*SHIT / KICKER !

smorches // 𝓪𝓬𝓬𝓮𝓹𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 !

21 // …for the first time

   𝓚𝓪𝔃 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓪 𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓹𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓵 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓸𝓷 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓢𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂. Out of the corner of her eye and mind, she was a dark spot that flitted from side to side. While Sally could nudge her shoulder and sense that they had comparable lives–to some extent–Kaz was often, for Sally, just not there.

𝓣he party was okay. Not the best. Not the worst. The host had rounded everyone together then set them loose in their yard with a good hundred solo cups, cheap beer, and cheaper music. Sally couldn’t remember who got her in. (It was probably herself, by handmade invitation.)

𝓢he shoved her own way to the bathroom, and Kaz was there, too. Not out of the corner of her eye, but full-view and 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝓴. Not dark like ‘Sally’ dark, but a muted and smelling of pine. 

𝓢ally banged on the wall next to Kaz.

   “𝓗ey, you know, you’d look good in black lipstick.”

𝓢he grinned.

   “Bit too 𝓮𝔁𝓬𝓲𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 for you though, eh?”

𝓚az looked at her. There’s an exchange, and Sally realized that Kaz was undone. Watery words and finicky gazes laid low. Sally swung her empty bottle in between pinched forefinger and thumb. Kaz was drunk. And Sally wasn’t one to be helpful. She was one to 𝓮𝓷𝓪𝓫𝓵𝓮.

𝓣o prove a point. Easily riled up, Kaz teetered and fell halfway to her, and Sally met her equally as messy. (But less aimless.) Kissing girls was the only 𝓪𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 of Sally’s life, even if they only lasted as long as a dream. This was for a minute at most, as Kaz wasn’t so drunk that she forgot her shame entirely, and Sally was tipsy enough to acknowledge what self-control looked like. For Kaz’s sake, she pulled away at the same time.

𝓐 sleek head of dark hair and a long, pale face, Kaz looked more naturally 𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓰𝓪𝓷𝓽 than any teenager at a molotov party ought to be. Her lips were smeared darkly, but Sally could still see the pink curve of lower lip and upper Cupid’s bow. She was black and white and even more mysterious.

𝓢ally’s thumbnail–violently rounded and black as Kaz’s mouth–tapped the nape of Kaz’s neck. Then she pulled back completely, and gave double finger guns.

                                                 °✷  🎀  𝒮𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝐻𝒶𝓁𝓁♡𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁  🎀  ✷°

𝐅𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞: Sally Genevieve Hallowell 𝐀𝐠𝐞: 18 𝐃.𝐎.𝐁: June 21 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬: She/Her 𝐒𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲: Lesbian 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬: Confident ♡ Nonjudgemental ♡ Tough ♡ Funny ♡ Honest 𝐍𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬: Finicky ♥ Unreliable ♥ Inattentive ♥ Impulsive ♥ Temperamental 𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬: P.E., Biology, Chemistry, Algebra 𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬: Roller derby 𝐎𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: She does her own jobs. (Read: winning bets and fights, stealing wallets, borrowing from people, finding dollars on the sidewalk, selling her taxidermy projects to weirdos behind the skate park.)

                                                          𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐵𝓁𝒶𝒸𝓀♡𝓊𝓉 𝒞𝓁𝓊𝒷

𝐏𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞: Rose gold iphone - cracked beyond repair, case covered in stickers and hiding a razor underneath. Somehow has a skelanimals phone charm attached to it. 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐈𝐭𝐞𝐦: Sledge hammer Stun gun 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬: Stamina, health 𝐌𝐚𝐣𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫: Takedown

                                                              𝑅𝑒𝓁𝒶𝓉𝒾♡𝓃𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓅𝓈

𝐉𝐮𝐝𝐞: The lesser twin 𝐊𝐫𝐢𝐬: Best goth friends 4eva 𝐄𝐝𝐠𝐚𝐫: Goth friend in training 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐦: Good friends -- would be best friends if he’d let her borrow his wallet 𝐑𝐨: Arsonist buddies 𝐀𝐲𝐚: She’s a cute friend 𝐁𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲: A cute mom friend 𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐤: Fellow goth, has earned the Finger Guns of Approval 𝐃𝐚𝐩𝐡: A nerd and must be bullied accordingly 𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐞: Cool enough to be Ro’s girlfriend but doesn’t seem to like Sally :( 𝐊𝐚𝐳: Neutral. Thinks she’s too serious. Plus, she doesn’t like Graham, and that’s illegal 𝐌𝐢𝐚: Cute and cool, even if she illegally hates Graham 𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧: Is convinced that he secretly has rabies and wants to fight him

Charlotte didn’t look happy to see Sally, but she didn’t look unhappy, either.

Sally took a well-worn position at the doorway. It felt odd being stuck there again, after going so long no longer being transitory. Charlotte’s tugging had always kept her moving. But now it was Charlotte who Sally was hesitating to intrude upon, and she didn’t know the rules for such an event.

For once in her life, Sally’s felt tired.

Charlotte, eventually, raised her hands and gave Sally permission. Sally pushed back her shoulders and marched in with her hands filled with a threadbare backpack. She took the seat next to Charlotte’s bed.

“Hey, Charles,” said Sally, kicking her boots up to the bed, leaning back. She could do this.

“Hey, weirdo,” said Charlotte, poking a gray finger against the black leather. Sally’s boots still had mud and daisy petals stuck to them. The finger curled, and Charlotte was peeling off the ruined petals, collecting them for herself. This was the closest she would get a bouquet from Sally.

Sally said, “I got thingies for you.”

“Thingies.” Charlotte’s lip curled, but it wasn’t a smile. “Good or bad.”

“Jude, help me out here.” Mei said from the kitchen table.

She was standing at full height on top of it--which wasn’t many feet at all--and had a ruthless grip on the light fixture. She seemed to be wrestling with the whole thing, and losing.

From the doorway, Jude said, “You’re going to break that, Mei.”

“My name is ‘mum’ when it comes to you.”

Jude said with mirth, “Fine, mommy.”

Mei’s annoyance made good use of her wide features. “Just come unscrew this damn lightbulb.”

The Hallowell household held only Mei, Jude, Sally, two rats, a tarantula, and a particularly fussy roomba. Compared to the rest of the world, Jude wasn’t very tall, but in the context of this home, he held height as the only advantage.

He got to the top of the table in two smooth gestures, and settled an easy grip around the light. The lightbulb was stubbornly tight, but he didn’t have to bully the thing like Mei did. Mei dropped down, landing solidly but gracelessly on her feet. As Jude unscrewed the bulb, she rifled through the fridge. As Jude finished fixing the light, Mei watched with a pinch in her thin brow.

“You certainly didn’t get that from me.” It was quiet in its mindlessness. She didn’t seem to realize she had said it until a few seconds too late.

Jude slid to sit on the granite, feet dangling only a handful of inches from the floor. Sitting on anything but chairs was a common Hallowell past-time. Though, in the moment, it made him feel childish.

“Who’d I get what from?” He asked.

The pinch deepened, and Mei looked regretful. “It doesn’t matter. Don’t you have school?”

“It’s Saturday.” Jude rubbed his fingers together, feeling the need for a pen. “Don’t you have another shitty date?”

Mei had returned to the fridge--her previous exploration of it was mainly padding without extraction--and this time settled on some milk. Coffee was the only breakfast needed. “Language, kiddo.”

“Is it bitch bastard Brian?”

“His name,” she slammed down the jug. “is Frank. Stop calling everyone I date that.”

“Who’s Frank?”

“Judas.” Mei warned.

Sally was at the doorway now. She was notably less silent about it than Jude was. Stomping and too much perfume announced her entrance to every room.

“Mei--” she started.

“Mum.”

The roomba bumped into Sally’s heel, beeping against the thick leather soles of her shitkickers. The kitchen wasn’t any different from its usual chaos, but the walls were paper thin, and even Sally couldn’t be obliviously self-absorbed in the matters of her own kin.

“Do you have a date with that slut?”

Mei threw her hands up. They were nice, slender hands, connected to nice, slender arms. They made perfect right angles with her display of frustration.

“You’re both such shits! I didn’t raise you to be like this.”

Sally smiled grimly. Jude smiled grimly as well. This conversation had become a joke.

Mei claimed to believe in a hands-off approach with her children: let them find themselves, punish themselves, and reward themselves. In reality, Mei just didn’t have the attention span--or maybe the energy--to keep her children from becoming personal warzones. It took Jude and Sally about sixteen years to realize that Mei’s biggest regret was motherhood. It didn’t mean, though, that Mei hated her children. Resented, sometimes, but every parent goes through that cycle of loving and unloving their children. (Childbirth had been a lot more underwhelming than Mei had thought it was going to be. When she first saw Jude and Sally, her only thought had been, That’s it?)

As a result, Mei ended up treating her children more as roommates than as son and daughter. It worked well enough from her perspective.

There was a graying silence within the Hallowell kitchen. The kitchen window was going green, as the leaves of the trees were pressed crazily against the glass. A cloud rolled over, and the colors darkened.

Mei began fixing herself a mug. Silence was always uncomfortable and, thus, never bode well. Jude lightly swung his leg in rhythm. Sally helped put the roomba back on a more destructive but less obtrusive path. Mei seemed to finally, properly, realize Sally’s presence.

“Sally--”

“What’s poppin’?”

Mei frowned. “Why is the car parked on the front lawn?”

Jude snorted. Sally tilted her head as though she could discreetly peek at the front lawn through the drywall. “It wanted a softer place to sleep.”

“You ran over the fuckin’ flowers, kid.”

“How do you know it was me? Jude’s the one with a hard-on for cars.”

“Oh,” Jude smirked, “great deflection.”