Author's Note: This is my first femslash story, so I hope it's up to standard. ) I would love to know what people think of it. Thank you.
PrologueTime goes by so slowly.
Every little thing that you say or do
I'm hung up
I'm hung up on you
Waiting for your call
Baby night and day
Hung Up – Madonna
There are several things that annoy me: my parents telling me who I can or cannot see – or date, or just hang out with – my parents changing their minds after promising comething – "Yes, of course you can go to Anika's next week." Then, a week later, "No! You can't go, I told you, remember?" – and I especially hate my parents dropping bombshells. They do that a lot.
My name is Amy Weber and I've been to ten different schools in the past seventeen years. My dad does a job that means he has to move around a lot. What is it? I don't know, and I don't care. I don't much like my parents.
Years ago I went to a school and I met this wonderful boy; Josh. He was smart, funny and really cute. We dated for two months and then my parents made me move house with them and we had to break up. I was sad. Very sad.
So then I swore off men entirely – no dating until college. Once I get there I can live on my own and stop moving around … then I can find someone for me to love.
And that's how I found myself sat on the front step of my new home drinking lemonade from a bottle, sweating profusely from the heat of the sun. I was wearing a large straw sunhat, a pale yellow shirt tied above my bellybutton and a denim mini skirt, frayed at the bottom. Somehow every time we move, I always sit in the most awkward place while my parents put all the boxes into the house. I'd either sit on the stairs inside, so my mother would trip over me and knock us both sprawling down the stairs or I'd fall asleep right where the bed was going so that my parents would have to yell and yell to wake me up and move me.
Sitting on the front step would have to be the worst. My parents banged the cardboard boxes into my skull every pass, and after an hour of that I felt concussed. Thankfully they left for lunch, which I opted out of, choosing to stay on the step, agreeing to move once they came back.
I placed my lips around the neck of the bottle and drank down a few mouthfuls of the lemonade in silence. My mobile phone lay at my feet having been texting Josh. It was self-destructive, I knew that, but neither of us had anybody so it didn't hurt to text each other … however provocative the texts were. It buzzed, making a funny sound against the slabs beneath my feet, and I leaned down, picking it up and reading the text: 'So wot wud u do if u were here now?'.
I smiled to myself, tapping out a detailed reply. Yes, I was a virgin, but that didn't stop my dirty mind writing equally dirty texts. I just hoped that if we ever met again he wouldn't expect me to act out what I talked about. The words I tapped made my heart speed up in the fear that my parents would read my texts. Granted, they'd never shown enough interest in my life before to even ask how my day at school was, but you never know. If they read this they'd probably think I was a whore.
As I hit send I closed my eyes and leaned against the cool brick behind my head, wishing there was a way to escape the blistering heat. My hand relaxed slightly, the phone a prime target for stealing, which was exactly what Timothy West did as he ran past, giggling. He grabbed the phone as another text came in – one that was most likely both explicit and embarrassing.
"Timothy! You get your arse back here this moment, you little scoundrel!" I yelled, standing up and chasing after him as he legged it across the grass.
Timothy West was the seven-year-old son of the people that lived next door. My mother had instantly befriended his mother; June West, who had almost as quickly volunteered her entire family to help carry in and unpack our boxes. When my mother had accepted I had pointed out bluntly and rudely that if I found even one of my boxes unpacked there would be hell to pay. I forgot to mention stealing my things.
As I ran across the long grass in my sandals I realised why my mother had tried to get me to buy boots or trainers – they would be more useful for Timothy-chasing, a sport I had indulged in multiple times since we arrived a day ago. When it came down to it, though, Timothy was the only thing that kept me entertained in this new, boring, house. I didn't have any friends other than the ample amounts I could text, who never texted back, and I didn't have any books to read. I wasn't really the reading type. My one tradition required a DVD box set that hadn't been unpacked yet, although it was in my room ready for unpacking. My room was a small, pokey little hole that I could barely fit a double bed, a chest of drawers and a wardrobe in. To top it off, my window was a tiny little thing that even when opened seemed to actually bring the heat in rather than banish it.
As such I had decided early on that I would spend as little time as possible in my room, and spend the rest of the time outside, still being boiled alive, but getting tanned in the process. I finally caught up with Timothy, tackling him to the ground and trying to wrench my phone out of his hand. With his free hand he grabbed a handful of my light brown hair, yanking and making me yelp.
"You're deader than dead, Timothy West!" I yelled, angrily. "You better start thinking up your epitaph now because you're going to need one!"
"If you're going to kill my brother," the voice of Alicia came from nearby, "would you at least do it quietly?" Alicia west was lying on a hammock suspended between two trees nearby. I realised with a jolt that I'd run into their garden without knowing it.
"Amy!" he whined as I shoved him roughly away, obviously oblivious to his sister's presence. I looked at my phone to discover he'd opened the text from Josh. I clung to the hope that he hadn't read it, but that was quickly dashed when he asked his next question. "What's an org…org…" He didn't seem able to remember the word. I let out a sigh of relief. "What's an …" He struggled for a moment longer. "Orgasm?"
I flinched. "It's a great big ice cream," I said, making Alicia snort nearby. Alicia, being twice Timothy's age, knew enough about the birds and the bees, thanks, possibly, to her schoolmates (or possibly the internet), to know what I said was a blatant lie.
"Why would an ice cream make you …" He screwed up his face trying to remember. "Scream with … passion?"
"It was a very good, very enjoyable ice cream, alright? Now drop it!" I sighed and tapped out a reply to Josh as I walked back to the house.
I got back to the house in time to see my parents and the West family coming and going with boxes. I sighed, knowing that meant I couldn't sit back on the step. Timothy seemed distracted as he grabbed one of the smaller boxes, hefting it with all his weight, and carrying it inside. June grabbed me as I began to walk inside.
"I know you didn't want to eat lunch with your parents – nor did I. I saved you, me and Timothy a few sandwiches. Hungry?" she asked.
I stared at her, deciding I liked June West after all. "Famished." I smiled a dazzling smile at her and she towed me indoors to the dining room. There, sat on one of the boxes was two plates of a dozen sandwiches. I grinned broadly grabbing on and perching on one of the other boxes. Timothy grabbed his own sandwich and June tossed us both a bottle of lemonade, sitting down on one of the boxes.
Timothy got through five sandwiches before anyone spoke. I broke the silence. "Thanks for doing this, Mrs. West … I have to put up with my parents every other day, I just didn't want to eat with them today."
"It's no problem, honey, but please call me June." She smiled widely.
"You have a cool mom, kid," I said to Timothy, who grinned around his sandwich filled mouth.
He seemed to be thinking about something, then, with a determined face, he turned to his mom and asked, "Mom, can I have an orgasm?"
I choked on my bottle of lemonade and June, so shocked by her son's question, didn't hammer me on the back until I thought I was about to die. As I coughed up the fizzy liquid, Timothy looked at me confused. "You told me it was an ice cream." I blushed bright red and tightened my shirt, awkwardly.
"Am I missing something?" June asked, once I'd recovered.
"I … he … well … you see … it … Josh … I …" I trailed off, not sure how to explain what happened. Finally, deciding to bite the bullet, I pulled my phone out, found the text and passed it to June. "He read this. As it's not my place to explain the birds and the bees, I thought …"
June's face went from annoyed, to shocked, to disgusted, to embarrassed. Then she looked relieved. "Well … at least it was only that. I can think of worse things for him to read."
"You can?" I asked, curiously.
"Well … no … but I'm sure there are worse things."
I snorted and stood up. "Now I'm truly embarrassed … I'm going to … leave." With that I fled the room.
I arrived back outside and sat back down on my step, grabbing my left over lemonade, which was now fizz-less, and glugging down another few mouthfuls. I'd been there only a few minutes when a box hit me in the head and my mother glowered down at me.
"I thought we agreed you wouldn't sit there?" she snapped.
I glowered back. "I said I'd move. I didn't say I wouldn't move back."
"Can't you go … out? Most kids go out."
"Most kids have friends." I amended quickly. "I mean, most kids have friends that live within a hundred miles."
"Well, can't you go look at the school we're going to enrol you in?"
"It's Saturday."
"Then can't you go and find a part time job of some sort? Something that will keep you out of our hair?" She was getting progressively more agitated.
"How about I go and unpack my boxes in my room?" I reasoned, not really wanting a job.
"Fine. Just leave us alone."
I smiled to myself without humour. Just another day in my life – my parents not wanting me to exist. I stood up, straightening my skirt, and headed upstairs into my pokey little room. As soon as I entered I pulled up the blind and let in the blinding sunlight, cracking the window open as far as it would go without physically falling out. I turned around and reached for the first cardboard box, pulling off the tape and reaching inside. From the feel of things it was my clothes. I glanced out of the window at the blinding sunlight and felt the heat and decided that although basic black was my usual attire, it was time for a more reflective wardrobe.
With a sigh, I moved to the next box and reached inside, pulling out a large blue teddy bear. My lips quirked up in a smile as I clutched the teddy to me and buried my nose in its furry head, smelling the familiar scent. Aptly named 'Mister Cuddles' had been my one constant companion since I was a baby, even though he had one eye missing, a bite mark out of one ear and the stuffing was falling out of his butt. I never told anyone he existed as it embarrassed me that I, a seventeen year old girl, still slept with a teddy.
Opening a third box, Mister Cuddles now leaning leisurely against the headboard of my bed, I discovered the DVDs I'd been searching for. I pulled the large box out of the cardboard one, just in time to realise that I didn't have a DVD player in this room … or a TV. Not even an old black-and-white one.
I took all the boxes off the bed and put them down on the beige carpet, then I turned to the window, pulled the blind down, blocking out a large portion of the light, went back to my bed and flopped down on it face-first, letting loose a largely muffled scream of annoyance.
"So starts life in hell," I announced to the empty room.