Spotlight- A Cool Story, chapter 1
*Ramona's POV*
My radio alarm clock went off, and my heavy eyes cracked open, Basket Case blaring. I was greeted by my bay window wide open, photographers snapping a hundred a second. I screamed. Well, you try not screaming when there's a mob of men outside your window with cameras and all you're wearing is a tight tank top and bikini underwear! I screamed again, and my mom came stomping in. She stopped for half a nanosecond, then in one smooth movement, she wrapped me in my duvet, closed the curtains and picked up the phone. Talking to someone about 'getting rid of some uninvited guests'.
"Are you okay, honey?"
"No, mom I'm not! I was just photographed about ten billion fucking times half-naked, that are going to be in about twenty billion tabloids around the entire world!" And with that, still wrapped up in my blanket, I stormed into my bathroom, slamming the door.
I heard a crunching of plastic and yells of protest.
"Guess mom called Stephan."
I thought, turning on the hot water. Under the waterfall from three heads, the early morning madness washed away and I started to think clearly. Then it dawned on me.
"FRANKITO!!!" My half brother was living my mom and me until his mom and our dad figured out everything that needed to be figured out. Dad screwed up AGAIN on his latest tour, and my little bro liked to think of himself as a 'prankster'.
"FRANKIE!!!" I screamed again, ripping on a terrycloth bathrobe and tearing out of my room.
There he was, in his room, looking extremely terrified. He spread eagled on his bed as I jumped in the air. He took off screaming, "MMMMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!" And he was down, under me in the hall, screaming like a little girl.
"God, he looks like dad." I thought, before I pulled back my arm.
"MMOOOOOMM!!!" He screamed again, stating to cry.
And then, I was in the air, kicking and yelling words even I didn't know I knew, Stephan pulling my away from the scrawny pile of bones known and Frankito Cool.
"Ramona! Calm down!" He whispered in my ear, and I dropped my arms and stopped kicking.
I knew it was useless. Stephan is 6.11" and around 190 pounds (all muscle).
"Fine. I have to get dressed." I said, and he placed me down.
I did the 'I'm watching you' sign as I stalked into my bedroom, slamming the door.
"Goddamn little half-brother..." I hissed, picking out my baby pink skull-in-bow hoody, an absolutely destroyed Green Day American Idiot Concert T-shirt underneath, black cotton capris, green converse hi-tops and a pair of "Uncle" Billie's red and black striped socks. I was out my door, pulling my dark brown hair into a low, shaggy ponytail. It was silent in the dining room, Frankie stopped chewing his Rise Krispies, Mom looked into her black coffee, and Stephan smiled at me reluctanly.
"Gee. Great breakfast." I cracked, sighing.
"Ramona--"
"Frankie, you've done enough today." I glared at him, and grabbed my 1955 medical supply bag full of my school stuff.
A horn honked outside, followed by cries of paprazzi with broken cameras who needed a picture right then.
"There's Jason." I growled, stepping out of the dining room and grabbing a piece of buttered toast.
"By mom! Bye Stephan!" I called, missing Frankie on purpose. And I was out, mobbed.
"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!!!" I screamed, and they parted.
I can be very pursuasive when I want to be. I ducked into my boyfriend's 1959 turquoise caddy.
"Drive." Was all I said, buckling myself in.
He nodded, knew better than to ask me why, and sped off to my highschool. I gave him a quick peck and a hug and I was out and he was gone, to his usual during-school haunt, the 12th street overpass.
I greeted stella and her friends, we talked for a while, then headed to my own friends. We did our handshake and smiled. I whined about my brother, they gave me the appropriate amount of pity, and the bell rang. Great. Double Math, with Mr.Poleuphisass (A.k.a. Mr. Pohhole) then Phys ed.. At least is P.E. I could run out my anger, but today was lecture day. Boring Person Heaven. I sighed heavily, and stomped inside. I slipped my iPod in my kangaroo pocket, slipping the buds in my ear and gathering my books.
-Later-
Finally, Phys. Ed. I changed into my stupidly short running shorts and grey T-shirt, re-doing my pony and tieing my white runners. The girl's track and field classes usually attract a crowd, so looking good is a must. "Poor Alisonne." I thought. Fifty pounds overweight, in hot pants and a baby tee, and making the boys gag. I started in front of her, pounding out my rage. I imagined Frankie's face on every inch of the asphalt track, his head five inches over the hurdles, his body on the mat on the pole vault. I felt exhausted, but happy afterwards, and I won the admiration of three guys after. I glowed in my achievement, then went out for lunch with my friends, starving.
My radio alarm clock went off, and my heavy eyes cracked open, Basket Case blaring. I was greeted by my bay window wide open, photographers snapping a hundred a second. I screamed. Well, you try not screaming when there's a mob of men outside your window with cameras and all you're wearing is a tight tank top and bikini underwear! I screamed again, and my mom came stomping in. She stopped for half a nanosecond, then in one smooth movement, she wrapped me in my duvet, closed the curtains and picked up the phone. Talking to someone about 'getting rid of some uninvited guests'.
"Are you okay, honey?"
"No, mom I'm not! I was just photographed about ten billion fucking times half-naked, that are going to be in about twenty billion tabloids around the entire world!" And with that, still wrapped up in my blanket, I stormed into my bathroom, slamming the door.
I heard a crunching of plastic and yells of protest.
"Guess mom called Stephan."
I thought, turning on the hot water. Under the waterfall from three heads, the early morning madness washed away and I started to think clearly. Then it dawned on me.
"FRANKITO!!!" My half brother was living my mom and me until his mom and our dad figured out everything that needed to be figured out. Dad screwed up AGAIN on his latest tour, and my little bro liked to think of himself as a 'prankster'.
"FRANKIE!!!" I screamed again, ripping on a terrycloth bathrobe and tearing out of my room.
There he was, in his room, looking extremely terrified. He spread eagled on his bed as I jumped in the air. He took off screaming, "MMMMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!" And he was down, under me in the hall, screaming like a little girl.
"God, he looks like dad." I thought, before I pulled back my arm.
"MMOOOOOMM!!!" He screamed again, stating to cry.
And then, I was in the air, kicking and yelling words even I didn't know I knew, Stephan pulling my away from the scrawny pile of bones known and Frankito Cool.
"Ramona! Calm down!" He whispered in my ear, and I dropped my arms and stopped kicking.
I knew it was useless. Stephan is 6.11" and around 190 pounds (all muscle).
"Fine. I have to get dressed." I said, and he placed me down.
I did the 'I'm watching you' sign as I stalked into my bedroom, slamming the door.
"Goddamn little half-brother..." I hissed, picking out my baby pink skull-in-bow hoody, an absolutely destroyed Green Day American Idiot Concert T-shirt underneath, black cotton capris, green converse hi-tops and a pair of "Uncle" Billie's red and black striped socks. I was out my door, pulling my dark brown hair into a low, shaggy ponytail. It was silent in the dining room, Frankie stopped chewing his Rise Krispies, Mom looked into her black coffee, and Stephan smiled at me reluctanly.
"Gee. Great breakfast." I cracked, sighing.
"Ramona--"
"Frankie, you've done enough today." I glared at him, and grabbed my 1955 medical supply bag full of my school stuff.
A horn honked outside, followed by cries of paprazzi with broken cameras who needed a picture right then.
"There's Jason." I growled, stepping out of the dining room and grabbing a piece of buttered toast.
"By mom! Bye Stephan!" I called, missing Frankie on purpose. And I was out, mobbed.
"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!!!" I screamed, and they parted.
I can be very pursuasive when I want to be. I ducked into my boyfriend's 1959 turquoise caddy.
"Drive." Was all I said, buckling myself in.
He nodded, knew better than to ask me why, and sped off to my highschool. I gave him a quick peck and a hug and I was out and he was gone, to his usual during-school haunt, the 12th street overpass.
I greeted stella and her friends, we talked for a while, then headed to my own friends. We did our handshake and smiled. I whined about my brother, they gave me the appropriate amount of pity, and the bell rang. Great. Double Math, with Mr.Poleuphisass (A.k.a. Mr. Pohhole) then Phys ed.. At least is P.E. I could run out my anger, but today was lecture day. Boring Person Heaven. I sighed heavily, and stomped inside. I slipped my iPod in my kangaroo pocket, slipping the buds in my ear and gathering my books.
-Later-
Finally, Phys. Ed. I changed into my stupidly short running shorts and grey T-shirt, re-doing my pony and tieing my white runners. The girl's track and field classes usually attract a crowd, so looking good is a must. "Poor Alisonne." I thought. Fifty pounds overweight, in hot pants and a baby tee, and making the boys gag. I started in front of her, pounding out my rage. I imagined Frankie's face on every inch of the asphalt track, his head five inches over the hurdles, his body on the mat on the pole vault. I felt exhausted, but happy afterwards, and I won the admiration of three guys after. I glowed in my achievement, then went out for lunch with my friends, starving.
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