Bleeding Hearts Chronicles

"Do we have to meet them?" I asked my mom as she drove. We were driving to pick up my dad from the Vancouver Court House. We drove down frozen Howe Street, in our black Toyota Highlander. The streets, usually crowded with people, were covered in snow.

"I mean," I regained my sentence, "I'm missing Crystal's party! Travis will kill me if I'm not there. This is the first party he's going to since Megan broke up with him. Plus, he has to have his wing man, mom! The wheel chair doesn't help his image. He needs me, mom!"

"It's only polite. " She gave me an intense, You know I'm right, stare with her heavily eyeliner layered green eyes. "Besides, we were invited to dinner. He's donating a quarter of his art collection to the gallery, sweetie. And as for Travis, I'm sue he'll understand. Isn't Charles going to be there?" She turned down Smithe, as she waited for my embarrassing answer.

"First, he calls himself Chaz, now. Second, no. He was grounded for stealing."

"Stealing? What did he steal?"

"Nothing much, if you ask me. But he stole a T-Shirt from Journey's."

My mom kept her eye on the road. We slowed and stopped at the side of the court house. My mom put her hand on my shoulder and looked at me. " Ethan, " She said, softly, but firmly, " Charles- "

" Chaz. "

She sighed, "Chaz's parents disciplined him." I sat back in my seat. This couldn't be real. She'd let me go to every other party before. "Honey, did I mention that Mr. Vincello has some daughters? Three, I think. Possibly more?" I perked up a bit.

The wind blew outside as the back door opened. My dad huffed into the car, covered in snow. "Oh man, " my dad sat forward as he buckled his seat belt, "this weather! It's never been this bad before. Oh, hey sport! Weren't you going to that party?" He shook the snow off his salt and pepper hair and fixed his black pinstriped suit.

"No." My mom answered for me. "Ethan is coming to the Vincello Gala."

My dad was usually a really, really low key dude. His whole life was low key until he met my mom. My grandpa was a musician and my grandma was an artist for most of her life. But the second I was born, my dad decided to keep on the straight and narrow and finished his law degree.

"Ethan," She looked at me again. "Fix your shirt." I rolled my eyes. She was seriously going whack for this thing. I sighed and tucked in my red dress shirt and straightened my black vest.

"The tie." My dad whispered from behind. Another sigh and I fixed my black tie. My dad leaned forward again, but I knew what was coming.

"Hair." I looked straight into his deep grey eyes. He shut his mouth and leaned back. I fixed my spiky black hair and smirked at him. My dad, the "low-key" and "mature" dude that he is, stuck out his tongue. My pocket buzzed. I checked my black Sidekick. One new text message, the screen read. It was from my ex-girlfriend, Tasha Marys.

r u going 2 C's party? i don't c ur car.

The second we'd broken up, she decided that she had to be with guys that I had hated. She'd dated almost four guys since we broke up, which was a month ago. But, we'd stayed friends for some strange reason.

no, rents holding me captive. tell travis i'm sorry. I replied. Why not tell the world? I'm going to an art gallery thing where a bunch of old people shuffle around drinking bitter wine, eating tiny crumbs of food that were supposed to be appetizers and staring for hours at art and whispering about how the artist had died five years ago in New Mexico.

After twenty minutes of driving through downtown, falling snow and frozen roads, we reached the mansion. It was covered in windows, but were covered with velvet curtains. The grand front entrance was packed with women in fur coats, men in long tuxedos and pale faced butlers, holding the doors open. We gave our coats to one of the butlers and walked through the ballroom.

"Ahem." Someone tapped me on the shoulder. An old, skinny, short butler with a bristly moustache in a red velvet tuxedo, he looked like Mario. He looked at me like I was covered in toxic waste. "The younger artisans are in the lower lobby." Mario pointed a long bony finger to a door under the staircase. Music was pumping and kids were screaming.

"Uh… I'm not-" Mario cut me off with a deadly stare. I decided to at least try to have fun. I opened the door and walked down the stairs.

A group of pretty girls were dancing in the centre of the dance floor. Some guys were boxing in the corner, some were trying to dance with the girls. I sat down on one of the leather couches and fiddled with my phone.

Just then, a blonde girl sat down next to me, holding her fingerless-gloved hand on her black fedora. She was cute with her long hair, blue eyes and long legs but her eyes were coated with eyeliner, her nails painted black and her lips bright red. She wore a lacy white shoulder blouse, a black vest and a thick silver chain around her neck with a silver skull with ruby eyes. She folded her legs on the couch, wrinkling her dark-wash jeans and pointing her black stiletto boots in my direction. She played with her tiny red Nokia.

She looked up, catching me staring. "Uh, hey there." She leaned back on the leather. She waited patiently for my reply.

"Hey. Sorry I didn't mean to stare." My face felt hot. She laughed a bit.

"No worries, bro." She slipped her phone back into her back pocket. The song changed from some preppy Stereos song to "Riot" by my favourite band, Three Days Grace. The girl looked up, smiled wickedly and started banging her head. She got up and started dancing.

"C'mon, dude! Don't be a lazy cat!" She pulled my arm and I found myself dancing and laughing with the girl. If she had told me she was high, I'd believe her.

"My name's Ethan!" I shouted over the music.

"Cool. Ethan means music, or something, like my name! I'm Aria!" She danced, with her hair flailing, to the rugged guitar rift. I was actually having fun. This girl that I'd known for only minutes was making me smile and laugh like nobody has ever done before. I mean, sure she was extremely cooky and crazy, but it was strangely … attractive. My pocket buzzed and I checked it as I danced. Incoming Call: Tasha Marys. I let it go to voicemail and danced with Aria, the crazy chick that seemed to be the best friend I never knew.

Next --->

~The Wise One ;D "Nuff Said." 22:56, May 12, 2011 (UTC)

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