Korê in New York
What happens when a kid refuses to leave the past behind? What happens when the past won't go away? Read on and don't worry about the emotional damage.
All right if you must know, this Tumblr is serialized fiction. It started out as part of this site, and then outlived its original home.
I have a friend with stories of her own at An Accidental King. Please check them out.
This is the story of Korê, a freshwoman at Brooklyn Tech. She is constantly rummaging through her emotional baggage. The problem is some of what she worries about is actually true. Sometimes the past is more than the past. And never let a teenager near a style sheet. Muwhaaah!
This is my hall of fame for the really cool Tumbeblogs that I follow. Is your Tumbleblog good enough?
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Confrontation!
“You are suck a fucking dork mom!” cried Ivanna. I had returned an hour later than usual to find the big fight finally in progress. Ivanna and RoAnn were having it out in the study/office on Wednesday evening after I kidnapped Ivanna. Drama club had had its first complete run through of An American in Paris. The janitorial crew kept the school open because they loved Jovenas Triumphedors as they called the Young Achievers. It is great to be loved!
Nervy sat in the living room with her counting box playing with the beans. She on the couch with her back hunched over. “Did someone get you dinner?” I asked. I felt bad about neglecting my younger sister, but I worked hard to be on lighting crew at school.
Nervy shook her head. “Come on,” I said. “I’ll fix you a sandwich.”
“I told you we’d break the chalk code,” RoAnn crowed from the study.
“I’m going to tell everyone!” Ivanna yelled back.
“You won’t have to,” RoAnn replied. “The team is going to publish their findings.”
“I’m not going to get any studying done with those two yelling,” I complained to Nervy.
“Then you can go to bed with me,” my little sister replied.
“I need to study not sleep,” I answered, and I also needed to eat. I fixed us both sandwiches and got out the relish tray and loaded it.
From the study the fight continued: “Yeah, that’s all you care about. What if nobody takes your paper?” asked Ivanna.
“They’ll take it,” RoAnn replied. “Anyway, I wouldn’t be so proud of that code. The messages look just like loud speaker announcements teachers make. In fact, they’re worse.”
“Yeah, well at least it isn’t teachers ordering us around.”
“Yeah, it’s other adults.”
“No it’s not.”
“Yes it is!”
“Here are the messages from your school translated: Boycott all internet except for Level 3’s . Level 3’s boycott Facebook, Twitter, and Tumblr only. Toni in Massachusetts told me about Twitter and Tumblr.”
I shuddered.
RoAnn continued. “Person’s name is grounded by parents. The symbol is a sex organ so the literal translation is screwed. All members should give support. You want more?”
“It doesn’t sound bad to me,” Ivanna sniffed.
“Here’s more. You will lose points if you use bad language or call names. Who gives the points?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“I don’t have to ask. It’s the same adults who chartered the buses.”
“So fucking what?”
“So…instead of grubbing for grades you’re grubbing for points.”
“It’s different?”
“How?”
“It just is. Anyway points are bullshit. Level is what counts.”
“What level are you.”
“I’m a three.”
“That’s impressive.”
“It fucking sure is.”
I shook my head. “RoAnn should wash out Ivanna’s mouth with soap,” Nervy told me.
“Even Mom never did that for cursing,” I told my younger sister.
“OK, so you’re an idealist. Fine, I was one too at your age,” RoAnn waxed nostalgic, “but your messages are just marching orders.”
“So its better to listen to teachers.”
“Yes,” RoAnn replied.
“Not for me. What will Young Assholes think when they find you locked me in this apartment?”
“Why should I tell Dr. Angelus anything?”
“Because I’m going to tell him.”
“Go for it.”
I shook my head.
“He’s going to fucking hate it and he’s going to hate on you.”
“I said, you could tell him. I need to make sure Nervy gets some sleep. Excuse me.”
RoAnn came into the kitchen. I felt like telling her: “Some performance,” but she had all ready had an earful from a very angry Ivanna who came into the living room and found her earphones. A few moments later, she was bouncing to her private aerobics.
One thing about my stepsister was that she had become fiendishly disciplined. RoAnn pretended not to notice. “I’m sorry Kore and Nervy,” was all she could say.
“It had to happen some time,” I replied.
“Ivanna is coming with us to the meeting on Sunday,” RoAnn dropped the bomb.
“How does she feel about that?” I asked.
“Not good, but I can’t leave her here.”
“She can hear you,” commented Nervy.
“No she can’t,” RoAnn replied. “She’s wearing earphones.”
