An Honest Mistake

OOC
http://www.roleplaygateway.com/honest-mistake-t23793-20.html

People,
They don't mean a thing to you
They move right through you
Just like your breath.
But sometimes,
I still think of you
And I just wanted to,
Just wanted you to know
My old friend...
I swear I never meant for this.
I never meant...

Don't look at me that way;
It was an honest mistake.
Don't look at me that way;
It was an honest mistake.
An honest mistake...

Sometimes,
I forget I'm still awake.
I fuck up,
And say these things out loud.

My old friend...
I swear I never meant for this.
I never meant...

Don't look at me that way;
It was an honest mistake.
Don't look at me that way;
It was an honest mistake.
An honest...

Don't look at me that way;
It was an honest mistake.
Don't look at me that way;
It was an honest mistake.
An honest mistake...

Plot

As it would seem, most all residents of Mensonvale believe that despair and misfortune bestow all who step past the city limits. Be you a teacher, a student, a senior, or even a grocery store clerk, a no nonsense homemaker, a dropout, a millionaire, or just an ordinary, everyday son of a bitch, you're not exempt from the so called 'Curse of Menson'. Drama and an almost unbearable bad luck comes naturally to these poor people, though they endure such troubles for whatever reason it may be. Here, you play as one of the Mensonvale citizens, any age, any race, and above all, any unique personality you can devise. Unique. Will your character, who may be dealing with a recent pregnancy or some other type of emotional torment, come together and find what (s)he's looking for and find a way to overcome her misfortune? Or, will (s)he turn life for certain residents upside down and find closure, or will they suffer eternally? Much like The Sims, you develop a story and include the characters who choose to join, or pull them in yourself? Will their story come together to a 'Happily Ever After', or completely fall apart?

Characters

Helena Elise Rush [15] played by Murdochrouge

Michael Stafford [19] played by Drako11

Brooke Cooper [18] played by Starwinter

Tyrone C. Miller [16] played by Sweet_requiem

Justin Tribes [16] played by Alero

Stevie Rae Felts [16] played by CherryCitrus

Lynn Marie [16] played by paralove

Mensonvale


_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Torrents of seemingly gray water droplets fell lazily from the equally hued sky as the sun tried its hardest to rise above the thick clouds that shielded the rather miserable little city. Mensonvale, it was called by residents and outsiders alike. It was known mainly for two reasons: The never ending livid weather, and the wicked state of mind it had placed all of its residents in.

Not only was Mesonvale a small, reluctantly inhabited hell hole, cursed to be perpetually dull and wet, but it was also a place where once excitable and happy people flocked to for some reason unexplainable. Once there, they quickly found that their world had become a sad and altogether uncomfortable place where uncertainty and worry became one of the few emotions left.

One of those pitiful residents had strayed from her humble home in the neighborhood district, her shoes sloshing in the dark puddles as she walked slowly throughout the vast, empty downtown district. It wasn't a long walk from her house to, well, anywhere in Mensonvale, really. The streets were, for the most part, empty as most people receded into their respective places of work for that Saturday morning.

The blonde haired teen exhaled somberly as she came upon the coffee shop, the smell of freshly ground beans and freshly baked scones filling the frigid air just outside its walls. Helena Elise Rush, her name, clutched the book in her near-morbidly thin hand close as she pushed open the front door.

All the silent people inside turned slightly to see if anything worthwhile were to step into their town, but, in dissapointment, returned back to sipping their coffee or reading the daily paper or some other task to waste the time until they all had to file out to get to their jobs.

"Would you like anything, miss?" the clerk muttered, the sound of bubbling liquids and the annoying beep of the different machines pounding into the blonde's ears.

Swiveling on her heel to meet gazes with the dark haired boy behind the counter, Helena shook her head, holding her book up to him as if to say, 'Just came for some peace and quiet.'

Not that she had to look very hard, for silence, that is.

That peace and quiet didn't last very long, however, for the moment the blonde walked far enough into a coffee shop to make it obvious that she intended to be inside for more than just a minute and to make her escape route long enough to be intercepted, the door at the other end of the shop banged open, causing a few heads to glance up, and a few to know just by the sound of the door who it was swaggering into the quiet little shop, studded belt-laden baggy jeans hanging routinely low on Tyrone C. Miller's waist and his famous worn leather jacket speckled with rain on the shoulders.

He shook the rain off himself a little, much to the dismay of the people sitting near him, and cast an eye around the coffee shop for anyone interesting that he hadn't bothered too much already today. Well, well. Check out the blondie with a book. She'd do.
Tyrone marched right up to her with a huge grin on his face.
"Well, helloooo blondie," he hooted, hovering over her book, right in her face. "You come here often?" His tone was practically raping her where she stood.

Furrowing her eye brows, Helena took a frightened step back. A disinterested frown pressed itself into her pert lips as she looked at the rather annoying stranger, his voice and possible intent lolling around in her wandering mind.

"Not blondie." the cerulean eyed teen muttered flatly, clutching her novel to her chest involuntarily. "And what business is that of yours? Do you put off women often?"

The petite young woman sidled her way into one of the cushioned chairs in the window, taking a wordless gaze out to the foggy street. A little girl and her mother bounded by and she smiled lightly, touching the freezing glass with the very tips of her slender fingers. Helena rolled her head back to the off-putting young man who had interrupted the peace just a few seconds before.

If she weren't so worried about making it sound as if she were trying to 'flirt' or something petty along the lines of that, the pallid skinned teenager probably would have asked, a little too softly, 'Have I seen you before?'. But, no, she couldn't. That would have been much too out of character, she wondered, a frown stretching its way unto her slightly chapped lips. That type of person...she just wouldn't be me.

School! the thought suddenly drove through her mind's rather traffic stung highway. She remembered seeing this odd young man Bizarre High, taking his sweet time making a pass at more than enough students in the first week. The ivory haired young lady remembered also thanking God for the boy never making a single move to show that he'd noticed her. What was his name? Tyler? Tyson...?

Her frown made his smile widen a little. He didn't have to do much with this one to get delightful results. Ah, fortune was kind to him on days when his favorite pastime was this was easy.

"Well," he cooed, following her retreat with his face, keeping about two or three inches between the tips of their noses, "If you don't want me calling you blondie, I hope you don't telling me what I might call you." His voice still dripped with heavy flirtation.

The dark-haired boy let her go past him with a grin, and watched her for a few minutes to let her get settled into her chair. When he was satisfied that she was sufficiently still and would take that much longer to get up, he loped over to where she sat and plopped himself on the arm of the chair between her and the window through which she was gazing.

"You know, it's rude to walk away from someone who asks you a question," he whimpered, as if she'd seriously offended him by escaping his grasp. He hovered patiently over her, looking right into her eyes expectantly, waiting for a name. Had he actually known her name, he wouldn't've bothered asking and would've just addressed her by it, but, embarrassingly, he really didn't know it. So he just...hovered. Right over her.

Justin wiped a tear from his cheek and told himself that this was the best thing he could do for anyone. Without another word, he jumped. The rope became taut, and he heard a *snap*. However, rather than his neck, the snap came from the branch above him, causing him to fall five feet and bruise his right knee. The rotten branch fell harmlessly beside him with a dull thud. "I can't even kill myself properly." he said to himself, more tears taking up residence on his cheeks. With another thud behind him, Justin's eyes opened, and he realized where he was. Though lost in his own thoughts, he was actually sitting in a coffee shop with an untouched hot chai sitting in front of him, wondering what he was going to do next. At that point, he turned his head to see a man much larger than himself clearly harassing a girl. He smiled to himself, and listened. Just say the wrong thing, he said to himself. He knew it probably wouldn't be a good idea to start a fight with this guy, but he did want to have some fun in order to cheer himself up, and whatever he came up with, this guy would clearly have it coming to him.

If there was one thing Brooke hated more than the rain it was... well, nothing. There was no worse feeling than being stuck in wet clothing as far as the eighteen year old girl was concerned. She stepped daintily out of her red Focus, trying to avoid stepping in a puddle. Even with her jeans tucked into pale pink rain boots she was still being cautious about getting wet.

As the rain hit Auburn locks (her natural hair color being a dark brown, Brooke opted to add some blond and red into the mix) Brooke dashed into the coffee shop. "Hi, my regular please" Brooke said, addressing the boy behind the counter. He nodded in response, and began to make Brooke's drink. As she waited, Brooke scanned the coffee shop, her bright blue eyes narrowing at a boy harassing a young girl. Instantly she recognized both of them, though they were a few years younger than Brooke. The brunette had been in a few classes with the blond girl while she was in school.

"Tyrone," she snapped, catching the boys attention. "I didn't expect to see you here. I thought vampires only came out at night."

"Is that so, then?" the porcelain toned young woman inquired in a tone not fit for an argument. "It's also rude to invade someone's personal space and then continue your invasion on such a person who obviously does not wish to speak with such a dolt. With that said, would you kindly step away before I do it myself?"

Though her soft features had been distorted into an expression that breathed fury, her icy blue eyes glinted with something that disobeyed her very being. They were brimming with interest, just coaxing the idiot to continue his onslaught on the young woman, allowing him the advantage of knowing that she would break at one point. Volnurability was not an option for darling 'Lena, though her eyes deceived all that that statement had stood for.

"Helena..." she grumbled, rolling her eyes and propping open her book as Helena took in each word intricately as she tried her damnedest to drown out the muscular man's words.

Her round face turned in the direction of the counter as a harsh voice belted out a few equally harsh words, causing a lapse in the young man 'Tyrone's' onslaught on her very being. "Thank you." she whispered into her book.

The boy's smile widened back into a huge grin that showed off minorly crooked canines, as he'd never found his smile off-kilter enough for braces. "Helena," he repeated, almost breathing it back at her. "Lovely name. And if I could see your face behind that book o' yours I might be able to tell you how much it doesn't match your name." He snickered.

He kept his hovering position as he spoke, moving subtly closer at five-second intervals, when he felt two more eyes on him. Familiar eyes. With a familiar voice. Didn't that girl used to go to his...? Jesus. Brooke.

His smirk faded into a sneer of disgust and he turned to face his opponent without moving any farther away from his victim. He bared his teeth at the fake-haired auburner. "You thought? Well, there's the problem right there, sweetie. Don't you have any other hot men to tease?"

Another person, and the scumbag sitting behind Justin was familiar with her. This was just getting better and better. There were so many options available to him, and all of them would give him a good laugh later, although some of them might also give him a black eye or two. He grasped his drink and waited to see what would happen next. So her name is Helena, he thought to himself. That might be good to know. He sat back and watched the situation unfold, waiting for just the right moment to act.

Brooke stare turned icy as Tyrone's rebuttal registered in her head. You've got to be kidding me. She thought, still staring down her opponent. Tyrone had pissed her off since the moment she met him. He was like a hurricane, leaving a path a destruction in his wake. Brooke learned long ago not to let him get to her, or at least to try not to let him get to her. He was like an animal with the ability to smell fear.

"Oh Tyrone, you are such a scumbag. The flaw with that last statement was where you said 'any other hot men'. Thinking people find you attractive is just wishful thinking on your part. Not only are you a jack ass, but you are delusional to boot."

The boy at the counter cleared his throat, catching Brooke's attention. She turned and grabbed her coffee, slipping him the money and waving her hand at him when he tried to give her back the change. The warm liquid burned its way down her throat when she took her first sip. To her, the heat was a welcome euphoria. Mocha and mint assaulted her taste buds. The combination was bliss, pure and simple. Brooke nodded her thanks to the boy behind the counter.

Tyrone had almost turned his attention completely back to Helena when Brooke kept talking. He sighed boredly and rolled his eyes at the ceiling. This little display was in reality just a ruse to keep himself from smiling hugely at the reaction his statement had elicited in Brooke's eyes. Oooh, that was a good one. He must remember that Brooke had a soft spot about teasing boys. Hm.

"You're right, Brooke," he said in an overly-earnest voice. "I misspoke. If I had meant other hot guys to tease, I would have been implying that you might be teasing me, as well. You are so right, Brooke, that was incorrect of me to say. Let me rephrase. Don't you have some horny devil somewhere that needs a good leading on? You don't really need to be wasting time with me, considering I'm already having a very pleasant conversation with this lovely lady here." He nodded toward Helena with a surprisingly genteel smile.

As Brooke walked away, he turned back to Helena, staying a little farther away this time, maybe to keep Brooke off his back.
"Where were we, Helena?" he cooed. "You know, Shakespeare once wrote about a Helena like you. Fair, lovely, a little lonely..." His semi-romantic words didn't quite match his devilish expression.

At this, Justin couldn't help but burst out laughing. He tried putting his hand over his mouth, but it was no use. "Ba haha haha ha! Oh, great choice sweet heart! Go for a character that's lusted after by mistake because of faerie magic. Genius! Ha ha..." His eyes widened at this. Probably wasn't the smartest outburst, but he really couldn't help it. He maintained the belief that if you're going to say something, know what the hell you're talking about. He hoped that he had been quieter than he thought, but that didn't seem likely. With his thumb, Justin loosened the lid on his drink and tightened his grip on it.

Tyrone paused for a minute at the outburst of laughter behind him and turned around slowly to face what looked to be a faggot. Oh, joy.
"And I'm sure you would know better wouldn't you, Oberon? Go find yourself a changeling to screw. I'm sure the Tatiana you left behind to be such a fairie would LOVE to hear the kind of men you're calling sweetheart nowadays." If there was going to be any question about who knew about what, A Midsummer Night's Dream was not one to doubt Tyrone on. He knew it back to front, and had decided about the third time he read it that Helena was the one worth siding with. At least there were a few laughs in store with her. Lysander and Hermia just kept bangin' over and over again, wasn't much fun in that. People elope every day.

Once again, he turned back to his blondie. "People are so rude, aren't they, Helena?"

A long, sadistic snicker drug itself from the confines of the blonde haired beauty's mouth, her lips quivering from the suddenness of it all. "Helena, from A Midsummer Night's Dream? She was a jealous, desperate broad, I assume you know? Not exactly the type of 'compliment' I'd hand over to a girl, if I were in your place."

Helena chose to silently thank this 'Brooke' girl who had so graciously protected her from the likes of the perverse brute who'd had his sights obviously set on annoying the poor young lady. She chose to ignore what he had to say further, trying to stay true to herself by remaining as silent as her emotions would allow her to be.

"Why is it that you're so set on me anyway, Tyrone, was it?" she murmured into the pages, each word seeming to complain about the noises the coffee house had begun to rumble with. "You're disturbing the peace here, boy."

He put on a hurt expression and pouted. "Helena," he whined, "If you must know, happens to be my favorite character in Midsummer because she knew what she wanted and wouldn't leave it alone until she had it for herself. You might say I relate to her that way." A little chuckle rolled past his lips, which were smiling again. "Sounds like a good compliment to me, comparing you to someone I'm fond of."

For some reason, Tyrone decided not to follow his instinct and snatch her book out of her hands and taunt her with it. He determined that he was having plenty of fun toying with her mind without physically touching her. Her eyes were payment enough.

"Yes, it is Tyrone. You can call me Ty if you want to, although I only allow select VIPs to get away with it, so don't tell." He smirked flirtatiously at her, leaning in a little to get between her and her book and force her to look at him. "The only peace I'm disturbing is yours, and your peace was just plain boring before I came to spice it up."

Justin was kind of surprised. Asshole had done his homework. That was enough of a surprise, let alone the fact that he was literate at all. He took a sip and began walking to the bathroom. "Spice it up? I think you added a little too much cayenne, hon." Justin muttered loudly with a slight giggle. On his way in, Justin took a salt shaker and sprinkled copious amounts into his hand.

Stevie Rae looked around the small house. It would do. She looked at her watch, was it really that late? She grabbed the apron and scurried out the house door. Remembering she didn't lock up the ran back. She slid the key into place and turned it until she hear a CLICK. She sprinted down the steps and threw her leg over the Harley. She kicked the peddle and the machine roared to life.'God, I love this hickass town' she thought to herself. She kicked off and the wind smacked her right in the face.
Spitting out hair from her mouth she stopped the motorcycle in front of The Daily Grinds coffee shop. She pulled her leg over the blood-red bike and slip the apron around her petite waist. She tied a knot in the back and opened the shop's door.

"Come on you piece of," a struggling voice growled underneath the belly of a Ford Escort, it's owners legs flailing around to accommodate the guttural tones. The voice belonged to Michael Stafford the nineteen year old owner of Jarhead Auto. Michael had been up all night working on the Escort, it belonging to a rather rich family in Mensonvale who would pay extra for it to be done quickly. Everything had been finished except a new oil filter and oil. Michael was currently trying to fit the filter on, although, as anyone could tell by his actions, he was not doing very well. The nineteen year old swore the engineers played games with the mechanics trying to find the hardest place to get to and stick the oil filter there. "THERE YA BIT**!!" The yell was one of victory and soon Michael was crawling out from under the SUV and wiping his black hands on his already thoroughly soiled overalls.

Striding over to a leather rolling chair the deeply tanned teenager fell into it and sipped on a Red Bull produced from a fridge next to the chair. He was wearing a pair of dark blue overalls, stripped down to the waste and tied by its sleeves to reveal a gray tank top. The layer had been shed during the exertion of work and Michael was still to hot to put it back on. Besides it was time to quit, he had been up all night, he would have to tell his secretary to close the shop today and.....Michael dozed off the Red Bull falling to the ground with a clatter and his head lolling back against the chair.

Hearing the witty comment from the lanky teenage boy on the other side of the room, the blonde belted out a giggle and smacked Tyrone harshly on the back of his head with her novel in the process.

"I-I'll go with Tyrone, then. Tyrone, has anyone ever told you that you're a slut? Because really...there are some really quite loose young ladies at our school, but you are by far the worst I've yet to see. There I was, so glad that you had ignored me the first week, but had I known you could be so fucking entertaining I would have spoken to you myself!" the pale skinned teen sputtered out between harsh fits of laughter as she gazed incredulously upon the big lug's facial structure.

He had spread on his face, a look better fit for a shark...or the devil, whichever happened to plague itself upon society first. To say he was flirtatious would be an understatement, Helena pondered to herself.

(( Sorry, that was atrocious of me to even think of posting, but I'm a bit busy with other things at the moment. I'll make up for it in a moment when I have more to respond to. ))

Brooke took another sip of her coffee. The silver watch on her slender left wrist caught her eye. Her mother was going to be calling in less than a half hour. She was on an extended book tour, and always called to make sure her baby was ok. One would think Brooke was her baby, but that person would be wrong. Her baby was her cream colored Mercedes. Though Brooke was allowed to drive her mothers car while she was away, she considered it a little too ostentatious for the small town. She preferred her Ford Focus.

When she reached the door, Brooke sighed audibly. It was raining. Still. Heavily at that. In one fluid motion Brooke pushed open the door, her slender frame rushing from the coffee shop to her car. She put her key in the ignition, turning it and immediately turning on the heat. Brooke relaxed at the warm air washed over her.

Brooke drove quickly, her windshield wipers furiously beating away the rain. Suddenly her car sputtered and began to slow. Brooke pressed her foot down on the gas. Nothing. She managed to pull off to side of the road before her car completely stopped moving. Frustrated, she slammed her fists against the steering wheel, jumping when the horn beeped. A bright red light on her dashboard caught her attention. How long had that check engine light been on?

Luckily for Brooke, there was only one auto shop in town and she knew the number well. She punched the number into her phone and waited for someone to pick, tapping manicured nails against her steering wheel.