daily_prompt #535 "Another child is born, Another race is won, Another dream is shattered, Another day has begun -This World; Zero 7"
dailyprompt Prompt for 2011-12-21 "When the time comes"
dailyprompt Prompt for 2011-12-22 "What really matters"
dailyprompt Prompt for 2011-12-20 "Secret Santa""Look, princess," Sam snapped as she kicked her locker shut. "I'm on to you. I'm this," she gestured with her index finger and thumb, "This close to finding you out. And when I do, you can be sure that your sparkling reputation will be beyond repair."

Paulina scowled at Sam, disdain oozing out of every perfect pore. "You have no idea what you're talking about, freak."

Countering with a smirk, Sam said, "You rigged the box so that I'd be your Covert Commencement partner. So I did a little digging to figure out what to get," --Paulina paled-- "And nobody would ever think to guess what I found out instead. At least," she added in a superior fashion, "they won't until I tell them."

"You little b--"

"But I might be persuaded to forget your little secret if you do just one little thing for me--quid pro quo, see."

Paulina growled. "And what would that be?"

"Leave Dan--I mean, Phantom--alone."

"Not in your wildest dreams, you psycho!"

"Well then, I suppose that I'll just have to make a few calls to the school paper."

"As if. Maybe you just don't understand because he would never give someone as plain as you the time of day, but nothing is worth giving up Phantom."

"Not even jail?"

A pause. "What are you talking about?"

Sam hesitated, completely thrown. "What are you talking about?"

Paulina looked, not uncharacteristically, confused. "The threads, what else?"

Oldies slang, really? Really, Paulina? The hippie headbands were one thing, but there are lines. "Yes, the threads, duds, whatevers. That's what I'm talking about. And you don't seem to know that it's illegal."

"It's not like I put them there! I can just see them--wait a minute. If you know about them, then that means you can see them, too."

"Right," Sam said dryly. "Because I've been following you."

"No, like, no one else can see the threads, like the one that's tied to me and you. It's beyond, like, gross." Sam stared. Rich kids did drugs too, this Sam knew, and they did them hard. But other than the insanity spilling from those waxy, flamingo pink lips, Paulina exhibited no other signs of being high. If only, eh? And Coach Tetslaff only a shout away, at that.

"And. . . What do these threads look like?"

"You said you could see them!"

". . . I think we're on a different subject entirely."

"Oh. Well, whatever, freak. You better not tell anyone about this, comprende?" She turned to leave, flipping her hair in a manner that somehow seemed as disrepectful as flipping the middle finger, although phenomonally more lady-like.

"Wait! Pri-Paulina!" Paulina stopped, glaring with suspicious blue eyes.

"What?" she spat.

"Look, if you're really, seriously in trouble. . . I know people who can help." Blasted sense of rightousness.

Paulina, who had been in the midst of a retort, suddenly stilled. "Phantom" she whispered.

"Um," Sam said, completely weirded out.

Paulina looked around, curls bouncing and the fluffiest, most love stricken expression contorted her face, an expression which sam never wanted pointed in her direction again. Ever. "Phantom!" Paulina said, loud and giggly. "If anyone can save me, it's him!"

"It depends on what the problem is. What's going on?"

"Why would I tell you?"

"Because I'm dating Danny Fenton, and you know how Phantom always. . ."

"Shows up around Fenton! Oh!!" And then she was silent.

"Well, are you going to tell me or not?"

"Of course not. Just tell phantom to meet me at my house. Anytime. He'll know where." Sam chose not to comment. Paulina, superior smirk back in place, turned to leave once more.

Desperate for more information, Sam hurriedly spoke, stopping her enemy in her tracks, "Uh, I dont think so. Either you tell me, or no Phantom. Thats the deal, chica."

Scowling and fists balled, Paulina sent Sam the filthiest glare that she could muster. "Fine," she said. "But put the bench in front of the door, first. I don't want anyone walking in and seeing me talking to you." Privately, Sam thought that blockading the door would appear even more suspicious, but she was not about to say anything.

Grasping the splintery object and careful not to touch any discarded wads of gum, she silently complied with Paulina's demand. Deed done, she dusted off her hands, plopped upon the newly arranged bench and reclined, forcing Paulina to remain standing.

Fangs bared, she channeled her anger at the popular crowd that had just invaded her sanctuary. Sam squeezed her recycled cardboard coffee cup, her glare so intense that she hardly noticed that the drink was beginning to leak. Just look over here, she thought. Look at me. Give me one reason, and you'll never know what hit you, Paulina. That flawless skin of yours will--

"Sam?" Startled and nearly tossing her coffee, she and looked up and met his eyes, those luminous, blue eyes. She felt her stomach tighten with an unfamiliar feeling. Curiously, although she could not identify it, she knew the feeling was very much unwelcome. Sam averted her gaze. Not waiting for an invitation, Danny pulled out a chair and reclined, his innocently concerned stare boring holes into her skull. "You alright? We were coming to pick you up from the community center, but you ran past us like a bat outta hell."

She shifted uncomfortably, and he placed his hand over hers, slightly blushing as he did so. "It's, it's nothing. I just. . . Really needed my caffeine fix! Man, making a difference sure does take a lot out of you!" she enthused, taking a huge sip of her piping-hot coffee. Almost immediately, her cheeks puckered and her widened eyes steamed. Quickly, she gulped the burning liquid down and shot Danny a weak grin. "I am totally awake now."

He laughed. "Cool. In that case, do you want to get out of here? Tucker's waiting for us at the arcade."

"That would be one big, beautiful yes," she said, standing and linking her arm with his.

Desperately, she rounded on Sam. "How did you even get that? You stole it, didn't you!"

"No, I saw it spilling out of your bag and I--"

"Liar! It was, like, gently folded deep inside my bag, and I would never leave my bag unzipped around creeps like you. Ever. You had to have broken into my house--that's a felony! Or you got your undead minions to get it for you or something. That's, like, probably even more illegal, right?" Paulina said.

"No, I--"

"How exactly did you come by the blouse, Miss Manson?" Paulina's mother intoned.

"Er, that is. . ."


She shook the scenario from her head. That, Sam, is a very good question. If she told anyone about Paulina's doings, then she would have to explain that she skipped a mandatory assembly, disobeyed and lied to a teacher, broke into a classroom, invaded the privacy of her classmates, and even stole from one. Yeah, that would go over well. On the other hand, if Paulina really was involved in something unsavory, then it would not be very difficult to catch her in something again. She just had to be a little more vigilant, maybe tail the popular wh--er, girl--for a while, find some irrefutable but honestly obtained evidence, and bam--everything would be over for little miss perfect.

Sam leaned back in her chair, feet pumping against the edge of her desk, and indulged in a rather villainesque cackle. Yes, all would. . . . she thought, and crashed to the floor with an OOMPH.

"Sammikins? Are you alright sweety? I know how terribly you wanted to go to that dance. . . ."

"I'M FINE, MOTHER," she said, and picked herself up from the floor, victory somewhat tainted.

***

Adolescents crowded the floor, sweaty from dancing and half drunk on excitement and alcohol. Suddenly, the queen of the ball sneezed, and her date balked. "Gesundheit," said her satellite.

"Heh, someone's talking smack about you, Polly." Glaring at Kwan, Paulina snarled a rebuttal that was drowned out by the rowdy throng, dragging Dash behind her.

Left alone, Kwan smiled at the satellite and said, "It's just you and me now, huh."

Ever so faintly, Star returned the smile.
 

harry100 Prompt #138: An Ending and a Beginning

Severus thought that he must have lived through one crisis too many, because this scene was all too familiar for him to find comfortable. A glass of Ogden's rested in his palm, his feet upon a dingy footrest, and the dying embers of a fire sparked in the hearth. In his eyes were the reflection of the red whiskey bottle, that same red he remembered dancing in her hair.

Tonight he should have been free of her. But he was no fool--

She had died from him years before.

daily_prompt Prompt #430: The Chosen

Every college acceptance letter shoved in my mailbox bore some generic congratulations: ". . . You are among the select few. . ." ". . . accomplishments merit acceptance into our family" ". . . we CHOOSE YOU to join our class of 2014. . ."

Dear Colleges:

Who the fish do you think I am, Pikachu? You picked me? Oh, no, no, no, no-No. I chose you. What right has a school--an establishment contingent upon student attendance--to mandate who is and who is not worthy? I sent my repertoire to you. I knew that you would accept me, and then I would chose from you.

Colleges were established to educate those individuals interested in higher learning, not to discriminate between who deserves your mascot on his or her résumé.  How dare you the audacity of assuming that I serve you, you who walks crippled without my tuition and alumna donations?

Some of you hide behind the excuse of research to fuel your elitism--and all the more woe to those who do not. For what good are you if my professor doesn't even have the intention of earning his doctorate?

And don't deny it: some of you set your tuition and fees according to the rank and reach of your prestige. So now even America allows birth circumstances to dictate who steps foot in the future ruling class?

Higher education, straighten your priorities. Students don't exist to inflate your grandeur, you exist to make your students shine.

( CHP 1 ) ( CHP 2 )

{to be continued}
 

And this is life.

I don't know.

I really think that there is something wrong with me-something lurking that I'm scared to unleash.

I'm so scared of it, so ashamed of it, so ignorant about its nature. . . all I can do is ignore it.

I wonder why my parents get angry when I cry. Why can't they simply sympathize with me, or, at the least, leave me alone? Why do they have to yell at me and tell me I'm being stupid? Honestly, it's not like I cry all that often. I think that the last time that I seriously broke down into tears was in ninth grade--and I was the only one in the room.

Well, I'm sorry I'm upset that I don't get to have the adolescent period you had. Just because it's over for you obviously means that it's not worth anyone having it. Forgive me for my momentary lapse in judgment. I must be mentally ill, as you so considerately warned. I'll just forget about the situation and become a bag lady one day. Man, I'll have it made! Those single, male hobos better watch out, because there's some hot stuff coming for them!