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DARK WINGS (13+ for themes and language)

by Tessitore

WARNINGS: Language, some adult suggestion/comments and themes. A 13+ story. Please be cautious.



It’s only two days before my birthday and I’m turning nineteen. It’s hard to imagine that all these years I couldn’t wait to grow up, and yet now that I’m able to move out of my house and leave school, there’s nowhere else I want to be. I’m going from being dependent on a schedule that’s been mine for almost my entire life to developing an entirely new life. And now, just two days before my birthday and one day before graduating, I kept thinking… what am I going to do?

I’ve already been accepted at the University of Missouri, Kansas City. Kansas City is a round three hour drive from my home town, and so for the first time in my life I’m going to be living alone. I was able to snag a scholarship for academic achievements, but my parents still had to send in some money, and the books I’ll be paying for on my own, once I figure out how. Probably a summer job.

I’ve gone to Kansas City a few times, lately with my debate team, though that was usually just a stay in a local high school for most of the day and then a long, tired bus ride back home, so there was never any time for site seeing. Though Wichita is closer that Kansas City, my parents and I have made out way there a few times to visit the Liberty Memorial, the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art and the Plaza and stay in a hotel. I loved being there, moving has always been a dream of mine, but now it was frightening.

It just happened that my birthday is the day after graduation. Yeah, that’s right; I’m in the midst of graduation blues. Tomorrow I’m going to be walking up onto that stage and getting my High School diploma. From that day forward everything I do in the High School is voluntary. But, until then…

Jamie leaned her head back, her desk directly in front of mine, so she was staring up at me upside-down, “What’s up Annie?”


“Aren’t you always?” she said, sitting up and turning in her seat, pencil in hand, “What time is it?”

“Almost two… the teacher should be here soon.”

She sighed and turned away again, “I want school over.”

“Yeah,” I didn’t say I wished the same because I didn’t. Suddenly I wished that I could stay here, that I could keep my designated place in things. The place that I had established, the place that I was used to. “Are we still on for Maverick’s?”

“Yup,” she mumbled, head resting on crossed arms. “I’m going to pick you up at eight.”

“Sounds good.”

“Wear something sexy,” she hissed.

I laughed softly. Heads were already turning in our direction at the conversation, and I didn’t want too much attention, just in case the help decided to get huffy. “You wish.”

Jamie closed her eyes and smiled to herself while I went back to my daydreaming. Jamie was my best friend, she and I had been together for nearly six years. When we were asked to parties, we went together even if the other wasn’t invited. When we celebrate our birthdays we were always there for each other, giving the biggest gifts, making the best jokes. When we were in sixth grade our teacher used to cross her fingers and hold them up when she saw us. From then on it has been our signal, our ‘hello again, old friend’ symbol to each other.

Jamie and I grew apart last year, made different friends and went to different parties, influenced mostly because we had no classes together, but this year, our Senior year, we renewed our bond. Six out of eight classes we saw each other, and in the other two we wrote notes obsessively. Our teachers soon learned that to separate us was to risk the complete disregard of our studies, and so we always sat together. A lot of them hadn’t liked realizing this, they seemed to like the idea of having complete control over their students and will ignore logic in order to do so, but all of them relented in the end. It worked out perfectly for Jamie and I; while I made sure that Jamie was doing the best she could in her studies she kept my spirits up, especially during the SAT’s.

Jamie was an OK student, mostly A’s B’s and the occasional C’s, but I was an all A student, graduating third in our class while she was graduating at number forty-four. In a town that prides itself more on academic achievements then on any sort of sport, we did great. Our teachers and our parents were proud.

“Hey,” I said, tapping her shoulder, “What are you wearing tonight?”

She opened her eyes a bit and grinned slyly at me, “Worried?”

“Kind of,” I admitted.

Her eyes fluttered shut again, “The black dress, of course.”

“Great,” I said, relieved. She and I had gone shopping not a few months ago and had bought nearly identical dresses. Hers was black and mine was a rich burgundy. We had matching shoes and a matching hair style, so that when we went to the party everyone would know we were together. Not like anyone needed a reminder, we were practically attached at the hip, but it was tradition. Anyone who didn’t like it could just bug off.

I heard the clack of heels just as I was about to mirror Jamie and rest a bit. The exam had taken all day, with the teacher coming in every hour to see how we were doing and gather up finished tests. Her help was stationed at the desk, making sure we didn’t step out of line while the head honcho was gone. Once we were done with our tests, we could go, that was the rule. I had finished my test about fifteen minutes after she had come last time. I could have rushed it and made it out of here the last hour, but then I wouldn’t have gotten full marks. I wasn’t going to risk anything less then my best just for an extra hour on my day.

Mrs. Roderick was a strict woman in her mid forties. She always wore her light brown hair in a tight bun on top of her head. Her eyes were dark and cold, obvious signs of being among students for too long. You may have the best of intentions going in at first, but so many years of teenagers is sure to have its effect even on the best of people. “All of you who have finished your tests may go.” She said, and she sounded tired.

The room filled with the sound of shuffling papers and screeching chairs as tests were handed to the teacher. I prodded Jamie in the back, “It’s time to go.”

She mumbled groggily and yawned, sitting back up. I waited for a moment by her side while she collected her test and stood muttering, “I’m comin’, I’m comin’.”

I smiled to the teacher as I handed her my papers and she returned it. She had a rough time with some of the kids but we’d always been on OK terms, “How’d you do?” I asked my friend as soon as we were in the hallway.

She groaned, “Not good.”

“Really?” I couldn’t keep the surprise from my voice, we had spent hours the night before and the last weekend studying for it, not to mention all my tutoring throughout the school year.

She gave me a long, sad look and held it for a few seconds before breaking into a grin, “No, just pulling your leg. Thanks for the tutorage, oh mighty goddess of homework.”

I laughed, “Right then, good going. Are you walking home today or did you bring you car?”


“Good, can I have a ride? It’s too hot to be out at all.” I had walked to school in the morning, around seven, and even then I had worked up a sweat. I didn’t even want to know what it was going to be like now, just after two in the afternoon.

“Yeah, sure. I have to pick up the last of my stuff, though, so hold up.” She stopped at her locker and twirled the lock expertly. It had been a week since the senior’s had cleaned out their lockers, but she was still in the habit of bringing a backpack to school. Why, I didn’t know, I hardly carried anything even when we were still neck-deep in studies.

She slammed the locker shut and swung the pack onto her shoulders, “Come on.”

I followed her out of the building. All the classroom doors were shut tight, the other grades still a month off from their last day in school. I could hear the murmur of gossiping students and the lectures of the teachers as we passed by dozens of classrooms, all their doors shut. I was sure that they had done this so none of the seniors poked their heads in and disturbed the class. It had happened on several occasions when I was still in the lower grades and the seniors were celebrating their freedom in the hall. The teachers would do nothing to stop the celebrations—the seniors had earned their fun—but they drew the line at the disruption of their classes.

As I stepped outside the heat wrapped around me like a tight, sticky glove. That was Kansas for you, very hot and very humid. God, I loved it. “Nice weather we’re having,” I said.

She scoffed, “Right,” she had grown up in Arizona and missed the dry weather, “I feel like I’m in a boys locker room.”

I laughed, “You’ll get used to it.” She should have been used to it by now, she had been here for a while, about six years. “Or maybe you’ll just suffer.”

“Maybe,” she said, throwing her stuff into the backseat of her car.

Jamie has one of those really, really small convertibles. The ones that say they can seat five people but can really only seat two. The back seat is laughable; I don’t think anybody with knees would be able to fit back there comfortably. The only thing that the back was good for was a dumping ground for the general accumulative junk of a teenager.

The leather seat was hot, really hot. I shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a cool place, wishing that she had parked in the shade. Jamie winced when she slid into the driver’s seat, “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, “I should have parked under a tree.”

Great minds think alike.

“Just get going so we can get a breeze,” I said, buckling myself in place. I trusted that Jamie wouldn’t get into an accident, but I’ve been wearing a seatbelt for as long as I can remember. I’m not comfortable without one.

“You got it.” She slammed the car door shut and revved up the car, the stereo immediately blasting the Rolling Stones. She grinned at no one as she eased out of her parking space and onto the main road. I couldn’t say anything above the roar of the car and the blasting of the music, but I basked in the feeling of the wind in my hair and my friend beside me. Everything that I was worrying about seemed to dissolve in her laughter; everything that had been haunting me vanished. It was just me, my friend and the wind in my hair.

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318 Reviews

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Reviews: 318

Mon Sep 17, 2018 8:15 pm
fraey wrote a review...

Hello there.

Popping in to give you a much-deserved review even with the very wide time gap.

First off, the first-person narration is not the greatest here. Sometimes novels can have a good arrangement of thoughts to never give too much information in a strange way with “I” and such, but here, I don’t think it works as well. Straight off the bat, with the MC talking in the first person and going on and on about Kansas City was a little tiresome for my tastes, and I wanted something to happen.

In addition, I do like the friendship between Annie and Jamie, but I feel like some of the dialogue runs a little stilted at some parts, or doesn't really fit as well with the background narration going on as well. That just takes some practice, including the awkward conversation between Annie and her friends at the party.

Another point I'd like to touch on is that I don't know that many adults with teenager kids friends with young adults, or even really knowing them, as referred to by her mom not liking Maverick. Unless there's an older (much older) sibling or even a different family member, that part of the plot doesn't make too much sense to me.

Finally, I'd like to say that there were a couple of typos here and there, and what I'm pretty are sure are punctuation errors, but those are easy enough to edit out. I think my one issue with some of the wording here is that some words are repeated a lot such as when Annie described her entire house and bedroom in a paragraph. Not sure if those details are needed.

Overall, I think that you've got a decently more stereotypical teenager aspect in this since not all teens drink and smoke weed.

That's all for now.

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103 Reviews

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Reviews: 103

Tue Mar 15, 2005 1:16 am
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Tessitore says...

Okay, I've gone through and removed the bulk of the story and kept the first three chapters up only. If you guys want more, I'll give it to you. Remember that this is a complete story. I would really appreciate any critisism of ANY kind, okay? Just don't slam me too hard, k? =)

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481 Reviews

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Mon Mar 07, 2005 7:49 pm
Bobo wrote a review...

Hey, Tess, it's probably a good idea to post these things a bit at a time. Like one chapter. People (like me) are more likely to read a bit at a time, and it's hard to scroll through one post to find where you are, and you feel like you have to read it all at once. It's overwhelming.

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103 Reviews

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Reviews: 103

Mon Mar 07, 2005 6:58 pm
Tessitore says...


Beer was a must-have at any good get-together, or so people seemed to think. When there were no kegs available, the party was abandoned, but where there was beer there was a bash. Maverick always had it, plus several other illegal availabilities, at all his parties. He was one of those people that lived for parties. If a week went by without a party at his place, something was wrong.

I usually don’t drink that much at parties, just in case I need to drive someone home, but sometimes the press of people gets to my head and I help myself to a little more then usual. Someone knocked into me and the beer sloshed over my hand and onto my shoes. He glanced over and I didn’t recognize him, “Sorry,” he mumbled, tottering away. I shook my head, frowning.

I wandered over to a circle of chairs. Someone had brought some weed to the party and they were passing a joint around. When I had first seen this I had a panic attack, convinced that the police would pound on the door any minute and arrest us all. Nothing happened then, though, and when I voiced my fears one of those that was taking hits said, “Hey, lady, we’re the ones that have a right to be paranoid, and you’re killing the mood. Shove it.” Instead of taking offense I had laughed, and since then I often sat with them, not participating but joining in their conversation. Some of the discussions we had in past parties had been worth remembering.

“Hi guys.” I said, taking a seat next to my friend Travis and another guy I didn’t know too well.

They all nodded and one of them tried to pass me the joint. I waved it away. “This is a killer party, eh?” Travis said, head resting on my shoulder.

I’d seen better, but it was alright, “Yeah, sure.”

“We haven’t seen you around lately, Annie. Got anything interesting going on?”

“Just a mental breakdown. I can’t figure out what I’m going to do after High School.”

There was a collective shudder and one of them said, “Don’t bring that up, you’ll freak us out.”

“We should go to graduation stoned,” one of them mumbled, head in his lap so I couldn’t see his face. He had curly blond hair.

A lot of the group laughed or shouted “Yeah!”, but no one said much else. I ran my fingers up and down the line of Travis’s arm, enjoying the feeling of him next to me. Travis was one of the first men in our school to pronounce himself gay. He had been my friend long before then and I didn’t drop him like so many others had. He’d now been recognized as one of the coolest guys in school; for women, at least. A lot of the guys avoided him, as though he threatened their testosterone. But I never had to worry about anything with him, I never had to keep in mind that some of his teasing may be advance.. It was a very straight-forward relationship.

“Don’t get too wasted,” I said, standing, “We have Jamie’s convertible, and can’t drive you unless you sit on someone else’s lap.”

“Woo, woo,” he teased, grinning, “I’ll be sure to have many more of these.” He lifted his cup full of beer.

I laughed and gave a small two-fingered wave, “See you later.” I moved out of the circle of stoners and weaved my way through the crowd, holding the cup of beer close. People did some odd things to your drink if they saw you weren’t paying attention to it.

I made my way upstairs towards Maverick’s library. It wasn’t the most popular room in the house and I usually went there to escape the drunken idiots that surrounded me, leering and groping and so on. Sometimes there would be a few ‘serious’ couples up there and I’d have to just find somewhere else to go, but most of the time I was alone.

Maverick’s house was one of the larger in our town, a two-story house with a basement that could also be called a small mansion if looked at by the right people. He had graduated from High School two years ago but still hosted some of the largest and most talked-about parties around. He had inherited a large trust from his grandfather—the man who raised him—and only a year ago and had spent the large sum on remodeling his house to party standards. There was a full arcade in the basement, a mini bar, poker table, pool table and ping-pong. The first story was dedicated to the lounging types and the second was the bedrooms… and all that implied. Jamie was usually in the basement, surrounded by her harem, which waited on her every beck and call.

I pushed the door to the library open. The door wasn’t locked or closed all the way, so I didn’t worry about those things that went bump in the night. There was a group of three people there, however, talking avidly to each other. I recognized two of them as the “gothic couple” from school, but the third guy I didn’t recognize. He wore black just like the other two, but it was just a t-shirt and jeans, not the loops and chains that the couple had on. He had army boots and a silver chain around his neck, suspended on which was a large ankh.

“Hi,” I said, weaving my way through the chairs towards the group, “How’s it going, Becky?”

Becky smiled at me. We had discussions before in which she had decided I was ‘cool’. Usually people strayed away from her like she carried the bubonic plague, but I was on speaking terms with nearly everyone in the school. “Hi, Annie, this is Antonio, he’s new to town.”

Antonio looked up, a smile his lips, “Hello.”

His hair was white, I thought, though it had an odd sheen to it. He had tied it back into a braid and tucked the hair into his shirt. It must have been really long to pull that off, “I’m Annie,” I said, taking a seat so we formed a close circle, “What’s up?”

“We’re talking about religion.” Jeremy said softly. Jeremy was always soft-spoken and shy, even when he was around Becky. It was one of the things that I liked most about the guy, where others were loud and obnoxious he was quiet and contemplative.

I leaned back, taking a sip of my beer. I didn’t usually get into religion because my approach was pretty straight-forward. I believed in God and Jesus, but I didn’t believe in getting into arguments or hating people for not believing the way I did. Whatever they were, it really didn’t concern me, but it was interesting to listen into some of their discussions.

“So what are you?” Becky asked Antonio, leaning forward.

He smiled, “I gave up on religion a long time ago.”

“Really?” Becky was a ‘witch’, or a Wiccan, whichever you preferred. Her boyfriend was the same.

“Too many things to worry about, too many people riding on your word. Too many complications, it’s not worth it. Anyway, I’ve never been a religious person.”


He shrugged, “It never really suited me.”

Becky leaned back, hands trailing along her boyfriends legs, “That’s… interesting.”

I couldn’t say I blamed the guy, sometimes religion was hard for me, too, “It’s understandable.”

He glanced over and his eyes immediately fell to the cross, “And you?”


He looked up, which made me feel more comfortable. His eyes were that dark blue the sky turned before it went completely black. They were beautiful, “Why?”

I shrugged, “I’ve always believed in something out there guiding me.”

He nodded and glanced back to the couple, “And you?”

“Wiccan,” Becky said, “So is Jeremy.”

Antonio nodded and leaned back, looking strangely satisfied.

Becky was steadily paying more and more attention to her boyfriend rather then to the conversation at hand. Antonio and Becky kept talking, Jeremy throwing in a word or two, but you could tell that his heart wasn’t really in the discussion. We fell into a silence as I finished my beer, setting the cup down on a table between my chair and Antonio’s. He was watching the couple with a strange look on his face, as though he hadn’t ever seen anything quite like it before. Becky looked up suddenly and grinned, “Bye,” she said, standing and tugging on her boyfriends arm. He followed obediently.

I glanced over to Antonio and crossed my legs, looking out across the room away from him, “So, what brings you here, Antonio?”

He looked over but didn’t smile, just stared, “I was curious.”

I turned to face him, “Are you moving here?”


“Just passing through?” It was strange, but possible.

He gave a small nod.

I shook my head, “Great town, eh?” My voice was dripping with sarcasm, “I think I’d have preferred the city.”

“Which one?”

“Kansas City.”

“Have you ever been there?”

I nodded, “A few times, just to see the sites and stuff. Mostly school trips and once in a while with my parents. Are you from there?”

He gave a small smile, “Yes I am. You’re missing out, you know, there’s a lot more then just the tourist attractions.”

“Isn’t that true everywhere?” I fiddled with the skirt of my dress for a bit, “So, how’d you get to this party?”

“I was driving by and saw it, so I dropped in,” he said.

“How long have you been here?”

“I’ve been at the party for an hour and the town for about four.”

I gave a small laugh, “Wow, you really are new.” I was suddenly missing my beer, it was easier to pause with one.

He leaned forward, his knees touching mine, “How long have you been here?”

“Nineteen long, long years.”

He smiled but tilted his head questioningly, “How old are you?”


“And you’ve never left town?”

“Except to go on trips, no.”

His eyes widened as though this really surprised him. Funny, it was very rare for us to meet someone who was not born and raised around here. “That must be… boring.”

I smiled, “Yeah, sometimes it is.”


“It’s better then you might think, coming from a city. I rather like it.” I leaned forward so our heads were close together, “What’s the city like? To live in?”

“Beautiful,” he said, staring at me from inches away, “Bright… alive.”

“Sounds wonderful,” I said, staring into his dark, dark eyes. They danced with their own inner light, as though someone had kindled a fire behind them. I stared at them and found that I had no words, nothing to say or do now that would be anything but admiration. I knew I shouldn’t be this close to someone I had just met, but I couldn’t even gather the will to lean back just a few extra inches. I wasn’t smiling anymore, but the laughter wasn’t gone from my eyes. Antonio wasn’t smiling, either, he was just staring at me. He leaned forward just the smallest bit, and he kissed me.

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Mon Mar 07, 2005 6:57 pm
Tessitore says...


“Another party? I thought you’d be burned out by now.” Mom was setting the table for three of us while my dad took a shower upstairs. Everything matched in the kitchen, from the Tupperware to the walls to the linoleum, all of it blue and white. It was kind of frightening. Mom was really into that color-coordination thing.

I shook my head, “Not really. Anyway, this time it’s my pre-grad part, and apparently, according to the rest of the Senior student body that is, this is very, very important for the foundation of the rest of my life. Jamie is going to come and pick me up at eight. I’m not sure when I’ll be home.”

“Before city curfew.” My mother was pretty lenient when it came to curfew, saying that if she ever had to pick me up from jail for being out past city curfew she’d have my ass, but otherwise let me do as I would.

“Yeah, sure.” I said quickly. I was sure I wasn’t going to be at the party that long, but I never said anything. She had this nasty habit of assuming that if I was going to set myself a time for myself to be home for this party, I’d be home at the same time on the next party. It didn’t work that way, and if I argued with her there would be trouble. She could be unreasonable like that.

She smiled at me as she finished setting out the napkins. Real napkins, the ones made out of cloth, a pure white embroidered in deep blue thread. Mother had done them as a project a few years ago and now they had become a nightly occasion. We weren’t the type of people to make something and preserve it like it was the shroud of Turin, we used what we had. “Who’s hosting it?” She asked.

“Maverick,” Mom wasn’t exactly friendly with the guy, but what could I say? He threw really cool parties.

She pursed her lips and fell silent. Dad came in from downstairs, whistling to himself. I wasn’t close enough yet, but I was sure that he smelt of Ivory soap. He had smelled like that ever since I was a kid, and some things never changed. “Evening,” he said, giving me a peck on the cheek before going to stir the sauce that was lightly bubbling. We were having spaghetti.

Mom gave the edited version of what I was doing that night. Dad just nodded, not wanting to join in the age-old fight about Maverick and his often illegal tendencies, “She’s not sure when she’ll be home.” She said cheerily, though I had a feeling that she was being sarcastic. I shook my head. Typical.

Dad glanced over when mom wasn’t looking and winked at me, “Got an outfit?”

I smiled, “Yeah.” I noticed mom was busying herself with garlic bread, pretending she didn’t hear anything. Angry probably, “I’m matching Jamie.”

“I guessed as much.”

I got most of my looks from my mother. She had the same auburn hair that I did, though it was now streaked with gray and it was cut short in a very businesslike style, where as mine is waist-length. Her eyes were blue, not like my gray, and she has the same skin. My father, however, had soft brown eyes and jet black hair, also streaked with gray, and balding. He was tan from working out at the hardware store and sported a beer gut. He generally wore flannel or the occasional t-shirt, but never overalls. “Overalls are for old farts,” he told me, laughing. I have inherited his nose and his patience, but little else.

Mom and Dad had their customary glass of red wine while I popped open a can of Coke from the fridge. We ate in relative silence except for the occasion in which the parents asked me for details on graduation and what was planned and required. When they were satisfied with my answers I cleaned my plate off, put it in the sink and gave them both a smile before I went upstairs to my bedroom.

In my town there are only a few places you can live; the trailer park, the suburbs or in one of the very few mansions that were on the hill overlooking our town. We lived in the suburbs, but not in one of the newer places. You can always tell which house owned the land before the construction companies bought it; because it’ll look different from the rest of the buildings. Ours was a two-story brick with a wrap-around porch and a half acre of land. There were seven houses on each side of the block and they all looked the same, except for ours. Ivy completely enveloped one side of the house and while most of the gardens around us were small, our yard was nothing but flowers. It had been several years of work to get it that way, but we liked it. The less lawn to mow the better.

My bedroom was the second-largest bedroom in the house. The house had five bedrooms, but once you passed the three largest the rest resembled walk-in closets with a view. I had a second room that I used as my dumping grounds and workplace for school. My bedroom had a King sized bed that took up most of the floor. There was a large mirror above the headboard, a bookshelf, drawers for my clothes and a closet for the rest of my stuff. There was a door that connected my bedroom to my workroom that my dad had installed when I had started middle school and had more use for it then before. My walls were a dark blue and covered with posters of my favorite bands. A stereo perched atop my dresser with my collection of music, close to overflowing.

I turned up the volume on my stereo—I never really turned it off—then took the dress off the hanger I had put it on. It was a half-hour until Jamie would come to pick me up and I had to be ready by then. Though I didn’t spend as much time in front of the mirror then a lot of other girls I knew, I still needed some preening time.

The dress was crushed velvet, a deep red, thinner then it looked, and short. It was tight around my curves and flared a bit at the skirt. Jamie and I had worn these dresses so many times that people expected them. I never heard anyone say, “She’s so boring”, and we got complaints when we didn’t wear them. I pulled my hair into a ponytail to keep it out of the way and shimmied into the dress. It was low-cut and spaghetti strapped. It allowed for me to look good and keep cool.

I wandered into my bathroom and took down my hair, brushing it out. My eyes are gray, but not that type of gray that has hints of blue in it, they’re completely gray, like hard steel. I’m pale but not too pale, and if I spent any time out in the sun trying to get a tan I had to wear some high SPF sunscreen or risk looking like a boiled lobster. It was the Irish blood in me.

I applied lipstick and a hint of mascara, smiling at myself in the mirror. My silver cross hung right above my breasts, something that I had worn constantly—except when I showered or went to bed—since I had gotten it from my grandmother four years ago. My grandmother had died soon after and ever since I’d kept it on.

I heard the doorbell and I slipped into low-heeled matching sandals, going down the stairs two at a time. Jamie was dressed in her black dress, the one that matched mine, making small talk with my parents. She was telling them what she planned to do after she graduated even though they had heard it a dozen times before. I rolled my eyes at her and gave my mother and father each a light kiss, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said, smiling.

Jamie grinned, “I’ll take good care of her,” she said to my parents, opening the front door to let the smell of summer come wafting into our house.

“You better,” my mom teased, “Don’t do anything I’d do.”

We laughed and scrambled down the porch steps and out to her convertible. My parents closed the door behind us and I punched Jamie’s arm playfully, “Hey,” I said, “Looking sexy.” Jamie and I looked much different. She was tall and leggy, while I was almost a complete four inches shorter then her. Her hair was light where mine were dark, her skin a tan that showed her athleticism. She did soccer and track, and was part of the school ‘spirit squad’. It was basically just like a cheerleader except that they didn’t wear short skirts and had more dance moves. She was lithe and graceful where I could be clumsy and she always got the guys attention.

Her grin widened, “Of course, looking good yourself!” I laughed again. We both wore our hair down for the ride over. Personally, I loved the look I got after going on a ride in the convertible, messy but cute.

“C’mon.” She said, opening the door on the driver’s side, “Time to boogey.” She laughed.

Hail Hydra
— Stan Lee