Spotlight- A Cool Story, chapter 6
I started to panic, and I searched the crowd of cruel and lecherous faces and smiles. No one. No one to help me. I closed my eyes and cried out, but when I opened them again, someone was elbowing his way to the front of the circle. Spider. His long, spiky black hair and Emo fringe were startling against his moon-pale skin, and his dizzyingly spiraled tattoos all over his body gave him an ethereal, other wordly look. His thin, pale face set his hair off dramatically, and his dark blue eyes. I never noticed their colour like this. Usually they seemed alot lighter, bordering on milky, but here, in the dark, he had twinkling navy irises. Nothing had seemed so beautiful before. But then I snapped to my senses.
I was alone, surrounded by a few dozen horny punksters, and I didn't even like Spider. I shot him a look of pure terror. He caught it, tipped his head lightly and called "Hey, baby." casually, but it made my heart skip a beat. What the hell? He strode up and put his arm around my shoulders, his many tattoos glowing in the dark. A snake around his wrist, a dragon on his chest, as well as others. I forced myself to smile and rested my head on his shoulder and wrapped my arm around his exceedingly thin waist, edging his baggy jeans. The shaved head guy raised an eyebrow, and stepped forward. I didn't want to talk at all, so I pinched Spider's left hip, he twitched in the pain, and obviously got my meaning to do all the talking.
"What's up wit dis, man?" The guy rumbled. It sounded like he was speaking through gravel.
"Just chillin' with my girl." Spider hissed. How could he be so calm? This guy was HUGE! I grinned.
"He don't seem to be so happy wit dat arrangement, man. Maybe she'd be happier being MY girl." He grabbed my hand and ripped me away from Spider, who right now was the only one who could save me from a fate worse than Jason.
I slapped him, but his fat face took it without wobbeling a bit. I counted his gold teeth. Seventeen? Three hundred? Ew. I stepped back to Spider, my hips swinging from side. He put out his long, delicate hands low on my back, I wrapped my arms around his neck (hoping that he wouldn't move. I had to put them so high, if he did move, it would rip my arms off at the joints.), and I looked into his navy eyes. I knew that what I had to do next was the only thing to keep me from being trapped here with horny dog-boys, but I couldn't help thinking that I would still do it, even if we weren't being forced to. I closed my eyes, felt his skin under my hands, then his lips. They were surprisingly soft, they always looked chapped, but they were sweetly cushioned. I snapped my eyes open. Was that a tongue? I bit it a little bit and he withdrew. We seperated, to many whoops and groans from the guys. He let go of my waist, and placed his long right hand on the small of my back. It sent shivers up and down.
"Welp boys, I'm walking my girl home." he gave a cheeky wink, and there were more whoops. As soon as we turned the corner, he snatched his hand away and sped up his pace. I was dissappointed; the loss of the warmth of his hand felt like a limb ripped off, and his pale skinned-back shone in the moonlight like a pearl. I found myself yearning to see more. To touch and hold it, to kiss it and love it and feel his flesh winding around mine. To feel his lips again, and taste his breath and feel his heartbeat. I was shocked, and a little embarrassed. I liked Jaxon, but lusted after Spider. What was wrong with me?
-at home-
I couldn't sleep, so I sat in my bed, my legs folded under my chin and my arms around them, just staring at my guitars and instruments glinting in the moonlight. They looked like magical things, mirages in dreams that if you move they'll vanish. But I knew different. The illusion was not lost on me; I didn't want to lose the feeling that anything could happen right now, of magic. I could go to sleep, I could open my window to the world and run away, I could stay right here watching my instruments twinkling like stars, and I was perfectly happy just sitting here. It felt like ages but was probably just seconds, when there was pattering of stones on my window. The magic was gone, the spell broken. I sighed a little sadly, and flung off my hot pink duvet. I was wearing a bra and black lacey underwear, with my pair of black converses that I didn't bother taking off still on my feet. I came to the window, and opened it. A cool spring breeze licked my bare skin, so I crossed my arms.
"What?" I whisper-screamed. More pebbles hit me in the face. Fuck. "My window is open, dumbfuck!"
"Oh." They whispered, and stepped out from behind a tree. I smiled.
"What are you doing here?" He had a white fender guitar strapped around his shivering shoulders.
"Okay, Spider just taught me this a couple days ago, so don't blame me for sucking." I smiled. He learned guitar for me.
"Okay, I won't." He bit his bottom lip as he smiled again, and looked at Spider's guitar. He started playing my favorite song; All The Things She Said by tATu.
He cracked on some of the higher notes, and had to stop once or twice (five times, actually.) to re-adjust on the chords, but it was perfect. When he stopped, he paused like we was thinking if there was more to it, but then looked up. His grey eyes locked onto mine, and I blew him kisses as I've seen Billie do. I looked back at my room. I was alone with my instruments. I looked down at him.
"Gimme a minute. I'll be right down." I whisper-screamed to him and started around my room, pulling random articles of clothing and my black iPod and my silver chainmail and leather purse with all my money and some of my jewelry into my huge black backpack, zipping my yellow and green guitar into it's leather box case with my very best picks and music. After a moment of hesitation, I picked up the black velvet box my father gave me (that I had yet to see inside) and slid it into my pants. If I had seen myself, I must have looked very strange.
I wore my red tights under my black fishnets under tight darkwash pencil-straight super skinny jeans under my best faded and ripped flares, with one white and one black converse on my feet, a black goth-y skirt, about five tee shirts under my skull hoody, my bag full of clothing and makeup and jewelry and another pair of shoes, grabbing my favorite black leather jacket. No one was up (why would they be, it was one in the morning.), so I snuck out the door to him. He looked confused, but then we went back to his house, where he hastily packed clothing in a bag and another bag full of snacks and food.
We finally left his house of his sleeping family, and snuck to the all-travel station. The trains didn't set out until eight, but by then either of our families could come searching. The greyhounds were a little more money, especially for a bus with just us, but we paid anyway. We were leaving. To where, I didn't know, he chose the place. We talked only a little bit, as though by saying a word we would be caught here. Two older girls in extremely short skirts, tight tops, fishnet tights, high boots and bruises on their face and body gave us sandwiches, and I wondered who, or what, they were running from. They probably thought the same about us, in layers and layers of clothing with overstuffed bags and my guitar. We smiled and ate the pieces of bread and wilted lettuce.
Finally he and I piled onto the bus, and we were speeding off. By now I had never actually thought of what we were doing; it was a daze, a dream. It wasn't real. I would wake up to Frankito putting something up my nose or something like that. But no, we were really in a bus heading to who-knows-where to what? Make a life? Get a job, go to school? What were we doing? Jaxon must have thought the same thing, 'cause he grabbed my hand and squeezed it hard. I looked up at him, and started to cry. It was my fault. I had run out in my layers, pulling him away. Taking him from the only family and life he had ever known. He then placed his hand on my stomach. I looked down; it was ballooned beyond belief, and I could feel something moving.
"I'm sorry Jaxon..."
"Shh. It's not something to be sorry about. We'll do fine." I must have dozed off by now, because Jaxon woke me up to get off the bus.
"Brr. It's cold."
"It should be, we're at the Canada border."
"What?" Okay, so I wanted to get out, but not this far out.
"Just underneath Alberta." He started shuffling with our bags.
"What are we going to do, sneak in illegally?" At this he slapped me.
I was alone, surrounded by a few dozen horny punksters, and I didn't even like Spider. I shot him a look of pure terror. He caught it, tipped his head lightly and called "Hey, baby." casually, but it made my heart skip a beat. What the hell? He strode up and put his arm around my shoulders, his many tattoos glowing in the dark. A snake around his wrist, a dragon on his chest, as well as others. I forced myself to smile and rested my head on his shoulder and wrapped my arm around his exceedingly thin waist, edging his baggy jeans. The shaved head guy raised an eyebrow, and stepped forward. I didn't want to talk at all, so I pinched Spider's left hip, he twitched in the pain, and obviously got my meaning to do all the talking.
"What's up wit dis, man?" The guy rumbled. It sounded like he was speaking through gravel.
"Just chillin' with my girl." Spider hissed. How could he be so calm? This guy was HUGE! I grinned.
"He don't seem to be so happy wit dat arrangement, man. Maybe she'd be happier being MY girl." He grabbed my hand and ripped me away from Spider, who right now was the only one who could save me from a fate worse than Jason.
I slapped him, but his fat face took it without wobbeling a bit. I counted his gold teeth. Seventeen? Three hundred? Ew. I stepped back to Spider, my hips swinging from side. He put out his long, delicate hands low on my back, I wrapped my arms around his neck (hoping that he wouldn't move. I had to put them so high, if he did move, it would rip my arms off at the joints.), and I looked into his navy eyes. I knew that what I had to do next was the only thing to keep me from being trapped here with horny dog-boys, but I couldn't help thinking that I would still do it, even if we weren't being forced to. I closed my eyes, felt his skin under my hands, then his lips. They were surprisingly soft, they always looked chapped, but they were sweetly cushioned. I snapped my eyes open. Was that a tongue? I bit it a little bit and he withdrew. We seperated, to many whoops and groans from the guys. He let go of my waist, and placed his long right hand on the small of my back. It sent shivers up and down.
"Welp boys, I'm walking my girl home." he gave a cheeky wink, and there were more whoops. As soon as we turned the corner, he snatched his hand away and sped up his pace. I was dissappointed; the loss of the warmth of his hand felt like a limb ripped off, and his pale skinned-back shone in the moonlight like a pearl. I found myself yearning to see more. To touch and hold it, to kiss it and love it and feel his flesh winding around mine. To feel his lips again, and taste his breath and feel his heartbeat. I was shocked, and a little embarrassed. I liked Jaxon, but lusted after Spider. What was wrong with me?
-at home-
I couldn't sleep, so I sat in my bed, my legs folded under my chin and my arms around them, just staring at my guitars and instruments glinting in the moonlight. They looked like magical things, mirages in dreams that if you move they'll vanish. But I knew different. The illusion was not lost on me; I didn't want to lose the feeling that anything could happen right now, of magic. I could go to sleep, I could open my window to the world and run away, I could stay right here watching my instruments twinkling like stars, and I was perfectly happy just sitting here. It felt like ages but was probably just seconds, when there was pattering of stones on my window. The magic was gone, the spell broken. I sighed a little sadly, and flung off my hot pink duvet. I was wearing a bra and black lacey underwear, with my pair of black converses that I didn't bother taking off still on my feet. I came to the window, and opened it. A cool spring breeze licked my bare skin, so I crossed my arms.
"What?" I whisper-screamed. More pebbles hit me in the face. Fuck. "My window is open, dumbfuck!"
"Oh." They whispered, and stepped out from behind a tree. I smiled.
"What are you doing here?" He had a white fender guitar strapped around his shivering shoulders.
"Okay, Spider just taught me this a couple days ago, so don't blame me for sucking." I smiled. He learned guitar for me.
"Okay, I won't." He bit his bottom lip as he smiled again, and looked at Spider's guitar. He started playing my favorite song; All The Things She Said by tATu.
He cracked on some of the higher notes, and had to stop once or twice (five times, actually.) to re-adjust on the chords, but it was perfect. When he stopped, he paused like we was thinking if there was more to it, but then looked up. His grey eyes locked onto mine, and I blew him kisses as I've seen Billie do. I looked back at my room. I was alone with my instruments. I looked down at him.
"Gimme a minute. I'll be right down." I whisper-screamed to him and started around my room, pulling random articles of clothing and my black iPod and my silver chainmail and leather purse with all my money and some of my jewelry into my huge black backpack, zipping my yellow and green guitar into it's leather box case with my very best picks and music. After a moment of hesitation, I picked up the black velvet box my father gave me (that I had yet to see inside) and slid it into my pants. If I had seen myself, I must have looked very strange.
I wore my red tights under my black fishnets under tight darkwash pencil-straight super skinny jeans under my best faded and ripped flares, with one white and one black converse on my feet, a black goth-y skirt, about five tee shirts under my skull hoody, my bag full of clothing and makeup and jewelry and another pair of shoes, grabbing my favorite black leather jacket. No one was up (why would they be, it was one in the morning.), so I snuck out the door to him. He looked confused, but then we went back to his house, where he hastily packed clothing in a bag and another bag full of snacks and food.
We finally left his house of his sleeping family, and snuck to the all-travel station. The trains didn't set out until eight, but by then either of our families could come searching. The greyhounds were a little more money, especially for a bus with just us, but we paid anyway. We were leaving. To where, I didn't know, he chose the place. We talked only a little bit, as though by saying a word we would be caught here. Two older girls in extremely short skirts, tight tops, fishnet tights, high boots and bruises on their face and body gave us sandwiches, and I wondered who, or what, they were running from. They probably thought the same about us, in layers and layers of clothing with overstuffed bags and my guitar. We smiled and ate the pieces of bread and wilted lettuce.
Finally he and I piled onto the bus, and we were speeding off. By now I had never actually thought of what we were doing; it was a daze, a dream. It wasn't real. I would wake up to Frankito putting something up my nose or something like that. But no, we were really in a bus heading to who-knows-where to what? Make a life? Get a job, go to school? What were we doing? Jaxon must have thought the same thing, 'cause he grabbed my hand and squeezed it hard. I looked up at him, and started to cry. It was my fault. I had run out in my layers, pulling him away. Taking him from the only family and life he had ever known. He then placed his hand on my stomach. I looked down; it was ballooned beyond belief, and I could feel something moving.
"I'm sorry Jaxon..."
"Shh. It's not something to be sorry about. We'll do fine." I must have dozed off by now, because Jaxon woke me up to get off the bus.
"Brr. It's cold."
"It should be, we're at the Canada border."
"What?" Okay, so I wanted to get out, but not this far out.
"Just underneath Alberta." He started shuffling with our bags.
"What are we going to do, sneak in illegally?" At this he slapped me.
