(no subject)
Now that I have a little more time to sit down and relax, for the moment, anyway, I'm here to honor a request of Kelly's. Somehow, she seems able to convince me to do things I wouldn't otherwise do, like telling stories. But at least this story isn't about me. That makes it far easier, and I'm sure Amber will love the fact that I'm writing this. I hope you all appreciate it. I'm sure I'll be hearing about it for weeks.
Amber likes to make it seem as if she doesn't do reckless things. She's always been that way. She likes to look like the good one, the practical one. However, she's got quite a tendency to get into trouble, even if she manages to cover up her foibles well.
Amber got her driver's license when she was 16, just like a lot of kids. She passed both the written test with a perfect score, and wasn't too far off on the actual driving test. She just has this little tendency toward speeding that got her knocked back a couple of points. She does have a few things in common with the rest of us, after all.
She'd had her license a little over six months when something occurred that she has thought for years that no one knows about. She obviously has no faith in my ability to figure things out. That, and well, I spied.
The impetus for the incident started at school. She'd apparently been having some trouble with a teacher, which was a rare thing for Amber. Most teachers took a great liking to her. However, there was one female teacher who was, quite frankly, a bitch and a half, and she took a great dislike to Amber. You see, my sister always loves to overdo things. She'd get an assignment, and she'd go as overboard as possible to do it. If she had a paper to write, she'd write more than the assigned number of pages or include intricate maps/graphs/whatever, etc. Imagine enjoying homework enough to do extra work. The teachers liked her ambition and work ethic. Well, most of them did. The teacher in question thought she was a suck-up who really wasn't as smart as she acted.
On the day in question, the teacher had kept Amber after school. Some major project or other had been turned in the day before, and, as usual, Amber had gone all out. The teacher closed the door and then started to read her the riot act. She bitched her out for almost fifteen minutes about it, telling her that she wanted the project redone without all of the embellishments, and that Amber was going to get knocked down a grade for being late.
Amber was understandably livid, although she kept her mouth shut during the entire thing. When she left the room, she punched a wall. I got that fact on very good authority. I did have friends there, even if I wasn't in high school at the time. Then Amber took a good few minutes to try and pace off her anger, although it didn't seem to do any good. She was late coming home from school, and only told us that she'd had to stay after to help a teacher with something.
I noticed that she wasn't exactly in the best mood, but approaching Amber while she's like that doesn't lead to anything good. That usually doesn't stop me, but I decided to wait and see what happened before I used my usual tactic of calm diplomacy to try and talk to her.
I wasn't disappointed. I went to bed that night after her, but didn't sleep, because I just knew something was going to happen. About two in the morning, I finally heard movement from her room, so I waited. She's not very good at sneaking, I'll say that. She didn't even use the window. She took the wimpy way and went out the front door. Our parents were sound asleep, so there wasn't much risk, but when you sneak out, it's just not right to use the front door.
Well, I used the window to go out and follow her. She apparently decided to drive where she was going, but the odd thing was, she didn't go out to the curb where her car was parked. Instead, she opened the garage door and got into dad's truck. She'd apparently pocketed his keys on the way out. He always had this tendency to forget to take them with him when he went to bed, instead leaving them lying around somewhere. This often led to a search in the morning for them since for some reason they never could be found where he left them. It also gave me many opportunities to sneak off with his truck, but we won't go there. This is a story about Amber, after all.
So she took dad's truck and started off. She was going suspiciously slowly, meaning the speed limit, so it wasn't hard to follow her on my bike. She also wasn't being very perceptive, so she never saw me, even with the full moon illuminating me. She didn't have to go very far as it was, and stayed in the residential area, so it was a lot easier than it might have been following her. I didn't have to resort to drastic measures.
She ended up pulling over just down the road from a house that I found out later was the house of the teacher with whom she'd had a problem. I watched with growing curiosity as she took out a can of something and sneaked up to the house. She tested the garage door, which opened easily and fairly quietly, and slipped under it. It took her about fifteen minutes before she came out, and then she went straight to the truck and got in, driving off again. It took me a couple of minutes to decide to stay and check out what she did, so after she'd driven off, I went to sneak into the garage as well.
Imagine my surprise when I saw what Ms. Teacher's Pet had been up to. The teacher's car, which she'd only had about two months, was looking about thirty years old. There were rust marks all over the hood and the sides. It looked pretty fucking bad. No one who didn't know could have ever guessed it was as new as it was.
I got my laugh out of that and then went out to my bike, making my way home. By the time I got there, she was inside and in her room, so I went in and went to bed.
It was a rude awakening the next morning when I heard my father yelling outside, followed by the yelling inside as he came back in from the garage. He doesn't lose his cool much, so I knew something interesting must have happened. I went down to see what it was, and for some reason he turned on me. Imagine the unfairness of assuming I was the guilty party when he started laying into me about the damage to the front of his truck. I apparently had missed out by not following Amber home, because she'd managed to hit something or other, probably a tree. The damage wasn't awful, but it was still quite a bit.
Amber said nothing. She went down the stairs, saw him telling me off and throwing out punishment after punishment, and just went to breakfast. I got grounded, lost my allowance for the millionth time, had to do extra yard work, etc. Still she said nothing, just eating and going off to school like nothing happened. I didn't say anything since I'm such a good brother. Besides, it was future blackmail material. I never did do that, however, partly because it was such a joy to see Amber do something so underhanded and nasty. Underhanded and nasty to the teacher, that is. I felt I owed her for letting me take the blame. I won't go into the payback, which she never knew the reason for. I never did tell her that I knew. Well, not until now.
The teacher was a very unhappy woman, to say the least. She apparently took the day off, and had to fork out some money for the damage to her car. Her insurance wouldn't cover it, so she was stuck. That's nothing to sneeze at when you realize how little teachers are actually paid.
So there it is, the whole dirty deal. Now everyone can know who was the real guilty party when it came to what happened to my father's truck, and Amber can have the joy of hearing about it. I think I deserve an apology now for being forced to take the blame.
Amber likes to make it seem as if she doesn't do reckless things. She's always been that way. She likes to look like the good one, the practical one. However, she's got quite a tendency to get into trouble, even if she manages to cover up her foibles well.
Amber got her driver's license when she was 16, just like a lot of kids. She passed both the written test with a perfect score, and wasn't too far off on the actual driving test. She just has this little tendency toward speeding that got her knocked back a couple of points. She does have a few things in common with the rest of us, after all.
She'd had her license a little over six months when something occurred that she has thought for years that no one knows about. She obviously has no faith in my ability to figure things out. That, and well, I spied.
The impetus for the incident started at school. She'd apparently been having some trouble with a teacher, which was a rare thing for Amber. Most teachers took a great liking to her. However, there was one female teacher who was, quite frankly, a bitch and a half, and she took a great dislike to Amber. You see, my sister always loves to overdo things. She'd get an assignment, and she'd go as overboard as possible to do it. If she had a paper to write, she'd write more than the assigned number of pages or include intricate maps/graphs/whatever, etc. Imagine enjoying homework enough to do extra work. The teachers liked her ambition and work ethic. Well, most of them did. The teacher in question thought she was a suck-up who really wasn't as smart as she acted.
On the day in question, the teacher had kept Amber after school. Some major project or other had been turned in the day before, and, as usual, Amber had gone all out. The teacher closed the door and then started to read her the riot act. She bitched her out for almost fifteen minutes about it, telling her that she wanted the project redone without all of the embellishments, and that Amber was going to get knocked down a grade for being late.
Amber was understandably livid, although she kept her mouth shut during the entire thing. When she left the room, she punched a wall. I got that fact on very good authority. I did have friends there, even if I wasn't in high school at the time. Then Amber took a good few minutes to try and pace off her anger, although it didn't seem to do any good. She was late coming home from school, and only told us that she'd had to stay after to help a teacher with something.
I noticed that she wasn't exactly in the best mood, but approaching Amber while she's like that doesn't lead to anything good. That usually doesn't stop me, but I decided to wait and see what happened before I used my usual tactic of calm diplomacy to try and talk to her.
I wasn't disappointed. I went to bed that night after her, but didn't sleep, because I just knew something was going to happen. About two in the morning, I finally heard movement from her room, so I waited. She's not very good at sneaking, I'll say that. She didn't even use the window. She took the wimpy way and went out the front door. Our parents were sound asleep, so there wasn't much risk, but when you sneak out, it's just not right to use the front door.
Well, I used the window to go out and follow her. She apparently decided to drive where she was going, but the odd thing was, she didn't go out to the curb where her car was parked. Instead, she opened the garage door and got into dad's truck. She'd apparently pocketed his keys on the way out. He always had this tendency to forget to take them with him when he went to bed, instead leaving them lying around somewhere. This often led to a search in the morning for them since for some reason they never could be found where he left them. It also gave me many opportunities to sneak off with his truck, but we won't go there. This is a story about Amber, after all.
So she took dad's truck and started off. She was going suspiciously slowly, meaning the speed limit, so it wasn't hard to follow her on my bike. She also wasn't being very perceptive, so she never saw me, even with the full moon illuminating me. She didn't have to go very far as it was, and stayed in the residential area, so it was a lot easier than it might have been following her. I didn't have to resort to drastic measures.
She ended up pulling over just down the road from a house that I found out later was the house of the teacher with whom she'd had a problem. I watched with growing curiosity as she took out a can of something and sneaked up to the house. She tested the garage door, which opened easily and fairly quietly, and slipped under it. It took her about fifteen minutes before she came out, and then she went straight to the truck and got in, driving off again. It took me a couple of minutes to decide to stay and check out what she did, so after she'd driven off, I went to sneak into the garage as well.
Imagine my surprise when I saw what Ms. Teacher's Pet had been up to. The teacher's car, which she'd only had about two months, was looking about thirty years old. There were rust marks all over the hood and the sides. It looked pretty fucking bad. No one who didn't know could have ever guessed it was as new as it was.
I got my laugh out of that and then went out to my bike, making my way home. By the time I got there, she was inside and in her room, so I went in and went to bed.
It was a rude awakening the next morning when I heard my father yelling outside, followed by the yelling inside as he came back in from the garage. He doesn't lose his cool much, so I knew something interesting must have happened. I went down to see what it was, and for some reason he turned on me. Imagine the unfairness of assuming I was the guilty party when he started laying into me about the damage to the front of his truck. I apparently had missed out by not following Amber home, because she'd managed to hit something or other, probably a tree. The damage wasn't awful, but it was still quite a bit.
Amber said nothing. She went down the stairs, saw him telling me off and throwing out punishment after punishment, and just went to breakfast. I got grounded, lost my allowance for the millionth time, had to do extra yard work, etc. Still she said nothing, just eating and going off to school like nothing happened. I didn't say anything since I'm such a good brother. Besides, it was future blackmail material. I never did do that, however, partly because it was such a joy to see Amber do something so underhanded and nasty. Underhanded and nasty to the teacher, that is. I felt I owed her for letting me take the blame. I won't go into the payback, which she never knew the reason for. I never did tell her that I knew. Well, not until now.
The teacher was a very unhappy woman, to say the least. She apparently took the day off, and had to fork out some money for the damage to her car. Her insurance wouldn't cover it, so she was stuck. That's nothing to sneeze at when you realize how little teachers are actually paid.
So there it is, the whole dirty deal. Now everyone can know who was the real guilty party when it came to what happened to my father's truck, and Amber can have the joy of hearing about it. I think I deserve an apology now for being forced to take the blame.