Twisted Alice
Stacey Michaels called me Twisted Alice once.
Despite the fact that its neither insulting nor clever (not unexpected through, since Stacey doesn't have two brain cells to rub together): it kind of stuck.
The name I mean, even my brothers call me it now.
I don't care particularly through.
In a way I suppose I am weird. Weird in comparison to everyone else that is. For example I spend most of my time hanging out on my roof reading thick, picture-less, library-borrowed books about the kings and queen that lived in the middle ages. Or another example is the fact that I have dyed my hair every colour known to man in my short 16 years on this planet.
But mostly I'm not weird or twisted, I'm just non-descript.
No one really notices me or anything, I mean I know them. But I've never felt the need to know them any better. I prefer being alone, I'm perfectly happy being by myself.
Besides I've got my best friend and boyfriend.
Or I did have them.
Sabrina was the first person to talk to me when I entered High school. Later I found out it was because she fancied my brother Liam, but it doesn't bother me much and because of it we did become friends in a weird way.
You see, Sabrina is one of those people who knows everyone in our entire school and can pretty much slip in and out of any social group she feels like, while I only have her. But I didn't mind really.
Then came Ryan.
At first I though he liked Sabrina and was using me to get to her, after all she is the tall, slim, blonde one. Who has been supporting a D-cup since we were 13 and I'm just… Alice.
But instead we started to go out, and for a while everything was fine, in fact it was pretty good.
Then Ryan started to get annoyed at me. I didn't really care, not even when he shouted at me: since I happen to live by the philosophy that emotion takes up too much energy. But I don't suppose my reaction made him any happier.
When he finally dumped me I wasn't really surprised. Forget all those nice lines e.g. "its not you, it me". Ryan bluntly snapped that I was too cold and weird. But well, I kind of expected that so I wasn't really bothered, I shrugged and walked away.
But what threw me was when I went to my form room an hour later.
Ryan already had a new girl, again not that shocking since I kind of realised that a lot of girls would be waiting for him to dump me.
I had never really been able to get my head round why he liked me in the first place. Ryan was like Sabrina: popular without being one of those. By those I mean the popular cliché. He was also really good looking, which for a teenage boy is not an easy feat since most of them are either too short, too tall or too spotty.
But he'd done something I had not seen coming at all. He'd actually managed to hurt me and through I prided myself on being able to see things coming a mile off, this was utterly out the blue.
The girl in his lap was Sabrina.
In that single moment of sickly pain, I remembered why I had honed myself to not caring about anything: emotion hurt. In my own way I had cared for both Sabrina and Ryan and they had both gone and betrayed me. This didn't just sting , it was agony.
"Alice?"
Sabrina asked guilty, running towards me as Ryan hovered red faced a few metres behind her.
I stared blankly at her, unwilling to even try to disguise the pain that was crossing my features.
"Oh, I'm sorry." she cried, throwing her arms around my stiff frame, before stepping back hesitantly when I coldly unhooked her thin arms from around my neck. Her lip-gloss covered lips quivered sadly as she looked at me, words gushing out at me irritatingly.
"You're ok with us? Aren't you?… I wanted to break it gently to you."
Usually I would have just nodded or shrugged indifferently, nor really caring or having any emotion towards them. Which was obviously the response they had been hoping for. But this time I did care and I had a lot of very raw and painful emotion coursing through me.
"Alice?" she asked again.
Abruptly my fingers curling up and my arm was flying sharply towards her. My left fist hit her eye straight on and I watched, thankful for those lessons in fighting my older brother had once given to me, as Sabrina crumpled to the floor.
Needless to say at once the room erupted into outrage. Everyone liked Sabrina, no one even knew my name. But I didn't stay around long enough to care, instead I fled.
Not because I was scared through. No, I was trying very hard not to cry and failing miserably.
I have only ever cried 5 times in my life, or 5 times after I learnt to talk if you want to be technical. The first time was when I jumped off my roof on the greenhouse roof which shattered and I ending up breaking my arm in three places.
The second time was when my cat died.
The third was when myself and both my brothers were involved in a car crash and I thought Liam had died.
The fourth was when I broke my arm, again. This time because I thought I could jump from another ridiculous height and that I wouldn't be hurt (again).
And now I cried over Ryan and Sabrina.
So I did what every teenage freak like myself would do.
I walked home, sobbing all the way.
My whole world felt like it was caving in as I plodded through the unfortunately, not deserted town. Like most of the 365 days a year in England: it was raining. And soon I thoroughly drenched, my hair plastered unattractively against my skull and my white shirt completely transparent.
Needless to say I didn't really care.
Or so I told myself.
Like most people who go through any sort of public schooling I had developed a defensive mechanism to survive the 1000 other hormonally driven teens. I had become cold and sarcastic about everything. Or at least I had tried to be.
Apparently even I was capable of feeling things like betrayal.
But where did that leave me now?
The Alice I had created was shattering all around me and to be perfectly honest I was scared shitless.
The door to my house was wide open as I stumbled towards it. But that wasn't anything unusual. My home was a badly painted terrace house on a street full of identical (if not better treated) buildings. I lived on a road where everyone knows their neighbours and each others business and no body even tries to hide their petty hatred of each other.
Take for example my old neighbour: Mrs Stamp, she died in her house about a month ago. Unfortunately before she was moved, she'd been left there for a good two days. Everyone knew about it. They just hated her so much in life that they couldn't care for her in death.
But she really was a mean little coot, in case you think we're all sadistic. Even her sister cried in joy when she heard the bad news.
"Alice?"
I sighed and turned around, still being battered by the never ending rain. My aunt was stood in next door's garden, peering suspiciously at me over the 3 inch high wall.
"What you doing in there?" I asked her, shivering.
Alena shrugged and clutched tighter at the large black umbrella she was holding (in my opinion she seemed guilty). But she was after all sneaking around in the garden of a dead woman. I mean I know a lot of people have raided Mrs Stamp's flower beds, but I didn't think my aunt would do something like that.
After all, she doesn't even have a garden.
"Oh, some new people are moving in, I'm being a good neighbour and helping them"
I swear I'm surrounded by idiots.
"You don't live here" I reminded her, leaning against the door frame so I could peel off my six-inch-heeled shoes and throw them into the hallway.
My aunt shrugged "So? I'm here more than you are."
Sadly enough that was true. Her excuse was that she was helping my dad out because he was a single parent: with a full time job and three teenage kids. But I think it was more to do with the fact that she had access to a fully stocked fridge and as much day time TV as she could stomach.
"…And if you're not at school, you can help too." Alena beamed at me, rubbing her hands together happily.
I hate happy people.
I scowled at the woman over the pathetic wall. So much for crashing at home and trying to drown myself in a 2 litre tub of Ben and Jerry's.
"Has your brother got the afternoon off too?" she inquired blankly.
I sighed and sank onto front door step pulling my legs up to my chest and curling my toes over the edge of the concrete slab. Forget what I said, I'm not surrounded by idiots. No I'm surrounded by idiots and Alena. She's in a field of her own.
"I felt ill." I said flatly. "everyone else is still at school."
My aunt shrugged and glanced at me out the corner of her eyes. "Its because you don't eat enough. You're skin and bone! You're wasting away!… Now come and help me."
"Thanks for your concern, it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside."
Alena yawned wearily, "Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Alice. But if I have to endure your neighbours, you definitely do."
I smiled almost pleasantly at her. "Alena," I started sweetly, "there is nothing on this planet that could make me do anything other than try to eat enough dairy products till I suffocate and die."
She raised an dark eyebrow, "You're really strange, kid." she told me obviously irritated.
"The words of a philosopher" I told her dully, trying to not to pout.
I just wanted to eat ice cream. I've seen movies, I've read trashy romance books.
This is what is meant to happen: the heroine (me) gets dumped, eats ice cream (without putting on a pound) and then meets the man of her dreams. The heroine does not walk home in the rain then be conned into being a bellhop for a family moving next door.
"Alice…" she warned.
"I know, I know." I waved my hand at her.
"You seem very angry today, are you sure you're ok?"
Now she asks.
"Aren't I always?" I said.
"Always what?"
I sighed in defeat and let my head roll back till it was pressed against the dripping wall. "Alena, you drain me."
"Allie! Oh, you've been such a help to me today!"
I looked up and to the left, where the door had opened and a woman was running, a newspaper clutched over a head of bleach blonde hair. She trotted- and I do mean trotted, can you say too high shoes? Anyway, she trotted to my aunt and threw a thin arm around the taller woman, basically putting Alena in a headlock. "Have you done the kitchen now, Sharon?" Alena asked through gritted teeth, pulling away from the stick thin blonde.
I watched silently, half hidden on the front door step as Sharon answered Alena. My new neighbour was in her late thirty's, peroxide blonde, slightly orange from too much fake tan, small, slim and had a face that just screamed: Kick-Me.
Well maybe I'm extravagating a bit, but I disliked her from the moment I saw her. And my first impressions were more often than not correct.
"Yep. Just upstairs to do, now." She gushed, linking arms with my reluctant Aunt. Then she spotted me.
Her face practically fell of her skull.
"Oh… You must be Alicia, right?"
"Alice" murmured Alena.
"right…shouldn't you be at school."
I shrugged "I'm ill." I told her, tilting my head silently and giving a weak cough for her benefit.
No one seemed very convinced.
Peroxide-Barbie smiled as if in pain. "Are you in high school, Adele?"
I nodded, ignoring the mistake of my name.
She clutched the newspaper tighter, running her fingers through an almost white slanted fringe. "Our Chloe will be starting high school next year, she's got a scholarship to a private school through. So I don't think you'll see her." she smiled placidly at me. "She's really bright, but there again most of my family are. My son is a certified genius."
I nodded blankly, looking pleadingly at Alena. I didn't need to think of any ingenious ways to commit suicide. If I stayed here listening to Peroxide-Barbie long enough I'd either be bored to death or die of hypothermia.
"But he's more of an artist than anything." Sharon added and then stopped suddenly, as if she realized she was on the verge of talking to two corpses.
"In fact, he's about your age…"
Forget I said anything.
For the next half an hour, I slowly became numb just about everywhere and learned more about Sharon and her family than I knew about my own. They were sickly sweet. A son who was an artist, a younger daughter who was beautiful as well as a musician and of course they all went to church on Sundays and helped the needy. It was all too much for a sarcastic teenager like myself to take.
I yawned as Sharon continued. The rain had stopped a while ago, but she hadn't noticed and the newspaper was still firmly attached to her head.
As I compared them to my family, I estimated they would last on our street about two weeks. And that was only if I did nothing to encourage the chaos that ruled my home, and I was definitely going to encourage. Just listening to Peroxide-Barbie was enough to make me take up cheerleading.
But I doubt I would need to. My father usually stumbles into the front door at 3 in the mornings at weekends, suitably drunk and only after he's supplied the entire street with the weekly rendition of "let me entertain you" .
And that was just my father, he had friends, not to mention two teenage sons.
"Yes, I think this neighbourhood is going to be good for my family, it looks so nice and I don't want my kids to be in the line of a bad influence."
Sharon finally finished, with quite a pointed look in my direction.
I scowled and stood up groaning at the pain in my cramped legs.
Alena's haunted eyes met my own as I turned to go inside. I've never seen her look so scared.
"Alice! You'll help us won't you."
I stared at her silently for a few seconds, was she crazy?
"Actually…"
But like always when I start to speak, I was interrupted.
But this time, it was so worth it.
The object of distraction turned out to be a police car that swerved onto the pavement a in front of Sharon's house. Her peroxide highness started to swear suddenly.
And these were words that would make a sailor blush.
"Jeremy! You little bastard!" She shrieked, running to the car as a youth slipped reluctantly out the backseat.
Oh sweet, sweet Karma.
This was Jeremy Morgan in case you're not following. Saint Jeremy who's a genius and happens to be my senior by about half a year. He was also handcuffed and had a look of pure hatred plastered across his face as he stalked up the path to his mother.
"Already! We've been here a day and you've already been arrested again!."
Oh and it gets even better.
I was practically glowing I was beaming so much. I stood upright, ignoring the fact that my shirt was transparent and my tights were soaking in a puddle, I was too busy trying to burn the memory of Sharon's face onto my mind forever.
Its times like this I'm glad I'm alive.
You see Jeremy, Saint Jeremy, happened to be a fully-fledged- full-blown-utter-(I'm-ready-to-kill-you-and-myself-while-listening-to-metal)-Goth. Complete with lip ring.
I grinned cheerfully at Sharon but she was too busy shouting at the police man to notice the look of unadulterated happiness that was spreading across my face.
Then Jeremy glanced over at me.
I'm pretty sure my mouth fell open in shock.
The world just kept surprising me today. I'd decided I didn't like it.
But I did completely understand why he went Goth. His skin was so pale it was translucent, his eyes silvery grey and his hair so fair it was white at the roots. Of course he'd decided to cover it with a ton of black dye but he still pulled off the angle of death look.
I didn't even mind the fact that he was wearing more make-up than me.
"What you looking at?" he demanded
I rolled my eyes. Why did the male species have to talk? I mean they'd be perfect if we could just look at them, but no. They have to go and open their big gobs.
"Your roots are showing." I told him flatly, leaning against the wall once more. Not so I could carry on looking at him. Nope, not me.
Jeremy's mercury coloured eyes narrowed, "Fuck me"
I'm pretty sure he meant to say fuck off, but it had the same affect of his mother. Barbie was looking scarred for life, I found myself not hating the youth just because of the look his mother was giving him.
I shrugged once more, "Aren't you in a Chastity club through?"
I thought he was going to leap over the fence and pound me into a bloody pulp. Either him or peroxide-Barbie, both of them looked rather irritated.
But then he did something unexpected, completely out the blue.
He smiled.
Well kind of grinned wickedly really. "I was, I got kicked out because I slept with the priest's daughter"
Yep, I've decided. I quite like Saint Jeremy.
Heehee. I'm sure no one will find this as amusing as I found it, but I do my best.
please review