Hi everyone! For those of you who don't know me, my name is Johnna. Welcome to my third fan fiction, it's titled Chasing You(well, duh.) I hope you all enjoy this story. I've actually had the first chapter written for a while. But, was waiting for my other stories to end before I decided to post it. I really hope you all enjoy this first chapter. Leave a review with a comment, or suggestion! Anything you say can be used to improve my writing. Thanks again, and enjoy! :)
If you're curious for other stories I have written they are
Bless The Broken Road - TDI/TDA
Camp TV - TDI/TDA (roleplay)
I may not be the smartest guy around. I may not be the eye candy for every single girl in the school(maybe not every single girl, but I do have a group of admirers). I may not be the most popular guy in my school. I may not even be the smoothest guy around, but I am definitely the most dangerous. The worst. Bad to the bone(as my grandpa would put it). Been to juvie and back probably more times than I have actually been to school in my sophomore year of high school.
Now supposedly it is a new year and I can make changes to my life, make good decisions. As my therapist would put it. What a sham she was anyways. I could tell she was afraid of me when I walked into her office. Then she was downright terrified when I told her the story about the guy I shared cell with in juvey.
"Steve. That's his name. Or Hairy Scary Steve, as he prefers."
"Hair Scary Steve?" My therapist repeated in disbelief.
"Yeah, good guy, good guy." I laid back in the long, velor, red couch. I kicked my feet up on her coffee table.
"I can't see how good he must be if you two shared a cell in juvey." My therapist said.
I glanced on her desk, she had a name tag that read, Dr. Nelson.
"See, that's the difference between us, Dr. Nelson." I sat up.
"What's the difference?" She asked.
"You see the bad in people, and I….I see the good." I hide my smirk, and put on my best bullshit face.
"Mhm…" She hummed, and wrote something down on her clipboard.
One month of 'intense therapy' and I was out of there. What a waste of time and money.
When my parents sat me down this morning, and began with "Duncan we have something to tell you." I was worried I would be going back to that mad house.
"Don't tell me, more therapy?" I interrupted.
"Actually no, son." My dad assured, he took a seat down on our red couch.
He had gotten home from work just a little while ago, he and my mom both worked as cops. So did most of my family. Okay, so did all of my family. My dad buttoned the cuffs of his blue shirt, and put his glasses on.
"Thank God." I muttered under my breath.
My mom put her hands out, and covered them over my hands, and leaned forward.
"Duncan, sweetheart, we're a family, and families work with one another. I'll do something for your father, and he will do something for me in return." She started off.
"Your mother is right, I will do the dishes, and she will do the laundry." He used as an example.
"Right, and we need you to do something for us." Mom continued.
She moved her hands, and leaned back onto the couch, with dad who put his arm around her shoulders.
"Like what?" I ask keeping my voice even.
"It's a change, but just hear us out." Dad added.
"Fine, I promise not to….rob a bank if I don't like the news." I said sarcastically, with a chuckle.
Mom and Dad weren't laughing, or smiling. Not even a little, they exchanged worried glances, and focused back on me.
"I was joking." I assured.
"Yes, Duncan. That needs to stop." Mom said.
"What needs to stop?"
"The joking, the fooling around, the criminal record." Dad listed.
Before I could protest, mom followed up, "That won't be accepted in your new school."
Then I blinked a few times. New school? What? No. Really? New school? Why? Was I thrown out of Jamison High?
"New school?" I repeated dumbfounded.
"Yes." They answered together.
"Why? I didn't get expelled from Jamison High School. I barely got into trouble there!"
"Because you were never there." Dad pointed out.
"So." I mumbled.
"So…here are some pamphlets your father and I picked up after your registration. You will be attending Abbott Academy on the start of Monday." Mom kept her voice calm, and nice.
She was probably afraid of me pulling out a pocket knife and trying to stab someone. Not that I would do that, but sometimes I wonder if my parents are afraid of me.
Mom handed me the pamphlets, and I took a look at the cover.
"Prep school?" I shouted angrily.
"It's not a prep school." Dad promised.
"It's a boarding school."
I groaned in protest, and leaned back against the recliner chair I was sitting in.
"Fan-freaking-tastic." I moan.
"There are no uniforms, but there is a dress code." Mom told me.
"Like what? Don't wear belts on Tuesday, and always wear black on Mondays?"
"Duncan, cut the attitude when you're talking to your mother." Dad ordered.
Dear old dad, how you have betrayed me by making me go to a snobby boarding school. If they can't get me to go to school, they'll make me live there. Whatever, I'll just break out within a weeks worth.
"What's the dress code?" I ask uninterested.
"Khaki pants, or on occasion jeans. They have to be nice, clean, pressed, jeans. No holes or exotic designs."
"Khakis?" I sputtered out leaning forward again.
"With a button down shirt, any color is fine. Preferably white or blue. Young gentlemen wear ties, and a navy blue, or black blazer."
"A blazer? Dad, mom! You can't make me go through with this." I argued.
"You can bring along two pairs of sneakers, and two pairs of loafers."
"Loafers? Are you kidding?" I asked flatly.
The loafer thing killed it for me.
"We already have the blazer, the khakis, the clean jeans, and several button down shirts, and ties laid out on your bed now. Your suitcase is in the front hall closet." Dad explained as I got up.
My cell phone began to ring, and I pulled it out of my pocket. I read the name on the caller I.D, and picked up the phone.
"Hey man." I greeted while leaving the room.
"Hola dude! What's up?" Geoff asked sounding eccentric as always.
I walked upstairs into my room, and slammed the door shut.
"Shitty news." I began.
"Me too, dude." Geoff said.
"I bet mine is worse." I took hold of the dark blue blazer on my bed, and stared at it in disgust.
"Fat chance." Geoff challenged.
"I don't think so." I mumbled at the blazer. I dropped it onto my bed. "What's your news, Geoff?" I ask.
"My parents are shipping me away." Geoff sounded upset. "To boarding school!" He shouted on the other end of the line.
"No shit? Mine too." I said un-amused.
"I don't remember the name. Some academy." I pushed all of the clothes onto the floor, and laid on my bed."Abbott Academy?" Geoff guessed.
"I think." I rolled over onto my back.
"Dude, that's where my folks are sending me!" Geoff's tone sounded a little more upbeat.
"Wow, this makes the trip fifteen percent less shittier."
"Seriously, dude! When do you start?" Geoff's eager tone asked.
"Monday." I groan.
"Me too, dude!"
"That's what I figured."
"I can't believe our folks, what's their damage, bro? Mine think I can get a quality education by enrolling there. So re-donk-you-lous" Geoff said creating his own word.
I walked out of my bedroom, and to the front hall closet and grabbed my black suitcase.
"Yeah, and mine just don't trust me." I say rolling the suitcase into my room and throwing it carelessly onto my bed.
"Are you taking the train to the school?" Geoff asked.
"Yeah, probably. Unless my parents ship me away in handcuffs." I remarked. "Then again, I could probably get out of the handcuffs quicker." I said as an afterthought.
"True that, bro."
"I got to get to packing, Geoff. Talk to you later, dude?"
"Yeah me too, bye bro."
I hung up my cell phone, and started carelessly throwing my new clothes into my suitcase. I walked over to my bureau, and grabbed all of my boxers, and socks and threw them into the suitcase.
I put my cell phone charger into my suitcase, my music charger, and my ipod into my suitcase. I packed my pocket knife into the back corner of my suitcase(in case I get bored and decide to tag some trees or desks). I finished packing within twenty minutes.
My cell phone rang, and I pulled it out of my back pocket. I checked the caller ID, Taylor. You see, Taylor isn't my girlfriend. She isn't my friend, she isn't my anything. We hooked up like two or three times. But, it wasn't even a real hookup, we didn't have sex or anything.
We just made out for like an hour, and she took off her shirt, but she had her bra on and everything. She has been calling me nonstop. This hookup thing happened a month ago, and I haven't talked to her since. Maybe, if I tell her I'm leaving now she'll give up on me, and find someone else.
"Duncan! Hi! It's me, Taylor!" She sounded overly excited.
"Taylor? Oh, yeah." I smirked, pretending not to remember her.
"We hooked up a while ago, at Jen's party? I wore the pink, Victoria Secret's lacy bra…" I think she was trying to like, seduce me or something. It isn't working, and she wore a black bra.
"Oh! Right, I remember you…how's it been?" I ask pretending to care.
She giggled a little, and I heard a ton of talking and laughter in the back round "It's been good, the same…so I was wondering when are we going to go out again?" She asked.
Again? We didn't go out once.
"Well, if my memory serves me right, we didn't even go out once."
"Your memory serves right. Maybe you should take me on a first date."
"Maybe…but can't." I don't feel bad at all.
"Why?" She sounds disappointed.
"I'm moving. Boarding school, parents are making me go." I say casually.
"What a bummer!" She whines.
I hear murmuring in the back.
"I know right. So I guess I'll see ya never babe. It might be best to delete this number." I was about to hang up, but she said something that caught my attention.
"Maybe…but maybe we should, I don't know. Hook up one last time?" She offered.
I heard a lot of ooh-ing and laughter, and teasing in the back. Is she at a sleepover or something? Are we really eleven years old?
Although, a hookup might sound nice. But, it might best if I leave everything about this town behind. Don't want to start feeling an attachment when having to leave. Not that I ever feel attach. I'm the kind of guy who doesn't fall hard, or at all for the matter. I don't need love, it makes a perfectly smart person turn into a sucker, and then act like a moron whenever their 'partner' comes around.
"Yeah, here's the thing, Taylor." I pause.
"Yeah?" She asked.
"I'm no one's bitch." Then I cut the line, and hung up my cell phone.
I tossed it back onto my bed and zipped my suitcase shut. I pulled it off my bed, and put it next to my door.
I walked out of my room, and ran into my mom in the hallway.
"I finished packing." I announce.
"Wonderful." She clapped her hands together once.
I scowled slightly, and her smile fell into a frown.
"Duncan, you need to realize your father and I don't want to do this." She started.
"Yeah, yeah. I get it, mom. You don't want to do this, but you have to. It's the same story every time. I get it!" I exclaimed, and I walked back into my room, slamming my bedroom door shut.
Like I need to hear this again. It's the same speech each time I get into some shitty mess, like when my parents sent me to therapy. I grunted, and fell back onto my bed, and shut my eyes. I can't wait for these stupid teen years to be over. New school, new kids, new teachers, new life. New Duncan? I sit up on my bed. I could try to change my image, be the good guy that everyone trusts, so I can get away with murder, and no one could suspect it's me.
Yeah right. Like I can keep a good image for more than fifteen minutes. I lay back onto my bed. There was another knock on my door.
"Duncan, please just listen to me." My mom pleaded.
"I'm listening." I grunted.
"You have to know, your father and I love you more than anything in the world. We only want what's best for you, and we both believe that Abbott Academy is."
"Are you sure it isn't because you're both afraid of me, and you both want me gone?" I shout.
"Duncan," She sounds disappointed. Greeaat. "We are not afraid of you, we could never be afraid of you. We deal with insane criminals every day, you're a mere ant on the criminal radar. Well, more like a June bug. Nonetheless, we're not afraid of you." She rambled.
I sat up on my bed, and listened. She's being serious, honest.
"I know the last person you want to talk to is me, but I love you Duncan, I always will. I'm sorry things are happening this way." She concluded, and her footsteps followed down the hall.
I guess it's okay to love my parents.
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