Neighborhood Gossip with Ari

Leave it to Ari to give me the low down on the happenings in the hood.

She called me over the next afternoon after I got back from the cemetery. "Hey, you know Darrel's engaged, huh?"

"Really? To who?"

"Tracey Gonzalez. She just moved here from Pinochle Point. He's smitten with her, they even moved in together."

"Wow." I had to admit, to myself, a little pang of jealousy and regret over what could have been.

"Oh, and you know Windy Alvi? She's married AND has a baby now."

I let out a deep breath. "What about you?"

"Oh, I've got no time for romance. Besides, I haven't met the right person yet."

"You know, you could be the neighborhood gossip queen."

"Yeah," she muttered, "if I wasn't so busy learning to play guitar. I don't know how you guys do it without your fingers hurting."

More odds & ends

It's been a whirlwind since I returned from France. First, I got a phone call from the school saying they wanted me to lecture on logic (!) to some of the kids. I said, okay, I'd do it on my day off. All they wanted me to do, really, was talk about the importance of logic and the different things a sim could do with logic knowledge. As most of you know, I'm good at chess and I enjoy it. I was president of the school's chess club, but I only let few people know I was.

So I got dressed the next day, put on my smartest outfit (what, did you expect me to show up in front of my brother's horny classmates in stiletto heels?), and walked inside the school building for the first time since I graduated. And, if I have to say so myself, the talk went pretty well.

Not sure this was part of the talk, though. Jeannine Ratliff caught me practicing guitar outside of the school after I'd got done talking. "Hey, you're pretty good," she said. I have to be, I almost told her. My parents are both musicians.

The next day I got up and ran into town for a few things when I ran into Noah. "I can't get over it," he began, "all grown up, you are."

"Yeah, well, I am," I told him, with a wide grin.
"I hear you've been traveling the world. Is that what you do for a living? Gallivant all over the planet?"
I really didn't feel like hearing a lecture from him about how I should stay home and get a 'real' job. "Well, technically," I explained to him, "I am an archeologist. I study ancient cultures and learn how ancient peoples lived. But in reality, yea, I am an adventurer. I comb ancient tombs for treasure and more. I love my job, really. Wouldn't trade it for the world."
"Well, you certainly look happy, Savannah," Noah finally said. "You're glowing." The biggest surprise about the meeting...was that he didn't mention the wedding. At all.

I ran into someone else out in town. Darrel. Yes, that Darrel, my ex-crush. And I was surprised at how...OLD...he looked. He looked like he hadn't slept in weeks and hadn't shaved his hair in days. We just stood there, waiting for one person to speak. Neither of us did, for at least ten minutes. I couldn't figure out who had changed the most -- him or me. What on earth had I been thinking when I lusted hard after this guy in high school?

We walked away from each other, our silence speaking volumes.

Party Time Part 1

So, ever since Aunt Margaret left me her laptop, I've been going through it, and I actually think she's got parts of 20 books in there. No, I'm serious. She had all these unfinished manuscripts and concepts for books that she never actually put to paper. There was one where she wanted to explore the afterlife. Maybe she 'crossed over' to research that one?

I've never been a big believer in reincarnation. I always thought it was a hokey construct meant to satisfy people who missed their relatives after they died. But I've been itching to go to the cemetery again, if for no other reason than to see if ghosts really exist and there is a 'heaven' or at least some kind of half-life purgatory.

If that isn't enough, Darrel is completely ignoring me. He actually showed up to my house and plopped down on the sofa and didn't speak a word to me. He doesn't return my phone calls.

I've been spending the last few days planning my birthday party, and I have to tell you, the constant emails and IMs trying to get people to show up has been exhausting. I had to line up a DJ. My dad paid for the rental of the Old Pier Beach for the afternoon.

So when I went to Darrel's to invite him personally, he wouldn't even come to the door. Instead his stepfather just stared at me. Darrel, meanwhile, wouldn't even give me the satisfaction of blasting his insults to me face to face. So, I had to talk to him behind the barrier of the door.

"Are you coming to my birthday party Saturday at Old Pier?" I asked.

"Why? To stare at some toffee faced brats running around in swimsuits?"

I took offense. "Who are you calling a toffee faced brat?"

"If the shoe fits, sister --"

By that time I was steaming mad, about ready to kick down his front door. "Look, Darrel, I'm the damn cause you passed trig this term, and this is the thanks I get?"

I turned around and stomped away, trying to fight the tears that were trying to stream down my face.

Darrel part 2

Well, I think I got some of that sense knocked into my head. Darrel called me a spoiled rotten little brat, then raised his hand to hit me, after I'd befriended him.

"Look, I'm not Grace, you know," I told him. "You're not gonna get away with this. You'd better behave before I report you to the police. I have them on speed dial."

He tried to give me that sob story about his dad dying. I was, like, look, buster, I just lost my dear aunt. You don't see me acting that way. Plus, he put his hand to Grace BEFORE that happened so that's really no excuse.

Cooler heads prevailed and we settled down to do our trig homework. The only thing he managed to utter to me was, "You have a nice house."

Mom and dad came downstairs after hearing all the commotion. "What's going on?" dad asked. And I told him everything. A lot of my friends are jealous that my dad is so cool about these things. "I'll talk to him," he said.



After Darrel left, I went to the park where I met Ari, who was there with the lady she was staying with. I ended up telling her everything.
"Girl, you've really got it bad for this guy."
"I know, I mean, intellectually I know he's bad news, but still, there's something about him..." I let out a deep sigh.
"He needs to get over himself if he thinks he's gonna get a girlfriend by insulting folks. Maybe that's the only way he knows how to show affection. You don't know how he grew up."
"I suppose that is true --"
"I mean, Vanna, not everybody had a fairy-tale childhood like you did."
"Who says my childhood was a fairy tale?"
"Compared to mine it was! A lot of people, actually. You don't realize, girl, you had it real good."
I thought about it. I suppose I had a privileged life. My parents are both famous musicians and my aunt was a successful author. I never lacked for anything.

Darrel

Remember Darrel Marks, the guy I ran into at the mall? He's the one I caught hitting Kris' sister, Grace Geary.

Well, there's been some -- developments -- that I thought you'd be interested in. See, Grace moved back to Driftwood with her mom. I can't say I blame her, the way Darrel treated her. But Darrel asked to come over to my place and study. So I said, okay. We'll go over some things for English and trigonometry. It may seem strange for the daughter of two musicians to like math, but I do.

I even came out and asked him, why'd you hit her?

He was, like, "Why did I hit who?"

"You hit Grace, I saw you." And I warned him that if he even as much as laid one unnecessary finger on me he would hear from my dad, my lawyer, and the police, in addition to my fist. I mean, I may be slight, but I am not scared of anyone. I'm tougher than I look.

I know I shouldn't be thinking this way, but I'm totally falling for him. I don't even know why I'm feeling this way. He's chubby, bald, not even cute -- in a conventional way. He dresses in these clashing checks and plaids. Once I found out he was brave, like me, I think I was gone. The kicker is that he also likes exploring and hanging out in cemeteries. Never mind that he's also clumsy and mean-spirited.

My llama, what's wrong with me? He is totally not right for me in any way, so why do I feel this way? I'm certainly not one of those desperate women who'll just woohoo with anything that has a pulse. Or at least, I thought I wasn't. Please knock some sense into my head.