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Camy

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  1. Camy
    I was somewhat... erm... depressed today. I wrote:
    I'm sitting here silently screaming at myself. I'm surrounded by people who love me. So why do I feel so alone? Even though I want to talk, even though I'm asked and given every opportunity to talk I won't. I can't.
    Bri, who is downstairs watching TV has no idea at the swirling cess pit of angst sitting over her head. Yet I can blog about it... No. I can't even truthfully do that either. I want to smash the screen and rip the head off that damned emoticon who's grinning with both thumbs up. Bastard emoticon f**ker. What does he know... No doubt somewhere on this mad planet there is a school of emoticon therapy.
    And then deleted it on the basis I didn't want to bum anybody out who might read it.
     
    Then I read a blog by 'A Friendly Face?' who said: my own thoughts, beliefs, and opinions on ALL these matters tend to be very fluid and there's every chance I'll completely disagree with myself by the next time I read it. Which I totally agree with... So what I guess I'm trying to say is that I'm going to say what I want to say whenever I want to say it. If anyone doesn't like it then they can go elsewhere.
     
    Finally I dug up a story I'd written ages ago called 'Robert's Day' and posted it to the e-fiction section.
  2. Camy
    So that was Robert over and done with. I saw him once more when I was eighteen. He was sitting with a few friends in the garden of my local pub. We both spotted each other at the same time and made brief eye contact. I'd like to think he blushed. I walked by and he was gone when I got back.
     
    I finished prep school as a 'senior' at the grand age of twelve. I left early as the teachers had told my parents that If I was going to pass the exams I'd need tutoring. Tutoring was awful. The days seemed endless, sitting in a stuffy classroom with a bunch of other drossy pupils, none of whom wanted to be there. Every day I'd get dropped off and everyday I thought about legging it... I never did.
     
    I had a wonderful summer at the end of which I met Lolly at the park. Lolly had left my Prep School the year before, was thirteen, and so much older than me. While we were at school he had never talked to me, but out of school was different. The park had a wood at the top end and I vividly remember walking and talking, which was odd enough, but occasionally our arms would brush together, and the way he looked at me gave me a strange tingly feeling. So I invited him back to my house.
     
    We spent the first half an hour looking at, talking about Sammy, the hugely pregnant Cat I'd rescued, brought home and then told my parents about. We did this to avoid talking about why we were really there. He laughed and his tongue flicked over his lips. I liked his lips, though I had no idea why. How we ended up in the basement boiler room I have no recollection. It must have been a dare, a 'bet you won't' number that got out of control (or in control depending). He was taller than me, bigger than me, and he had both hair and was circumcised! To me this was really odd. I sort of knew what I was doing, and I sort of knew what he was doing but nothing spectacular happened, and though it was certainly exciting enough, I was naive. If anyone talked about naive at that time I'm sure I would have been top of the list, the prime example. That didn't change until I went through puberty at a hideously late fifteen.
     
    Lolly came to the Guy Fawkes Bonfire night... Which was fun! And once six months later in the height of pre-pubescent passion I went to his house. Ah well. Some things are meant to be. This wasn't.
     
    ----
    "So. Do you want to?"
     
    "Want to what?" I said shyly, knowing exactly what Lolly was asking, and feeling both elated and terrified at the same time.
     
    "You know what." He said grinning, his hand casually resting on an obvious lump.
     
    "Umm. Yeah, but we can't here." I paused. He looked at me expectantly. "We'll have to go down to the basement."
     
    The house was late Victorian, and parts of it, the basement being a prime example, were still un-modernised. I had a 'wreck room' as my parents liked to call it, and generally If I wasn't elsewhere, or in bed that was where I was.
     
    Lolly following me downstairs was angsty enough. I was torn by wanting, needing, excitement; and a hint of actual terror. Though no one actually went to the basement during the afternoon, there was always the possibility that they might. My Dad employed a part time mechanic, and he could have been anywhere.
     
    A creaky wooden staircase led down from a light airy landing into the gloom of the 'below stairs'. 'My house' I reminded myself as Lolly's breath feathered my neck as I paused at the bottom.
     
    "It's this way." I whispered pointing down the gloomy stone floored corridor.
     
    "OK." Lolly replied, briefly touching my bottom. "Go on then."
     
    I was getting more nervous yet more excited at every step, and I could feel my heart pounding. Oddly this seemed to calm me as I led him past the wreck room, past the gently roaring boiler and into the storage room at the end. The room was about ten by five with wooden shelving stuffed with storage boxes along the wall. The door didn't have a lock, just a catch, so I closed it behind us and lent against it; the only light coming through three air holes at the top. At first all I could see was the top of Lolly's black hair.
     
    He prodded me on the shoulder with his finger.
     
    "Light"?
     
    "Umm... It's safer in the dark." I was now fully blown neurotic. My arms seemed stuck to my sides. I knew it was what I wanted. I knew it felt good, and I knew that my excuse, if caught, would be that Dad had said 'Camy, do what you want, provided you hurt no one'. Still I felt scared. What if the Boiler man was coming, what if my Dad, or worse my Mum needed something from one of the boxes behind me. Or worse, what if someone already knew...
     
    Lolly's finger slowly turned into a flat hand that wandered down to my chest, down and under the bottom of my T-Shirt, and back up again. My right nipple, which I'd honestly never really thought about a lot, began to feel nicely strange as he rested his thumb on it.
     
    "Nice?"
     
    "Mmm."
     
    "Thought so. I read it in one of Mother's magazines."
     
    It was then that his other hand cupped my crotch.
     
    "Gah!" I screamed loudly and hit the light switch, whilst Lolly disappeared backward into the boxes blinking furiously.
     
    "What the..."
     
    "Shhh!" I hissed.
     
    The frozen tableau lasted a good thirty seconds until it became obvious there were no running feet or shouts from upstairs. I still don't know what possessed me, but I moved slowly forward until our bodies were touching, looked up into his face and wrapped my arms around him. It felt so good.
    ---
     
    So. My first bit of 'fiction'. I always knew this blog would be good for something!
     
    I got the damn exams. My parents drove me around the country to three schools that had accepted me. The first was in Yorkshire, a very, very long way away from home for a kid. It was, funnily enough, my Dad's old school. The second was a very well known, 'frightfully frightfully' public school, with a stiff reputation for work over play - my Mother hated this because she saw a teddy bear on one of the beds. The last was close to London, not well known, and relaxed.
     
    My parents, in a fit of utter stupidity that I have thanked them for ever since, gave ME the option of choosing where I went. No contest really!
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