The concert, which I was planning on giving my extra ticket to my friend, ...I needed a good grade.
      "Your song was excellent. Did you ever consider trying out for Choir?"
      "No." I shrugged. Robes, three hour after school practices, and the insane elderly teacher who had a thing for Gospel and Mozart, two things I defiantly didn't like, wasn't how I was going to waste my middle school years. "I don't really like Mr.-"
      "I meant for high school. They have a great teacher, Miss. DiCeltson, she does an annual talent show and a Broadway Paloosa. I thought you might be interested."
       "Broadway Paloosa?" Great. Drama Goths and Choir Bitches wrapped into one. "I don't act."
       "She also does private guitar, piano, or violin lessons for talent show participants. She offers twenty extra credit points to her Home Ec. and Dramatics students if they participate."
       "Guitar lessons?" I gasped, "For, like, free?"
       "One hundred percent."
        "That's amazing..." I'd secretly wanted a guitar since, well since I'd started singing. It was so long ago...yet I still remembered it. I was only eight...

____________________________________

      "Papa!" I giggled, sitting in the backseat of the convertible. "This isn't the cafe."
      "Non," He smiled, "It's the park. The cafe open mic night doesn't start until seven, we have two hours to kill. I figured we could have some ice cream and roller blade until then, oui?"
    "Oui. Look! A photo booth!  Can we get our pictures taken?"
    "Of course."
    "Wait...." My face fell. "I only have a couple nickels."
     "I think I can cover it." He laughed, as we walked to the booth. "Silly, or serious?"
     "Hmm...." I thought, as I got into the booth. "Silly." I decided.
      "Regardez comment drôle que nous sommes!" He said, as we looked at the photos later and licked freezing cones of vanilla and lemon ice cream that we'd bought from the concession stand that Aunt Cassie ran. Daddy didn't seem happy with her, mumbled something about her being a 'Tricher salope!' and Breaking Jamie's heart, sleeping with half his team. Apparently Jamie, who I guess was my uncle, didn't want a divorce cause they have kids. I don't know what it means, but I guess it means we don't like Aunt Cassie.
      "Papa!" I giggled. I was fluent in French and English, and he loved speaking French. I do too, I'm half French! "Oui, nous ne sommes plein d'humour! Dommage que maman doit rester à la maison avec Antoinette ... Je déteste être malade."
       "The doctor said it was just a cold, it will be better before we know it. Hopefully she'll not miss the first day of kindergarten."
        "Look!" I spotted my friend, Maura Casey. "Papa, can I go play?"
        "Of course."
        "Gabrielle!"
        "Maura!"
        "I just scored a goal!"
        "Cool," Then I lowered my voice to a whisper, "Your babysitter took you, right.?"
        "Yeah, my parents are at work." She giggled. She babysitter was a seventeen year old who liked dragging her various boyfriends around with her and drank a lot of icky smelling stuff from glass bottles that, according to what Maura overheard, she stole from her drunk daddy. 
         "What's it mean if somebody slept with somebody?"
         "I dunno." She shrugged. "But my sitter might. She went with her boyfriend to his car to get something, I guess for soccer. It's been awhile....Huh. And he told her it was gonna be quickie."
        "Gabrielle!" Papa called out.
        "I have to go." I told Maura. "See ya later?"
        "See ya." She replied, turning back to her game.
        "Bonjour." I smiled. "What time is it?"
        "Six-forty five. We can have burgers and milkshakes and grab a good seat, if we hurry."
       "You know I can't say no to a milkshake!"
      "Come on," He said, as I skipped to the car. I ordered a strawberry milkshake, with extra whip cream hold the cherry and a hot dog. Daddy got a water and a large fry for us to share and a turkey burger.
       "Wow!" I gasped as I watched the singer. She was pretty, with ginger curls and a guitar. She sang with a country accent, but her music wasn't country. She sand some song about people rolling in the deep. It was amazing. "Daddy, I wanna be like her when I grow up!" I said, like little kids do.
         "You do?" He asked, playing along. "You wanna play guitar?"
        "Yep! I'm gonna be up their, one day." I pictured myself on the now empty stage. Singing...
        "Was today fun?" Papa asked.
        "Oui." He hugged me, then his phone beeped.

        "There's an emergency at the hospital. He looked panicked; worried. "Can I a call Mommy and she can pick you up?'
       "Yeah." I said, slightly disappointed that today was over already.
      "Please. There was a pile up. Three in critical, one in a coma. Traumatic bleeding and head injuries. Gabrielle," He turned to me, "Can you stay here and wait? Mommy's on her way. I love you."
      "I love you, too Papa." I sat on the folding chair, swinging me feet back and fourth.
      "Can I sit here?" Someone asked. I glanced around; the place was packed.
      "Uh, huh." I absentmindedly nodded. "Wait! You're the singer!"
      "I am." She nodded.
      "Do you live here? Cause my Daddy said he didn't recognize you from the normal list of people who come."
      "I'm from out of town." She said, her accent, clearly Southern, began showing through.
      "You sing pretty. I wanna sing like you and play guitar!"
      "Thank you. What's your name, hon?"
      "Gabrielle."
      "Where's your Daddy? You aren't here alone, are you?"
      "No. My Mommy's coming. She's with my sister. She's sick."
      "Okay, good. Bridgeport's a big city, I wouldn't-er. Never mind. Small town instinct."
      "Are you famous?"
      "No." She laughed, "But I'd like to be."
      "Will you sign this?" I turned the photos from earlier over.
      "My first autograph! Of course."
       Gabrielle, Keep dreaming and call me when you're a superstar!Keep trying and never give up, and you'll make it big! ♥ xoxo ♥
  "Gabrielle!" My Mom rushed up to be, holding Antoinette's hand. "Are you alright?"
  "I'm good. I  met a nice lady, she sang."
  "That's nice. Where is this nice lady?" She looked worried.
  "She's," I turned. She was gone. "Huh." I said, confused. Where had she gone? That's what inspired me. After that, I began practicing my singing in the shower, in secret. I'd asked Mommy and Papa for a guitar and they said when I was older.
      For the next couple weeks, Papa took me back to the cafe. I wanted to thank the singer lady and hear her again. I never did see her. I looked online one night, to see what her name was. I never did find her. If I did....I don't know what I would have said. My future,  bizarre, wild, crazy; all of it because I heard her sing. I would have thanked her. So much will happen....so much I didn't know then, or now. So much would unravel in high school....I just had to hold on for the ride. But that's life. And it's pretty great, if you ask me.

____________________________________

     "Okay." I agreed."When can I-?"

     "Tomorrow, during the picnic you could go talk to her. We're using the high school's football field. I could come up with an excuse, if you wanted." She smiled.

      "During the picnic....?" I pondered. My one friend I had, Maura, had a gaggle of others. She'd notice that I was gone, then roll her eyes and flip her hair and talk to some other brainless blonde. If I did come, it would be awkward. I didn't fit into any cliche. Maura...she did. Some place between the almost cheerleader B-table kids and the I'm popular because I dated that one dude, who I broke up with and my parents spend way to much on my wardrobe one. "Sure." I shrugged.
      "See me when we leave." She smiled.
      "Thanks." I exited her classroom, rushing to my locker. "Umft." I grunted as a girl bumped into me, knocking the books out of her hands.
      "Oops! S-s-sorry!"She blushed, looking down, frantically collecting her books. "I'm such a klutz."
      "It's okay." I said, leaning down to help her."I'm Gabrielle."
      "I'm Jessa Hart." She smiled, standing up again with her books.
      "Are you new?" I asked, dumbly.
      "Not really. I went to this other school and moved here about a month ago."
      "Cool. How do you like Bridgeport?"
      "I love it! It's so much busier and brighter..."
      "So, are you bus?"
      "Sometimes. I take the subway, mostly."
      "Really? Usually I get picked up by my mum." We began walking outside.  Jessa was fabulous; we became instant friends. Jessa and I both where the friendless type, it was nice to have someone you could talk with.
      "Hey...do you want to come over sometime? I'm having this get together thing tomorrow night for my birthday."
      "Sure. My uncle doesn't care." She said, quietly. 
      "I have to go." I gestured to my mum's waiting car.
      "Me, too. Bye."
      "Bye." I said, turning away. I hopped in the back seat, next to Antoinette. At eleven years old, going into sixth grade she's really pretty. Petite, blonde, a girly  girl, smart, kind, but a coward. I heard Dad whispering to Mom that she was going to be a real heart breaker once she discovers guys and that he's in trouble. Antoinette is the perfect doll, straight A's, polite; the golden child. And I'm me. Run of the mill, barely good grades, and I'm not exactly going to be a guy magnet. I'm the average one. Nothing special.

     "Remember that, Gabrielle. Music can make you special. I though that, as I nervously stood outside Miss. DiCeltson's door, holding the slip of paper Mrs. Epp had given me. I raised my hand, and knocked."
     "And?"
     "I sang and she loved it! I can audition for the talent show!"
     "Yay!" Jessa cheered. We had just gotten back from the concert and changed into our jammies, when Jess begged me to retell her everything.
     "Girls, cake!" My mom called out.

     "Come on," I gestured to Jessa.  We ran down the stairs, breathlessly.
     "Happy birthday to you, happy happy birthday," They all sand, as I smiled and blew out my candles. I wish-to be a heart breaker? A world famous singer? No. I knew exactly what I was going to wish.
      "What did you wish for?"  Jessa asked.
      "I can't tell you," I smiled. "You know that."
      "I do." She sighed, taking a bite of her slice of cake.

      We laid on the floor, in our sleeping bags. It was one am, quiet as could be. I was awake staring up at my ceiling. Everyone makes a big deal out of things like this; being a year older, going into high school. Nothing felt different. I felt like plain me.
       "Gabrielle?" Jessa's voice pierced the dreaded silence.
       "Yeah?"
       "What did you wish for?"
        "Jessss-uh!" I pretended to whine.
        "Gabrrrrr-elllllle!"
         I sighed, over in my sleeping bag.  "My life will be different and crazy and wild and fun and unpredictable." I whispered to the darkness.
         "Does this unpredictable wild crazy fun have a name?" Jessa whispered back.
         "He doesn't. Yet."
         "Yet."
         "Jessa...why do you live with you uncle?" I blurted out, before I could stop. She got real quiet. "I'msorryyoudonothavetotellmeifitistoopersonal." I rushed out.
        "No...it's....I should tell someone..." She took a deep breath. "My Mom had me early, when she was eighteen. It was her first year of university. She came from a super poor family and was there on a scholarship...the snobs who could afford it hated it. Hated her. People told me she was different, like unique. Kind and bubbly and loved people. But...she had this go for it motto. She was impulsive and.....Poof. Suddenly she was pregnant and had no idea who the dad was. She," I heard tears.
       "It's okay." I whispered. "I-you don't have to say anything else." This was awful I didn't want to hear anymore. I wanted to sit with Jessa and let her cry it all out while we ate ice cream. Not listen to her pain drip out of her mouth.
        "I....it's okay. I need to accept this. I haven't really....I've been in denial since I learned. That's kinda why I"m this antisocial, shy, quiet girl who doesn't have any friends."
        "Jessa, I'm your friend." I moved over and hugged her.
        "I know." She sniffled. "Thanks."
        "Your welcome. I'll always be there for you."
        "My mom....a year ago, I was reading her old diaries. I learned something nobody mentioned. Everybody slipped over the how she got pregnant part. This...her diary...it was just so real. Like it was all happening now, not thirteen years ago. She was depressed, secretly. She was bullied worse than anyone knew. She was pretty. She hated being bullied, and she didn't want to tell her parents....it wasn't their fault they had no money. When she was born, her mom decided to become a stay at home mom. Her dad's office department all got laid off. They lost the big home and ended up moving into a cramped home while renting the rooms out.
       She went to a party....she was sad; the day had been worse than usual. She drank too much...a couple people spiked her drink....it started her addiction...a bunch of guys took advantage of her. Passed her around....in her diary it said that she ended up passing out in the middle of it...that didn't stop them." She began weeping.
          "That's horrible...." I whispered.
          "She woke up the next morning in an empty dorm, her makeup was all over her face and her clothing was gone....people had written things all over her....slut...whore....and guys names....pointing to a body part. 'I went here.' 'This belongs to whoever' 'My...went into that....'" She paused. "You shouldn't have to hear this...how broken my life turned out to be.....I should just leave."
         "No! Jessa, it wasn't your fault. I-you don't have to-you-you can stop if you'd like."
         "The bullying got worse. When she found out she was pregnant, she tried to hide it. Said she was getting fat. People weren't stupid. They learned. She didn't know who the dad was....the notes. She turned to....her addiction. Nobody knew. She hid it all. 'Teen mom'....everyone shook their heads. The poor girl messed up her future. She didn't belong after all.
       She had me and a few months later, they found an empty dorm room....I was laying in my crib, fed, changed, and asleep. I was screaming, though....bottles of beer and  drugs, where laid on the floor in a circle. Her diaries in the center, with the bin of bully notes. She left one note. 'I can't take it. I love Jessa. She doesn't deserve this. She doesn't deserve me. It wasn't her who did this. Everyone thought I was fine. I wasn't. Who can go through this hell and still be damned okay? Looks can be deceiving.....one day, everyone will know that. You'll know that, Jessa. Your mother is an addict and a drunk and doesn't know who your father is. I can't ask you to love that. But I can try. One day, she'll see me.' A bloody knife was on the note...."
        "Jessa...." I was crying to, now. "Was she.....?" Dead. Was she dead?
        "I don't know." She shook her head. "There was no body. They...she's assumed dead. Gabrielle, you know what sucks? That nobody notices it. Nobody asked or cared. But I do. I love her. I don't know what happened. If she left then killed herself or just ran away.....Gabrielle I don't know."
        I sat there, stunned. I didn't know what to say. I didn't. Who could? I'm sorry? My life wasn't picture perfect, but it sure beat the heck out of hers. I didn't know what it felt like. Jessa curled up in her sleeping bag. I heard her tears stop and breathing slow. She was sleeping. Her mom could be alive...her dad, who knows? Maybe her moms out there. Regretting that she left. Happy that she escaped the pain. Maybe leaving so Jessa could have a better life. Staging death, so her daughter would be taken care of properly. Maybe she left alive but ended up dying later. Maybe she never cured herself. It wasn't something you just stopped. Withdrawal could be powerful. Maybe she died but didn't want to do it with her daughter around when she did it. Maybe she wanted to stay a mystery. Maybe there was no mystery. Her mind was foggy and she couldn't think. Maybe....maybe. I felt sick for wondering everything. Maybe was all Jessa had left. Jessa could imagine her mother living happily. I couldn't ruin that.
       Maybe isn't fun. It lets  the brain take a break and the imagination take control. Sometimes we imagine happiness. But we always ponder the pain. Maybe everything's worse. Maybe not knowing is better. Maybe by not knowing if she was dead or alive, she could paint a fantasy. Happy. Peaceful with her self. Not addicted. Living. But maybe a body would be better. Maybe knowing exactly what happened would be easier to accept. Maybe you wouldn't have to worry so much. Maybe Jess wouldn't have to imagine her mother alive, with another family. Leaving her daughter to suffer in curiosity while she lived happily. Maybe her mom changed her name. Maybe she's my neighbor who went under the knife. Maybe she's living in the next town, or the next one, or the next one. Never this one. Always the next one. Maybe she's sitting in Paris. Maybe she met my mom and they wrote novels together. Maybe all she wants is her daughter. But that's the thing about maybes. We'll never know.