Series of short storys

Her

The first time J set eyes on Kit, she was slamming the door of a car in her mother’s face. She stormed up the stairs of the diner and through the doors she went. Red curls falling in silky wisps down her back, massive biker boots and a skirt that came above her knee. Hardly the average girl in their little town. So J lazily strolled into the diner too. He wasn’t welcome, and he didn’t care. Behind the counter, Pap, the friendly, much loved owner of the diner locked eyes with J. J’s kind wasn’t welcome. And J didn’t care. Kit had sat herself down in a booth. She stared out the window, glaring at the tarmac. Her gaze was fierce, defiant. J knew he’d be seeing the hot headed ginger again. He decided to bless her with the nickname Ginger Snap, seeing as she seemed to snap in seconds, from what he could see.  Then she was at school the next day, in her oversized biker boots and short skirts and tight tops and long, silky red hair. She was powerful. She walked into the hallway on her first day there and everyone scattered. But he could see it in her stone cold eyes that that wasn’t what she wanted. She was the local rich kid, moved in from New York. Her daddy was dangerous, her mother was just as bad. But she wasn’t the local rich bitch, like Veronica and Katrina. She sat with the chubby Indian girl at lunch, and was soon joined by the local screaming queen, Matthew, and the the little gothic bitch with several piercings on her face and god knows where else. The first time Ginger Snap spoke to J was when he and his gang were sitting in the cafeteria at lunch. They had their own place marked out by it distance from the rest of the tables and the school, several benches and tables shoved together under one of the trees, as far from the rest of the school as possible. The  Bloods. His gang. His family. His own little band of misfits. Anyone messed with a blood, they had the whole pack after them. They were dangerous. J was the most. And every one of them had a matching tattoo, a skull with flames gushing out of it’s eye sockets. The Blood’s were no joke. J had hurt people, badly. He’d been initiated into his gang by means of drawing blood. All of them had. The only reason they were allowed into the school at all was because the town was scared of what would happen to them if anyone objected. Kit had strolled lazily over, her amber eyes trailing over J’s jet black mop of hair and piercing, pale blue eyes, the strong set of his jaw and the skull tattoo covering most of his arm. She stood in front of him, their eyes locked. “What do you want?” Toni spat, from beside J. Her eyes danced dangerously. “Oh please. Spear me the spitting cobra bitch act, princess. You aren’t a fucking animal. I’m not scared of you.” and Kit booped her nose with her finger. Toni’s eyes flashed. But Kit looked Toni over for a second. “You’re so pretty.” she muttered to herself, and Toni’s jaw dropped in surprise. Kit turned back to J and smiled coldly. “I have doughnuts.” she said. She was never an outsider to the Blood’s again.

It would seem strange that six months later J lay sprawled across the mattress that had been dragged into Kit’s garage. Which was the size of an average person’s house. Music blared from the speakers. The Indian girl, Josi, after meting Kit, had found her voice and apparently, her sudden fashion sense. She’d lost almost all her excess chub and paraded around in her high heeled boots and tiny mini skirt, her dark hair carelessly swept into a plait down her back. She sat at the minibar and blabbered on to the goth girl, Shyanne, over a glass of vodka. Toni sat sprawled on one of the couches, sucking away at a joint with Matthew and Cade, her Blood’s boyfriend. The room reeked of weed and leather. It was their hang out spot. The only place they could be themselves. Just outside was a pool big enough for the entire Blood gang to lounge in and an endless supply of alcohol and food. But J couldn’t care less about the money Kit used from her parents. Neither did the Blood gang, but the simple pleasures of money were well appreciated. They all loved little Ginger Snap, and Goth Girl and Indiana Jones and Screaming Queen the Second. Even though they weren’t bloods, they were family. “You know, we should really do something more constructive with our time.” Kit yelled over the blaring music as she stomped downstairs. Toni pulled the plug and the speakers fizzled out into silence. “Like what, Ginger Snap Almighty?” Shyanna asked, taking another shot of tequila. “I don’t know, drag racing or terrorising the neighbors.” Kit muttered, taking a swig from the bottle. Even Shyanna was impressed with her tolerance. “You know we can’t do that. Can’t risk mother dearest setting your dogs on us.” J said. Kit looked up to meet his gaze. There was something comforting in how big and powerful J was. He was dangerous and rebellious, but he was loyal. Kit rolled her eyes. “Mother dearest my ass. Lets go.”