Post by terra on Nov 6, 2010 22:28:30 GMT -5
The silence of the street was like oxygen expanding in her lungs. It was vital. Because if Tara had listened to another second of that sappy, moppy, angsty keening called music, she might've died on the spot. Make no mistake, the teenager appreciated that her two omnipresent companions wanted to include her on their girls' night out, but there was only so much heartbroken crooning she could take. When the first opportunity presented itself, the skinny girl slid away from her guard-like friends. The controlled stealth used to make her escape seemed to stem from a different lifetime. The soundless, fluent way she conducted herself in shouldn't be in the possession of high school student. That kind of grace belonged to the guys in spandex, who ran around being in the right place in the right time or their arch-nemesis who snuck in and out of the newspaper headlines, a doomsday device in tow.
But these musings where comfortably ignored by the fact that Tara had spied a line of promising looking people. They all had mohawks or loudly died hair, leather and chains, and combat boots. A sign above them advertised the Rocksteadies, a totally awesome band that put the rock in loud rock 'n' roll. Whoa, there, that was a lot of 'rocks'. Tara crinkled her brow. Lately, her subconscious had been deviating toward the world of geology. In science class, the teacher was plodding through a lecture on igneous rock. Tara had blurted out 'the type that comes from volcanoes, right?' and gotten the motherload of bemused stares from everyone in the room. A little embarrassed, Tara tried to figure out where that nugget of information had come from, while gazing expectantly at the instructor. Somehow, she was sure the vague info-burst was legitimate. The teacher confirmed her inkling.
Knowing her friends would realize her disappearance and most likely try to sniff her out, Tara slipped in the middle of the line, using the generally boisterous, distracted mood of the eager crowd as an opening to cut in line without creating any ill feelings. Whistling innocently, she waited, fiddling with the zipper on her jacket. As she neared the front, a powerfully built man zeroed in on him. A name tag proclaimed his name 'Jim'. And boy, did Jim looked pissed.
"Hey kid, this club's for grown-ups. Not spoiled brats lookin' to booze," he snarled, Tara surmised that he'd been dealing with adventurous teens all night long. And obviously, she looked too preppy for this type of club... this was the last time she'd let her friends play dress-up doll with her.
Looking down at her pink top and modest black skirt, Tara couldn't help but silently curse at how disgustingly much she looked like freakin' Barbie right now. Levelling Jim with her best blue-eyed puppy dog eyes, Tara said waveringly, "Please Sir, my mom's in there. I-I need to talk to her; it's an emergency."
Jim remained like a statue, glowering down on her, biceps flexing. Apparently, he had heard more creative stories, and wasn't about to buy this one. In retrospect, Tara admitted her story had some plotholes. If she needed to talk to her mom, a phone call or dashing up the the front would've been more convincing to an emergency scenario then waiting in line. The bouncer grabbed her wrist then yanked her out of line and onto the street, releasing her once she began to stumble onto the asphalt. He kept an expression of flat resignation on his face as he ejected the under-aged customer from the club.
Her balance compromised because of her clunky white heels, Tara twisted and flailed, throwing out her hands to catch her fall. When she made contact with the unforgiving ground, a deep CRACK noise erupted beneath her. Flinching, she knew she must've broken something from her clumsy fall. But as she sat, nonplussed and testing her various limbs for functionality, there was no pain. Not even her palms were scratched from her graceless tumble.
The ground beneath her was cracked, like a wrecking ball had come plummeting out of the sky to smack into the pavement, not a scrawny sliver of a girl.
OH HELLO THERE, JOHN! SO I WROTE YOU THIS POST, AND IT HAS EXACTLY 708 WORDS. COOL, EH? ANYWAYS, MY DARLING IS WEARING THIS. SNAZZY, EH? OH, I SHOULD LET YOU KNOW ONLY MY FIRST POSTS ARE THIS LONG, PROMISE. and I REFERENCE TERRA'S FRIENDS IN THE EPISODE THINGS CHANGE.. KENNATRONIC @ caution 2.0 MADE THIS TEMPLATE, BTW.