What I Couldn't Tell Him

INTRODUCTION

ABOVE PICTURE OF JAIMIE PERRON

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy. A little information before a taster:

-Covers would be appreciated (I am not willing to pay, but it would be lovely if you would do me a favour ;) )

-All feedback is welcome, as long as it is not mean or inconsiderate. I respect all sexualities, genders, races, religions, cultures, countries, ages etc so I hope everyone reading this can do the same. And try to be constructive, but if you really think this is a pile of sh*t, I will take that on board. That said, I have not fully edited this book from the time of writing. It contains some words/phrases/thoughts that I no longer support as my perspective has widened and I've come to know more about the world. Feel free to point them out and discuss, I'm happy to pitch in. Please keep it kind. I am going through and correcting things but pls bear with me !

-Please forgive any mistakes and/or English spellings. I might mix between the American and English, and that is deliberate. You will have to read it to find out why.

-There will be swearing frequenting most chapters in a high school context. There will also be some vulgar language to convey the characteristics of the characters. Please don't be mad at me! just because it is in my story, does not mean I agree with it.

-Update: I had a comment about the photos used and I realised I had a massive lack of cultural/ethnic representation and a hugely unrealistic standard in the pictures that I had provided for the characters. I'm really honestly sorry for that. I do not want to promote the ridiculous standards of the beauty industry, and I want everyone to realise that you don't have to be the classic kind of beautiful to be valid. Your existence is not valued by other people's pleasure when they look at you. Teenage life (and after that) can be so difficult anyway, so I don't want there to be any more reasons for stress and anxious thoughts. I did struggle with this kind of thing myself and still do, so please please don't think I meant anything by it. Therefore, I have taken down all the images except for Jaimie. I hope that you can all imagine the story with the right mix of people and bodies, diversity and realistic ages and faces! I'm so sorry for missing that out, and I hope nobody ever got the wrong impression!!

-Another update: Pleeeaasssee don't swear in the comments! I swear way too much and the story contains a it of it too so don't think I'm against cursing, but you all have important things to say and if you swear I can't respond to you directly. If you want to, sensor it (add a * or a - or something), and you can get your meaning and sentiment across and I can still talk to you! It's so frustrating when I can't keep the dialogue going! Thank you!!!

-Some ppl keep pointing out plot holes which is totally valid and thank u for engaging with it ! I just want to say, this was really a fun project for me, which means a lot of it was on the fly. Keep letting me know, I'll keep trying to catch my mistakes, but in some cases if it isn't worth the effort and doesn't harm the story very much, I might just not. We'll see ! But pls point out anything that annoys u :)

-Enjoy the story!

JAIMIE POV

I remember the day. I woke up on the floor, my heart beating faster than a pulsing drum beat, and with much more force. My vision was clouded so the colours blend together into a psychedelic pattern. I thought it was the end. I wasn't prepared but I was resigned to the fact.

I never thought I'd be speeding technicolour into death. I'd always thought it would be fading or sinking into dark.

After a while the colours sorted themselves into faces, clothes and paramedics. I was loaded into the back of an ambulance when I managed to croak out, "What happened?"

I remember an ebb and flow of light, life swelling like waves then passing over me. I was shouted at, had lights shone into my eyes. I wanted them to leave me to sleep. It was peaceful. The school corridor floor suddenly felt appealing, it was comfortable enough when I was lying there. At least there were no torches in my eyes.

Everyone who touched me was inspecting, prodding for issues. Cold things pressed on my skin, loose, chalky clothes tugged and changed. I don't remember anybody touching me just for comfort.

That was the day everything changed. I was thirteen.

People used to spend time with me because they wanted to. I like my face and I liked the colour of my hair. I couldn't live with people touching me like broken china, looking at me as though they expected my hair to fall out in clumps in my hands. Every friendship was threaded with pity and every look spiked with concern. I couldn't stand it anymore.

So I asked to leave my friends, my life, my school. I moved across states. I moved away from my life.

This will be a second chance to live how I wanted to. Even if that means lonely, it is worth the sacrifice.

ALDEN WOLFF

I wake up, sprawled across the mattress. A girl - pretty, makeup smeared - lies near me, barely covering her dignity. I'm a bit of a blanket hog. Bile rises in my throat.

"Look, I can't remember who the fuck you are, sorry... Hope we had a good night, 'cause my head hurts like hell and I'm about to spew." I grumble, starting to tip off the mattress to limp to the bathroom. She smiles stiffly, grabs her dress and scampers out of my room.

During my bathroom trip, I hear the front door close. I slink back out, sheet knotted around me like a toga, and sink down onto my bed. I hate myself at times like this, but I love the thrill when it's 2am and someone soft and lovely is hanging off me.

I dress quickly and drive to school on my motorbike. I don't check the mirror because I know they'll be chasing me whether I have a bedhead or not. As arrogant as that sounds.

I am greeted by Brooklyn, the joker, Jordan, the player, and Shawn, the smart one.

"Hey! You look absolutely fucked up, was it good?" Jordan laughs. I roll my eyes.

"I have no idea."

"Didn't think you would." Shawn laughs at my scowl. He has a certain amount of disdain for us, but it's cancelled out by the kind of fondness you have for a stupid dog that runs into things. He's always on at me about my potential, but you can't teach an unwilling dog new tricks.

"Anyone give a shit or shall we just go?" I suggest. I can't be bothered. I'm going no places anyway.

"Let's get out of this hellhole!" Jordan hollers. A teacher's ears prick up and they start marching over. We climb onto our bikes, rev the engines obnoxiously and speed away. She stands, pissed but resigned, in our cloud of dust.