Ok, so I really am not good at the whole updating regularly at all... but I recently got a break from school and well, here it is...
Like it? Hate it?
Bekah
Chapter 1
An Interlude
My first few years of existence were spent in Wyckoff, New Jersey. Back then it was me, mom and dad. I was the regular happy tot with a fairly quiet life. That was, of course, until the Calvert and Jonas children collided. It was quite a day.
It was my first day of kindergarten and I was incredibly excited. My attention span was even shorter and my rambunctiousness even greater when I was younger. The moment I walked into Mrs. Kennedy’s room I took in the site of our own desks, the colorful markers, the scent of new paper and crayons- yes the scent, I was a bit off the wall back then- and immediately felt right at home. Mrs. Kennedy invited me to go play at the centers and I went straight to those markers and crayons.
Now imagine, to my dismay, that when I arrived at the art center, a small curly haired boy and what I could only imagine was his older brother at said center hogging all the crayons and markers. This did not go over too well with me, but my mother had taught me manners so I politely asked if I could share.
To my complete and utter surprise, Mr. Older Brother told me to basically bugger off and go away because I was a “girl,” and therefore was quite inferior. So, using my best manners, I marched right up to him, tapped him on the shoulder to get his full attention, and swung as hard as I could. Apparently I had one hell of a right hook even as a six year old and Mr. Older Brother met the floor. As he was making a commotion and somewhat in shock from being knocked silly by an inferior, I turned to his brother, named Curly in my mind, who was staring at me with wide eyes.
“I’m really sorry, but I really really want to draw and color with those markers. Would you please share them?”
The fear was what probably made him speak, but he agreed and I quickly forgot the boy still on the floor clutching his face and began to succumb to the happiness of scribbling masterpieces of art. Not forgetting my manners of course, I turned to Curly - still looking at me with those wide eyes- and introduced myself just like my daddy had always said to.
“Hi. My name is Virginia Elizabeth Calvert the Second. Nice to meet ya’.”
Curly boy spoke.
“Er... My name is Nick Jonas. Can I just call you Virginia? And it’s... nice to meet you too?”
“That’s cool. You can call me Ginny, actually, everyone does. Can I call you Curly? Well I’m going to call you that anyway cause your hair is really curly so it fits you know and I’m glad we’re in the same class together and who is the guy who was hogging the markers and is he your brother and is he older and why is he here and what is his name and do you have any other brothers or sisters cause I’m an only child and....” I went on. And on. And on.
Nick dubbed Curly still held that wide eyed somewhat panicked expression.
Running out of air and questions, I was suddenly yanked by Mrs. Kennedy who had finally heard the commotion. I was reprimanded for hitting the older boy, who I would later learn was also called Joe, and on the first day of school I got my first time out. I was terribly upset about the ordeal at the time, but when I had come back from the corner, "Curly" had saved me part of his snack. I could tell we would be great friends.
It was the start of something unforgettable.
