Okay, being stabbed by a pumpkin is pretty stupid. Since Jake is already stupid, I guess it was fitting for him. However… I did not deserve some stupid death! I mean come, honor roll, straight A’s (Ok, I did get two B’s), and not to brag or anything, but I was actually cool! People actually thought I wasn't a geeky loner, JAKE. Not to mention, Jake keeps saying that Canadian schools are easier, but WHAT DOES HE KNOW?!! I’m -cough, cough- in high school not middle school, Jake. Sigh. Sorry, I had to get that out of my system, being dead can be ridiculously frustrating sometimes. Americans.
I’m a French-Canadian if you have noticed by my extravagant last name, Desmarais (basically pronounced Da-Mare-Iss). Apparently Desmarais means to live by a swamp. That's just great. As if my life weren't a swamp right now. My family moved to America last year, but I still consider myself Canadian. America isn’t as cool, plus high school absolutely sucks. However, my life really went downhill when I stopped living. And when I mean downhill, I meant my life rolled down the hill at 500 miles per hour and crashed into an Honda Civic causing an explosion. Sorry, that's not what happened, instead it all came tumbling down when I left the house at 7:46 pm.
Right, well I live in Eagle, Idaho. I live in a small, one-story house in the suburbs. It’s a pretty safe place, I mean we have neighborhood watch and what not. However, it’s not like people get run over by speeding cars. Or so I thought… bum, Bum, BUM!!!!! Sorry. I have a problem.
Right after dinner, I got a text.
im at starbucks. wanna hang?
It was from Vivian Jones, my BFF and partner in annoyance. Since it was a beautiful summer evening, and I didn’t have anything better to do, I agreed.
Sounds gr8. b there in 10 min.
Excellent, I grabbed my very fashionable coat, put on some boots, checked for any more texts, and out the front door.
“Mom!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm goingtohangoutwithVinow bye,” I said in that trying-to-annoy-your-mother teenage voice that all of us teenage girls pride ourselves for. Then I shut the door and strolled out.
“What?” Mom said, poking her head out of the door (exactly a millisecond later). “Val, you can’t just leave like that? Where you going, it’s almost dark out!”
“Sheesh, Janet!” I said, annoyed. “I- am-going-to-hang-out-with-Vi-now,” I said, emphasizing each word. “We’re going to meet at Starbucks.”
Mom sighed, “Valerie you have to understand, you can’t just go wandering off wherever at 7:33 pm. At least tell us in advance.”
“Mom. I can go wherever I want because it’s now 7:34, and I already told you in advance, remember? I told you like a minute ago? Now, can I go or not?” I shouted from the lawn.
“Uuuummmmm… fine, you can go. Just don’t drink any caffeine or you won’t sleep tonight. Remember to look both ways when crossing Fitz. Avenue. Don’t forget, come back when the sun sets, so it doesn’t get too dark when you're heading back! I expect to see your smiling face within the hour. Have fun!”
“Right Mom! Love ya! Bye!”
And as I was walking down our boulevard, I could hear Mom say,
“I love you too, Val!”
I kept on walking as foreboding music started playing. It must’ve been a pretty bad sign, but instead it was my depressing ringtone. It was Vi (short for Vivian if you haven’t noticed).
“Hey Val.”
“Hey Vi.”
“Listen, I’m so sorry, but I can’t meet at Starbucks anymore.”
“What, why?”
“My Dad needs a ride, his car broke down and now he’s stranded at the auto repair shop. I have to go save him from the evil auto parts,” She sighed.
“At least you can drive! I have to either walk or bike everywhere! And, hey it’s not like your dead or anything,” I responded like the great friend I am.
“Really sorry we can’t meet”
Stolen novel; please report.
“No prob. We can meet tomorrow at the Creamery or somethin’. Don’t sweat it.”
Vivian sounded genuinely disappointed, “‘Kay, seeya then. I have to go. Jeez, there’s some annoying guy at Starbucks. He’s like, being an idiot. Anyways, bye! Love you!”
“Love ya back! See you tomorrow!”
“Byeeee,” she said, and hung up.
Well now this is a dilemma.
I could either go back home and face mom, who, after arguing, probably wouldn’t be too nice. Or I could go to Starbucks, grab a latte, and head back. I didn’t think twice. I crossed Alton Street and headed toward the corner of Main and Fitzgerald where the mini- mall with a Starbucks is. The layout of our little suburb is interesting. Our neighborhood is basically down the road from the center of Eagle. You walk three blocks across, turn, and walk two blocks west, and you're at the local Walmart. To get to Starbucks, I just walked out of the neighborhood, walked down the block, and boom you're at Starbucks. All I had to do was walk down Liberty Road (Yes we’re very patriotic here in Eagle), and cross Fitz. Avenue. The walk only took ten minutes, but since I slowed down to talk to Vivian, It was more like fifteen. I arrived at around 7:53 and walked into the Starbucks. Dingaling! The little walk-in bell announced my presence to the entire Starbucks community. Since it was a nice summer evening, there weren’t many people. The place had a total of four customers, a guy typing on his Mac, two ladies chatting together while drinking coffee, and a woman who had fallen asleep on her croissant. I walked up to the counter, to meet a bored teen who probably worked the night shift.
“Welcome to Starbucks… can I help you?” the teen said in a monotone voice, clearly expressing displeasure of standing around for three hours.
“Yes. Can I get a no foam latte with whip cream, with two packets of splenda, a touch of vanilla syrup, two pumps of caramel, and a dose of cinnamon at exactly 150 degrees? (I didn’t even practice that! Ok, fine but I only practiced a little) Oh yeah, and this cookie.”
He stared at me blankly, “Okay, so you want a latte with that choco cookie? What size do you want the latte?” He seemed slightly annoyed and confused
“Oh, no, no, no. I wanted a no foam latte with whip cream, with two packets of splenda, a touch of vanilla syrup, two pumps of caramel, and a dose of cinnamon at exactly 150 degrees.”
“So what size do you want your drink in.”
“Just gimme the big one! Did you get my order?” I was now getting impatient with this nasal-voiced employee.
“Alrighty now… do you want a tall, grande, venti?”
“Grande is fine. Did you get my ord-”
“What’s your name miss?”
“Valerie. About my-”
“Your drink will be ready soon, please wait.”
I sighed… this stupid worker. I felt so frustrated by the employee, however eating the cookie while I pretended it was his stupid face helped.
The drink takes like two minutes to make and I didn’t have anything to do, so I just took out my phone and started scrolling through Instagram.
“Latte for Valerie!” the guy called out. I went and got my cup.
“Thank you,” I replied, trying to be kind as I normally am.
I took a sip, “Hey! This has foam in it!? I-”
“Ma’am, I’ve been working here since 4 o’clock, so can it miss!”
I sighed and went to sit outside. The sunset was beautiful tonight. It was relaxing. A single chair and table were outside for the customers, I took it and sat down. I set my cup down, only than realizing that the worker had spelled my name like: mAllry. I sighed again. Since I still had my phone out, I thought it would be pretty funny to post the picture on Snapchat. Little did I know that misspelled names at Starbucks were most common in America (Just kidding, we have Starbucks in Canada). I whipped out the picture option and snapped a photo. Wait. I needed to get the angle and lighting right! I snapped another snapshot, bingo. I sipped the last remnants of my latte, threw it in the trash, and started walking back home. I strolled along Main and headed back. It was a peaceful walk, well… Ok, maybe not. First, I had to stop by 7-Eleven and get some Sour Patch candy… and a bag of Swedish Fish… and some Fanta for whenever. I kinda have a problem, my Mom says I have a sweet tooth. My dad says that he had the same problem back when he was a kid. My doctor says if I want to not get type-two diabetes, I should lay off the candy. So instead of Sour Patch, I got Reese's, which has peanut butter (which is healthy).
And so there I was, drifting around like a hummingbird who's had too much nectar, when suddenly my phone buzzed. It was mom wondering where I was, it was 8:19 and honey you've gotta come home right now. With a sigh, I shuffled home, as if an invisible mom was right behind me. With a whip. I texted mom,
K i’ll be home in a few
I purposely did my “slow walk” which is where you take like one step that’s an inch ahead, and then another, and than you stop and check for more texts. I definitely recommend it to all you desperate teens.
I put in my headphones and started playing with the filters on Snapchat. I decided I could either take the picture of the misspelled Starbucks cup and make it either barf rainbows or poop unicorns. Ok you might say you really don't need a filter for a misspelled name on a Starbucks cup but whatever I did it anyways.
I started hear this really annoying repetitive sound like a siren so I turned up the volume on my headphones and soon some Ariana Grande started blasting through. I tried to block out the noise as I crossed Fitz. Avenue, and continued home.
Oh my gosh, I typed, this starbucks employee was the absolute worst, like #Starbu… I stopped typing… time seemed to go into slow motion. An earsplitting noise was coming from the right of me.Can you believe it? I couldn’t even write out #StarbucksFail before something interrupts me.
“Can you be quiet for,” I looked up and realized that I should’ve listened to those smiley commercials that tell you to not look at your phone while crossing the street. “What the F-”
A huge ambulance was hurtling straight down the street towards me sirens blaring, honking it’s big fat horn, and lights flashing. AHHHHHHHHH! My brain went into AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I’M PANICKING!!!! mode. And I heard someone screaming (not me at all) my whole body froze like I was a statue and the world's sounds seemed to fade away. The ambulance had either run me over, or I was dreaming. The pain was bad, it the kind of pain that you never want to feel in your life (although, really, no one wants to feel any sort of pain anyways) It seemed stupid that I would die at this age but I decided I would have the best last words of anyone.
“Tell mmmyyyy… eck….” and then I died.