01 Possibly Narrie

          I know I don't know what I know. I was fake, but presently, I am real...or, at least that's what they'd want me to think. I've figured out that I can figure out things that other people cannot figure out. My name"or what people presently call me"is Narrie. I say presently because it didn't used to be that way. It didn't used to be, but all I can remember is the way that things are now. That is totally unfair. I've come to the unsatisfying conclusion that I do not belong... more so than other people. They gave me fake memories of parents, and friends and elementary principals and ideas. Some memories even have an emotional attachment... I don't know how they managed that. They've done a lot to suppress me, so I guess to avoid further suppression, I'll go along this time, and try to not give anyone the satisfaction of knowing I know. I'll pretend to be ignorant. I'll just go along because I'm tired. I can't even remember why I'm tired... I just am.

          I know this isn't me, that I don't look like this, sound like this, act like this, but they've made it feel so right to look, sound and act like this that it should be easy to just lay low for a while. You don't, you can't know how strange it is to be someone so not yourself, and have it feel just like you are yourself, but deep down, you know it's not you. I can't remember who I was, what I did, why I did it, how it's good, bad, or something in between. I do want to know, but I also know that when I figure it out, it won't be good, so I'll have to force myself into believing that I don't want to know. It doesn't interest me in the least.

          I have to remind myself every morning over and over again that I don't want to know; it doesn't interest me; it doesn't matter. On this fine (fine in the most sarcastic way possible) morning, I had little time to ponder whatever it was that was on my mind before my insane little brother jumped on my bed. He told me, amidst jumping, to get up. Naturally, I responded by smacking him across the room. He said, “Ow, that hurt!” with that squeaky wine in his voice that so often made me want to lunge at him. I didn't, though because I was in bed, I'd just woken up, and I didn't really feel like wasting the energy; it would be highly impractical. I stared up at the ceiling for a good 20 seconds before I heard his winy footsteps clomp all the way downstairs. When I heard the big Ker-Plop at the bottom of the stairs (due to his insensible habit of jumping over the last one or two stairs), I forced myself to get up and do whatever this person does in the morning.

          As usual, Drew was dropped off first, only this time he was limping... on the foot opposite the one squished when he landed. Nice try, little bro. He had decisive trouble with getting his purple backpack out of the trunk. Then he pretended to hear something, and ran (or more like galloped) away, purposefully leaving the trunk open. Courtney didn't notice, and my bag probably wouldn't fall out, so I didn't say anything. I really wasn't in the mood to get out of the car and close the trunk, especially here, at my brother's school. Suppose someone (an old teacher or similar) saw me? They'd greet me with the “Oh, Narrie, is that you? I simply can't believe it!” and I'd be forced to engage in 'normal conversation'; I can't bear it. If there'd been a project or something in the back that might fly out, I would have told Courtney and that would be that.

          Courtney my mother. The reason I call her by her name is not because I'm adopted or something (I'm not), but because it suites her better than “Mommy.” Soon enough, you'll see what I mean. I call Courtney Courtney and not mom because I can't get passed that she's not my real mother, so calling her as such doesn't feel right. I call her mother to her face, but at all other times, I call her Courtney. Same for my father, his name is Nick, and (though he is more worthy of a fatherly title) I address him as such.

          Anyway, Courtney and I were driving to my school, a 10 minute drive or so from my brother's school. During the 3^rd minute, we went over a speed bump. She saw the trunk was open, and went bananas. She went on about how it wasn't safe, and I need to tell her immediately if I notice it ever again, and how this is this, and that is that, and this and this, and that and that, and then she immediately pulled over to make me late for class"I mean so that I would “Please close the trunk...Now!”, which I did... to find my bag unzipped! I'm absolutely sure I zipped it this morning! That putrid immature rascal must have...never mind, I have other things to think about.

          A couple of red lights later, I was forced into the last seat in room 24, which was next to K-Catta. She's one of those sporty people who pride themselves on being better than you. She also has a reputation for making hasty, un-thought-through decisions. Fantastic. She's just the person I want to sit next to today of all days. Today, we get assigned a 'big project', which is probably going to be... fun because it's Mrs. Tirofog. She's the kind of teacher who lets you do practically anything, so long as it's productive, and it's educational value is justifiable as something greater than zero. Thankfully, Edgar came in a few minutes later than me, so when it came time to be put in groups, I was with Edgar and K-Catta. This will be interesting.

          The project had to do with impersonation. There were 3 parts:

          1: Write a minimum one page something about yourself

                    a) Must feature a minimum of one life changing experience

                    b) Pictures included for extra credit (drawn or photos)!

          2: Trade and read with group members

                    a) Please be respectful!

                    b) Decide amongst yourselves who will be impersonating whom

          3: Take a step in each other's shoes!

                    a) Come dressed in clothing your person would wear

                    b)Act and do things your person would do

                    c) Have fun!

Remember, the sky's the limit!

          Sometimes, I think Mrs. Tirofog forgets we're not in 2^nd grade. One of the hard things about being in her class is that you're put on the spot a lot. If you write something stupid, well, it's safe to say don't do that. I hope that can be avoided... a life changing experience, ehh? Like what, falling off a bridge? Oh, no that's a life ending experience. What to do, what to do? My thoughts were interrupted by K-Catta telling me to participate in the group discussion.

          “Well, by that time” K-Catta continued, “I was just about to give up when--”

          “What were you doing, again?” I asked.

          “Well, I'm glad you've finally decided to listen!” she exclaimed. This prompted a big eye roll from Edgar, who would now probably have to listen to the story again, but K-Catta surprised us by paraphrasing. “I was tired of my picture on my blog, so I wanted to take a new one, and what other way to go but extreme? So, I was on the roof and--”

          “On the roof?” why on Earth...

          “Yes, on the roof and I put my camera on a self timer, and hurried to get into position, but I slipped!” dang, how many cameras do you have to put in front of a blond before they fall off a roof? “and I fell crooked onto my leg"but I was still on the roof"so it, like, broke, but I didn't know it at the time because it didn't really hurt, but it got all tingley so I couldn't get down safely, so I started banging on the roof so maybe my mom inside would hear me, and I was just about to give up when I saw a jogger jogging past our house” she looked strangely at Edgar “and so, I called out to them, and"long story short"they came and knocked on our door, and got someone to answer it"finally!"and so my dad came out and somehow helped me down. Then, later when I realized I couldn't feel my leg, we went to the hospital, and, well, you know the rest!” Yes, the rest, how she came in candy colored crutches; she's a fashion crime even when injured. She rapped up her story because the bell was about to ring. While we were packing up our stuff, Edgar gave me a look that resembled the opposite of the one K-Catta had given him, but just as strange. Then, we decided to meet at my house to get a “head start on the project!” (as K-Catta put it).

Author's Note

When I copy and paste the text from the word doc., it changes some of the format, taking away the indent at the beginning of each paragraph, so pretend the paragraphs are indented?
Also, comments, critiques, and suggestions are very welcome!

Reviews

[ForgiveMeNot]

I like the idea you have for a story. And the main character s someone relatable with a sarcastic humor most do enjoy (including myself) . And I love your use of paradoxes (which I absolutely love). For example, the very first sentence, and the sentence that talks about her 'figuring out what others can't figure out' . But I don't know if it's the lack of spacing, and indentation in the writing, but it seems a bit hard to read. It makes everything seem a bit 'stuffy' for lack of a better word. And I find myself having trouble deciphering certain sentences, or what part to story is up to now. It's mainly the first paragraph for me. Other than that, I definitely see your work as something I could read. So since it's just spacing for me, I'd give you a 95/100

[Zahra]

This seems nice! :D Sorry I am not much of a critique.