Rain

Rain, missing her Mom and in a way, her Dad too, takes care of herself – she thinks.  Here she’s getting dressed and drunk just before the big party.  For previous parts of this story from Nancy, Casey, Kayla and Rain, check out OGW 10/1/09, 11/5, 11/12, 12/10, 12/31, 1/14/10.  This thread of OGW has evolved into the skeleton of a new novel, called either “The Party” or “Raped”, I think.

Rain:  I emptied my Dad’s ashtray, and put it on the kitchen counter.  Took one of his cigarettes out and lit it.  Coughed, some.  Felt a little woozy – then a lot, like I was going to throw up and-or pass out.  I sat down quickly on the floor, putting my head between my knees until the feeling passed.  Stood up and inhaled from the cigarette again.  It had an awful taste, like soot, but the second hit was smoother than the first, and I figured I could get used to this.

Next – retrieved the vodka from the coffee table, poured a shot into a glass, added OJ like my Dad had taught me, and gulped. 

Whew.  Fuck.  ‘Nother head rush.  Sat down on the floor again, cooling my bikini’ed butt on the tile.  In a minute I was already on my feet again, because I always get up again, and I always will no matter what, fuckin remember that world.

As I started my second drink, I was feeling way better.  Less tense.  Smooooth.  I swiveled my hips and ran my hand over my belly, savoring the warmth, appreciating my body, which wasn’t exactly slim, but it wasn’t fat anymore and it was strong.  Like me. 

      I didn’t even want to put something on over my bikini, wanted to go to the party just like this, slinky and warm and smelling of smoke.  But Casey’s mother would freak, I was sure of that, and then she wouldn’t take us to Brian’s house.  What a bitch.  Mothers. 

I looked down at the red spot around my bellybutton piercing.  The vodka sure cut down on the throbbing.  I wished it didn’t look so new.

Upstairs in my room, I fumbled through my makeup and found a cover-up stick, which I smeared around the new piercing.  It worked pretty well at covering the red.  I looked at myself in the mirror.  Swiveled my hips again – Look, Mom, I’m dancing.  Thinking about my mother killed my buzz, made me suddenly sad.

Fuck that, I said.  Yanked a spaghetti strapped, low-cut, tie-dyed long dress from Target off its hanger and pulled it on.  Tripped going into my parents’ bedroom looking for a scissor.  Fuck!  I pulled in my knees and held on for a moment, trying to stop crying.  Gotta grow up Rain!  Not a little Mommy’s girl anymore.  Gasping for air, I pulled it together, found the scissor and cut down the dress to fit my height – sort of tall, but not enough to match my cup size, so the big dress.  The vodka I’d drunk plus the blur from my tears made me cut a jagged edge, but it was okay.

No one was going to be looking at my hem anyway.

The phone rang.  “Mom?” I said, a sudden rush of hope flooding my synapses -- hoping she was waiting at the train station now for a ride.

Stupid Rain.  I hung up on whoever it was because it wasn’t her. Felt my heartbeat slamming in my chest and tears starting again because it seemed like I wasn’t just on my own tonight.  No one lived here anymore. Not even my Dad, not really.

Not even Rain, myself, not always.

Tonight I would be someone else.  I hurried downstairs, leaving all the lights on as I went because in spite of the hard, all-together, strong person everyone knew me as, I was scared of everything, even the dark.  In the kitchen, I tossed the pack of cigarettes and my Dad’s lighter into my tote on top of my towel, did a shot of vodka straight from the bottle, and left the lights on in the kitchen and living room as I passed through to the front stoop to wait for my ride.  I felt better already.  But I stayed in the halo of light by the front door just to be safe.

Casey

It’s the night of the big party, and Casey still has to convince her mother (Nancy from CROSSES) that she’ll be “good”.  Of course, Casey has other plans.  No one, however, expects how wild the party will really be…  If you’re following this thread, re-read OGW 10/1, 11/5, 11/12, 12/10, 12/31.

Casey:  “Mom, you look fine.  Mom you’re beautiful!  Leave your hair alone!  You’re fine!  It’s not like you’re going in—“

“Is that a threat Casey?  Because you should just be glad you have a mother who will jump up on a mement’s notice—“

“Can we go now?”

     “Where’s the fire, Casey, huh?”

     “Mommy, please—“

     “What’s really going on?”

     “There’s nothing going on Mom, let’s just go.  Please!”

     To tell you the truth, I don’t know if something’s going on or not, I just know that Rain called me and said she wasn’t going to the party if Kayla wasn’t going, and Kayla was crying when I called.  She wasn’t going to the party on her bike, ‘that’s for sure’is what she said. ‘I’m never riding that piece of junk again’  I asked did she mean the mountain bike she got for Christmas because—and she just said, ‘You wouldn’t understand Casey.  You’re only fifteen.’  I was like, ‘Thanks Kayla, why do you have to say that to me?  You said age was just a number—‘  She goes, “I was talking about Brian and me, Sweetie,’ and I thought I’m not your sweetie and you’re only sixteen anyway, but then I said okay, and I called Rain back then because she usually drives us all around, but she said no way was she driving tonight because she was going to have fun for once.  I was like, ‘I can’t do any drugs, my mother made me promise,’which was almost true.  Rain was all yellin’ and shit then about ‘who said anything about drugs, don’t be such a baby Casey, tell Kayla to get her Mom to drive us’so I was like, ‘Whatever,’ but only to myself and after I hung up, while I was calling Kayla back, who only started crying and saying maybe she shouldn’t go to the party at all but then she said she was getting a text, and it was Rain, and whatever it said calmed Kayla down so she said to me, “Casey, could your mother drive us?” I sighed, and I really really didn’t want my mother to drive us because she was going to act the way she was now—

     “Okay, I’m ready.  Is there anything between my teeth—“

     “Mom, you’re just driving, you’re not going in, please please pretty please?”

     She sighed.  She rubbed toothpaste on her teeth, and I did the same, and we saw each other in the mirror and grinned.  “I love you Mommy,” I said.

     “I love you too Casey.  Let’s go.  Does my hair really look okay?  Do you think I should grow it out?”

     “You’re beautiful.  You’re the best, Mom.”  I pretended to ruffle her spiked hair, which of course you couldn’t really do because it would probably bite your hand, that’s just what I thought because it was so stiff with mousse, and also because it belonged to my Mom and she got really mad if you touched her hair and plus she would bite you herself if you rubbed her the wrong way. 

     “Do you need help?” she asked me when we were in her car, a red Mustang convertible with fangs for sure.

     “Mom, I think I can buckle my own seatbelt.”

     She leaned over me anyway.  I rolled my eyes and gently pushed her away.  “Remember what I told you,” she said. 

     “I know Mom, I’ll never ever no matter who offers it to me or how old I am, I’ll never take a pill.  I promised you that already!”

     “Just checking.  Maybe I should check in with Michelle, see how she’s doing.”

     “Please Mom!  Kayla will have a cow.  Please, just drive and be quiet please.”

     I was thinking, as we drove in the warm night air, how good it felt to be driving with my mother, and going out with my best friends, and going to my first kegger.  I was also, I admit it, thinking, if someone offers me an Oxy, I’ll probably take it. 

Kayla

Kayla first appeared in OGW Oct.1.  She has also appeared as Rain’s best friend in OGW, Nov.12, and Dec.10. Both girls are friends with Nancy's daughter, Casey (OGW, Nov.5).  The setting is Saturday afternoon, before the three girls will go to a party on Saturday night, their first party with boys, alcohol, no parents and... I'll keep after this thread until their story together becomes clear.  I know where it’s going now, and you’ll want to keep up with these three girls.

Kayla:  Waiting, waiting, waiting!  I’m always waiting for something, like for instance, I remember waiting for my breasts to grow big like my mothers -- which aren’t huge, they’re only size C’s, but I only had size A pimples on my chest for it seemed like forever. I wouldn’t have even thought of falling in love with or even liking a guy like Brian Kepler until my breasts grew… only I did like him so thank God my breasts blossomed this summer.  So now is the time for us to fall in love, but it hasn’t happened yet.  Which is why here I am, waiting again, right now waiting across the street from Brian’s house for him to come home.

     I spin a pedal.  Yes, that’s right, I’m so lame I still have to ride a bike.  I have my learner’s permit, and I’m not stupid -- I know how to drive, okay?  But no, I don’t have a car, and no, my mother wouldn’t let me drive hers if I were twenty-one or forty-five or a hundred, so she’s certainly never going to let me drive her car when I’m still sixteen.  Just wait though, next year my Dad will let me drive his car anytime, just wait.

     OMG, waiting again!  Why oh why do I always have to wait for everything?  If Brian ever asks me to kiss him, I won’t wait, that’s for sure.  But he hasn’t asked, so I’ll wait. 

     Sweat slides in a thin river down between my breasts.  I spin the pedal on my bike again, peering through the spokes of the back wheel at Brian’s house.  When he gets home, I’m hoping he’ll see my bike upside down and come over to see what’s wrong.  Maybe he’ll invite me inside for a Coke.  Then he’ll admit he has loved me since last year when we had gym class together, and he doesn’t care if he’s a senior and I’m only a sophomore because age is just a number.

     Oh shit, that’s his car!  I’m so startled to finally see him pull around the corner I fall back onto my butt.  Scrambling up to my feet, I find my legs have stiffened up from squatting next to my bike watching his house for the past whatever, half-hour?  I’m all knees and elbows and I feel like a scarecrow and wearing this tank top was so stupid, but it shows off my breasts and makes me look older I think maybe, except I also don’t think I’m really pulling it off with my stick legs barely holding me up.  I am not looking like a woman.  I’m not looking like the girl Brian will fall in love with, and shit crap damn!  There’s Amber and Caitlin.  They do look old enough.

     Amber and Caitlin giggle and follow Brian inside.  He doesn’t even see me!  And… now he’s gone.  I wait some more, in case he’ll come back, but of course he doesn’t.  But I’m going to his party tonight.  I’m going, and he’ll see me then.

     I hope he sees me then.

Juliet

Juliet began as a character in a novel-in-progress, Let Her Cry, and then appeared in OGW 10/22/09.  Juliet is working on a “one-girl show”, hoping to become a performer like her mother.  Unfortunately, Juliet’s mother is bipolar, which often takes too much of Juliet’s time and energy, and leaves her with little left to work on herself.

Juliet: 

Juliet:  Story of My Life

(a “one-girl” show)

starring Juliet McCarthy as herself

(One small dot of light expands… expands, expands, becoming a halo, illuminating Juliet’s face, becoming a spotlight of her whole body.  She is crouched on the floor, holding the microphone in one hand, tapping a cigarette with the other.  A black and white movie reel plays in the backround:  loud sounds of reels spinning, the movie is crackly -- family scenes, like a montage of old family movies

Wait.  Too campy.  Not authentic enough.  Change to: (Natural lighting dims.  Juliet is crouched on the floor, tapping a cigarette with one hand, tapping keys on a laptop computer with the other.  She is illuminated by the light from her computer screen.  The microphone rests on the floor by her feet.  Her toes, barefeet, scrunch.

Slides click into place behind Juliet -- family scenes -- click, click, then faster and faster, clickity clickity click, in time with Juliet tapping out words on her computer.  She reads:)

                                                            Juliet:

After the big fight over Hootie.  Mom in fishnet tights and a big tee shirt with Dad’s Irish-green down vest over it for warmth.  He’s so happy when she kisses him.

            I’m happy too.  No, really.  Mom’s eyes look like clichés – sad clown or raccoon eyes, streaked make-up.  From the fight.  But it’s over now, they’re happy, and I’m happy.

            Really.  (Looks up at the audience.)

            But you don’t believe me.

           

            After the big fight, Mom with raccoon eyes kisses Dad and he runs his hands over her down vest.  They retreat to the bedroom, and Dad leaves his drink.  Scotch Rocks.

            I’m so happy for them, and the fact that they don’t see me anymore.  I’m so happy for me -- and the fact that I don’t see me anymore.

           

            (Juliet looks down at her computer and types as she reads:)  I don’t believe in me.

            I drink the scotch. (Mimes drinking a glassful in one gulp.)

            Tap my cigarette.  Suck hard.  Crouched over laptop on the floor of my room, Achilles tendons stretching, knees popping.  Writing.

            This is my story.

(The last slide clicks into place – it is Juliet, posed as she was a moment ago -- as she was in her bedroom that night.  She rises, and faces the screen and the slide, reaching out to touch her own image.)

Meghan

Meghan is a new character.  I sat down to write and thought, "I'm tired.  The Red Bull doesn't cut it for me anymore"... wrote that down for the hell of it, and Meghan emerged!  All I know about her so far is what you read in her Outsider Girls entry.  Her father has a drug problem, maybe her mother too, maybe Meghan herself.  We'll see...

Megan:  I am tired.  The Red Bull doesn’t cut it for me anymore.  My father let me try cocaine once, and it got me up, but not enough, you know?  I mean, it felt good and all that, like it was supposed to, I guess, but

     I am never smoking pot again.  No, really.  Yeah, yeah, I know, that’s what I said about the coke

     Of course I found his stash, well, Stacy who wants to be called Grimelda – no shit –

     “Stop, just stop!” that’s Grimelda, and she’s all yelling and shit at Angel to stop rubbing her back against the edge of the door cause, and I agree, it’s going to really hurt her.

     Grimelda found my dad’s stash of cocaine in his sock drawer of all places, I mean how lame a hiding place was that?  Also a rectangle sample of the same granite we eventually did our counters with

     They weren’t even his regular socks.  Just the holey ones without matches in a drawer covering his coke.

Fuck. Never. A. gain.  No.  More.  Pot 

“Yeah sure,” I say to the offer of a shot of vodka in my Red Bull.  

     Once I heard Daniel Pesco’s dad found his bottle of vodka in the freezer frozen, and Daniel was in like so much trouble, and he’s such an idiot which is why we don’t hang out with him anyway and

     OMG, my mother flipped out when she caught Stacy I mean Grimelda and me into Dad’s stash, she was like, “Fuckin’ A’ Richard—“

     Dad prefers to be called Dick.  No, just kidding.

     I think I want to die here now.  I’m never smoking pot again. 

“Angel, it does not itch that much you’re just stoned!” She better just stop before I before I

     Dad was like, I mean later, when Mom was gone, after she’d stormed off, after she’d made an appointment with me I mean for me to see her shrink

     Dad was like, “Meghan, you just have to ask, honey, you don’t have to steal anything from me, I’m your Dad!”

     I think I’m going to die here.

     I think I might as well.

     Angel stop rubbing your back against the fucking door and everyone just chill out why are you yelling

     Oh yeah, that was me. 

Jenna

11/25/09

Jenna:  Jenna is from the novel I’m writing, Spun.  Jenna is a recovering meth addict and poet.  Here she writes about being in love, of course, but also about being straight, and reconnecting with her mother.

     Me,

       I totally

       think love

       is like a heartful

       of pregnant dreams, a

       waiting room full of worries,

       hungry and hoping for something,

       like the red-faced baby who

       changes the trauma of

       laboring birth into

       a life full of

       believing.

Maree

Maree first showed up in OGW 10/8/09.  In this entry, we learn that Maree’s alienation from her family stems from her being adopted.  As Maree’s story evolves, perhaps her birth mother will reappear in her life.  Perhaps Maree will find peace with her adopted family.  Who knows?

Maree:  Everyone thinks I’m Godless, but I’m not.  Even I have called myself Godless, have fought with Julia over Jesus (me:  he doesn’t exist!  You’re stupid!), have told Hannah that nobody in any religion believes God lives in McDonald’s so she better just shut up before the men in white coats come to take her away (Hannah:  Boo hoo bawl cry, I’m telling my Mama). 

But here’s the truth.  I do have a God, a secret Goddess.  In my heart, I call her Mom.

I know it’s crazy.  I know my real Mom didn’t want me and that’s how I ended up with this crazy Christian band of do-gooders I call my adopted family.  But here’s what I do:

I lie down or sit up in lotus position.  I put in earplugs and all I can hear is the steady, slowing pulse of my own blood in my ears.  I go deep, down into my heart, and there is a door.  When I knock, it opens. 

Gently, softly, quietly.

Sometimes there is a bed suspended on a porch by the beach (saw that in a magazine), and I lie down on it.  She lies next to me.

Sometimes there is a velvet couch in a small room full of gauzy hanging scarves, windchimes and purple pillows.  She waits for me there, and I crawl onto her lap.

My favorite is the open room, wooden floors.  I take off my shoes, and suddenly I’m dressed in a long, flowing gown of layers and layers of sheer material, and I begin to dance.  She joins me.  She lifts me up, high above her head.  I float, I spin, I fly.  She is with me, and when we’ve finished dancing, she applauds me, even though she did all the work.

She is my Goddess.  I call her Mom. 

Nancy

Nancy,originally from Crosses, was my first outsider girl.  Now Nancy is grown-up, with an outsider girl of her own -- daughter, Casey, fifteen.  Fifteen… the age when Nancy met Katie, the age when Nancy began cutting herself in earnest, when she started drugs, dating.  Will Casey follow the same path her mother did, or will she find her own?

Nancy:  With everything I’ve done, I still have no problem at all saying to Casey, “Promise me you will not ever, no matter who gives them to you, no matter what they’re for, you will not ever take a pill.  Not from me, not from a stranger, not from your best friend.  Whatever you do—“

“I know Mom!  I won’t ever take a pill!  I won’t shoot heroin either—“

“I know you think I’m saying this just because I watched that Intervention—“

“I know you’re just saying it because you don’t want me to go out with Kayla this weekend.”  Casey lights a cigarette, and I want to cry, because it's my fault.  She took the smoke from my pack after all.  

I never made her promise not to smoke.  You have to choose your battles -- “If you want to try drinking or pot, we can talk about that—“

“If it’ll make you happy, I’ll talk to you before I take a sh—“

“What’s that on your arm?  Have you been biting yourself?”

“Mom, it’s not like that—“

“I can’t believe after all we’ve been through in this house—“

“Mom!  I’m not trying to hurt myself!”

“Don’t you think I would—“

“You don’t know everything, Mom.  It’s just a hickey.”

“Oh Casey, don’t you know it’s not cool to be branded, who’s the guy—“

“There’s no guy—“

“The girl?”

“Mom, I did it to myself!”

“Isn’t that what we were just talking about!  Casey, sometimes you drive me crazy!  Please, let’s talk about this.”

“Mom, no one needs to drive you crazy, you’re already there.”

I rush to the freezer to get two ice cubes, which I grip hard, one in each hand, while I breathe deeply, cooling-down breaths.  Casey sighs, comes closer, and wraps her arms around my waist.  “Kidding, Mom, kidding!  I love you!”

I smile.  I breathe.  “And another thing,” I say, “Never, ever get in a car—“

“With someone who’s been drinking.  I know, Mom, but holy crap, I’m only fifteen!  It’s just a party.  It’s no big deal, Mom.”

OhmiGod.  Fifteen.  “When I was fifteen—“ 

“I know! I know all about you and Katie, you’ve told me a thousand times—“

My face tightens, and ice water streams from my hands as I squeeze the cubes, a trick I learned, a trick Katie and could’ve used.

“Mommy, I’m so sorry!  I shouldn’t have said—“

“It’s okay, Case.  I’m sorry I’m such a basket case. I just love you so much.”

“I know, Mom. I’ll be home by midnight.  Jonas will drive me home.”

And there it is.  And now it begins.  

Gemma

Gemma is back!  Gemma first appeared in an unpublished short story, “Wings.”  Gemma’s mother abandoned her when she was a child.  Mom was addicted to smoking faery dust, and now that Gem’s an adolescent she has what all the daughters of dusters got – wings.  Horrified and outcast, Gemma has left home for NYC to find her mother, others like her, and maybe herself.

Gemma:

“Truth or Dare,” I said to Luke.  I didn’t really care which he picked.  I was so f*cked up, I didn’t care anymore.  I just wanted to go home…

Wait.  I couldn’t go home.  I was here.  Here was home now. 

Whoa.  I was really loopy, really a mess.  If I’d just taken the dare or told the truth I wouldn’t have had to keep drinking.  But even with all the magical weirdness in the room – the deformities or whatever – the horns, the tails, the wings, the scales – it still felt freaky to be me.  It still felt like everyone was staring at me.  Wait, was everyone staring at me? 

Lola definitely was.  Well ha ha to her.  I leaned on Luke and asked him again, “Truth or Dare?”

“Or consequence,” said Lola.  She looked like she regretted starting this game.

Luke’s tail lashed back and forth as he thought.  “Truth,” he said, smiling at me. 

Was he really smiling?  At me?  It might’ve been the wine.  Or the schnapps. 

Ooo!  That was definitely Luke’s hand on my knee.  My wings fluttered.

“What did you do the first time you knew you were different?” I asked.  I did care, in spite of all I’d had to drink.  Not only did I care, I had to know.

“I know what I would’ve done,” he said, smirking.  “I would’ve done this –“ 

And then, just like that he kissed me!  His lips were just right too, not too soft, not too rough, not too wet or dry.  Perfect really.  I sighed as his shaggy bangs brushed my nose.

“Your turn, Gemma!  Your turn!” Lola was so pissed off. 

I didn’t dare grin.  But Luke had me all fluttery and smooshy and suddenly glad…

I shouted so loud that everyone laughed, “Dare!” and then I threw off my bomber jacket and let my wings free!

I flexed, shook them out, and… and… and…

I flew!

Maree

Maree is a newcomer Outsider Girl.  I don’t know where she came from or where her story will go, but I find her to be funny, with an interesting perspective on things, and I expect she’ll be back in later posts.

Maree:

My little sister, eight, believes God lives in McDonald’s, because she says, there he can get a hot meal anytime he wants.

My four year old brother just told me he only likes white guys, like Batman, and Spiderman, Wolverine and Superman, Steve and Joe from Blue’s Clues.  Phineus and Ferb.  I’m worried, because his new school will be ninety percent black and hispanic.  Hopefully, he’ll meet some new Superheroes there. 

My oldest sister, Marla, twenty-two, is a Christian missionary to missionaries. Wrap your head around this -- she helps missionaries get closer to Christ.  She had to raise a whole lot of money to get this job, but I didn’t say anything about how backwards that seemed, and didn’t dare get smart and ask how God’s dental plan is. 

Everyone thinks Marla’s so great, except me.   I think she’s crazy and kind of a bully besides, but then I had to grow up with her lording it over me -- no pun intended (get it?  “Lord”, hardeeharhar).

So then there’s me, in the middle.  Last night I gave my first blow job, in the bushes behind a party, and Christopher, that was the guy, called me an angel, but he hasn’t called today, or answered any of my texts. 

I guess you’d say I’m Godless.  But it’s not like I don’t care.  It’s not like I’m trying to break my parents’ hearts.  I’m looking for God, or something, anything out there that’s not me, but it’s hard, because when I’m mopping the floor, and wiping Markie's boogers, and scraping dried cheese off plastic plates... it seems like there is only me.  It seems like I can only be my own angel.

Kayla

Kayla is a new character.  She is coping with a sick mother who isn’t always available, and at the same time with a huge crush on a popular boy who doesn’t seem to know she’s alive.  I like Kayla’s honesty.

Kayla:

            I told my mother -- I was crying and everything -- I told her that everyone has their belly button pierced, and if she didn’t let me then it was her fault if Brian Kepler didn’t like me, and it was her fault if I didn’t get invited to his party this weekend, and you know what she did?  She laid there on the couch with her eyes closed, doing her deep breathing thing which nobody else’s mother does, I mean really, and then she said “Party?” 

            I was kinda stuck then, because I would never lie to my mother, I just wouldn’t, because she always said that would be the worst thing I could ever do, but on the other hand, I couldn’t tell her deets about the party because Brian’s parents were going out of town and that’s why it was such a big deal – there were going to be no adults and a keg and the pool and everyone who mattered was going to be there, and my friend Rain said she was going to lose her virginity Saturday night, and if Brian were to ask me, I would too, only he won’t ask because my mother won’t let me get my belly button pierced –

            “Just a party.  You know Brian, Mommy!  You know how much I love him.  Please, Mom!”  I said, adjusting her pillow.

            She winced when I moved her, but then she sighed, so I her neck was hurting more than usual.  Her pain was bad, I knew it, because otherwise she’d totally be sitting up, leaning forward on her hands, looking into my eyes for the truth –

            And then, I never could’ve lied, but all of a sudden it seemed easy, because she was lost in her world of hurt, and so I said, “It’s his birthday.  He invited me specially.  It’s almost like a, like a date!”

            “Are you asking if you can go?”  She was happier than she was letting on.  She really wanted to believe someone like Brian Kepler would ask me out.  She was crazy that way, thinking I was totally popular and everyone liked me, and all the boys loved me, when actually the opposite was true.

            I started rubbing my mother’s foot.  She sighed with relief, and I said, “So I can go, right?”

            “I don’t know, Kayla, it’s not a good time—“

            “It’s never a good time with you!”

            “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—“

            Okay, so sue me – she was weak and I needed to get my belly button pierced, and I knew if I kept at it, kept pushing her, she’d give in, if for no other reason than guilt over being sick and being afraid that that made her a bad mother.  I knew how she thought.  I didn’t want to take advantage of her, but my love for Brian was so real, so powerful, it was all I could think about, it was like a hot knife in my heart.  I knew I could get him to like me if only -- and so I said to my mother, “Can I get my belly button pierced before the party Saturday?  I have the form you just have to sign and Rain’s mother will take us.”

Gemma

Gemma first appeared in an unpublished short story, “Wings,” which may yet become a novel. Gemma’s mother abandoned her when she was a child. Mom was addicted to smoking faery dust, and now that Gem’s an adolescent she’s getting what all the daughters of dusters got – wings. Horrified and outcast, Gemma leaves home in search of her mother.

Gem:

1 am: It started as an itch I couldn’t get at, but it was driving me crazy. I thought I would scratch myself raw, I mean, I really almost did. Sleep is out of the question, and that pisses me off, because I’m a bitch when I don’t get enough sleep, plus I have a Biology test second period.

2 am: Biology Shmology. What I mean is, I found out that it's not a regular itch, and actually, I am an aberration of nature. A true freak.

3 am: (Sigh, then small breath in) Little breaths as though I'm panting. I have a scissors. But then I find I can't mutilate myself, even if my self is changing and I don't like it.

4 am: Thinking of my mother. A lot.

5 am: The wings aren't going to go away. I can't cut them off. I can't scratch them off (duh). I can't just ignore them, and I don't know how the other girls with wings -- like Hope, like Mommy -- I don't know how they ever slept with all the annoying fluttering and the stupid urge to fly (like I’d ever do that!). Damn, some girls just get their periods, and isn't that hard enough when you're all alone? But they don’t know suffering like this.

5:30 am: I have to get out of here, and GET THESE F*CKING WINGS OFF MY BACK!