time for you to go out go out into the world

2018-08-10 15:50
skepticgirl_1: (ll044)
It was almost my birthday. Which was, you know, great. I would finally be eighteen. That arbitrary age when the whole world opened up to you and you were officially an adult. Steve was planning a ridiculous, fun birthday party for me, so I was sure to grow up in style.

But I was having mixed feelings.

For one thing, of course, I wanted my family here. I had friends, so the loss of those friends back home -- short of SmallvilleGuy -- didn't hurt as much. But I always imagined turning eighteen with my family there, at least in some part. Now I was going it alone.

And then there was Jake. I didn't know where we stood now that I was reaching adult age. Everything between us was fine, but would we still live together? Did he want me to go? Did I want to go? I wasn't sure.

So instead of doing anything about it, I sat at the table, pushing my food around on my plate, not paying attention to a word Jake was saying to me.
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the static or the silence; don't know which is worse

2018-03-05 17:48
skepticgirl_1: (Default)
I had noticed something strange going on.

I wasn't an expert or anything on Jake. Even though we lived together, we kept a respectable distance away from each other. I didn't want to know all the details of his business anymore than he wanted all the details of mine. But the past couple of days, ever since I had found him at that bar, things had been off.

He had gone out, but judging by the timing of when he left and when he came back, he hadn't been going to work. I had school, but also a pretty flexible schedule that let me out early some days. When I wanted to notice something, keep track of something, I did. And keeping track of Jake made me... well, worried.

I came home from school to find him sitting on the couch, watching TV, and I decided enough was enough. I threw my bag onto an armchair and sat myself, cross-legged and facing Jake's profile, on the couch.

"Okay," I said in a firm but demanding voice. "Spill."
Tags:

stay with me, go places

2017-11-23 13:09
skepticgirl_1: (ll015)
We were having Thanksgiving dinner. It didn't matter to me that Jake was Welsh and probably couldn't care less about the founding of America. I wasn't even sure I cared all that much, considering how crappy we were to the Native Americans and how much of a farce a lot of that history was. But I needed Thanksgiving. Just like I had gone to that concert on the Fourth of July, for something homey, for something familiar, I needed a Thanksgiving to remind me of who I was. What I had lost but also what I had to be thankful for.

It was really hard to be thankful for anything in this city, considering, but I had tried. I had Jake, I had friends, I had a job. I had a roof over my head and enough money for whatever I wanted (mostly) and my health. I still had memories of home and what it meant to me. I had a lot, all things considered. I was going to take this one day -- okay, maybe a few hours of this day -- to be happy for that.

The only problem was I didn't know how to cook. Mom always managed this kind of stuff and I was regulated to the boring stuff that Lucy wasn't allowed to do because it involved sharp objects. Peeling potatoes, cutting up carrots and onions. I had no idea what even to do with a turkey. So I had cheated and bought a precooked turkey, one of the smaller ones (even though it seemed like no small turkeys existed, did they really evolve to be this fat and covered with feathers?), and then I cheated more by buying the pie, instant potatoes, easy bake biscuits and the kind of stuffing that you only needed to add water to and bake.

I did however make my own green bean casserole. That was way easier than I had expected, so I was proud of my work. After mashing up some cranberry so it wasn't that jelly-can shape, I brought the bowl and myself over to the table.

"Alright, time to say what you're grateful for. Then we can eat."

There were going to be leftovers for days.
Tags:

once you cross the line will you be satisfied?

2017-09-07 13:33
skepticgirl_1: (ll016)
In defense of me, this wasn't really my fault.

I had been minding my own business entirely when I saw the kid steal the old lady's purse. It was gross in how basic and immoral it was, just shoving her aside and yanking the purse right off her arm. She was well dressed, clearly rich, but frail and holding tight to one of those yappy lap dogs so she couldn't fight back. Someone had to fight back for her.

So I ran after the boy. I had no choice.

He was far faster than I thought any ten year old kid should be, but thanks to his bright orange hair, I saw him duck into what turned out to be a seedy looking bar from a block away. Kids should not be in bars and no one should be in a bar that looked this dark even in bright afternoon sun. So I went in through the back door, which had been left open to take in a delivery, and made my way stealthily to the main room. There was only one guy inventorying things in the back, so that had been pretty easy, too.

The fact that this was a gang den was completely unknown to me, so the fact that I had wandered into a gang den shouldn't be held against me. I was ignorant as to what was going on. But when I saw tiny bags of white powder being passed around, I knew I had a story. And that I had to call the cops, but first I had a story. I crouched behind the bar and listened to as many of the details as I could, needing to get all the information for the story. It was only when I had stopped to text Jake to give him a heads up to the situation that I got noticed.

A lot of mace and a police raid later, I stood outside the bar, watching triumphantly as several scowling men were being escorted, hands cuffed behind their backs, into police squad cars. I was already dreaming up a headline and hoping no employed reporter beat me to it.
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Custom Text

“My problem was that I had bad luck. And I spoke up when I saw something wrong. I did it because I could, without having to worry about the fallout lasting years. And yes, there was always fallout.”