Skinny Jeans Have No Place On These Thighs
Rescue
Bridget and I leave the swings and I sip my Redbull while she starts complaining about her brother who’s picking her up from the park later on. I find it hard to believe that someone as monosyllabic as Sebastian can really do and say all the things that Bridget claims he does.
It’s like he’s a completely different person with her. Maybe that’s what being brother and sister is like though – having a license to wind each other up constantly.
I would have liked a big brother I think because then he could have brought his fit friends home. Maybe I would have been more like Bridget then, she’s used to hanging out with older people.
“And there was no milk left! And I was like, ‘Oi, Pleb! How am I supposed to have tea if you’ve gone and guzzled all the milk up, you greedy git?!’ And he’s all like, ‘tais-toi’ which is supposedly French but who knows and so I’m like, ‘So, you don’t deny you drank it,’ and he says, ‘I don’t deny you’re a cretin.’ Thing is, he only does it to annoy me. And I know I should ignore it. But when you want a nice cup of tea and someone has deliberately deprived of valuable ingredients - ”
“It’s not like he ate the tea bags,” I point out. “You could still have had tea.”
“Jesus, Ella, that’s what Seb said!” whines Bridget. “I’m not about to have tea with no milk. It’s not like with coffee – tea without milk is just wrong! Oh, hang on, I’m being called. Hello?”
Bridget’s face switches to a slightly more neutral shade while she listens to the voice on the other end. “Yeah? . . . Hmm, not sure, why? . . . Yeah, OK, I’m walking there now! OK, bye! Ella, that was Mattie, he wants me to go meet them by the ramps. Do you wanna come too?”
“Erm, are you sure he won’t mind?” I say politely, even though I’m really very pleased. I get to hang out with Bridget like everything’s all right again plus hang out with pretty Matthew Bryer and his cute friends.
The only problem is that when we get there, it turns out that this is not the social event we took it for.
Matthew Bryer comes over and hugs Bridget, nods a vague greeting to me, and then pulls Bridget over to meet some of his friends. The problem is that all the people there are coupled up and so Bridget getting me to tag along was hardly the greatest idea.
It’s also weird how different these boys are to Marcus and Seb and all the people I was hanging out with last night. Granted, they were all at least two years older and had ID and shots and cigarettes and I’m not saying that Matthew and his friends are boring but . . . well, they don’t seem to require substances or hierarchies to co-exist. Like, there’s no ring leader i.e. Marcus, there’re no power puff girls, i.e. Marina and the Diamonds. These guys all just seem to enjoy each other’s company – there’s no point scoring. In short, it’s weird.
Sweet, but weird.
I only last about forty minutes of standing behind Bridget trying to enjoy myself before I make an excuse and get the hell out of there. Matthew and his friends weren’t exactly ignoring me – they’re not nasty enough to do that – but there isn’t a place for me in this little gang. All the spaces were in demand and it looks like Bridget got the last one.
She seems really happy though which is great. Bridget isn’t cut out for drama and I’m glad she’s found a nice boy. I wonder how long it’ll be before she realises that he likes her. It’s so obvious! He keeps asking her for advice on stuff and poking her and laughing at what she says. They’ll probably end up married.
Still, that’s probably better than ending up with Andrew Foreman, like Izzie. I wonder how she’ll stay annoyed at me. I was perhaps harsh but she drove me to it. I know, that’s the defence of a five year old but I can’t help but feel that it’s the truth.
I make my way back across to my end of the park, trying to ignore the fact that it’s already starting to get a little dark. The sun will be out for at least another half an hour, more than enough time to make it to the gates by Luddy Lane. Will anyone get lucky there tonight? I really hope I don’t find out.
It’s then a can hits the side of my head. I shriek in surprise and spin and freeze at the sight of Marina and her two friends sitting on a nearby bench.
“Hey, look who it is!” calls out Marina, “It’s the bitch who took my Malibu.”
Bubbles, the blonde girl, mutters something to her that I don’t quite catch. Marina isn’t listening.
“Where’s your knight in shining armour? Poland?”
This is a stinging jibe at the fact that Marcus apparently got off with a polish girl after I left and I’m ashamed to say it works. My cheeks scald at the touch of the thought.
“For eff’s sake, Merry, she’s a kid,” snaps Buttercup. I never learned the real names of the other two but I like them both a hell of a lot more than Marina. I don’t know why they call her Merry, she always seems to be in a foul mood whenever I seem to see her.
“You just going to stand there staring at us?” jeers Marina.
Then, she’s on her feet and she’s striding towards me and I stupidly can only stand there watching her descend upon me.
“Don’t let the attention go to your head, sweetie,” Marina is right in front of me now, bearing down in her four inch heels. “Marcus is probably only talking to you because he lost a bet. Let’s face it, there are cooler kids your age he could be hanging out with.”
I don’t know what to say but I want to say that she’s jealous. Because that’s what you’re programmed to think whenever someone is mean to you, isn’t it? The truth is, she’s probably not. She could have Marcus like *that*.
Nicer I may be but I think you’ve seen enough by now to know that isn’t enough for Marcus. And Marina might be a complete witch but everyone knows that really guys like Marcus don’t really care if a girl is a witch. It just means she’s a challenge or whatever.
So, I really don’t know why Marina is being so horrid. It can’t be the Malibu since Marcus gave her money for that and how much fuss can one person make over a few drinks from a bottle of that stuff anyway?
“You deaf or something?” Marina’s finger finds my chest again and she prods it very hard.
“Merry!” Bubbles is on her feet too but not coming over. “Leave her alone, for God’s sake!”
“Oi, I’m talking to you. You going to open Marcus’s cum sack or what?”
A male voice from beside us suddenly shouts out, “HEY!” and grabs hold of Marina’s wrist, removing her hand away from me.
It’s like he’s a completely different person with her. Maybe that’s what being brother and sister is like though – having a license to wind each other up constantly.
I would have liked a big brother I think because then he could have brought his fit friends home. Maybe I would have been more like Bridget then, she’s used to hanging out with older people.
“And there was no milk left! And I was like, ‘Oi, Pleb! How am I supposed to have tea if you’ve gone and guzzled all the milk up, you greedy git?!’ And he’s all like, ‘tais-toi’ which is supposedly French but who knows and so I’m like, ‘So, you don’t deny you drank it,’ and he says, ‘I don’t deny you’re a cretin.’ Thing is, he only does it to annoy me. And I know I should ignore it. But when you want a nice cup of tea and someone has deliberately deprived of valuable ingredients - ”
“It’s not like he ate the tea bags,” I point out. “You could still have had tea.”
“Jesus, Ella, that’s what Seb said!” whines Bridget. “I’m not about to have tea with no milk. It’s not like with coffee – tea without milk is just wrong! Oh, hang on, I’m being called. Hello?”
Bridget’s face switches to a slightly more neutral shade while she listens to the voice on the other end. “Yeah? . . . Hmm, not sure, why? . . . Yeah, OK, I’m walking there now! OK, bye! Ella, that was Mattie, he wants me to go meet them by the ramps. Do you wanna come too?”
“Erm, are you sure he won’t mind?” I say politely, even though I’m really very pleased. I get to hang out with Bridget like everything’s all right again plus hang out with pretty Matthew Bryer and his cute friends.
The only problem is that when we get there, it turns out that this is not the social event we took it for.
Matthew Bryer comes over and hugs Bridget, nods a vague greeting to me, and then pulls Bridget over to meet some of his friends. The problem is that all the people there are coupled up and so Bridget getting me to tag along was hardly the greatest idea.
It’s also weird how different these boys are to Marcus and Seb and all the people I was hanging out with last night. Granted, they were all at least two years older and had ID and shots and cigarettes and I’m not saying that Matthew and his friends are boring but . . . well, they don’t seem to require substances or hierarchies to co-exist. Like, there’s no ring leader i.e. Marcus, there’re no power puff girls, i.e. Marina and the Diamonds. These guys all just seem to enjoy each other’s company – there’s no point scoring. In short, it’s weird.
Sweet, but weird.
I only last about forty minutes of standing behind Bridget trying to enjoy myself before I make an excuse and get the hell out of there. Matthew and his friends weren’t exactly ignoring me – they’re not nasty enough to do that – but there isn’t a place for me in this little gang. All the spaces were in demand and it looks like Bridget got the last one.
She seems really happy though which is great. Bridget isn’t cut out for drama and I’m glad she’s found a nice boy. I wonder how long it’ll be before she realises that he likes her. It’s so obvious! He keeps asking her for advice on stuff and poking her and laughing at what she says. They’ll probably end up married.
Still, that’s probably better than ending up with Andrew Foreman, like Izzie. I wonder how she’ll stay annoyed at me. I was perhaps harsh but she drove me to it. I know, that’s the defence of a five year old but I can’t help but feel that it’s the truth.
I make my way back across to my end of the park, trying to ignore the fact that it’s already starting to get a little dark. The sun will be out for at least another half an hour, more than enough time to make it to the gates by Luddy Lane. Will anyone get lucky there tonight? I really hope I don’t find out.
It’s then a can hits the side of my head. I shriek in surprise and spin and freeze at the sight of Marina and her two friends sitting on a nearby bench.
“Hey, look who it is!” calls out Marina, “It’s the bitch who took my Malibu.”
Bubbles, the blonde girl, mutters something to her that I don’t quite catch. Marina isn’t listening.
“Where’s your knight in shining armour? Poland?”
This is a stinging jibe at the fact that Marcus apparently got off with a polish girl after I left and I’m ashamed to say it works. My cheeks scald at the touch of the thought.
“For eff’s sake, Merry, she’s a kid,” snaps Buttercup. I never learned the real names of the other two but I like them both a hell of a lot more than Marina. I don’t know why they call her Merry, she always seems to be in a foul mood whenever I seem to see her.
“You just going to stand there staring at us?” jeers Marina.
Then, she’s on her feet and she’s striding towards me and I stupidly can only stand there watching her descend upon me.
“Don’t let the attention go to your head, sweetie,” Marina is right in front of me now, bearing down in her four inch heels. “Marcus is probably only talking to you because he lost a bet. Let’s face it, there are cooler kids your age he could be hanging out with.”
I don’t know what to say but I want to say that she’s jealous. Because that’s what you’re programmed to think whenever someone is mean to you, isn’t it? The truth is, she’s probably not. She could have Marcus like *that*.
Nicer I may be but I think you’ve seen enough by now to know that isn’t enough for Marcus. And Marina might be a complete witch but everyone knows that really guys like Marcus don’t really care if a girl is a witch. It just means she’s a challenge or whatever.
So, I really don’t know why Marina is being so horrid. It can’t be the Malibu since Marcus gave her money for that and how much fuss can one person make over a few drinks from a bottle of that stuff anyway?
“You deaf or something?” Marina’s finger finds my chest again and she prods it very hard.
“Merry!” Bubbles is on her feet too but not coming over. “Leave her alone, for God’s sake!”
“Oi, I’m talking to you. You going to open Marcus’s cum sack or what?”
A male voice from beside us suddenly shouts out, “HEY!” and grabs hold of Marina’s wrist, removing her hand away from me.
♠ ♠ ♠
Ella Sparks has no gaydar.