Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Storms - 17. Julie
Those posters were horrible. I found one taped to the door of the girls’ toilets when I arrived at school Thursday morning. For a moment I just stared, in utter shock. Then I tore it down, rage boiling inside me, ready to bubble over.
I looked about me, noted a few people pointing, laughing, but none that looked guilty. I marched down the corridor towards the classroom, and sure enough, there was another poster on the door, and standing right next to it, laughing uproariously together with Alec, Will and Aziz, stood Jason.
The next thing I knew, I had shoved my cousin up against the wall, hard. I’m not very strong, but I must have taken him by surprise, because it seemed to knock the wind out of him for a second.
‘You did this! Didn’t you?’
He stared at me for a moment before pushing me away, roughly. ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’
My hands were balled into fists. I was prepared to beat my worthless cousin into submission, which was insane, as he was much bigger and stronger than I was. I too wondered what was wrong with me. I pushed the thought from my mind. ‘Well? Was it you?’
‘The posters? I fucking wish it was, but no. It’s brilliant work, though. Wonder if it’s photoshopped, or if someone actually managed to sneak that pic of him. Either way, I want to shake the hand of the guy who did it.’
I was unaccustomed to punching people, so I can’t imagine it hurt much when I banged my fist against Jason’s bicep. He just laughed.
‘Seriously, Jules, stop it before you hurt yourself. And stop protecting that loser while you’re at it.’
‘Daniel’s my friend,’ I growled, ‘and I will never stop caring about him, or helping him!’
Jason shrugged. ‘Suit yourself. Just don’t blame me when you’re as much of an outcast as him.’
I didn’t know what else to say, so I stood there fuming for a few seconds. Then Loz appeared next to me. He stood looking at the poster on the door.
‘Your work, Jason?’ he asked.
‘Why does everyone think that?’
‘Because you would have done it if you’d thought of it first,’ Alec pointed out. Aziz and Will laughed.
‘Fair point.’ Jason grinned.
I couldn’t stand there and listen to them anymore. I stepped around Loz and tore the poster off the door, glaring around at the guys. Then I turned away from them and stalked off.
I caught sight of Michael further down the hall. ‘Michael!’ He turned and saw me, halting. I caught up. ‘Have you seen Daniel?’
Michael nodded. His expression mirrored my own feelings. ‘He’s gone home. Or, he’s gone to see Hugh, and then going home.’ He shook his head. ‘Can’t fucking believe this. Who’d do this? Where’d that photo even come from?’
‘I don’t know. Thought it might have been Jason, but he denies it, and if he’d done it, he’d be bragging about it, even if it gets in in trouble.’
‘I thought maybe Patrick Bates, from my year, but he’s too smart, and too likely a suspect. He’d get caught.’
I sighed. ‘Well, hopefully the administration will figure it out. Daniel really doesn’t deserve this . . .’
‘He doesn’t deserve any of it.’ We stood silent for a few moments, both lost in thought. Then Michael said, ‘I’ve got to get to class. See you at dinner?’
‘Yeah, of course,’ I said, and he left.
* * *
As it turned out, there weren’t that many of those posters. They were mostly centred around the main entrance and the classrooms closest by. Someone must have done it that morning, right before the other students began to trickle in. Anyone who had ever been seen bullying Daniel was called in for questioning, but nobody admitted to anything, and no one had seen anything either.
I had already decided I wouldn’t leave Daniel’s side the following day when Michael asked me to stick with him. We rallied around him, as if we were his bodyguards. I don’t think he noticed. He seemed so sad. He only brightened up a little bit when we all sat together at dinner. It was Michael’s birthday, and we talked and laughed and sang him a birthday song. I suppose it gave Daniel something else to think about.
‘So, Julie,’ said Michael after a while. ‘Have you talked to your mum yet? Are you coming to my party tomorrow?’
I squirmed in my seat. ‘I haven’t really talked to her. I know what she’ll say . . .’
Michael pulled his phone out of his pocket. A moment later, my own phone buzzed in my bag.
‘My sister’s number. Seriously, have your mum call her. If you want to come, that is. If you don’t want to, that’s okay, too. I totally understand if a big party full of people you don’t really know doesn’t seem appealing.’
‘No! That’s not it at all! I really would love to come,’ I said, and I meant it. ‘I just don’t think talking to your sister will make any difference to her. You don’t know what she’s like . . .’
Michael gave me his kind smile. ‘Just try, okay? I really want you to come to my party.’
How could I refuse that? ‘Okay. I’ll try. Can’t promise she’ll even bother calling, but I’ll try.’
‘Let me know if you’re coming!’ said Amy. ‘I’ll come over, help you get ready. I love a challenge.’ She grinned.
I should have felt insulted, but it was impossible to feel insulted by Amy. Besides, she meant well, and I could use some pointers. I hadn’t been to a real party since I was too young for looks to matter.
‘Okay, I will,’ I told her. I turned to Daniel. ‘You’re coming too, right?’
He smiled the most genuine smile I’d seen on him all day. ‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
Michael beamed at him. ‘Good. Wouldn’t be the same without you, Danny.’
* * *
I felt nervous coming home. Letting me spend whole evenings at Deacon’s place watching films had been hard enough for Mum. How was I supposed to convince her to let me go to a big party full of year elevens?
I took a deep breath before entering the kitchen.
‘Hi Mum,’ I said.
‘Julie. Good, you’re home. Would you mind chopping some vegetables for a salad, please?’
‘Course not,’ I said, and picked up the knife she’d laid out on the counter for me.
‘Thank you, darling.’ She kissed my cheek before turning back to the cooker. ‘How was school?’
‘Not bad. Listen, Mum . . . Can I ask you something?’
‘Of course. You can always ask.’
I hesitated for another moment, but I knew I had to do it now.
‘Today was Michael’s birthday. He’s having a party tomorrow. I mentioned it before. I’d really, really like to go! Please, can’t I?’
Mum stopped what she was doing and turned around to look at me with a pained expression. ‘Sweetheart . . . You know I can’t let you go.’
‘But he’s one of my best friends, and he’s sixteen . . .’
She frowned and pursed her lips. ‘Will his parents be there?’
‘They’re in Africa. But his older sister will. She’s twenty. Her name is Elizabeth. She’s responsible. She’s very nice.’ I pulled my phone out of my pocket. ‘I’ve got her number, you can call her yourself.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so, sweetheart.’
‘Please?’ I said. ‘Just call her before you make up your mind?’
Mum sighed. ‘All right. If it means this much to you, I’ll give her a ring. Text me her number.’
I did so immediately. Mum washed her hands and dried them on a towel before picking up her own mobile phone.
While I chopped the vegetables, I listened to her half of the conversation.
‘Hello, this is Erin Kinkaid. Julie’s mother. Yes. Well, I haven’t made up my mind yet, you see. Why don’t you tell me about this party? How many people will be there? Are you chaperoning by yourself? Mhm. I see. Will there be drinking? What if someone sneaks something in? No, Julie would never let herself be pressured into drinking, but teenagers can be . . . All right. Well, she’d have to be home by nine, I won’t let her be outside on her own later than that. Really? Well, if you promise. Yes. That’s very kind. Home by eleven, then. Just so you know, I’ll hold you responsible if anything happens to her. You do sound like a nice young lady, but one can never be too careful. My children are the most important thing in the world to me, you see. Well, then you understand.’ She paused, and then she laughed. ‘Of course. Yes. Thank you so much! Absolutely. It was nice to speak to you too. You’ll have to come up for a cup of tea when you get here. All right then. See you tomorrow. Take care!’
I pretended I hadn’t heard anything, but my heart was in my throat and I could barely conceal my grin when she turned to me.
‘All right, then. You can go.’
I dropped the knife at once and threw my arms around her. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the absolute best. I promise, I’ll be so careful!’
‘I know you will. You’ll be home by eleven. Elizabeth will be walking you home.’ She hugged me back.
‘You won’t regret this, I promise.’ I pulled away, beaming at her. ‘Thank you, Mum. Really. I love you.’
She smiled for the first time during our conversation. ‘I love you too, sweetheart.’
I thought I might cry, so I hugged her again.
‘I’m so proud of you. I hope you know that,’ she said when we broke apart again, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. ‘Now, go finish that salad!’
* * *
The following afternoon, Amy showed up at my door in a stunning outfit, carrying a make-up bag. ‘Ready for your makeover?’
‘Not too much make-up, please,’ said Mum, appearing behind me. She shook Amy’s hand. ‘Nice to finally meet you, Amy. Julie’s told me a lot about you.’
‘Nothing good, I hope,’ said Amy with her trademark mischievous grin. ‘It’s nice to meet you too, Ms. Kinkaid.’ She turned to me. ‘All right, Jules. Show me your room, and let’s make some magic!’
We went through my closet together. I owned nothing remotely cool. Most of my dresses were quite conservative, with floral patterns or lace, and they all went below the knee. In the end, Amy picked out one of the few sleeveless ones, white with a blue floral print.
‘Hm, needs a belt or something.’ Going through my drawers, she found a plain leather belt. ‘This is nice! Shame about the buckle . . . Let’s see . . .’ In another drawer she found an old, pink, sparkly plastic belt I probably hadn’t worn since I was about ten, with a butterfly shaped buckle. ‘Ah! This will do nicely.’ She quickly detached the buckles from both belts, and fit the butterfly buckle on the leather belt. It looked quite good, the pink rhinestones contrasting nicely with the brown leather.
‘All right,’ she said, handing me the dress and the belt. ‘Put these on.’
Soon I was wearing the dress with the belt around the waist. With the belt like that, the dress, which had a very straight cut, suddenly flared out at the waist instead. I stared at my reflection.
‘Wow . . . I don’t think I’ve ever looked this nice before.’
‘Don’t be silly, you always look nice.’
‘I feel like Cinderella, and you’re my fairy godmother.’
Amy laughed. ‘Don’t get carried away. This isn’t magic, and these are your clothes. I’m more like the mice fixing up the old dress to look new and nice.’ She looked around. ‘Where’s your jewellery box?’
I pointed her to it, and she found a pair of yellow butterfly earrings, which I put on. Then she did my make-up.
‘Your features are so fine, and your complexion is so clear, I hardly have to do anything,’ she said. She gave me discreet brown eye shadow, winged black eyeliner on the top lid, black mascara, filled in my eyebrows a bit, and topped it off with a translucent pink lipgloss.
‘There,’ she declared. ‘You are officially party ready. Your hair is perfect just as it is.’
I looked at my reflection again. ‘When you offered to help me get ready, I thought you’d make me look like you.’
She laughed, cocking an eyebrow. ‘Fat chance! You couldn’t pull off this look.’ But then she smiled, and plucked a strand of blonde hair off my shoulder. ‘And you shouldn’t want to. You need to do you. Your style suits you. You’re pretty, and your style is pretty. Me, pretty doesn’t suit me. We’re night and day, yeah?’
I smiled. ‘Shall we head to Michael’s together?’
‘Ah, sorry,’ said Amy, ‘got something I need to take care of first. I’ll meet you there!’
‘Okay.’ As she turned to leave I said, ‘Hey, Amy. Thank you for this. Really.’
She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. ‘Don’t thank me. Just go to that party and slay!’
- 43
- 18
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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