FicWad

Alright, so here's the deal. I tell you about my life and you read. Right? That is if you want to read about some 17 year old girl who just moved countries on her own.
First off, here's the basics. I'm Lisa, I'm 17, and I'm Scottish. That's pretty much the foundation of my life and me writing this. Lisa, 17, Scottish. Got it? Good.
So I moved here from Scotland. Go figure. Sorry, here being Glenview, IL. God, I love saying that. And before you start imagining me with a kilt and drinking whisky and eating haggis, let's get it right. I don't have the typical Scottish accent, I wear normal clothes, and I eat normal food. I bet you think I'm so boring now. Well, maybe I am. I'll let you be the judge of that. Remember Loch Ness? Yeah, I lived half an hour away. Basically in the middle of nowhere. Now you might think that's so cool to live so near such a popular place, but to be honest, I'm so much happier in this little suburb of Chicago. At least the name is sort of Scottish. Glenview. I really could say that all day.
But enough about me.
Actually, that's probably the stupidest thing I could say. This whole thing is about me and my life.
Man, I have to tell you about how I got here. It's a boring story. So to cut it short, I hated where I lived, and I decided to go on this student exchange program, sort of thing. I get to finish my senior year in school over here, and in the summer I have to go and help out in some summer camp. It's the basic rules of this exchange thing, they give me a placement in school, a place to stay, or really a family to stay with, and I get to spend the summer still living here, teaching kids to play music and basically everything I like and can do.
And the family I live with are pretty great. Robyn's young, about 30, and she's so pretty. I don't usually care what I look like, but when I'm around her, she makes me feel like the weirdest looking person, ever. I shouldn't complain though, people like her are very rare. She's nor single - I mean, her daughter's dad fucked off a long time ago. Boy, do I know about dads fucking off once they get bored. But she has a boyfriend at the moment, and he's a decent guy, so it's all good. She's pretty and a lovely person. Always has time to talk to you, even if she has 100 things going at once. She's a lawyer, so she makes hell of a lot of money. Her daughter is so lucky. And spoilt.
Oh, her daughter.
Yes, good old Ellie. That always makes me think of the elephant when I say that name. No offense intended if your name is Ellie.
But my Ellie, Robyn's daughter. She's pretty much the most annoying person ever. Figuratively cliche, little rich girl who is sweet as pie around anyone, but get her on your own and you're fucked. She's basically the younger sister I never had. I mean, I have a step-sister who's really strange, but Ellie is something else. Now, I see why people with younger sisters always fight. Ellie's not even my biological sister, but she acts like she is. And the worst thing, she tries to get me to pretend I am her sister. She's warped. And she thinks she's 18. She's only 12, just turning 13, but she walks around her bedroom in heels, tripping up when she thinks I can't see her. Haha. And she wears make up. Make up! At 12? I don't even wear it at 17. Jeez. So she totters around the place looking like a really bad replica of Elle from Legally Blonde. Hell, even their names are similar. Some things are just made to be. Anyway, she walks around like a tart (maybe that's a bit harsh?), and all she talks about is boys, boys, and more boys. But she refers to them as /guys/. Yes, talk about wannabe? Why want to be 18 when one day you will be? I don't understand her;
"Oh my God, this guy was like, totally checking me out."
"That guy is so hot."
"Did you see that guy? Wow, is it hot or is it just me?"

I know. I bet you're all sitting their with your mouths open. Maybe at how boring this is or at her behavior, whichever, that's Ellie all over. But more about her later.
Now, I'll introduce you to my one and only friend in this country. Patrick. Patrick Martin Stumph. Pronounced /Stump/. Don't laugh at the surname. I did, and his eyes practically burnt holes in me.
"Oh yeah, what's your surname?" Patrick had asked me when he'd told me his name. I stopped laughing and looked at him, knowing he would laugh at my name whether it was funny or not. Pity it was.
"Urquhart."
"Man, typically Scottish." He said with a laugh, knowing it annoyed me.
"Shut it. So that's Stump as in a tree, or a leg?"
That shut him up.

But seriously, despite what I say about him, that kid is my best friend. He's amazing in too many ways. And the strangest thing is that he's so, so modest about it. All he does is duck his head and blush if you even tell him you like his jacket. First time I met him was in detention, believe it or not. My second week at Glenbrook South, and I get detention? Talk about settling in.
I got sent there for not working in music. Music. I fucking love music more than life itself. That's basically why Patrick and I bond so well. Get us started on music and we never, ever stop. It gets to the point we'll drown each other out worshipping all these different bands and musicians. We should invent our own little ritual to perform kneeling down on a rug to worship these guys.
Anyway, my detention wasn't to just sit in a room and stare at the clock, while the teacher picked his/her nose and read the paper, ignoring all the kids falling asleep and drooling all over the desks. No, mine was to make up the time I'd wasted in music by playing it in my lunch hour and after school three times a week. I mean, please. The only reason I didn't work in music was because the music department sucked. Really, it did. We weren't allowed to play our own songs of our own choice, or ones we'd written ourselves. We were given a book of songs for guitar or drums or whatever instrument you played, and were told to learn it. Seriously. That's it. So thought 'fuck this', and sat with my iPod in a closet, playing my own songs on the guitar. So when the teacher finds me, she's ripping mad. One, because I'd hidden in a closet, and two, because she took the book away and told me to play the song, and I had no idea what the song was even called, let alone the notes. But hey, no big deal, right?
Wrong.
You could almost hear the clink of a jail cell closing, like in the movies when the good guy gets thrown in jail for something he didn't do. Standing there looking lost, and like he doesn't belong there. That was me. As the teacher told me he'd be back in an hour to hear three songs, three kids looked up and stared at me in the music room.
One kid, ginger hair that one day later in the week he would protest was 'strawberry blond', and nice eyes. Pity he covered them with some really dorky glasses. They kind of suited him though.
The other, dark hair and a lip ring, holding a guitar. He looked like a typical rock star.
The next one was... strange looking. Just plain strange. He kind of looked like Brian from the Breakfast Club.

I felt like giving them the finger, the mood I was in. Did they ever stop staring? Jesus. I ignored them and walked to the back of the room, turning my chair around and letting my back face them. Then the whispering started. Whether they were whispering about their work, or about the new kid with a weird accent, I had no idea. I continued to ignore it and quietly played the guitar. Fuck. this song was boring. Who the hell calls a song 'Grade Three in the UK?' Must be my punishment for being British.
Eventually, I got bored and to the stage where I didn't give a shit what the teacher said about me not knowing the songs. What was the worst he could do? They outlawed hitting students years ago. I started to play songs I actually liked, things like Jeff Buckley and Savage Garden. I didn't realize I was playing so loud. That is, until I stopped playing long enough to hear the whispering and then the pauses. I dared turn round, pretty pissed despite being the shy new kid. Did these kids have nothing better to do than spend their lunch times sitting in the music room talking about people? And stare. I caught the dorky looking kid's eye and turned away, blushing for some reason. I always blush. No, not because I fancied this guy, because he'd caught me looking at him. I hated catching people's eye, I was always paranoid about them thinking I was staring, or that they were talking about me.
I heard the scrape of some chairs and then the door closed.
Thank God they're gone.
Not quite. I turned back around to see the dorky kid still sitting there, staring at his hands.
Damn.
"You're the new kid, right?" He mumbled from the front of the room.
"Yeah." I replied. He had a nice voice, it was kind of soft and nervous.
"So where are you from, New Jersey or something?" He asked, turning around in his seat. I laughed and shook my head.
"No. Scotland."
"Like in Britain?" He asked, sounding surprised. Was he stupid? He looked clever.
"How many other Scotland's are there?"
"Well, you could have meant Nova Scotia." He said in reply, shrugging. I didn't reply, I had no idea what to say to that.
"So what's your name?" I asked him, figuring it was only polite.
"Patrick." He told me. He said his name gently and like he wasn't sure of it being correct. He was a sweet kid, I could tell that already.
"Cool. I'm Lisa." I pointed out, trying to sound casual, but it must have sounded so obvious I thought he was awesome and I wanted to talk to him. I hoped he didn't think I fancied him. He nodded in acknowledgment, and ducked his head, a habit I would get used to in the future.
I stood up, contemplating whether to go over and talk to him some more, or just stay where I was. If he looked around, I could pretend I was just looking for the book I had chucked onto another desk, but I wanted to talk to this kid. There was just... something. Something about him that made him interesting.

So now you have the basics of how, as Robyn likes to say, fate brought Patrick and I together. Robyn's weird like that, she's certain we'd be like this golden couple.
It's amazing how in a few months, you can go from being so nervous around a person that even your fingers are sweating, to telling that person every single thing on your mind. Really, Patrick and I tell each other the stupidest things. Here's a funny thing. Our friendship is so cliche. He literally lives across the street from me. And he's promised we're going to have this cliche summer, too. You know, staying up all night sitting in a tree talking, or lying on the grass in our yards watching stars and sharing our thoughts about the future. Sometimes, I think Patrick lives in a movie.
So, one Saturday, Patrick had just gotten home from work. I could see him in his room from my window No, I'm not some creep who sits across the road and stares in his window with binoculars, I just have a good view of his room from where my bed is. Anyway, he was expecting two guys to come to his house and audition to see if he could be in some band they were forming. One was called Joe Trough? Something like that. I forget. And the other guy was some love machine called Peter Wentz. He was this stereotypically gorgeous guy, apparently. Good with the girls, let's say. I didn't know what he looked like. So anyway, these guys were coming over to see if Patrick was good enough. Which, personally, I thought he was better than good enough. Oh, yeah. I have no idea how I forgot, but you guys should know Patrick is an unbelievable musician. Seriously. He breathes music. You can almost see musical notes coming out of his mouth when he breaths out.
Patrick wouldn't let me come over and watch him audition. He's surprisingly fierce about that.

"Please." I whined.
"No." He said flatly, flipping through his box of CDs.
"Why not? Why? Why? Why not?" I said, just to be extra annoying as he denied me.
"Because I said so."
"That's not a reason." I replied. "That's... taking advantage of your authority."
"What authority? You're two months older than me." He asked, watching me with his eyebrows raised. I shrugged.
"Don't change the subject. Why can't I come?"
"Because it's nerve racking enough playing in front of two guys I don't know, let alone letting my best friend watch."
"Aw, OK. Just for that, I won't bug you anymore."
"Thank God."

So I watched as some really lousy, battered car pulled up outside Patrick's house. Jeez. I heard this Pete Wentz guy was meant to be a Casanova sort of fellow. If he picked up girls in that, I bet he would be as attractive as Shane MacGowan. I watched still as the passenger door opened and a tall guy stepped out. He was tall. Well, a giant if he stood next to me and Patrick. We're small. Go figure. Was that Pete? If it was, he wasn't that good looking. Not to me, anyway. Then I waited for the other door to open, and watched as a small guy got out the car. Wow, he was small! I thought he would have been like six feet tall. From what I could see, he wasn't ugly, but personally I didn't find him that attractive. But then again, I could hardly see him, even with my glasses on.
Get this. He opens the door and a woman steps out. Typical. I should have known he'd bring a date. But, wait, whaaaaat? This woman is probably about 20/21 at tops. I'd say the same age as Pete. If he was that age. From what I could squint at, she was pretty. Nice hair, I thought. I must look so nosy. But this is the thing; Pete walks around the car and opens the door, and takes out a car seat. With a baby in it.
My mouth is open. He has a baby? Since when? This was never mentioned. He didn't look like the dad type. Not at the moment, anyway. Mind you, it figures, handsome Romeo type guy has a baby. It was either his responsibility or he used it as a woman magnet. Women love babies apparently. Myself? I could do without when I was older. In fact, I didn't want them. But this baby is like a year old, I can hear it laughing from here. I can't see it very well, but it's a very active baby.
Anyway, I'm peering down watching all of this as they walk up Patrick's drive, and my phone rings.
"Yes?" I say, after seeing it's Patrick, who I can now see staring out his window over at me, wise enough to back away from the window so if these people looked up, it would appear he wasn't there.
"Who's the girl?"
"I don't know. You won't let me come over, so I can't find out."
"Come over. Please."
"Oh, now you want my help?"
"Yes! Just get over now, please. You can make the girl feel at home." Patrick said, and hung up. I noticed people do that a lot, talk and hang up without saying bye. Now that's just plain rude. You're supposed to hang up without saying bye if you're having a fight. It always makes me feel like I said something wrong. And why did I have to get lumbered with this chick these guys had brought along? Patrick had forbidden me to come and now he wanted me to play gooseberry? Ach, well. What harm could it do? At least it would spare me from when Ellie came home from the mall and paraded her 'new clothes' and make up for me.
I watched as Patrick opened the door to nervously greet the three people by his door. Good job his mom wasn't home. She would either have laughed at how nervous he was, or flipped out that there was a guy in his twenties trying to persuade her son to be in a band with him.
Oh, God. What the hell was he wearing?
Bad choice, Patrick. Oh, no. An argyle sweater and black shorts? Oh, the embarrassment. I think my face is flushing red for him.
Time to make my move. I run down the stairs, and across the street just as Patrick nearly closes the door in my face.
"Uh, hello?"
"Help me! I'm so nervous." Patrick says quickly, clutching my arm and yanking me inside.
"I..." I try to speak before he practically throws me into the hallway, facing all these new people. I grin stupidly.
"Hi. I'm Lisa." I say, feeling Patrick behind me.
"She's my best friend..." Patrick explains my introduction nervously.
"Should I talk him up or just tell you he's plain amazing despite what I say?" I say to them.
"He looks like he'd be pretty amazing." The taller guy laughed. He held his hand out. "I'm Joe."
"Ah." I said, recognizing the name. "Nice to meet you."
"I'm Pete." The smaller guy says. Wow, he is good looking. I still wouldn't go for him, though. He shakes my hand with a smile, and puts his arm around the girl and the baby.
"This is Christa. She's my girlfriend."
"Hey." I say, nodding at her as I shake her hand.
"And this is her baby, Ethan." Pete says, tickling it under the chin, while it laughs and grins.
"Aww." I hear Patrick say behind me. God, he's besotted already. He's totally gonna be one of those dorky dads when he has a baby.
"So you're like it's step-dad?" Patrick asks. Wow, he's stupid. That's probably something they haven't even discussed.
"Yeah. Well, we're not married or anything. But I like to be called Dad."
This guy was going to be interesting.