The Great Wide Somewhere
She was popular, but an outsider at the same time. No one shunned her, but she didn't fit in with the town she'd been raised in. And somehow, Spenton Parker, the bane of her existence, did.
She entered the classroom feeling like a queen—a super star. Her hair was done, she'd painted her nails herself and her outfit was perfect.
It was seeing him that made her feel like a piece of dust left in a corner of the room no one visited. He was standing in the middle of her classroom, smiling with a girl that wasn't her. Abrigail stood in the doorway for the fasting second, feeling her heart crumble to the floor. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart was torn into an infinite amount of pieces. For the fastest second, Abrigail was the weakest girl in the world.
It was only for a second.
The next second, she was confident and cool again.
"Why is there an 'r' in your name?" the annoying twat, known as Spenton, asked Abrigail for the fifth time in a thirty second time span. Abrigail turned to him, eyes narrowed and lips pressed. "It's stupid."
"Your mother is stupid," Abrigail seethed, her fists clenching and unclenching. She'd been suspended in middle school for fighting a handful of times. Granted, she'd always claimed it was for self defense, everyone knew it was always Abrigail to throw the first punch. She was a little girl with very little patience.
"That's rude," Spenton said, narrowing his eyes at Abrigail. "Just because you got your eyebrows done doesn't mean you rule the school now, Abrigail." Abrigail narrowed her eyes further, her fists no longer clenching. She pushed the urge to cock her fist at the boy somewhere in the back of her mind and seethed quietly.
"Get away from me, Spenton," Abrigail warned, "Before your reputation as tough guy is ruined."
"What are you gonna do? Hit me?" Spenton laughed, throwing his head back and letting his laughter roar. It was the kind of laugh that sounded like bells—perfect and gentle. Had it been anyone else, Abrigail might have swooned, but it was Spenton Parker. Spenton was the new kid to Abrigail's sophomore grade in the local high school. He was tall and skinny, with curly dark blonde hair and freckles splashed over the bridge of his nose. He was good looking, and already had the popularity, but Abrigail hated him with a passion.
Spenton Parker had entered Abrigail Connor's life like a tornado. He swept right into her newly found quiet life. Abrigial had had a reputation of being a tomboy in middle school—getting in fist fights, playing alongside all the boys on the sports teams and refusing to wear any shoe with so much as a ¼ of a heel. It had taken Abrigail a summer and her entire freshman year to break her reputation.
Gone was the tomboy that only wore sneakers and talked about sports. Sure, Abrigail was still very much involved in athletics, but now she wore skirts and flats. The change had been a subtle one, but it still provoked a few teasing jokes amongst her friends.
Abrigail was popular. She had friends in all circles and often found herself more alone than surrounded by people. She loved her classmates, they had all grown up together in the small town, but Abrigail had never really fit in. The families of Roosevelt had their homes since they were first built. It was four generations of families in Roosevelt. Abrigail, although she had moved into the small town at six years old, was still an outsider to the community.
"I will punch you so hard, you'll forget your own name," Abrigail said between clenched teeth, anger brewing in her veins.
"I would really stop provoking her, man," Johnson, Abrigail's friend and protector, warned, placing a hand on Abrigail's shoulder. "She hit me once and it nearly knocked me out."
"Right, okay," Spenton scoffed, rolling his eyes. The blonde boy turned from the two friends and started conversation with a group of girls near him.
"Inhale, exhale," Johnson Levitt chanted, chuckling lightly when Abrigail shrugged his hand off of her shoulder. He sat himself on her desk, moving her books.
The Levitt family was one of the original families to have inhabited Roosevelt when the town was first built. They owned the only pharmacy and supermarket in the entire town. Johnson was the middle child of his family, having an older brother and younger brother. The three boys were notorious in the town for both causing trouble and keeping peace.
"You're the best," Abrigail sighed, smiling appreciatively at Johnson. "If I hate anyone, I'll never go to college."
"Well, you know I'm always here. The Levitt boys will always be there for you, Bri," Johnson said, winking a handsome blue eye at the girl. Abrigail's smile widened.
Being an only child, Abrigail had the Levitt boys fill in for her missing siblings. Jackson, the oldest by three years, had been the stereotypical older brother: he taught the other two boys, and Abrigail, how to fight and throwing a baseball correctly. He looked after the younger three, but often pushed them aside to fulfill his own satisfactions. Jackson had earned himself a scholarship to the University of Florida's Business and Law school.
Jamieson, the youngest of the boys, was the sweetest of all of them. Jackson and Johnson had gotten the Levitt's infamous good looks: tall, muscular bodies with tanned skin, brown hair, blue eyes and dazzling smiles. Jamieson looked more like his mother: his skin was as evenly tan as the other boys, but his hair was black and his eyes brown. He was lanky and tall, clumsy whenever he walked and dangerous when he ran. His clumsiness did not allow for him to excel in sports, but Jamieson wasn't worried about athletics. Instead, he was more interested in music and books. The boy was smarter than anyone Abrigail, Jackson or Johnson knew. He could recite Shakespeare like the Pledge of Allegiance.
"How's Jackson?" Abrigail asked, knowing that Johnson kept in touch with his older brother. After Jackson had left for University, Abrigail felt abandoned. He'd left without so much as a word to her, and barely kept his e-mails or phone calls long. "Does he still hate me?"
"Jack's fine, Bri. I have no idea what happened between you two…" Johnson said, rolling his eyes. "You always did provoke him. Always bringin' out the bad in him."
"I do no such thing!" Abrigail pouted, feeling her heart sink lightly. "We just had a little misunderstanding."
"So what happened? Why won't you tell me?" Johnson asked, peering at Abrigail from under his dark lashes. Abrigail scoffed, crossing her arms and turning her head away. "You'll never tell me, will you?"
"He's your brother, you ask him," was Abrigail's answer.
Johnson rolled his eyes and crossed his arms also. Johnson was the lady's man of the three brothers, but he was also the one most thought was homosexual. His voice was only slightly nasally with a bit of a natural southern drawl and his friends consisted of mostly women. In the small town—if your friends were mostly women—you were one of two things: the perfect man for women or the perfect man for men. Johnson made it clear to all that he was strictly the perfect man for women.
"You're both too stubborn," Johnson mumbled. Abrigail smiled at him apologetically, but didn't say more.
Holy, hello! It's been almost half a year, hasn't it? I'm working on LaC and this new story. I hope that you enjoyed and that it wasn't too much. It's been so long since I've written. I feel that I'm a bit out of sorts with creating a setting and characters. Yikes! Thank you for reading. :)