AN: So here we are again, back for another go at 'You Mean Hell Isn't Far Enough'. Over the past year I've been refining the charaters and storyline and have finally gotten around to the rewrite! :D Yay, joy and merriment for all! Anyway, I'm trying to keep from getting in over my head this time, so I'm staying a chapter ahead. Once I'm done chapter 3, which should be soon, I'll post chapter 2, and so on.
Hope you guys like it, I've worked really hard to keep this going! :3
Full Summary: Sophie Mackenzie has a less than perfect life. Her family is the poorest in their rich town, her mother left them when she was twelve for another man, and she's just a little in love with her sister's boyfriend's best friend. Throw in gay best friends, scandals, rumours, new hot emo boys, and top with a dash of band practice and you've got yourself a nice mess.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any products and/or merchandise named in this story.
Tick, tick, tick, thud. Tick, tick, tick, thud-thud. Tick, tick, tick, thud-thud-thud.
'What the-' I managed to think sleepily before the door to my room was blown nearly off it's hinges. Knowing instantly who it was, I groaned and buried my head into my Pikachu patterned pillow. It was a childish thing to own, but screw it. I had to stand by my lov- er, childhood obsessions. Yes, that would work.
"Oh, Sooophieee!" The girl in my doorway called out in an evil, sing-song voice. "It's time to wake up!" I responded with a less than intelligent grunt, and threw a nearby stuffed toy in the direction of her voice. I heard her giggle, and then the tell-tale click of her standard heels came closer. See, this girl was someone I would never approach in life if I didn't have to. I hated people like her, and tended to avoid them at all costs. However, there was one small problem that kept me from doing this: she was my sister. My twin, in fact.
Monique was a prep. Plain and simple. I was not. I was what some people call a scene kid, though most high schoolers didn't care to realize that and instead labelled me as emo. I tended to ignore most high schoolers. While Moe kept her long black hair naturally curly, I usually cut mine shorter, straightened it and dyed strips of colours in it. She wore pink and was a cheerleader, I wore black and was in a band. She only had her ears and bellybutton pierced, and I had snake bites, an eyebrow stud and multiple ear piercings. Heck yes, I am that classy.
We aren't the richest family in Cavendale. Heck, we were probably among the poorest. But somehow we still managed to go to Judas Academy, a private school. Dad probably spent all of the money he had left after Sharon, our mother, left to get us in, because I was sure we didn't get in due to our grades. Neither of us were slackers at school, but we weren't exactly straight-A students.
"Sophie," Monique said from beside my bed, "Get up! We have to meet the guys at the mall in an hour!" Said 'guys' were Monique's boyfriend, and my band-mate, Simon, and his friend James, who I had the biggest crush on, even though he barely noticed my existence. Oh, how cruel life doth be. I simply grunted in response.
"Sophie Tabitha Mackenzie!" she screeched, pulling my pillow out from under me. I let out a noise of disapproval, flailing my arms after it.
"Givit back," I moaned, hiding my face from the sudden brightness of the room.
"Not until you get up," she teased, waving it before my face. I growled but sat up grudgingly, rubbing at my eyes. As far as sisters went, Moe was usually quite good, but at this moment I was groggy and annoyed, so she didn't seem so great. I pulled myself slowly out from under my warm covers and crossed the hall to the bathroom. Yes, we only had one bathroom, but it was enough for us, well, except for when Moe had a friend over. What was with preppy girls and their products?
I brushed my teeth as slowly as I could without actually stopping, then brushed my hair with slow, deliberate strokes, making sure I got all the tats out, then set to straightening it. Could you tell I was wanting to put off this meeting as long as possible?
I reached for my small make-up bag, with held all of a stick of eyeliner, a tube of mascara and a line of eyeshadow squares, and went to lining my eyes more darkly than usual, which I blamed on my inability to face things. I knew I was just wasting time, but as much as I wanted to see James, I wanted him to want to see me too.
Once I was finished primping, I went back to my room to find Monique lying on my bed with a small book in her hands. As she flipped through the pages, my eyes widened as I recognized my own untidy scrawl. My journal. She was reading my journal.
"Moe," I began icily, using the nickname only I could use for her, "What's that you're reading?"
Monique jumped, unaware of my presence until now, and hastened to put the journal away.
"Oh, you know. Just some old text book for, uh, school," she lied, guilt covering her face. I narrowed my eyes, upset that she would lie to me so easily.
"Oh?" I pressed, knowing she would cave in a moment, "What's it about?"
"Ah, nothing you would be interested in," she said, trying to play it off. I wasn't convinced, probably because I knew it was my journal. "It's on, uh, the history of, ah, Native American tribes in...Japan!"
"Really," I said dryly crossing my arms and shooting her a look that said 'fess up'. Her bottom lip trembled for a moment before she launched herself off the bed and into my arms.
"I'm so sorry, Phee!" she cried, shaking her head, "I didn't mean to, I just saw it lying there and I was curious! Please forgive me!" Oh right. I didn't say anything for a moment, wondering how I was so stupid as to leave my journal just lying around in the open. Among the many, many pages of lyrics were some posts that would end my life if someone read them.
"You're forgiven," I sighed, squeezing her for a moment before pulling her back by her shoulders and looking at her seriously, "But what parts did you read?" I was worried. As far as I knew she didn't know about my crush on James. Well, she didn't before today, at least.
"Well, uh, please don't be angry, but I read something between a bunch of love songs. It was about James," I felt my stomach drop out of my body as she continued, "Something like, 'Every look from him fills me both with joy and sorrow'. Phee, what's that about? Do you like James?"
I released her shoulders and turned my back to her, walking over to the window to lean on it. I couldn't let her see the tears that were gathering in my eyes. Outside I watched an elderly couple strolling down the street, hands clasped. A little boy gave a flower to a little girl. A couple of dogs sniffed each others butts. A quiet sob escaped me, and I felt my sister's arms wrap around me while she rested her chin on my shoulder.
"It's okay, you know," she whispered, "Everybody cries. Everybody falls in love,"
I attempted to say something but it came out as a heartbroken sob, which opened the floodgates of my tears. I threaded my fingers with hers and leaned back into the embrace. It felt good to be held, even if it was by my sister.
A minute passed and my tears subsided. I didn't like crying, it made me feel weak and foolish. I brought up my pyjama sleeve to wipe the tear tracks from my face and turned in my sister's arms to face her.
"Thanks," I murmured, pressing a kiss to her cheek, "I guess I needed that. My make-ups probably screwed, though," I commented, letting out a watery giggle. Monique grinned at me.
"Actually, it's not bad, considering," she told me, brushing her thumb below my eye, wiping up some stray eyeliner. "I got waterproof stuff, last time," she explained, "Just in case, you know? Though, honestly, I thought it would be me doing most of the crying," I smacked her shoulder lightly and ushered her from the room, saying I had to get dressed.
I went to my dresser and pulled out a red and black long sleeved shirt and black skinnies. I slipped on some socks and put my pocket watch into the front pocket of my jeans, attaching the chain of it to a belt loop. The necklace I always wore was already around my neck, the silver ring on it glinting in the sun. My best friend, Phoenix, had a matching ring that he wore on his middle finger at all times. We got them two years ago at an out-of-town market, and they had been a symbol of our friendship since.
I raced out into the hallway and towards the narrow stairway. Our abode is a small, two-story house painted baby blue, which had white shutters with heart shaped holes through them. It was pretty cute, though our Dad didn't seem to agree. He wanted to paint it yellow. Yeah, yellow. Personally, I think it is the grossest colour in the spectrum we can see. It's the colour of bananas and yellow snow. In my books, this equals icky.
Running precariously down the hardwood stairs, which was quite a feat in itself, seeing as I was in socked feet, I fell into the kitchen. It was just a small room with a fridge, a microwave and a stove but it worked. My dad was by the stove, cooking what I assumed from the smell was bacon. Bless his soul, he was up at eight am. on a Saturday morning to cook us breakfast.
"Morning, sweetheart," he called cheerfully, his back to me. Since Sharon had left, he had studied and prospered in the one thing he loved more than Moe and me: cooking. Dad worked at a fancy restaurant downtown called Frazier's. They were stingy and charged exorbitant amounts of money for small dishes, but the food was delicious, due to my father's cooking skills.
"Hey, Dad," I greeted, leaning around him to kiss his cheek, "Moe told you we're going out, right?"
"Of course, of course," he began dramatically, "You girls are always going out. You just have no time for your dear old dad anymore!" He sighed theatrically and transferred the now cooked bacon onto a plate. Making a noise in happiness, I grabbed a few pieces of toast from the stack and filled them with some strips of bacon. I hadn't even been able to take a bite from my sandwich before Monique flew down the stairs, quickly grabbing a slice of toast, her purse and my arm, before leaving with a hurried, "Bye Dad!". I waved forlornly, my sandwich wedged in my mouth, and was shoved into our busted up car. I was painted a worn shade of red, and some said it was due to die any day now, but it worked fine for us.
Monique started the engine with a roar and sped off down the lane, intent on getting to the mall as soon as she could, seeing as we were already late. I busied myself with munching on my bacon sandwich, pausing only to slip a Slot CD into the disc drive. My sister gave me an exasperated look as the Russian metal began pouring from the speakers. I shot back a smile, cheeks full of sandwichy goodness.
All too soon for my tastes, we reached the mall and Monique shut off the car mid-song, causing me to halt in my headbanging. I glared at her, and she only shrugged, getting out of the car. I pouted, but followed suit, making sure to slam the door after me. That would show her to mess with my music!
"Nice one, genius," came Moe's voice from the doors of the mall, "It's your car too, you know,"
"Oopsie," I said, whipping my head around to see if anyone had witness my blunder. I saw an old lady glancing at me and narrowed my eyes at her. Target must be eliminated. I began pushing up a sleeve, ready to kick some elderly hiney, when Monique grabbed me by the arm and dragged me inside.
"Honestly, what is wrong with you," she muttered, pulling me along behind her. I pouted.
"Why, nothing at all, dear sister," I replied, yanking my arm from her grasp and rubbing my wrist where she had been manhandling me. "Geez, my wrist has feelings to," I whined.
"Well, your wrist can get over it. You made me late to see Simon," I stuck my tongue out at her, thankful I was behind her, meaning she couldn't see what I was doing.
We soon came to the main sitting area of the mall, which was complete with a large fountain in the very center. A convenient meeting place, but one that everyone seemed to use. Monique, being the taller of us, scanned the crowd quickly, then let out a squeal, grabbed my arm, and started pushing through the large crowd that surrounded the fountain. After a minute of moshing through people, we neared the edge of the crowd. My arm slipped out of Moe's grasp as she continued forward.
"Moe," I called, "Monique!" I swung my head around, trying to find her in the crowd, but due to my stature, I was only five foot two, I couldn't see much. I tried pushing by a large man, only to trip and go crashing to the ground. Only I never hit it. Instead of hundreds of feet trampling me to death, I felt a warmth around my middle. I looked down, alarmed, to see an arm wrapped around me, holding me up.
"Whoa, there," a deep voice said into my ear, "Don't want you falling now, do we sweets?" I stiffened, though not before almost gagging at the pet name. I never knew James was such a corny guy. I reluctantly removed his arm from me and tried to walk away. I was pathetic, trying to get away before he recognized me.
"Where are you going, doll?" he asked, grabbing my wrist. I began to panic. I had never been good with guys who weren't just friends, and James was certainly no exception. "Don't I at least get a thank you from the beautiful lady?" His words sent a shiver of guilty pleasure down my spine, but I ignored it. I knew he wouldn't let me go unless I said something.
"Thanks," I murmured, ripping my hand from his now loosened one, and racing back into the rapids that were the crowd, determined to find my sister again. The only reason I had agreed to come in the first place was because I needed a haircut, and sadly, the place I went was in this mall. My hair was getting long, having reached my shoulders in length, and I couldn't stand long hair.
I found Monique after a few more minutes of searching, lip-locked with Simon on one of the various benches in the area.
"Monique," I yelled, cupping my hands to my mouth, "I'm going to get my hair done now," She confirmed she had heard me by sending me a thumbs up, never pulling back from Simon. I shook my head at them, and wandered off.
I soon arrived at the salon, Cuts de Creatif. I had always assumed that it was derived from someone trying to be French and sucking at it, but I had recently learned that 'Creatif' was the original owner's last name. The things you learn when you talk to adults.
I walked up to the receptionist, an older woman with flamingo pink hair named Yolanda. Me and her went way back, considering I had been coming to this salon since I was a baby to get my hair cut. Yolanda was almost like a second mother to me, not that the first one had ever been all that great.
"Ah, hello Sophie," she greeted, sending me a warm smile, which I returned. "Clarry's been waiting for you. It's all she's been talking about since you called in," I laughed at that piece of information. Clarry had always been rather eccentric, but she was a good friend nonetheless, and she gave me discounts on my haircuts. I walked farther into the small shop, which was painted a pale green with darker green accents. It gave off a very calming sensation, I'd always found.
"Fi-fi!" a voice greeted me, which was soon followed by a tight hug. I grinned at the taller girl, and returned the hug. I hadn't seen Clarry for a few months now, and I had missed her. She was nearly a sister to me. Her straight blonde hair was cropped in a pixie cut, which was new, and she wore a black and white informal dress. She had what would be considered a preppy sense of fashion, but she had always been there for me when I needed her.
"Hey Clare!" I replied, just as happily, "I missed you. How have you been?" Clarry waved her hand in dismissal.
"Oh, the usual. Cutting hair 'til I look like it, eating cheap Chinese food for lunch every day," she replied, "How about you? Any progress with you-know-who?" An image of James' brown eyes and sandy blonde, jelled up hair flitted through my mind and I blushed, shaking my head. "Ah, well, I say if he doesn't like you for you, he doesn't deserve you." I smiled at her sure tone, but was secretly lamenting at how right she was. The thing was, I couldn't let him go that easily.
"How wise of you, great Clarry," I told her, bowing. "Can I get the usual?" The blonde nodded and began to snip away at my black locks. She chatted away about menial things while she was cutting, such as what colours I had put in my hair this time, green and purple, music, and pretty much anything she could think of. Fifteen minutes later, Clarry declared that she was finished. I looked into the large mirror before me to see that she had shaped my hair into the uneven bob I liked, with the front of the hair slightly longer than the back. My bangs had been trimmed, which I was thankful for, since they had been getting into my eyes a lot lately. I grinned at my reflection.
"Thanks, Clare!" I told her sincerely, fishing a ten from my wallet and handing it to her. I gave her a hug in farewell, and headed out of the store.
"Anytime, Phee!" Clarry called after me. I blew her a kiss as I reached the front desk.
"Bye Sophie," Yolanda said. I smiled at her and repeated the farewell. As I was walking out, she continued. "And by the way, that boy over there hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you came to the front," The older woman sent me a wink and waved me off. I looked over to where she had pointed and saw an incredibly cute boy, who looked around my age, leaning on the wall. He had long-ish black hair cut in a, for lack of a better term, emo fashion. His skin looked paler than it probably was in the tight black tee he was donning, and I decided that this guy could pull off skinny jeans, whoever he was. Said jeans were a blinding lime green colour, something that was making many passers by stare at him. If I believe in fate, I would have said it just slapped me in the face.
His pale eyes locked with mine and he raised an eyebrow. I sent him a small smile and he smirked in return before raising a hand and twitching his index finger at me, beckoning me over. I hesitated, thinking that I should go find Monique, then decided that my haircut hadn't taken all that long and I really didn't feel like sitting around with a guy who barely acknowledged me while my sister and friend sucked face. So I crossed the hallway to the boy.
As I got closer, I noticed that his eyes were a pale shade of blue, and he had very nice skin. I had taken a cosmetics class in school last year, and was going to again this year, so I had an eye for details like that. I also quickly noticed his thin lips, which were quirked in a smirk as they moved. Then it hit me that he was talking. I flushed and tried to listen.
"-your name?" he finished in a silky voice that reminded me of a few of my favourite singers combined.
"Um, sorry, what was that? I was just looking at the, uh, beautiful embroidering in your shirt. It's quite exceptional, I must say," I rambled, pointing out the small, gold thread work I had just noticed around the neckline of the boy's v-neck shirt. He let out a surprised laugh, looking down.
"Huh. Yeah, that is pretty nice," he commented, running a finger over it lightly. "I said, 'I'm Daegal. What's your name?'" He smiled charmingly, almost taking my breath away. It wasn't fair that one boy could look so good.
"Sophie," I said, fingering the ring around my neck, unintentionally drawing Daegal's attention to it.
"Sophie," he repeated, as though trying it out. His eyes tracked the movement of the ring as he commented, "That's a gorgeous ring. Did your boyfriend get it for you?" I flushed lightly and shook my head furiously.
"Nah, my best friend did," I explained, unsure why I was telling this boy I just met about mine and Nix's rings. I just felt as though I could trust him. "They're to remind us that we're never alone as long as we have each other," I smiled sadly as I turned the ring around. I was shaken out of my memories as Daegal reached for it. I flinched back violently, clasping a fist around the small piece of jewelry. I dared to look at his face, seeing his eyes were confused, probably for a number of reasons.
"Sorry," I murmured, looking back to his feet, which I unconsciously noted were clad in silver Converse. He has good taste in shoes, too, I thought randomly. I almost jerked away again when I felt a hand under my chin, making me face him, which was quite a ways up. I guessed he was about six feet tall, which was a long way above me.
"No, I'm sorry," he apologized, taking the hand that wasn't fisted around my necklace to his lips and kissing the knuckles, his eyes staring into mine. I ignored how my breath became slightly shallow, and simply nodded in favour of saying anything. Daegal then glanced at the large clock nearby. He frowned slightly then looked back to me.
"I'm sorry, but I have to go. I have to meet someone," he explained vaguely, "I'll see you around, Sophie," With that he began to walk away.
"Bye Daegal," I managed to breath out as he drifted away. He made a small movement with his head to tell me he had heard me, before turning a corner and going out of my sight.