Status: Fin <3
Origins
Scott & Mark; Angels in Devil's clothing
I sigh and discard my school bag at the end of my bed. I smile at Scott and Mark then take my jeans and shirt from them and leave the room to change. Scott and Mark are as close to me as Blythe is, they had been my first friends when I had moved to Sydney 3½ years ago. Scott is 19, tall with black hair and speaks with an Irish accent where as Mark is 16, slightly taller than me and also has jet black hair. My two brother-like friends are both pale and the right corner of Mark’s bottom lip supports a thick silver ring. Scott is an apprentice mechanic and Mark is in training to be a chef. They are extremely overprotective of me and when they find out about anything that’s happened to me that they don’t like they take extreme action.
*
I walk back into my bedroom and out of the corner of my eye I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, my once beautifully flat stomach is now so round that my shirt is puckering at the sides from being stretched over the bulge. I smile and place a hand on my stomach just as the baby starts kicking again. Mark and Scott see my eyes go bright and they jump off the bed and place their hands onto my stomach. The baby kicks a few more times then falls silent.
“Well I’m hungry, did you cook me anything Marky?” I ask him hopefully.
“Sure did, come on well get you nice and fed,” Mark takes my hand and Scott follows us downstairs to the kitchen. I take my seat on my stool at the bench and watch as Mark pulls out of the oven a huge tray of lasagne, he serves a small bit onto a plate and sits it in front of me with a knife and fork. My mouth starts watering, lasagne is my all time favourite food and no one makes it as well as Mark does.
“You better not be feeding her too much Mark, she needs to be able to eat her dinner as well, you know she’ll be disappointed if she misses out on what her father is planning on cooking, reminds me are you two staying for tea tonight?” My mum asks as she gets a drink from the fridge.
“Yes if it’s not too much of a hassle Jemma,” Scott grins and watches as I stuff a large cut of lasagne into my mouth, “Slow down Frances we don’t want you to choke on it,”
“Ho-kay Schott,” I say through the food in my mouth.
“Mouth closed when full Francesca,” Mum tells me and I blush.
*
After I had finished eating my afternoon tea, Scott, Mark and I sit on the couch together and talk.
“You do realise that I’m going to be the godfather right?” Mark asks his head in my lap so that he’s looking at me and one ear is pressed to my stomach.
“Actually Mark I was planning on making Tyson the godfather, Izack agrees,” I tell him looking down at where he lies in my lap.
“Isn’t Tyson dead?” Mark asks, Scott seems to have decided not to partake in this conversation and sits quietly on the opposite couch watching Mark.
“He is but I talked to my pastor and he said that even though Tyson is with God does not mean that he cannot guide my child towards God’s path, Izack and I have talked and we want Tyson to be the godfather because he was a good friend to both of us, he was like a brother to us and therefore we cannot think of anyone better for the job,” I explain.
“Fair enough Frankee, but who’s going to be the godmother?” Mark asks, seems that today he is full of questions.
“That’s going to be Blythe…of course,” I grin then gently kiss Mark’s forehead.
“Okay as long as the baby calls me Uncle Mark,” Mark grins happily.
“Sure Mark whatever floats your boat,” I roll my eyes at Scott who laughs and winks at me,
“Oh would you like the baby to call you Uncle Scott?”
“If you want, we can tell the baby that I’m the cool Uncle though,” Scott grins and soon he and Mark are fighting over who is cooler.
*
I walk back into my bedroom and out of the corner of my eye I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, my once beautifully flat stomach is now so round that my shirt is puckering at the sides from being stretched over the bulge. I smile and place a hand on my stomach just as the baby starts kicking again. Mark and Scott see my eyes go bright and they jump off the bed and place their hands onto my stomach. The baby kicks a few more times then falls silent.
“Well I’m hungry, did you cook me anything Marky?” I ask him hopefully.
“Sure did, come on well get you nice and fed,” Mark takes my hand and Scott follows us downstairs to the kitchen. I take my seat on my stool at the bench and watch as Mark pulls out of the oven a huge tray of lasagne, he serves a small bit onto a plate and sits it in front of me with a knife and fork. My mouth starts watering, lasagne is my all time favourite food and no one makes it as well as Mark does.
“You better not be feeding her too much Mark, she needs to be able to eat her dinner as well, you know she’ll be disappointed if she misses out on what her father is planning on cooking, reminds me are you two staying for tea tonight?” My mum asks as she gets a drink from the fridge.
“Yes if it’s not too much of a hassle Jemma,” Scott grins and watches as I stuff a large cut of lasagne into my mouth, “Slow down Frances we don’t want you to choke on it,”
“Ho-kay Schott,” I say through the food in my mouth.
“Mouth closed when full Francesca,” Mum tells me and I blush.
*
After I had finished eating my afternoon tea, Scott, Mark and I sit on the couch together and talk.
“You do realise that I’m going to be the godfather right?” Mark asks his head in my lap so that he’s looking at me and one ear is pressed to my stomach.
“Actually Mark I was planning on making Tyson the godfather, Izack agrees,” I tell him looking down at where he lies in my lap.
“Isn’t Tyson dead?” Mark asks, Scott seems to have decided not to partake in this conversation and sits quietly on the opposite couch watching Mark.
“He is but I talked to my pastor and he said that even though Tyson is with God does not mean that he cannot guide my child towards God’s path, Izack and I have talked and we want Tyson to be the godfather because he was a good friend to both of us, he was like a brother to us and therefore we cannot think of anyone better for the job,” I explain.
“Fair enough Frankee, but who’s going to be the godmother?” Mark asks, seems that today he is full of questions.
“That’s going to be Blythe…of course,” I grin then gently kiss Mark’s forehead.
“Okay as long as the baby calls me Uncle Mark,” Mark grins happily.
“Sure Mark whatever floats your boat,” I roll my eyes at Scott who laughs and winks at me,
“Oh would you like the baby to call you Uncle Scott?”
“If you want, we can tell the baby that I’m the cool Uncle though,” Scott grins and soon he and Mark are fighting over who is cooler.