Goth Kids Posing

I went with Stocker to every swim, leaning on the balcony rail, watching Franklin. He always turned up, wearing his tight jeans and zebra-print glasses. He swam fast, powerfully, like a dolphin. I would study him, his every move. I guess I became a stalker. Stocker joked about it, on the bus back home, steaming the windows because of his wet hair. One day, it was raining, and the bus stop was miles from my boat. Stocker invited me over to his flat, and we ran there in the rain. Inside, we sat, cross-legged, on his bed, clutching mugs of Iron Bru, talking about all sorts of rubbish.
" Do you love Franklin?" Stocker asked. I gave in, nodded. He gave me a big hug and said he was so happy for me. That's what I like about Stocker. After that, we played guitar, listened to Fall Out Boy and had a wrestling match over a bag of Skittles. He never told anyone else.
I carried on going to swim's, and Franklin carried on ignoring me.
" Why don't you talk to him?" stressed Stocker, still the only one I could trust.
" Because," I wailed. " I can't swim, so we couldn't talk!"
That was true. Being home-schooled, I never had compulsery swim lessons. I hated swimming. Stocker made me promise to bring my swim gear to the next practise. Like the idiot I am, I did. I don't have swim gear, not like him. He has designer goggles and everything, and I just had a skimpy black bikini with silver skulls on it. I shoved it on, twisted my hair up and got in the pool with Stocker. I can remember the cold, and squeling. Stocker laughed, and showed me the technique.
" I can't do it!" I screamed, half-way through. By now, I was seriously hacked off. Franklin was watching me make a fool of myself, wearing absolutly no clothes, my hair sticking up with the water. Stocker pulled a face, and I splashed him,climbed out and got a shower. By the time I was dry and warm and dressed, Stocker and Franklin had finished their lesson and Franklin was dressed, waiting by the door.
" Why did you come?" he asked me. I was still hacked off, and I snapped a bit.
" Because I wanted to impress you, Okay?"
I turned my back, huffed, and pulled my pouty, choked-up Goffy kiddi-wink face.
" Why?"
" Why do you think?"
" I'm very flattered, " Franklin said. " But I don't even know your name."
" It's Flissity Wheelan," I told him. " I'm thirteen. Stocker's best mate."
I turned around to face Franklin. His blonde hair was hidden by the hood of his much-loved FOB hoodie, and the ring in his lip glistened.He was not thirteen.
"And you hate swimming?"
" Yes, I do. Now, I have to go."
" No, you don't."
" Yes, I do!"
" Fine, then. Meet me out here tonight at half-five."
I thought nothing of it. I had little experience of that stuff back then.I went home on the bus with Stocker as usual and I dropped into conversation. He said it was a date, but just in case, he'd come with me. I hugged him, went home and phoned Trixie, asking her what to wear. I got changed into my skinny jeans, black hoodie, my studded belt slung across my shoulders. I bunched up my hair, shadowed my eyes with red and took my vampire bag. Stocker met me at the bus stop, and we got the bus down to the swimming pool. Franklin was there, and Stocker left early on. We went for a walk, talking about kid's cartoons and rubbish like that. Then Franklin took me to the park. We bumped into some chav's who hasseled us a bit, but he held my hand and took me over to the monument and we sat on the steps. We talked about swimming and I said I hated it and you would never get me in a pool again.
" I don't intend to," Franklin said, and he kissed me.
Franklin kissed me in the dark, in the cold air for a long time.
Franklin, with piercing and fake tattoos.
Franklin, with floppy blonde hair and dark eyes.
Franklin, with his muscles and long legs.
Franklin, with his boots and studded belt slung over his shoulders like me.
Franklin, with his ironic eyebrows and low voice.
Franklin, with his soft lips and tounge that tasted of clorene.
Franklin, who was mine.