Lit.Org - a community for readers and writers Advanced Search

Average Rating

(0 votes)

You must login to vote

Preparations for an Awesome Trip

A knock sounded on my door, waking me up abruptly. “Marcus, someone on the phone for you.”

(“Damn it.”) I looked at my clock, and almost screamed in frustration. (“Who in the hell is calling me at 7:30 a.m.?”) Despite my miniature rage, I acknowledged to my stepbrother, Gregory that I was coming.

Gregory is the son of my stepmother, Linda McDonald. He is a graduate of Vidalia High School. Being a big good-looking football jock and having one of the most beautiful girls for a girlfriend has gained him notable status among his peers and has made me notably jealous. However, I digress. I opened the door and received the phone from him.

“Hello?” I said.

“Marc, you up?” said someone on the other line.

“No, I’m talking in my sleep. Of course I’m awake, James.” I said.

James is one out of the eighteen first cousins I have and out of the eighteen, I can honestly say that he is the most egotistical person that I know. Gosh, he is so full of himself. Sometimes I wonder if there is enough room in his head for his brain since most of it is filled with junk you wouldn‘t believe. Yep, this hip-hop victim really gets to me sometimes.

“Don’t be smart with me, boy.” said James.

“Whatever, I don’t feel like arguing with a fool this morning. What you called me for?” I asked.

“Just reminding you about the trip to Orlando tonight.” said James.

“You mean the trip that’s going to take us to Universal Studios unless we all meet at the bus at 10:30 tonight? Don’t worry I didn’t forget. Your mom is picking me up, remember?” I said a little bitterly.

“Damn, what crawled up your ass this morning?” asked James.

“Nothing did. I just don’t take kindly to people who wake me up in the early hours of morning. Now if you don’t mind, I’ll see you tonight.” I said.

Before he could say anything else, I hung up the phone. I took the phone back to Gregory and laid back down in my bed, trying to go back to sleep. Come to find out, I could not go back to sleep. James woke me up permanently. Sighing, I turned on the TV and began watching my usual lineup of shows.

People who say summer is the greatest season of the year must have been speaking for themselves. Ever since I moved in with my dad in the country, only thing I have been doing is sitting at home, watching TV while all of my friends were going places and having fun. My dad and Ms. Linda always get on my case about that fact. Ms. Linda would always say that she had never met a child that stays in the house all day long. The bitch probably didn’t notice her surroundings yet because if she did then she would notice that there was nothing but trees and dirt outside. However, I digress.

Soon, day became night, and I showered up for the big trip. To tell you the truth I have been looking forward to this trip. After all, this trip was going to be the highlight of my summer, besides the fourth of July. I called my aunt Lisa, James’s mother, to ensure that she will come and pick me up because sometimes she forgets or decides that she’s too lazy to come pick me up. After we confirmed the arrangement, I sat in my room and waited.

It was ten o’clock. I was beginning to pack the stuff I would need for the trip when my dad called for me. As usual, I went to see what he wanted.

“What are you still doing here?” asked my dad.

“What do you mean? I’m waiting for my auntie. You know, to take me to the school where the bus is at since you can’t take me.” I said.

“You meant that was tonight? I thought you were leaving at 10:30 in the morning,” said my dad.

I frowned. “No, I said 10:30 at night.”

“No, you didn’t. You just said 10:30. You didn’t say you were going in the morning or at night. Therefore, I just assumed you were going in the morning. I mean come on, you don’t exactly hear of kids going on trips at night,” said my dad.

I thought about it and realized that my dad was right. I did not indicate whether I was going at day or night. For once, I agreed with him. I felt a little bit bad, but the feeling quickly passed.

“I could’ve taken you if I knew you were supposed to leave at night,” said my dad.

“Well, my auntie is on her way now, so you don’t have to worry about it.” I said.

Minutes later my aunt Lisa was blowing the horn outside. Grabbing my stuff, I went out the door. Uh-oh, forgot my deodorant, cannot leave without that. I was on my way out the door until my dad decided to say a few more words to me.

“Have a good time,” he said half-heartedly.

“Okay.” I simply said.

I am finally out in the warm night air and I spotted a black Ford Explorer. I enter it and see my aunt Lisa, who as usual is talking on her cell, and my other two cousins, Corey and Anthony Yarbrough. They’re James’s brothers. I won’t describe them since their not important to this story.

I realized I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Marcus Sanders, seventeen and ready for senior year. More like ready for it to be finished. I’m vice-president of VOCA, even though I still don’t know what the name stands for. My hobbies include reading, writing, and driving. I know it’s an unusual combination but it suits me. I’m a little bit on the sarcastic and neurotic side, which I heard is somewhat a dangerous combination.

That’s just a little bit of info about me. Everything else you’ll know in due time. We arrived at my destination. Almost immediately, I see people pulling up at the schoolhouse and dropping their teenagers off. Some teens I knew, some I didn’t.

“Marc, tell James to come here,” said Aunt Lisa.

“Okay.” I said.

I did what she told me to do and got inside the bus. The first thing I thought was (“hell no.”) This charter bus was hot. Flashbacks of the VOCA regional competition came to my mind. I looked all over the bus and thought to myself that it looked familiar. Then it hit me; we had this same piece of crap at region. Note to self, don’t ever trust Omar with making the decisions for future trips. Speaking of the president, where is he?

I pushed the thought past me and endured the heat. One thing I always try not to do is complain. No one loves a complainer and I’m certainly one of those folks that don’t. If I don’t like a certain situation, (e.g. I eat something that tastes nasty) I always keep it to myself instead of blurting it out like an idiot. I spotted an empty seat, so I sat in it.

I pulled out a tablet from my bag and began writing in it. However, I stopped. I couldn’t concentrate with all the noise that was going on in the bus. My fellow teens were being immature, yelling and laughing throughout the bus. One girl was being particularly loud and strutted through out the bus.

The girl was Sharon Acker. I really don’t know her but I have seen her walking around the school before. She used to come inside Ms. Forelli’s classroom during first lunch, usually to see Ms. Forelli or to mess with the other students in class. Suddenly she looked at me.

“I see you, always trying to be quite,” said Sharon.

She then continued to the front of the bus. “That’s right. I’m messing with everybody.”

What a weird girl; I didn’t know what to say to that remark. Anyway, I saw James coming inside the bus with his girlfriend, Karen Parker. Karen is the kind of person that likes to argue and push people’s buttons. We usually get into it from time to time. Almost everyday we fuss about something meaningless, and the weird thing about it is that we went to prom together. Yep, our friendship is very unusual, if you can call it that.

The next ones to come were the Manson brothers. One was Sean Manson. He was youngest of the two. The oldest one, who was my age, was Ivan Manson. They’re both related to James, so I guess it’s safe to say that they share similar characteristics. Especially Ivan, he looks just like an egotist. I’ve also heard that he gets into many fights. In my eyes, he’s a loser, a gangster wannabe, a…

“Hey, what are you writing?” said Ivan

… very cute guy. I realized that I was staring and shook my head slightly. “Oh, uh, just a story, nothing special.”

“Oh, a writer, are you?” said Ivan. “Didn’t know we had those in Vidalia.”

Then he left to go to the back of the bus. Wow, I can’t believe I thought that about Ivan. Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that I was bisexual? Gasp, shocker. Before you begin to put your children behind your backs and break out the bibles, let me tell you that I am far from being perverted. I don’t rape little boys, and I’m not looking for a career in drag. I’m a regular teenage boy that has issues to deal with like everybody else.

It’s something about me that I have been battling with ever since I knew what it was called. When I went to high school, the battle had started to take a toll on me. My grades dropped, I lost weight (thank God!), and I became depressed. When junior year came, I decided to accept it in order to avoid a suicidal blast from my subconscious. I liked girls, and I liked guys. So simple, and yet so complicating at the same time.

Suddenly a bag was waved in my face. I looked up and realized Ms. Forelli was handing it to me. “Candy?”

I took it. “Thank you Ms. Forelli.”

She smiled and continued to give out candy bags to the rest of them. I opened the candy bag and saw Twix’s, Kiss’s, SweetTarts, and various lollipops. I couldn’t get the chocolate because they melted under the unbearable heat, so I settled for SweetTarts. Here is a little info about Ms. Forelli. She is one of the nicest women I have met in my life. She accepts you for who you are and doesn’t judge you. Plus, she’s a fun person to be around with. She got a good reputation for a sixty-four year old woman.

The remaining people pooled into the bus, people including Joan Hill, Denzel Parker, Tiana Walker, Joni Maywhether, Mercedes Locke, Cheryl Jackson, and Davis Sullivan. The driver cut the bus on, allowing the air condition to run. It relieved us from the heat, so we began to cool off. However, it wasn’t much so we were still relatively warm.

“Don’t worry people. The bus will cool off when it starts to move.” ensured the driver.

When the bus moved, however, the temperature didn’t seem to change. Nevertheless, I didn’t complain. The bus began to move out of the school and onto the road. Then I began to realize something. Where in the hell is Omar Lane? While I’m at it, where is Jamie Stewart?

“Ms. Forelli,” someone said. “Omar just called and said meet him and Jamie at Flash Foods.”

“Okay. Thanks baby doll.” said Ms. Forelli.

So we ended up stopping at Flash Foods. Soon enough the bus became unbearably hot again. People got out of the bus. Some went to the store and some just stood outside for fresh air. We waited ten minutes for Omar and Jamie to come. Omar got on the bus.

Omar is the president of VOCA. He’s responsible, organizing, and perverted. Most girls find him perverted and strangely attractive. I sure as hell don’t, but if you like people that have the face of cartoon characters, then be my guess and get them. I’m just joking. I don’t go for looks alone if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not that shallow, if at all.

A minute later, Jaime got on the bus. Jaime, well, she’s a mess, in a good way. She’s cute, hot, and fast. I had a crush on her in the ninth grade. It lasted for a month. What’s with the short time you ask? Well, let’s just say that I found out who she really was.

After a few more minutes in the hot bus, everyone came back inside the bus. The driver turned the bus back on and the bus cooled off very little. Despite the annoying heat, we were finally on our way to Orlando. I put my tablet inside my bag, since I knew I wasn’t going to write anything in it. I took out my contact lenses and attempted to sleep through the trip.

Related Items


The following comments are for "My Orlando Nightmare"
by WriterEsque

Add Your Comment

You Must be a member to post comments and ratings. If you are NOT already a member, signup now it only takes a few seconds!

All Fields are required

Commenting Guidelines:
  • All comments must be about the writing. Non-related comments will be deleted.
  • Flaming, derogatory or messages attacking other members well be deleted.
  • Adult/Sexual comments or messages will be deleted.
  • All subjects MUST be PG. No cursing in subjects.
  • All comments must follow the sites posting guidelines.
The purpose of commenting on Lit.Org is to help writers improve their writing. Please post constructive feedback to help the author improve their work.