The Girl Who Was Buried In Her Ball Gown

Chapter One: The first few days

N.B. Hello beautiful readers. This story has now been published into a real book and so I took it down from wattpad for a few years... Sorry fans. However, I have been pondering whether I should bring it back here again and so today, I have decided to do just that. I hope you can forgive me for taking it down, but us wordsmiths need to make a living... Enjoy and rave to all of your mates about it :). 

The accident happened over there, outside the high school gymnasium. It was late and the ball was just about to wrap up, nearly midnight actually which I thought was really late, for the junior ball. What an awesome time though. Martin had asked me to be his partner, I didn't even know he still liked me and it was a bit of a surprise, a pleasant one at that. He may not have been the hottest boy in school but he was a nice guy and I had known him since our kindergarten days, so I knew he could be trusted. And to see him up there on the stage with the other kapahaka's, doing the welcome haka before it all started, was electric! I had to control my squeals at the sight of this powerful, bronzed god, unlike some of the twelvies' there, at the ball! Gosh, they let it all out sometimes! I was so glad I was not one of them anymore; giggly, immature things! OMG, surely I was never like that?

He had his shirt off, like all the boys (although I only had my eyes on him) and he was slapping his chest and thighs, then thumping his foot as they called out in unison, a team to be reckoned with...

Ā, tōia mai,

Te waka!

Ki te urunga,

Te waka!

Ki te moenga,

Te waka!

Ki te takoto rungai,

Takoto ai,

Te waka! Hi!

They were reaching down to Rangi and pulling up to Papa, the earth and sky gods of Maori legend, all the while drawing us, the attendees into the ball, as if it were a dramatic scene from the days of old.

His chest was getting quite red from the constant slapping — two hand prints upon his chest! Beautiful. Soon, they were pulling us in like a virtual waka, that would have been dragged up onto the shore with an imaginary rope, during each 'Te waka' call, and they welcomed us in... to the evening that would change my life permanently.

As I sucked in my breath and then blew it out, exhilarated, I was imagining my hands pressing upon those two pink marks that glowed shiny from his heaving chest and I let my mind wander – exploring this magnificent boy – lifting away the pink bruising from him and absorbing his passion into myself.

He was popular enough to be a good partner, and could even dance well, better than me actually. Besides, most of the popular guys were jerks. They only wanted one thing, and I was just thirteen (I would have been turning fourteen in a few months). Besides, that was way too young to be doing that! However, I liked him and I didn't care what the boring adults thought of us anyway. Dumb adults, probably don't think we even know anything about such things as SEX.

Well, I needn't worry about that sort of thing anymore. It will never happen, and I will never, ever be able to walk down the aisle to be given away by my Dad. I will never be able to wear a pretty white dress and mean it – you know what that means – wearing it as a sign of purity. Heck, I won't even be able to walk down the aisle and not mean it; not anymore anyway!

Well, at least I had a kiss, even if it was only one – one kiss, which was wonderful! I had not kissed a boy like that before so I was nervous, but I was dying to give him something he would never forget. I wanted to know what it was like to be a woman, not just a silly girl. Our lips brushed together and I felt an aching inside me, a sensation I had not realised was there before. It was a burning desire, to be further awakened in a little while. Sadly, it never will be.