OOC: Fic!
This was originally written for a certain Angela Chase mun's birthday but the posting of it was held off until the "big" day so there would be no spoilers. (The Marty in my head is still ranting at me. "Pregnant? What? C'mon! What was that about?!")
(Also: Big thanks to the_merriest for her ninja-like beta skills.)
Anyhow here it is in Abby's own words:
A Life Like Mine...
My name is Abigail Q. Chase-Blank and I'm not a normal kid.
I know, I know, every kid is weird in their own way but I'm not talking about the "normal" kind of weird. I'm not the kid everyone stared at because they ate glue or crayons in the middle of class. Also I'm not the kid who could shoot milk out of his eye because that was Darren Jacobs and let's face it: it's kind of gross. Gross but relatively normal.
My kind of weird? It's for the record books.
Like most kids, I can say I got the "weird" from my parents but in my case it's literally the truth. Nothing figurative or genetic about it. Oh sure, they're nice and caring and all that good stuff. They try to protect me and teach me like any other parents, but when your mom and dad are Angela and Marty Chase-Blank? You're not going to have a normal childhood.
I guess it started when the little weird things from Fandom started happening around the house. Of course when you're three years old and you wake up to a bunch of wee-tiny bunnies dancing on the floor and giving you hugs it's pretty cool. However when you get older and you're telling stories to friends about how everyone needs to stay away from your Uncle Angel when he wears leather pants? Or how the pi-rats sing Gilbert and Sullivan? Well when that happened I always got sent to my room for telling fibs and making up stories. That? Not so much fun. Especially since I was telling the truth and had this incredible life but wasn't able to share it with anyone but my parents who tried to keep it hidden.
When I got older it got steadily worse. Like the first time you have kids over for your slumber party and everyone discovers the bathroom tap dispenses rum. Oh sure, we all had fun for a while until Mom and Dad figured out what was going on with the punch and we had to make up an explanation for the parents. Yeah, I was popular for about five minutes but the more stuff that kept happening the less excuses you have to give to your friends. Eventually one by one my friends started distancing themselves from me and I didn't have anyone at all. I lost Jenny as a friend with the the iPod/jelly bean incident. Carrie bailed on me after the gremlin spit thing. (Not that I blame her.) Georgia stopped talking to me after the whole "living sock puppets" escapade. And of course the capper in my social career in middle school would be the whole "laundry strike" episode when all my clothes disappeared in the middle of fifth period English.
Okay, I was popular with the boys for five minutes but after that I was known as the "Weird Kid". Which meant I got to hang out with the other weird kids who were just weird in the head instead of having a weird life like mine.
At that point in my life I just gave up.
I lived the role. I spent my time in the back of the classroom and avoided people. I wore a lot of black and dyed my hair weird colors (which strangely amused my Mom and Dad. Then again Aunt Zero bought me the hair dye.). It wasn't exactly happy-fun-time but I was a teenager and just figured that's how it was going to be. While some kids claimed their life was a sitcom, I just rolled my eyes because my life as a Z-Case episode trumped them all.
And then there was Darren. Yes. Darren Jacobs. Shooting-milk-from-his-eye Darren. (For the record? He doesn't do that any more.) I mean, he wasn't the cutest guy in school or anything but... he was okay. And he liked me. Or he said he did. Might have been the whole thing about me appearing in school naked that he liked.
Anyhow, he liked me enough to ask me to the Spring Fling and went so far as to dress up for it. I'm pretty sure it wasn't his tie or his shoes he was wearing and suit looked like it was from a discount rack but it was a date, and for one brief shining moment I wasn't the freaky kid with the weird hair. I was a girl on a date with a somewhat cute guy. I had a pretty dress and a guy who liked me and wanted to kiss me goodnight.
That is until the fucking miniature knights fucking showed up and fucking attacked him in a fucking attempt to defend my honor.
And that's when it all fell apart for me. Didn't matter that my dad chased off the knights or that Mom convinced Darren he was tripping. My dress was in shreds, my date wanted nothing to do with me and my life was over as I knew it.
So when I was back in the living room I let them have it. I screamed and cried at my Mom and Dad with largely incoherent rants. I'm sure I used most of the standard lines, like how I wish I had never been born and that it was all my parents' fault. I'm pretty sure I brought up every single incident that had happened since I was a tween that had destroyed any hope for me having a social life. Maybe a few that I made up.
When it was all done my face was a mess and my throat was raw. My parents didn't utter a single word throughout the entire rant. They just sort of stood there and looked like they wanted to barf. Strangely it made me feel better because deep down even though I knew it wasn't all their fault, to make them hurt for it just seemed like the appropriate pay back at the time. I didn't see their reaction as I stomped my way up the stairs and shouted the words that all parents seem to hear at one point in their lives.
"I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! WHY CAN'T I HAVE A NORMAL FAMILY?!"
Okay, it wasn't original but it got the point across. Probably if I looked back at them I would have regretted saying it. I might just a little bit. I know it wasn't fair of me but I just had any romantic notions squashed by wee tiny knights so I guess vindictiveness was in order.
I went to my room and did the typical emotional teenager thing. I managed to get myself cleaned up but still found a way to cry and sniffle through most of the evening while Mom and Dad kept their distance from me. It was sometime after midnight when they came into my room. They knocked first before they came in even though I told them to go away.
They sat down on both sides of me and started talking. It was the same talk they always gave me. About how sorry they were and how they never expected their own lives to be affected by the weirdness that followed them and blah dee blah dee blee.
And then things took a different turn.
"So, your mother and I talked it over and we think that best thing for you is to switch schools," Dad said. "Your grades are good enough and we think a fresh start will help."
"Why?" I asked. "So a whole new group of kids can see how much of a freak I am?"
Mom bit her lip and started brushing the hair from my face. "Well, we were thinking of a different type of school."
"One you know pretty well," Dad added.
"Where the weirder stuff is kind of commonplace," Mom finished.
I groaned and covered my face with a pillow. "Oh God. You're sending me to the freak school."
"It was our school," Mom said pulling the pillow back. "And it's not that bad of a place."
"And you wouldn't be the only kid in school who had to deal with speaking like a pirate for a day," Dad added. "And if you switched to being a boy again you-"
"DAD!" I wailed. "Don't be gross!"
"Look... It's not like we want you to go," he said leaning closer. "It's just that we want you to be happy and be with people who understand what you're going through."
"I hear Talyn may be going there this fall," Mom sang.
"Moooooom, stop it," I groaned. "I don't want to go there!"
Mom smiled and put a brochure on my bed. "Just think about it. It's your decision but I think you might like it there."
She leaned over and kissed me on the head and then Dad did the same.
For the record I'm not a little kid and I let them do it to relieve their guilt.
It didn't comfort me at all. Really.
As for the brochure? Yeah well that's what this stupid essay is all about, right? So whoever is reading this in your little office someplace, just put your damn stamp of approval on my application. If I can't have a normal life I might as well go someplace where being normal is abnormal.
Maybe now that I'm going to Fandom High I'll finally figure some things out. Like why I have to get Dad a mother's day card every year. Or why my Mom got the giggles when my little brother got into the glitter. Or why there was such an argument between Mom and Dad when I came home from summer camp with a "Best Marksman" trophy. Or why my Dad disappears for a couple of days towards the end of October every year. And maybe I can find a boyfriend who won't run away because some lilliputian knight waves a sword at him.
Maybe.
Right now I'll settle for being the "normal" kid in a school full of freaks. For some reason that's a comforting thought.
Plus everyone who goes to school there is hot.
(Also: Big thanks to the_merriest for her ninja-like beta skills.)
Anyhow here it is in Abby's own words:
A Life Like Mine...
My name is Abigail Q. Chase-Blank and I'm not a normal kid.
I know, I know, every kid is weird in their own way but I'm not talking about the "normal" kind of weird. I'm not the kid everyone stared at because they ate glue or crayons in the middle of class. Also I'm not the kid who could shoot milk out of his eye because that was Darren Jacobs and let's face it: it's kind of gross. Gross but relatively normal.
My kind of weird? It's for the record books.
Like most kids, I can say I got the "weird" from my parents but in my case it's literally the truth. Nothing figurative or genetic about it. Oh sure, they're nice and caring and all that good stuff. They try to protect me and teach me like any other parents, but when your mom and dad are Angela and Marty Chase-Blank? You're not going to have a normal childhood.
I guess it started when the little weird things from Fandom started happening around the house. Of course when you're three years old and you wake up to a bunch of wee-tiny bunnies dancing on the floor and giving you hugs it's pretty cool. However when you get older and you're telling stories to friends about how everyone needs to stay away from your Uncle Angel when he wears leather pants? Or how the pi-rats sing Gilbert and Sullivan? Well when that happened I always got sent to my room for telling fibs and making up stories. That? Not so much fun. Especially since I was telling the truth and had this incredible life but wasn't able to share it with anyone but my parents who tried to keep it hidden.
When I got older it got steadily worse. Like the first time you have kids over for your slumber party and everyone discovers the bathroom tap dispenses rum. Oh sure, we all had fun for a while until Mom and Dad figured out what was going on with the punch and we had to make up an explanation for the parents. Yeah, I was popular for about five minutes but the more stuff that kept happening the less excuses you have to give to your friends. Eventually one by one my friends started distancing themselves from me and I didn't have anyone at all. I lost Jenny as a friend with the the iPod/jelly bean incident. Carrie bailed on me after the gremlin spit thing. (Not that I blame her.) Georgia stopped talking to me after the whole "living sock puppets" escapade. And of course the capper in my social career in middle school would be the whole "laundry strike" episode when all my clothes disappeared in the middle of fifth period English.
Okay, I was popular with the boys for five minutes but after that I was known as the "Weird Kid". Which meant I got to hang out with the other weird kids who were just weird in the head instead of having a weird life like mine.
At that point in my life I just gave up.
I lived the role. I spent my time in the back of the classroom and avoided people. I wore a lot of black and dyed my hair weird colors (which strangely amused my Mom and Dad. Then again Aunt Zero bought me the hair dye.). It wasn't exactly happy-fun-time but I was a teenager and just figured that's how it was going to be. While some kids claimed their life was a sitcom, I just rolled my eyes because my life as a Z-Case episode trumped them all.
And then there was Darren. Yes. Darren Jacobs. Shooting-milk-from-his-eye Darren. (For the record? He doesn't do that any more.) I mean, he wasn't the cutest guy in school or anything but... he was okay. And he liked me. Or he said he did. Might have been the whole thing about me appearing in school naked that he liked.
Anyhow, he liked me enough to ask me to the Spring Fling and went so far as to dress up for it. I'm pretty sure it wasn't his tie or his shoes he was wearing and suit looked like it was from a discount rack but it was a date, and for one brief shining moment I wasn't the freaky kid with the weird hair. I was a girl on a date with a somewhat cute guy. I had a pretty dress and a guy who liked me and wanted to kiss me goodnight.
That is until the fucking miniature knights fucking showed up and fucking attacked him in a fucking attempt to defend my honor.
And that's when it all fell apart for me. Didn't matter that my dad chased off the knights or that Mom convinced Darren he was tripping. My dress was in shreds, my date wanted nothing to do with me and my life was over as I knew it.
So when I was back in the living room I let them have it. I screamed and cried at my Mom and Dad with largely incoherent rants. I'm sure I used most of the standard lines, like how I wish I had never been born and that it was all my parents' fault. I'm pretty sure I brought up every single incident that had happened since I was a tween that had destroyed any hope for me having a social life. Maybe a few that I made up.
When it was all done my face was a mess and my throat was raw. My parents didn't utter a single word throughout the entire rant. They just sort of stood there and looked like they wanted to barf. Strangely it made me feel better because deep down even though I knew it wasn't all their fault, to make them hurt for it just seemed like the appropriate pay back at the time. I didn't see their reaction as I stomped my way up the stairs and shouted the words that all parents seem to hear at one point in their lives.
"I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! WHY CAN'T I HAVE A NORMAL FAMILY?!"
Okay, it wasn't original but it got the point across. Probably if I looked back at them I would have regretted saying it. I might just a little bit. I know it wasn't fair of me but I just had any romantic notions squashed by wee tiny knights so I guess vindictiveness was in order.
I went to my room and did the typical emotional teenager thing. I managed to get myself cleaned up but still found a way to cry and sniffle through most of the evening while Mom and Dad kept their distance from me. It was sometime after midnight when they came into my room. They knocked first before they came in even though I told them to go away.
They sat down on both sides of me and started talking. It was the same talk they always gave me. About how sorry they were and how they never expected their own lives to be affected by the weirdness that followed them and blah dee blah dee blee.
And then things took a different turn.
"So, your mother and I talked it over and we think that best thing for you is to switch schools," Dad said. "Your grades are good enough and we think a fresh start will help."
"Why?" I asked. "So a whole new group of kids can see how much of a freak I am?"
Mom bit her lip and started brushing the hair from my face. "Well, we were thinking of a different type of school."
"One you know pretty well," Dad added.
"Where the weirder stuff is kind of commonplace," Mom finished.
I groaned and covered my face with a pillow. "Oh God. You're sending me to the freak school."
"It was our school," Mom said pulling the pillow back. "And it's not that bad of a place."
"And you wouldn't be the only kid in school who had to deal with speaking like a pirate for a day," Dad added. "And if you switched to being a boy again you-"
"DAD!" I wailed. "Don't be gross!"
"Look... It's not like we want you to go," he said leaning closer. "It's just that we want you to be happy and be with people who understand what you're going through."
"I hear Talyn may be going there this fall," Mom sang.
"Moooooom, stop it," I groaned. "I don't want to go there!"
Mom smiled and put a brochure on my bed. "Just think about it. It's your decision but I think you might like it there."
She leaned over and kissed me on the head and then Dad did the same.
For the record I'm not a little kid and I let them do it to relieve their guilt.
It didn't comfort me at all. Really.
As for the brochure? Yeah well that's what this stupid essay is all about, right? So whoever is reading this in your little office someplace, just put your damn stamp of approval on my application. If I can't have a normal life I might as well go someplace where being normal is abnormal.
Maybe now that I'm going to Fandom High I'll finally figure some things out. Like why I have to get Dad a mother's day card every year. Or why my Mom got the giggles when my little brother got into the glitter. Or why there was such an argument between Mom and Dad when I came home from summer camp with a "Best Marksman" trophy. Or why my Dad disappears for a couple of days towards the end of October every year. And maybe I can find a boyfriend who won't run away because some lilliputian knight waves a sword at him.
Maybe.
Right now I'll settle for being the "normal" kid in a school full of freaks. For some reason that's a comforting thought.
Plus everyone who goes to school there is hot.