Okay, I haven’t been working on my other story like I should and here’s the reason: this new story. I’ve been thinking of writing about this for a while. Only now have I gotten the courage to write it out. This is a true story of a trip I took with my friends a while back. Yup, all true, right down to my stupid nickname and the pizza shop (You’ll understand if you read it)… I don’t care if you love it or hate it. This is just something I need to write about. Like the summary said, this is Femmslash so don’t read if you don’t like.

Chapter One

I remember my first plane trip… Well, it wasn’t actually my first, but it was the only one I could remember back to, unlike the ones from when I was four years old. I was sixteen and I was setting out on my first long trip without my parents or any other family. But I can’t say I was without family, it was more or less an unconventional family.

At that moment I was buckled into a small, Delta Airline plane with six other girls and three adults I had known since age five. The three adults were all moms, moms to three of the girls there. They sat as far away from us as possible, joking about how we would be the death of them and musing about their insanity of agreeing to take seven teenagers on a weeklong trip to Savannah, Georgia. You see these girls and I had been part of a Girl Scout troop since we had all been in kindergarten. We were heading to Savannah, the birthplace of Juliet Lowe, founder of the scouts, as the last thing we would do together as a troop. It was almost sad, knowing that the fun and our togetherness was coming to an end…

“I’m bored,” drawled Brittany. It seemed as though she was always bored if she wasn’t moving around. I knew I was in for trouble when I agreed to share a seat with her. “Tell me a story!” She playfully hit me on the arm.

“Why don’t you tell me one of your riveting stories about El Gato that your Spanish teacher tells all the time instead?” I retorted, reaching a hand out to ruffle her straight brown hair. She blocked the hand and roughly pulled on one of my tight brown curls instead. I smacked her hand away and turned in my seat to face her. “Don’t touch my hair,” I growled.

“Sorry! Geeze, no wonder we call you wolfie,” she said, referring to my growling.

“And it has nothing to do with that wolf who kept trying to drag her off like one of it’s pups?” asked another girl, Andrea, her tough Brooklyn accent cutting into her words. She and my friend Katrina, a Native American from the Navajo tribes, sat across the isle from us.

“Oh yeah! I remember that camping trip!” exclaimed Brittany. “You should have gone with it, Bri!” Andrea chuckled, Katrina let out a quiet laugh, refusing to speak in public.

My face turned red. “It wasn’t funny guys,” I retorted. I did not have fond memories of the wolf, staring at me as its eyes glowed from the reflection of my flashlight beam. I stood as still as possible on that eerie night, hoping the creature wouldn’t maul me. Truthfully, it hadn’t tried to drag me off like a pup, I had just had a staring contest with the thing. Then the wolf just turned and walked away as my friends came running to me noisily.

“Man, I wish I had gone on that trip,” said Danielle, another member of the gang. She sat behind Brittany and I with Kim, another girl. Those two had joined the troop late; they were sort of like outcasts, sadly.

“You two weren’t even in the troop when that happened,” I sighed, exasperated. Something about those two wore down on my nerves… “Where’s Bethany?” I asked, looking around for the final member of our posse.

“Sitting with her mom,” sighed Brittany. “She thinks she’s too mature to sit with us.” I shook my head, understanding. Bethany was going through the “we’re-adults-and-better-start-acting-like-them” phase. Yet, standing at five feet tall with the childish look and behavior about her still, Bethany was anything but an adult.

“I’m bored,” Brittany drawled for the second time.

“Not again,” I muttered.

“Andrea, can I touch your hair?” she asked, looking to Andrea’s mane of curly brown hair even wilder than my own.

“What is it with you and curly hair? Does it turn you on?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said, mischief glowing in her brandy brown eyes.

“Guys!” I pleaded. “Help!”

Andrea and Katrina were beside themselves with laughter. Danielle and Kim kept asking what was going on. “Come on Bri, you know you like this,” she teased, running a hand through my hair.

“Not in public, babe,” I joked back. Again we roared with laughter. “God, everyone is going to hate us on this plane by the end of the flight,” I mused.

“It’s a six hour long flight, they’ll kill us by then,” said Andrea. This time we tried to laugh a bit quieter.

--

Six hours later the plane touched down and we were quickly ushered off the plane. Brittany had successfully pissed off every flight attendant by discovering the joy of pushing the ‘call’ button over and over and Danielle and Bethany were getting on everyone’s nerves with the constant bickering they were famous for.

Surprisingly, the adults hadn’t yelled at us yet. That had to be a record. Stepping out of the airport, I suddenly realized the difference between hot and humid, and hot and dry. The difference was I had grown up in hot and dry Arizona; I could tolerate it. Hot and humid Savannah was unbearable. I felt like I was breathing underwater, drowning…

We got our luggage together and called a taxi. The man who picked us up was a nice old guy. He insisted on loading all of our luggage for us. He had one of the biggest vans I had sat in for he managed to fit the seven of us plus the three adults along with all of the luggage in there.

The first thirty minutes of the drive were spent talking; the last thirty minutes we spent admiring the landscape. As we got closer to Savannah the trees got taller, stranger, swampier, with Spanish moss hanging from them. I couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the sight… I cautiously drew a small notebook and pencil from my pocket, trying not to wake Brittany seeing as she had fallen asleep and was using my shoulder as a pillow. I awkwardly began to write, describing the views before me, never wanting to forget them.

“Hey wolfie,” muttered a half asleep Brittany.

“Hey you,” I said.

“Are we there yet?”

“Yes.”

“Liar.”

“Then why did you ask if you knew we weren’t there?”

“I’m bored,” she said, smiling evilly. This was going to be a long week…

We reached Historic Savannah in time to drop off our luggage in the almost abandoned youth group center we had bargained a stay in and head out into the twilight hours in search of food.

“Bug repellant, I love you,” said an annoyed Andrea as she sprayed more on. We were quickly learning mosquitoes loved unsuspecting tourists like ourselves.

“Why don’t you marry it then?” asked Danielle, her voice dripping with sarcasm. I rolled my eyes. God she got so prissy sometimes. I looked over at her with the shake of my head, telling her she was going too far. She just ran a hand through her greasy looking blonde hair and walked over to Kim and Bethany, who were having an intimate chat over “Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”

“Look, pizza!” shouted Brittany. She was pointing excitedly to a corner pizza shop entitled, “Joe’s”. “Can we eat there mom?” she asked her mother, the head honcho of our troop.

“Please?” asked Andrea and I at the same time, hoping to go for the cuteness effect as we got down on our knees and held our clenched hands in the air. We saw Brittany’s mom glance to the other two adults: they nodded.

“Yes!” the three of us shouted. Katrina gave a smile to show she was happy, still not speaking. The adults sent the four of us (Me, Brittany, Andrea, and Katrina) to go buy two large cheese pizzas while they went off the try and stop an argument brewing between Bethany and Danielle.

I sighed in relief as we stepped into the air-conditioned pizza parlor. It was crowded, but slightly cooler, dry air was like heaven at that moment. I looked around, studying the locals. They were mostly teens, like us, looking for a good eat. Then I spotted a girl sitting on a corner barstool, casually drinking a glass bottled Sprite. She was looking directly at me. I let our eyes connect, seeing what she would do. She didn’t look away. She seemed short, but not as ridiculously short as Bethany. She had straight brown hair hanging about her face in odd ways, and delicate square glasses, very similar to a pair of my own reading glasses that I had left at home. Her eyes were green- no, blue- wait, green. I couldn’t tell. All I knew was that I liked her eyes. I could stare at them forev-

“Earth to wolfie!” Brittany shouted in my ear.

“Huh?” I asked, looking away from those eyes and back to my friends. “What?” I asked.

“God, you were zoned out for twenty minutes!” exclaimed Andrea.

“What? I can’t have-“

“Yes, you could, we already have the pizza,” said Brittany. She shoved the two large boxes into my arms. “And you can carry them, lazy ass,” she joked.

Soon enough, we had met up with everyone else and were heading back to the… whatever it was called that we were staying in. We marched back to the place and stepped in. It was a three-story building. The first two floors were in shambles and cockroach infested. The top floor was very clean, however, with a conference room with a piano, two bathrooms, a stage with an abandoned drums set, couches, and a ping pong table. It was used as a youth group hang out ordinarily, you could tell by the pictures of the teenager events plastered all over the wall along with words out of the bible written around in a few places, not to mention a cross hanging on a wall.

“You okay wolfie?” asked Brittany. Truthfully, this place put me on the edge. I was Jewish and I never felt right in places like this, not to mention churches. Some people tell you racism doesn’t exist towards Jews anymore. But I know they’re liars every time a priest would give me a fearful, disgusted look if I ever happened to prance into his sterile place of holiness. And it’s not all priests, just some, but it still left me afraid of these places.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I breathed, trying to get rid of my fear. Brittany was the only one who saw I was uncomfortable here, she had a way with seeing the real me.

But then we were set to the task of fighting over who got to sleep where and the distribution of pizza, and all previous thoughts left my mind. And about an hour later the pizza was gone and I lay curled up on a couch directly above where Brittany and Andrea had set up their air mattresses. All of us had dressed down to half nudity, suffering from the sudden humidity. Brittany lay sprawled over a beanbag chair in nothing but her bra and underwear while Andrea and Katrina were locked in a fierce battle of ping-pong. Everyone else had taken off to explore the other parts of the huge complex.

“Why won’t the air conditioner work?” I roared.

“Well, everyone else left to find out how to turn it on,” said Andrea. I groaned in frustration.

“Who was the girl you were staring at Bri?” asked Katrina. The three of us turned to her expectantly, it was the first thing she had said all day. “Well?”

I blushed a deep red. “She was staring at me,” I mumbled.

“And you were staring back,” countered Katrina. Damn, when she did speak, she was always correct. I didn’t respond for a while, I just listened to the rhythmic clack of the ping-pong ball striking paddle and surface.

“I just… she looked…” I let my sentence trail off, hoping my friends would just fill in a suitable blank.

But to my dismay Brittany got up of her beanbag chair and flopped down onto her air mattress beside me. “Bri,” she whispered, “are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, the humidity’s just getting to me,” I muttered, turning away from Brittany as my face turned an even deeper shade of red.

“I’m here to talk if you ever want to,” she whispered. Then she got up and retreated to her comfy beanbag chair, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the clacking of ping-pong.