Read Online Take Me There by Susane Colasanti - Free Book Online
Authors: Susane Colasanti
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they’re gawking, or they get shocked into silence, depending on the person. But Danny was like, “Nothing.” And I believed him because he was Danny.
He just came right up to me with his cute smile and customized Vans, which is the ultimate skater-boy sneaker that gets me every time, and his yellow rubber bracelet that says MOMENT OF ZEN and his radical attitude and picked me to be with out of everyone else. Maybe he thought my clothes matched his political fanaticism.
And it was great at first. But then there was that night. So I had to break up with him. I couldn’t deal with it then and I still can’t deal with it now and that’s just the way it is.
Yeah. You know what? The whole thing is way too complicated to even get into here.
So I’m in my room listening to X & Y and ignoring Mom yelling how if I don’t clean my closet I can’t go out tonight and consulting the latest entries in my spy notebook. I’ve had one of these since fourth grade when I fell in love with Harriet the Spy and wanted to be her more than anyone else in the whole entire world. And I still have spy notebooks, because it’s this thing I do to get plot ideas for the screenplay I’m writing. I spy on random strangers and kids at school all the time for ideas, and they don’t even know it. No one knows about my notebook except for Rhiannon. Well yeah okay and I told Danny, but I’m sure he probably forgot by now. Who remembers everything about somebody?
My ultimate goal is to be a film director, but writing screenplays is an excellent way to get noticed in the indie world. I love being in control of everything that happens, like being the one to decide who gets a happy ending. It would be so kickass if I turned out to be like Todd Solondz ( Welcome to the Dollhouse , Happiness ) or Alexander Payne ( About Schmidt , Election ), who are, like, the ultimate mega gurus of film. And not to toot my own horn, but I have an amazing eye for detail, which is critical in this business. Like with Mike White? I totally noticed that he wrote The Good Girl (which is one of my all-time faves and if you haven’t seen it, there is just no excuse for that kind of behavior) and that he was also a writer for season one of Dawson’s Creek . But that’s not the detail. The detail is that he had this almost identical line in both of them. Something about “going to the grave with unlived lives in your veins.” I’m sure there was me and like two other people in the world who noticed that.
So I’m consulting my spy notebook and now Mom is yelling that dinner’s ready and I so don’t want to go down there I can’t even.
But like I have a choice. So I slog down to the dining room. Or the part of the living room we call the dining room because we put a dining-room table there. It’s from our old house and it doesn’t even fit into this pocket-sized apartment, but somehow Mom crammed it in anyway. When we lived upstate in Water Mill, there was room for everything. Out in the country with a whole backyard and a stream. You could fit like ten of our apartments in that house, which was my grandparents’ and where my mom grew up. Here it’s a mega challenge to just get room to breathe.
It’s been three weeks. Let’s just say Danny’s still not over me. But I like him and I want to be friends with him and he said that’s cool, but you can tell it’s not. Because how can you be just friends with someone when what you really want is so much more? But he said he’d rather be friends with me than not know me at all. So now we’re both at this party at Keith’s place, and I heard that Danny might ask me to the Last Blast dance next Friday and I don’t know what to say if he does.
I drink my 7-Up and watch Heather fake-sip her beer. I totally get that she’s fake-sipping it because she knows Carl is watching and she has a major crush on him, but still. That’s no excuse to act like someone you’re not. It’s like, if you don’t want to drink
He just came right up to me with his cute smile and customized Vans, which is the ultimate skater-boy sneaker that gets me every time, and his yellow rubber bracelet that says MOMENT OF ZEN and his radical attitude and picked me to be with out of everyone else. Maybe he thought my clothes matched his political fanaticism.
And it was great at first. But then there was that night. So I had to break up with him. I couldn’t deal with it then and I still can’t deal with it now and that’s just the way it is.
Yeah. You know what? The whole thing is way too complicated to even get into here.
So I’m in my room listening to X & Y and ignoring Mom yelling how if I don’t clean my closet I can’t go out tonight and consulting the latest entries in my spy notebook. I’ve had one of these since fourth grade when I fell in love with Harriet the Spy and wanted to be her more than anyone else in the whole entire world. And I still have spy notebooks, because it’s this thing I do to get plot ideas for the screenplay I’m writing. I spy on random strangers and kids at school all the time for ideas, and they don’t even know it. No one knows about my notebook except for Rhiannon. Well yeah okay and I told Danny, but I’m sure he probably forgot by now. Who remembers everything about somebody?
My ultimate goal is to be a film director, but writing screenplays is an excellent way to get noticed in the indie world. I love being in control of everything that happens, like being the one to decide who gets a happy ending. It would be so kickass if I turned out to be like Todd Solondz ( Welcome to the Dollhouse , Happiness ) or Alexander Payne ( About Schmidt , Election ), who are, like, the ultimate mega gurus of film. And not to toot my own horn, but I have an amazing eye for detail, which is critical in this business. Like with Mike White? I totally noticed that he wrote The Good Girl (which is one of my all-time faves and if you haven’t seen it, there is just no excuse for that kind of behavior) and that he was also a writer for season one of Dawson’s Creek . But that’s not the detail. The detail is that he had this almost identical line in both of them. Something about “going to the grave with unlived lives in your veins.” I’m sure there was me and like two other people in the world who noticed that.
So I’m consulting my spy notebook and now Mom is yelling that dinner’s ready and I so don’t want to go down there I can’t even.
But like I have a choice. So I slog down to the dining room. Or the part of the living room we call the dining room because we put a dining-room table there. It’s from our old house and it doesn’t even fit into this pocket-sized apartment, but somehow Mom crammed it in anyway. When we lived upstate in Water Mill, there was room for everything. Out in the country with a whole backyard and a stream. You could fit like ten of our apartments in that house, which was my grandparents’ and where my mom grew up. Here it’s a mega challenge to just get room to breathe.
It’s been three weeks. Let’s just say Danny’s still not over me. But I like him and I want to be friends with him and he said that’s cool, but you can tell it’s not. Because how can you be just friends with someone when what you really want is so much more? But he said he’d rather be friends with me than not know me at all. So now we’re both at this party at Keith’s place, and I heard that Danny might ask me to the Last Blast dance next Friday and I don’t know what to say if he does.
I drink my 7-Up and watch Heather fake-sip her beer. I totally get that she’s fake-sipping it because she knows Carl is watching and she has a major crush on him, but still. That’s no excuse to act like someone you’re not. It’s like, if you don’t want to drink
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