Halloween Character Booktacular with (Miranda Kenneally)

Hello ! Today I have the lovely Miranda Kennealy with an awesome excerpt that Catching Jordan fans will love!!

 Papa has this prehistoric plaid couch the color of Halloween. Orange, red, gold, and more orange. It’s hideous. It’s hideous and I love it. It may look shitty on the outside, but it’s the comfiest couch ever. If I weren’t so scared I’d kill it, I’d dissect a cushion to see what’s inside. I bet it’d be full of clouds. My brother hates this couch. Ty keeps trying to buy Papa this leather and marble monstrosity that belongs in a castle, but I keep defending Halloween Couch’s honor. I’m not surprised Ty wants to replace it. He always thinks we should have the best, no matter if it’s practical or not. Like, he’s dating a top-of-the-line supermodel right now. It’s like he went to the supermodel factory and said, “I’ll take that one please. The one with the extra-long legs and the big boobs and hair that falls past her butt.” I’m thinking of my brother because I’m lying on the Halloween couch trying to figure out what to write for this stupid Five-Year Plan project the school wants me to do for Rory. I remember Ty having to work on his with a partner. His was easy: In five years, Ty will be playing for the NFL. And his partner was right. Ty is playing for the NFL. However, he was a bit wrong because Ty wanted to play for the Cowboys but he got picked up by the Cardinals and I like to make fun of him because, even though I don’t know shit about football, I know that Cowboys are more badass than birds. I type on my laptop: In five years, I’ll be Mrs. Rory Whitfield. Then I furiously jab the delete button because I hate girls who say stuff like that. It’s so lame. It’s as if they aren’t real people unless they’re attached at the hip to the guy they want. I’m a hypocrite. I haven’t been able to think about much besides Rory for the past year. I miss him. I hate watching Savannah Barrow moon over Jack Goodwin, not only because of what I did with Jack, but because I saw what she became because she lusted after him so hard. I don’t want to be that kind of girl. “How about macaroni and cheese for dinner?” I hear Papa call out from the kitchen. “Sounds great,” I say, knowing what’s coming. “Well get in here and make it then,” Papa jokes. “Let’s just order pizza.” “I love you,” Papa says with a laugh. “I love you, too,” I say. “Turn the game on.” “I hate football.” “Too bad. Your brother’s playing tonight.” “You mean he’s sitting on the sidelines holding a clipboard, right?” “Back-up quarterback is an important job!” “If you say so.” “He’s learning from the best quarterback in the league.” “I want pepperoni on my pizza!” “Don’t think you can change the subject by distracting me with pepperoni. You’re sucking up to me.” I grin to myself. I hate pepperoni, but Papa loves it. We always split our pizzas right down the middle. He’s my best friend. I’m sure lots of people would think it’s pretty lame that my best friend’s my grandfather. But whatever. I stare at the blinking cursor on my laptop screen. Where will I be in five years? Out of college, I guess. God only knows what I want to study. Will I have a boyfriend? Will I have any friends at all? Will Rory and I finally be back together? It’s my fault I lost Rory, I know that. When I first moved to Tennessee, I was only thirteen. My brother and I had to leave Texas to move in with Papa because my dad had died in a car wreck, and the same crash paralyzed my mom. When I started ninth grade, it was like all the girls automatically hated me because of my looks. I wasn’t stupid – I knew what I looked like, and I knew I drew the same reactions in guys that my brother elicits from the supermodels from the supermodel factory. I tried to make friends, I really did, but nobody wanted to be friends with the boyfriend-stealer. It’s not like I actually stole boyfriends. I just took their attention away from their girlfriends. I didn’t do it on purpose or anything, it just happened. And because my mom was sick and my dad had just died, people mistook my sadness for snobbishness. It was like all anyone could see was long blond hair and a skinny waist and blue eyes. How could a person who got so much attention from guys be so damned lonely? I had stopped talking to nearly everybody except Ty, Papa, and Mrs. Woods, the mother of one of my brother’s ex-girlfriends. That’s when one day, out of the blue, Rory Whitfield asked me out. He approached me in the library during lunch, and his face looked so sweet, so earnest, I couldn’t help but say yes. He wasn’t my type at all. His arms were thinner than strands of spaghetti, but I loved his smile and adored the way he cracked his knuckles when he was nervous. I fell in love with him. Hard. I shake my head, thinking of how funny it was when he threw a surprise party for me at Pizza Hut on my sixteenth birthday. We dated for nearly two years. I lost my virginity to him. I told him I loved him and he said the same thing to me. And then my brother went away to school. And all I had was Papa and Mrs. Woods. And Rory, and I loved him more than anything. And then my mom died. And I freaked out. I was dumb. I told Rory that I needed to make sure I really loved him, and I needed some time apart, and I pushed him away, because I didn’t think my heart could handle it if anything happened to him. I needed to forget about him. Rory cried. He said he’d wait for me. I knew he would. And then one night I went to a party. Got too drunk. Ended up sleeping with Jack Goodwin. How can Rory forgive me when I can’t even forgive myself? I don’t know where I’ll be in five years, I type. I don’t know how to get out of this place.