Free Fall
Silk Knickers
My name is Jason, and I wear girls' undergarments.
I never exactly told anyone but AJ that, but the lads at school discovered it not long after I started secondary school. It's kind of hard to hide when you're changing into your gym kit, but I wasn't trying to either. After the initial threats and insults, even wolf whistles, they got used to it.
But, I suppose, that's just me. There are stranger things... Like AJ, for example.
AJ was truly one of a kind, the sort of person that would know to buy me silk knickers when I needed some new underwear. Mother never really paid that much attention, when it didn't involve her teaching me how to judge exactly which shade of lipstick would go with my shoes. AJ, on the other hand, knew me in the way that only a best friend can, like she'd written me herself, with that strange feather quill and ink pot of hers. Outside of school, it was the only thing she'd write with.
Me, I knew AJ better than the rest of the world put together. Like how she would always wear odd socks, unless it was a Tuesday or, the socks were red, because red socks were antisocial and would act snooty around socks that weren't red... Although, they didn't seem to mind that time we'd tossed our socks in a heap in her living room so that we could feel the new carpet between our toes: my socks were yellow that day.
I can't remember meeting her. I suppose that's the mark of true friendship, where there are so many memories that the ones right at the start end up being pushed to the back of your brain, only to be revealed under deepest hypnosis for the purposes of a crown court trial. I suppose she would have spoken to me first and not the other way around, because back then, I would have been very small and my Mother still dressed me up like a little girl (pink, head to toe and always a dress, skirt or pinafore) on weekends.
What I do remember is that time she snuck me into a supply room at lunch, and hand stitched my knickers back together in the dark with luminous, yellow thread. Silk lingerie simply wasn't designed to withstand a boys' rugby lesson.
I stood there, chafing (seriously, what are school trousers made from, it itches like the devil) in the dark, the only thing visible being her shock mop of peroxide blond hair that was by some, freakish genetic technobabble, or perhaps God showing that he has a sense of humor too, her natural colour. After a while, I realised that I'd follow her to the end of the Earth and back again, perhaps further if we really had to, but then I'd need a sandwich break in there somewhere.
We were a terrible twosome, a dynamic duo that consisted of 3 parts AJ and 1 part Jason, shaken not stirred and served with heavy doses of wit (or insolence as teachers liked to call it). I could confide in her when my Mother had gone just a little bit too far again. She could count on me to help her escape her room when the window was locked and the key around her nanny's neck whilst one of her father's lackeys stood guard at the door.
Her parents said she had problems.
The teachers said she was disturbed.
Her nanny said she was crazy.
The priest swore blind she was possessed.
Really, she was the one person in existence who got me.
I never exactly told anyone but AJ that, but the lads at school discovered it not long after I started secondary school. It's kind of hard to hide when you're changing into your gym kit, but I wasn't trying to either. After the initial threats and insults, even wolf whistles, they got used to it.
But, I suppose, that's just me. There are stranger things... Like AJ, for example.
AJ was truly one of a kind, the sort of person that would know to buy me silk knickers when I needed some new underwear. Mother never really paid that much attention, when it didn't involve her teaching me how to judge exactly which shade of lipstick would go with my shoes. AJ, on the other hand, knew me in the way that only a best friend can, like she'd written me herself, with that strange feather quill and ink pot of hers. Outside of school, it was the only thing she'd write with.
Me, I knew AJ better than the rest of the world put together. Like how she would always wear odd socks, unless it was a Tuesday or, the socks were red, because red socks were antisocial and would act snooty around socks that weren't red... Although, they didn't seem to mind that time we'd tossed our socks in a heap in her living room so that we could feel the new carpet between our toes: my socks were yellow that day.
I can't remember meeting her. I suppose that's the mark of true friendship, where there are so many memories that the ones right at the start end up being pushed to the back of your brain, only to be revealed under deepest hypnosis for the purposes of a crown court trial. I suppose she would have spoken to me first and not the other way around, because back then, I would have been very small and my Mother still dressed me up like a little girl (pink, head to toe and always a dress, skirt or pinafore) on weekends.
What I do remember is that time she snuck me into a supply room at lunch, and hand stitched my knickers back together in the dark with luminous, yellow thread. Silk lingerie simply wasn't designed to withstand a boys' rugby lesson.
I stood there, chafing (seriously, what are school trousers made from, it itches like the devil) in the dark, the only thing visible being her shock mop of peroxide blond hair that was by some, freakish genetic technobabble, or perhaps God showing that he has a sense of humor too, her natural colour. After a while, I realised that I'd follow her to the end of the Earth and back again, perhaps further if we really had to, but then I'd need a sandwich break in there somewhere.
We were a terrible twosome, a dynamic duo that consisted of 3 parts AJ and 1 part Jason, shaken not stirred and served with heavy doses of wit (or insolence as teachers liked to call it). I could confide in her when my Mother had gone just a little bit too far again. She could count on me to help her escape her room when the window was locked and the key around her nanny's neck whilst one of her father's lackeys stood guard at the door.
Her parents said she had problems.
The teachers said she was disturbed.
Her nanny said she was crazy.
The priest swore blind she was possessed.
Really, she was the one person in existence who got me.
♠ ♠ ♠
Constructive criticism please. In other words, I would like to know how to improve it.