Read Online Struck by Lightning: The Carson Phillips Journal by Chris Colfer - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Chris Colfer
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boys’ locker room.”
I sat straight up like a startled meerkat.
“I just go in there to think sometimes,” Malerie said, and blushed.
“What?! I thought she was dating Justin Walker,” I said.
“That must be awkward,” Malerie said.
I immediately had a mental image of dinner at the Walkers’ house. Claire was sitting in between Colin and Justin. Both put a hand on her thigh and slowly made their way up her leg and finally met in the middle . (This image has been in my head all day like a bad Ke$ha song!)
To make matters worse, Malerie showed me theactual footage of what she had seen. When I said Malerie films everything, I meant it.
What could have ultimately been the hottest sex video ever, a perfect cheerleader meeting the football coach in his office after school, ended up being one of the saddest things I’ve ever seen: Claire lying under Colin, checking her manicure behind his back while he thrust like a dog with arthritis.
It was enough to make you cry blood, and validated all my views on sex in high school.
“Too bad they aren’t writers,” Malerie said. “If they were in the literary magazine, everyone would want to be in the literary magazine. It would sell out for sure.”
I looked at her closely. Was she implying what I thought she was implying?
“Just makes you think, though,” Malerie went on. “Everybody has something to hide, even Claire Mathews.”
She was!
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” I said. Had I not been so bummed about the whole assembly situation, I might have thought further into it, but the urge togouge out my eyes after seeing that video filled up all my headspace.
Malerie and I finished painting all the pieces for our float. I think it’s going to turn out really nice when we put it all together. Hopefully, by the grace of God, someone will see it tomorrow night and be inspired to join the Writers’ Club. And maybe, just maybe, they’ll be inspired to submit to the literary magazine as well.
10/13
It’s three o’clock in the morning and I can’t sleep. I’ve never been so furious in my entire life. I can barely move, I’m just lying in my bed thinking…and reliving…and plotting .
After the events at homecoming tonight I’m not sure I’m even human anymore. I’m just a creature made entirely from rage and humiliation. I was so mortified I thought my telekinesis was going come out and kill them all. I would smile at the thought, but I’ve forgotten how to smile.
Unfortunately for me and fortunately for all of those bastards, my telekinesis stayed inside. Sissy Spacek’s gymnasium of death in Carrie and Jean Grey’s carousel of cremation in X-Men 3 would have looked like a basket of puppies compared to what I might have done.
Everything seemed so normal. School was fine. The trenches weren’t too smelly. I actually understood a lesson in Algebra 2. I was in a good mood ! I should have known then that the day was going to end in disaster.
I met Malerie on the football field after school to put our float together. Bit by bit we assembled our masterpiece. We made a giant notebook that actually opened and closed that said The Writers’ Club , and on the inside said It’s the Write Club for You!
We even had costumes to add a theatrical element. I was dressed as a giant number two pencil, and Malerie was a giant notepad.
“I’m having second thoughts about this outfit,” Malerie said. “These horizontal lines aren’t very flattering.”
“You look fine, Malerie,” I said. I didn’t spend two hours creating an authentic notepad for her to get cold feet now (two pieces of cardboard and a Slinky, if you’re looking for Halloween ideas).
We took a step back and admired our float once the final touch had been added. Sure, we didn’t have the budget for a rolling Roman Colosseum like the cheerleaders had, or the means to rent a Corvette like the yearbook douches did, but we were proud of ourselves nonetheless.
I had tried selling ad
I sat straight up like a startled meerkat.
“I just go in there to think sometimes,” Malerie said, and blushed.
“What?! I thought she was dating Justin Walker,” I said.
“That must be awkward,” Malerie said.
I immediately had a mental image of dinner at the Walkers’ house. Claire was sitting in between Colin and Justin. Both put a hand on her thigh and slowly made their way up her leg and finally met in the middle . (This image has been in my head all day like a bad Ke$ha song!)
To make matters worse, Malerie showed me theactual footage of what she had seen. When I said Malerie films everything, I meant it.
What could have ultimately been the hottest sex video ever, a perfect cheerleader meeting the football coach in his office after school, ended up being one of the saddest things I’ve ever seen: Claire lying under Colin, checking her manicure behind his back while he thrust like a dog with arthritis.
It was enough to make you cry blood, and validated all my views on sex in high school.
“Too bad they aren’t writers,” Malerie said. “If they were in the literary magazine, everyone would want to be in the literary magazine. It would sell out for sure.”
I looked at her closely. Was she implying what I thought she was implying?
“Just makes you think, though,” Malerie went on. “Everybody has something to hide, even Claire Mathews.”
She was!
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” I said. Had I not been so bummed about the whole assembly situation, I might have thought further into it, but the urge togouge out my eyes after seeing that video filled up all my headspace.
Malerie and I finished painting all the pieces for our float. I think it’s going to turn out really nice when we put it all together. Hopefully, by the grace of God, someone will see it tomorrow night and be inspired to join the Writers’ Club. And maybe, just maybe, they’ll be inspired to submit to the literary magazine as well.
10/13
It’s three o’clock in the morning and I can’t sleep. I’ve never been so furious in my entire life. I can barely move, I’m just lying in my bed thinking…and reliving…and plotting .
After the events at homecoming tonight I’m not sure I’m even human anymore. I’m just a creature made entirely from rage and humiliation. I was so mortified I thought my telekinesis was going come out and kill them all. I would smile at the thought, but I’ve forgotten how to smile.
Unfortunately for me and fortunately for all of those bastards, my telekinesis stayed inside. Sissy Spacek’s gymnasium of death in Carrie and Jean Grey’s carousel of cremation in X-Men 3 would have looked like a basket of puppies compared to what I might have done.
Everything seemed so normal. School was fine. The trenches weren’t too smelly. I actually understood a lesson in Algebra 2. I was in a good mood ! I should have known then that the day was going to end in disaster.
I met Malerie on the football field after school to put our float together. Bit by bit we assembled our masterpiece. We made a giant notebook that actually opened and closed that said The Writers’ Club , and on the inside said It’s the Write Club for You!
We even had costumes to add a theatrical element. I was dressed as a giant number two pencil, and Malerie was a giant notepad.
“I’m having second thoughts about this outfit,” Malerie said. “These horizontal lines aren’t very flattering.”
“You look fine, Malerie,” I said. I didn’t spend two hours creating an authentic notepad for her to get cold feet now (two pieces of cardboard and a Slinky, if you’re looking for Halloween ideas).
We took a step back and admired our float once the final touch had been added. Sure, we didn’t have the budget for a rolling Roman Colosseum like the cheerleaders had, or the means to rent a Corvette like the yearbook douches did, but we were proud of ourselves nonetheless.
I had tried selling ad
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