|
|
Post by DEMIGOD on Jan 22, 2009 21:11:51 GMT -5
*MISERY LOVES COMPANY
*AND COMPANY LOVES MORE [/font][/center] picture.
outfit. [/blockquote]
Samantha stormed about her daily life, cursing under her breath as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, an earring in the shape of a lightning bolt dangling from her ears. Her long hair was tied into a braid, and for once she looked decent in her Twilight baseball shirt and Converse boots. Otherwise, her face contrasted sharply, plain and no makeup on. She opened the door to the small on-campus café, tired.
The strong smell of coffee lured her to the counter to order a cappuccino, and she sat down at a booth, holding the cup carefully with her hand s she wouldn’t get burned. She took a sip, her eyes strangely lifeless as she stared out a window at the kids in t-shirts and shorts, walking around. At least some people were fine. She jotted down some notes, and read some previous ones s she could catch up on counseling.
Even if she lied, the job wasn’t half-bad. Most of her friends had a boy, but she was fine single. Not even searching, actually. She finished her notes and put the paper and pencil back in her bag, her baseball cap resting casually in her head with a tilt of meaning, one that said ‘Take me, and you’ll be sorry.’ Of course, their were just rumors she was mean. She wasn’t always….Just, unusually silent today.
There was soothing music, and she was slowly tiring, finding it harder to keep her eyes open. “Damn music, so soothing.” She muttered, blaming it on the café’s choice. It was relatively lonely, and secretly she hoped a counselor would come for her to know and talk to. She tried to name a couple she didn’t mind, and could only list her friend, Maddison. Otherwise, she wasn’t that good a friend to anyone, but was acquainted with almost everyone.
Otherwise, she felt better. Apparently coffee really did wake you up. She flipped her phone open texting a few people back and relaxing, letting herself sink into the sofa. It was only 5, and she was gradually waking up. Her head still felt terrible, though, with headaches and all. Wondering if that was a side effect. Her phone was back in her pocket again, and she closed her eyes a minute, almost smiling.
[/blockquote] |
|
|
|
Post by adam jack johnson on Jan 23, 2009 18:08:38 GMT -5
Adam kicked the dying turf up with the toe of his shoe, making the dead grass fold in on itself. Dust seemed to breathe out from the material, and Adam's reaction was a slight wrinkle of the nose. He coughed, getting up from his perch on the stairs of the Deca counselor cabin, dusting the back of his pants off. His brain tingled, telling him he needed sustenance -caffeine to be precise. He gave the tuft of grass a nudge one last time before shoving his hands in his jean pockets and trudging over to the path. He decided to walk to the on site Starbucks instead of getting a quick ride on a bike or one of the ridiculous jeep-buggie-car things they had all over the place for the across ground trips.
His mind wandered, poking through things he needed to remember, and needed to forget. Soon he had more or less of his pondering's sorted into a list. Camper number two-zero needed some behavioral adjustments, and Adam decided it was something he should remember next time the Deca camper and counselor met up. Lesbian mother -that was definitely number uno on the list of things to forget. Other than those two thoughts, he hadn't really been thinking of anything else. Or hadn't he?
Adam pulled his black i-pod out of his pocket and stuck the ear buds in his ears, cranking the volume up on Godsmack. His i-pod was one of the large, square 80GB kinds. Not the new, 8GB slim, nanos. Adam didn't like the new 'improvements' to the MP3's design, he preferred the original as he called them. Besides, who would trade in a 80GB monster for a baby-doll 8GB?
Campers passed by Adam in groups of two's, three's and the occasional six pack and loner as he headed to the coffee shop. The sun shone, hot and yellow - a stupid happy-go-lucky scene from a movie. The happy campers were dressed in summer attire, and he couldn't blame them. Today was already scalding. Adam was dressed lightly, t-shirt and jeans as usual. The boy wasn't exactly one for shorts and sandals.
Adam's feet took him to the door of the cafe, which he pulled open and walked through. He went to the counter and ordered a latte, and while waiting for his order to be filled, he leaned back against the counter, looking plaintively around the shop. Checking which booths were empty, which tables were acceptable, and which seats were occupied by people who
didn't have the right puzzle pieces to snap with Adam.
Sitting alone at a booth, hunched over a paper and writing something down feverishly, sat a dark haired girl. He lowered the volume of his music and took his drink, giving the kid behind the cashier a tip. He strode to the booth and slid in soundlessly, putting his latte on the table and folding his hands around it. He watched the girl who's eyes were closed, a ghost of a smile on her lips. Now that he thought of it, Adam had seen her around here and there. She was also a behavioral counselor, knowing how silly some kids attitude problems were.
Adam's lips twitched, and attempt at hiding a grin.
"Do you usually sit there like that?" He couldn't help but cocked his head to the side a bit, a stupid, kitten like motion. Adam waited observing her acknowledgment to his presence.
"Outfit[/color] -- look all you want.(minus the hat)"Picture[/color] -- see me (not) smiling. "Word count[/color] -- 569 "Song[/color] -- animal i have become - three days grace[/size]
|
|
|
|
Post by samantha harris. on Jan 28, 2009 8:52:08 GMT -5
Samantha looked up, seeing Adam. “Right, hey. Do I usually act like this? Answer it yourself.” She said dryly, her gloomy mood vanishing, even though she sure didn’t show it. “Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t Why do you are?” She asked grouchily, rubbing here eyes after she opened them. She sat up and finished her coffee, more awake as she stared at him intently, then past him, quickly losing interest in the conversation.
She finished her coffee silently and chucked it into the trashcan that was a couple feet away, rolling her eyes as he stared at her intently, most likely waiting for a response. “Having fun with the campers?” She asked dryly with out much amusement, still traces of her previous bad mood.
[blech, pathetic!-de]
|
|
|
|
Post by adam jack johnson on Jan 28, 2009 9:56:06 GMT -5
Adam watched in amusement as Samantha snapped an answer back. He enjoyed seeing her sudden mood swings and changes in mind, as odd as that might sound. It didn't matter if some of her remarks were hurtful, hey, who wasn't use to that? Go up to anyone in camp and ask them why they look so ugly and they'll probably hiss and scratch at you and call your mother a fat assed lard face. Not that it matters to me, Adam thought, sinking into his seat, still watching the girl who sat before him. What ever they say about my 'mommy' is true, she's just another fat hoe. Adam wasn't offended by and cussing and dissing about his mom, because he himself liked to dis the likes of her.
Adam let Samantha finish her coffee without talking, watched her throw the empty cup away. The coffee cup arched gracefully, before landing in the dark confines of the trash bin with a plunk. He sat back, running his hand through his hair, and with a sigh he answered.
"The campers have been and always be, their shiny eyed, big mouthed selves." His eyes lingered on the lighting bolt earring Samantha was wearing. He took note to the resemblance of Harry Potters scar. "You a fan of flying broomsticks?"
Adam's eyes flickered to the girls face, hoping to see past her wall of non-emotions. Nothing. He sighed again, and smiled tiredly.
"What 'bout your happy campers?"
"Outfit[/color] -- look all you want.(minus the hat)"Picture[/color] -- see me (not) smiling. "Word count[/color] -- 241 "Tags[/color] -- hey it's still a post :] [/size]
|
|
|
|
Post by samantha harris. on Jan 28, 2009 10:33:09 GMT -5
Samantha shrugged, watching the cup then looking back to Adam. what did he say? Camper?s? What about eyes? She took a few minutes to think her answer through. "Now that depends on which campers you have, doesn't it?" She asked dryly, shrugging. He mentioned broomsticks in reference to her earrings, and she actually laughed slightly, reaching out and smacking his arm lightly. Then she was serious again when he mentioned the campers. "Mine are quite big mouthed, and al they do s complain about their problems." She said honestly, rolling her eyes.
Apparently, coffee loosened her up slightly. Kind of, er, rare. She glanced to his outfit and made a face. "Hollister surf club?" She asked, obviously not very fond of his shirt. Well, his whole outfit, actually. She much rather prefferred the jumble of cloth she was wearing, and looked down to her socks. They were white with SAM splattered lazily in bleu, and she liked them. She hummed a random tune."You still have johnson cheese as your screen name?" She asked, easily remembering it.
|
|
|
|
Post by adam jack johnson on Feb 1, 2009 16:22:44 GMT -5
Adam grinned slightly when the sleepy Samantha reacted, lightly slapping his arm. He chuckled silently, knowing that the small playful touch was to be expected, as was her answer to his returning question. He watched her grow serious when talking, noting her eye roll. Adam's mind dwindled down to a single strand of thought; more caffeine. He lifted the Styrofoam/paper cup to his lips, but just as he was about to sip from the delicious sweetness, he noticed Samantha's silly face.
"What?" he asked, then his eyebrows rose, and before she had spoken out, he knew what she was discriminating. His shirt. Adam laughed at her tone, mimicking her previous eye roll.
"I was planning to take a dunk later" He shrugged passively, "I wouldn't mind loosing this shirt," a ghost of a smirk lay dormant, but poking on his lips. A sharp, haunting look in his eyes told anyone who could catch it that Adam's wheels were spinning. He was thinking of something, but Samantha's voice shook him of his reverie, his vision focusing.
His eyes flickered to Samantha's socks and the corners of his lips twitched, coffee was making his day bubbly. He brought his cup up, and took a hardy drink before setting the latte back down between his resting hands. He slumped back into the squishy interior of the booth, his eyes trained to the growing line of caffeine consumers.
"Yeah, it's still cheesalicious. I'm feeling rather Parmesan today," He covered his mouth with a fist, yawning. "So what brought you to the coffee house today?"
|
|
|
|
Post by samantha harris. on Feb 1, 2009 21:05:01 GMT -5
SiX FEET UNDER THE STARS [/size][/font] Samantha glowered at him. “Oh, what’s so funny?” She asked, her expression suddenly changing to one of interest. He was random, and it usually amused her. He sat up, then dropped down again, letting herself sink into the sofa. She watched him slightly, staring past him. Her expresion was annoyed, hiding the weird warning feeling. She glared at him as he rolled his eyes, mimicking her. “Of course you wouldn’t, because it’s such a pretty shirt.” She said, rolling her eyes yet again. She was abusing this addictive motion.
She watched his face, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. He was distant, and he was thinking, no, scheming. She cold tell that much, being a master of it. ”What are you planning now? She heavily emphasized it, speaking in an exasperated tone. If she was standing, she’d be leaning on one leg with her arms crossed. No, her arms resting expectantly on the side of her hips.
His gaze dropped to her socks, and instinctively Samantha tucked her legs under herself, now kneeling slightly. “Don’t you dare take them!” She said. She glared at him, making a mental note to go to the craft center later, and hide her socks in her smock while painting and nodding encouragingly as the campers complained, sniffled, wiped their sweaty hands across their stupid shirts…
Clearly she wasn’t fond of them.
Parmesan? She laughed silently, but her face was still serious. She just looked like someone had put a sleeping spell on her, no matter hw much coffee she’d had. She looked at the time. Oh, it was only 10 am. Wait, what did he say about the coffee house? She shrugged, acting as if she knew what he’d said. Her head tilted vaguely, as if she on the verge of nodding, and it tipped forward into a nonchalant motion before her eyes were trained behind him, glaring holes into the wall.
“Your going to dunk?” Her lips pulled back into a smile, a Cheshire Cat smile, and her fingers were tracing his name on her ankle unconsciously. A dunk, huh? Well, who was going to dunk him? “If your going for a ‘dunk’, whose going to dunk you?” She asked casually, throwing the topic at him. Her face was so innocent, but she still looked like she should be curled up in a bed not on a sofa talking with coffee. Her gears were spinning at breakneck speed in her mind, coming up for revenge on what she knew he would do. She could tell. “So, what about my socks?” She asked. Never hoodwink a hoodwinker. [/color][/blockquote] |
|
|
|
Post by adam jack johnson on Feb 11, 2009 16:28:26 GMT -5
Adam chugged the rest of his latte down, throwing the cup away into the trash can and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Suddenly Adam felt perky and energized, and since he had noticed Samantha's tone when asking who was going to dunk him, he had decided later was too long. He could never wait for the cool water to touch his bare flesh -there was just something naturally pleasurable. Unlike drugs.
I wonder if she knows who the camps sock thief was... Adam played idly with a strand of Samantha's hair, lost in thought. Looking into her eyes, he strained to see what she could be hiding inside. She does have nice socks though... He chuckled quietly at the plan forming in his cranium. If only she knew.
He ignored her questioning stare and got up, stretching his arms. Turning abruptly on his heel, Adam strolled leisurely to the door holding it open, face charming as one of the 'adults' passed. He could feel Samantha's unspoken question lingering in the air, so he flashed her a mischievous grin.
"You coming Sammie?" he called.
Sweeping his arm in an gentlemanly way, he used his foot as a door stop, waiting for his slow little dearest to hurry up. Maybe he would go for a dip, but it was only fun if someone else was there -to take down. Adam's plan was simple, snag Samantha's left sock if she should take the time to swim with him. Adam could picture her running after him, throwing rocks and such at his head trying to get the foot wear back. After all, what was the use of socks, if it didn't come with a partner? When Adam had first gone to Camp happy-go-lucky-fix-it-up he had taken his habits from home along with him. Which meant stealing socks. It might have seemed lame to someone with a whole pair, but he knew it was one of the most annoying things to happen to the human race.
One time, he had pilfered one sock too many back in Wisconsin, and his lesbian mother's girlfriend had forced him to see a shrink because she thought it was a mental condition. Back home, Adam would stick the stolen goods in any odd place he could find. Occasionally, he would video tape someone finding an unfamiliar sock in their undies or wrapped around their tooth brush. Here at camp, though, he did a completely different thing with his loot...
|
|
|
|
Post by samantha harris. on Feb 13, 2009 19:55:09 GMT -5
She sat back and yawned, snapping back as she smiled menacingly in what she called a friendly smile. She let him play with her hair slightly and crossed her legs. He didn’t answer here question, so she new something was up. He’d gotten up and held the door open, smiling to her. But, more of a grin. “Well, there’s nothing else to do.” She muttered, standing up, yawning then protectively walking, slowly, to the door through the door, her feet planted firmly in her shoes. Did she remember flying fists from when she was little? She didn’t care much about stupid socks, and kept repeating that to herself. She knew it wasn’t true though. Along with her socks came the stench. She wondered what he would do with her socks. She squinted to the 15 minute walk to the lake. It was better than the pool. Floating dock, dude! He kept glancing at her weirdly, and she was almost self-conscious. But no, that didn’t apply to the Amazing Samantha Harrison, She was too sweet. Sweet Samantha. She never got into trouble, unlike Trouble. Trouble was Adam. Samantha shivered at her random train of thought, and cheese popped into her head, as it always did whenever she talked to him. He was totally acting shushpishish, and she dramatically wiped a hand across her forehead. That’s how bored she was. Sweet Samantha, Good Samantha, Amazing Samantha. Her little sister had planted that chant in her head. Her little sister had died before she realized Samantha wasn’t Sweet Samantha, Good Samantha, or Amazing Samantha. Oh, poor Shitty Samantha. Adam looked totally annoying, and again, she felt like leaning down again o pull up her ankle-cut socks. So, so, annoying. Evil Adam, Annoying Adam, Funny Adam, Sweet Adam, That was stuck in her head too. Only recently had the girl’s chants been stuck in her head. She started muttering “Annoying Adelaide, Amazing Adelaide, Devil Adelaide…” Repetitively, dragging her feet slowly in the sand. Like all sensible, smart, and amazing counselors, she had gym shorts on, and a tank-top. I wont go into details. But she was OOC// new outfit, sorry, pretend she had this on and not up there in the first post. –cheesygrin- |
|
|
|
Post by adam jack johnson on Feb 22, 2009 21:32:05 GMT -5
Adam looked down curiously at Samantha as they walked, observing the way she walked and her facial expressions. Her didn't know how to describe the girl, she was like the sweet and sour sauce at McDonald's. Alright, maybe that was a shallow connection, but hey, if he wanted to go deep he would be in titanic. His hands were shoved into his back pockets but itched to poke someone, and the closet someone was beside him. He took his hands out and clenched them into fists, doing his best to suppress the urge which made itself all too visible. Adam allowed her to walked in front of him, not that far, but still in front so she wouldn't see his hands. Soon the need was too much and he found himself reaching for her choppy hair to tug, but stopped himself when he heard her mutter something about annoying devils.
"Did you say something?"
He walked up beside her, forgetting his queer urge to do something spontaneous. Perhaps it was because of the sun, or the glowing of the hot ground, but Adam squinted to see. Or maybe it was because of my stupid fucking mother... He stared at the path they walked on, shoving his hands back into his pockets.
ooc: sorry, suckie post...my braincells are fried at the moment:P
|
|
