literature

Ideal

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Literature Text

"He…Hello?" Inhale, exhale, shaking.

"Emily?" Question, tentative.

"Ye-Yeah…it is. Emily. This is Emily. C-Can we…talk?"

"Of course. Do you want me to have Tony pick you up from-"

"No! No. No, it's fine. I'll catch the bus. I…just need an adult to talk to. Is Tony home?" Deep breath, calm, inhale, exhale, still shaking.

"No, he's not. I think he's out with friends. Is everything okay?"

"Don't tell him I'm coming over."

"Are you alright?"

"…"

"Emily?"

"…No…"

"…I'll be waiting."

---

Her palms sweating, Emily closed the cell phone quietly, cutting off the voice on the other end of the line. Calling Mrs. Norin had been a mistake, she knew, but sometimes life overtook her like a tidal wave. Emily hated depending on anyone, one aspect of her personality most people just couldn't understand, and today marked another blow to her willpower. She would still go to the bus stop, show up on their doorstep like a forlorn puppy, and then pretend it had never happened the next day of course, but it would tear at her, as always.

Slouching on the window sill, she glanced around her room as an outsider would. An alien observing a science project, the girl thought to herself. The thought had always entertained her when she was little, no matter how often she was teased about her "alien friend."

Bare. That word was invented for this room. Bare and emotionless. The white walls, devoid of any colorful awards or posters of sparkling men, caged in the sparse living conditions of Emily Pierce. One bed, shoved in the corner, covered in dingy white sheets and a navy blanket (both discounted at Goodwill), and a card table with a (supposed) matching folding chair. The table was a dark brown, while the chair was every color of the rainbow (literally; there was a rainbow sticker on the bottom, next to the crossed-out and rewritten cuss words). A few neat stacks of clothes sat in an inconspicuous laundry basket (the only clothes she owned besides the ones her back) as books of all sorts (textbooks, notebooks, storybooks) lay scattered on the carpeted floor around it. They loaned the room it's only touch of personality.

Hesitantly, Emily abandoned her post by the window and scooped a few things off the floor. A sweatshirt from the basket was tossed over her shoulder while a sketchbook nestled into the crook of her arm. A blue iPod, won in a school raffle, was shoved into a pocket, followed by a pen and some headphones.

Just as she was straightening up, her door slammed open, shaking in its frame. Emily wished so much for a lock, or even a dresser to prop in front of that door (also white) on her mother's bad days.

"Whrr yi goin?"

Emily bit her lip, hard. It wasn't even 1 in the afternoon and this ridiculous woman was already drunk. Probably high too, off of whatever her current boy-toy had gifted her with.

Lauren Pierce was gorgeous. 33 years old and she could still pass as someone a decade younger, easily. Even in her near-constant drunken stupor, it was impossible to deny the fact. Everybody loved Lauren; they thought she was funny, charming, sexy, and clever, a woman to model yourself after. Emily figured that the only ones who hated her "mother" were those that were jealous and those that actually knew her. She belonged to the latter.

"Ah seeeey, yuh bitch, whey yi goin?"

Emily brushed the hair out her face, preparing for a battle. Even with the situation at hand, it struck her as darkly amusing that the only word Lauren could ever properly pronounce was "bitch." Never mind "fuck," or "bastard," the only word for her was "bitch."

"I'm going to Tony's. I'll be back later today."

Lauren stumbled through the door way, swinging her hips back and forth in rhythm with the music only she could hear. Emily just shut her eyes. She knew what happened next; it was the same routine, every time.

Her mom would finally get her footing, even if she still swayed a bit. Her green eyes, lighter than Emily's, would scan over every inch of her daughter, and then mock her through slurred words and a drugged mind. It shouldn't hurt so much, or at least not as much as beer bottles hurled at her head, but it did, and she carried around that pain everywhere, like a coat she simply couldn't shed. There was something about your own mother calling you fat and ugly and slow that just pieced Emily's heart like a dagger. The betrayal never stopped hurting.

So she ran. She held her things close to her chest, shoved past Lauren, and made her way down the hallway. The door screamed its freedom, and Emily gave a returning yell as she burst out the door and sprinted down the street. The bus stop beckoned from around the corner.

----

The bus was nearly empty. Three people: the bus driver, some woman half asleep and with half her teeth, and the girl with the Irish curls. Emily hugged her knees, back pressed up against the window and head in her arms. She couldn't breathe.

The inhales and the exhales weren't coming. Just little gasps, puffs of air, scrambled out between her chapped lips. She was going to hurl.

Instead, she reached for the IPod in the seat next to her. Her hand skimmed through the menu, bright glare of the screen too much for her sagging eyes, especially on such a grey day. Her thumb stopped on something random and she pressed play to put herself out of her blinding misery.

A song dribbled through her headphones, distant and scratchy. Emily doesn't recognize the song. She risked another blinding to look at what she picked. The title and artist are unfamiliar, but she kept listening. Something rock-ish. Maybe alternative.

Menu. Inhale.

Tony's Playlist it read. She blinked before allowing the barest of grins, a crack in the mask of sorrow, to scale up her face. He's messed with her iPod again, without her noticing.

Emily let the music carry her into the depths of her own mind, in another time.
</i>
It was wet outside (she can remember that much, since it's what led to their meeting). A cold sun shone down on her as she struggled across the near-flooded courtyard, bag weighed down with books and assignments from ruthless teachers. Suddenly, something slammed into her from behind.

The next thing she knew, Emily was drowning in a puddle 3 ft deep, her papers and attacker following suit.

She jerked up, gasping for breath, as she sat in the pond. Looking to her left, it was impossible to miss the boy floundering in the water as well. He rolled over quickly though and jumped to his feet, dripping onto the already soaking Emily.

"You're getting me wet," was all that she said, quietly wishing a bout of hypothermia on whomever this boy was. Still, a better retort would have been optimal.

"I don't think that's really an issue for you, considering…" He waved towards her sodden clothes and bag, concentrating more on salvaging his books.

"I would be like this if you hadn't shoved me!" Emily leapt up in a fury, splashing the boy with water. "You had better fix all this crap!" She waved her bag around in his face.

"What princess, your makeup smeared? Don't worry, it probably wasn't helping anyways." His sneer just pushed Emily over the edge further. Instead of retaliating though, she just took a breath and began naming items.

"My iPod. Phone. Homework. Books. Lunch. You're paying for, or in the case of my homework, doing all of it. Got it punk?"

His face continually fell with each thing listed. He nearly stumbled over his words as he rushed to protest the charges against him. "I can't pay for all of that. I'm sure you can still save the music and phone though, if you hurry."  

It wasn't an apology, but Emily finally began to calm down. Hearing the stammer in his voice and noticing the touch of worry in his eyes (dark hazel) helped a lot. She was still pissed off, but she needed to be the better person. Despite her looks and her mother's beliefs, she was a strong believer in karma.

"Alright, listen. It was an accident, wasn't it? Not your fault, I got that. Just be glad my art portfolio wasn't in there, otherwise you'd already be dead. You will be talking to my science teacher though; she's a beast. And you need to learn to watch your mouth."

"Ms. Mallory?" What's-his-face began to dry off a CD (Who carries those around anymore? Emily wondered in passing) with his sweatshirt, still cautious of Emily and her rapid personality change.

"Yeah, so you'll be my proof of why my homework is a soggy piece of illegible paper." The freshman dug around in her bright orange bag, trying to confirm the iPod's safety.

"I can do that," he replied with a small smile, pausing from his salvaging efforts. "I'm Anthony by the way, but most people just calls me Tony."

"…Emily." Now she was the suspicious one; things had certainly done a 180.

Still, it all turned out for the best. It had been that rather dramatic meeting that inspired a friendship that was still as strong as ever, even as they entered their junior year. He became her confidant and sometimes inspiration for her art, while she provided him with, well, Emily still wasn't sure. Amusement? Relief from all the seriousness of school? Whatever it was, it was a working balance. It hadn't been long after their initial meeting that the Irish lass, as Tony's dad affectionately referred to her as, joined the Norin clan.

The bus lurched to a stop, heaving Emily into the seat in front of her. It quickly jerked her out of the past and into the present, to her great regret. She resettled into her seat, grabbing her notebook this time.

And it starts… sometime around midnight…

The song kept replaying (As you stand…), her thumb stroking the rewind button every time it got close to the end. Emily didn't want it to end (And the band plays some song). The music surrounded her head, providing a shield, as she drew in her notebook, filling it full of monsters and demons and poor little girls trying to fight them off.

About forgetting yourself for a while...

-----

She shuffled off the bus today, no usual bouncing down the steps with a wave to the driver. She just hunched over, as if trying to curl into a ball, and lurched forward, step by step. There was no one waiting by the bus stop for her, but that didn't matter. She knew the way by heart. She was surprised there wasn't a path worn from the days and days she spent walking, skipping, even sprinting, to and from the yellow home two blocks over.

A little sign, white paint worn from time, hung next to the door that showed Emily where she was: the Norins. She had known them barely a year, the people, the habits, the pets, the house, but it was already achingly familiar. It shouldn't be this way, but that's how it has turned out. A hesitant knock on a wooden door turns on the daily household musical: computer, or sometimes book, being shut, chair shifted, various cat noises, apologies towards the tripped-over and sometimes stepped-on cat, and the steady drum of feet on honeyed floors right before the hinges, signifying the climax to the song, squeaks open to reveal a face. Today, it was the sharp face that hid so much kindness, of Mrs. Norin.

No words were spoken, just the bob of a head from each party. Mrs. Norin moved aside to let Emily into the haven of comfort. The kitchen beckoned to her, so the red-head let her sore feet guide her. Hands reached for cups (I shouldn't know where those are) and filled the tea kettle. Eventually the ritual, one that really shouldn't be permanently implanted into Emily's mind, was finished. The two women (or was it a woman and a child?) settled into a couch even more worn than the sidewalk.

There was no hurry. Just sips of tea, dainty slurps really, and gazes off into oblivion. Emily wasn't being forced to say anything. She could probably just thank Mrs. Norin for the tea, leave, and there would be nothing more. But she had to say what was resting nervously on the tip of her tongue.

"It's not very long, but please don't stop me. Otherwise… otherwise, I don't think I'll be able to finish."

Just a nod. Another take your time, dear. Sometimes Emily prayed, the only time she ever did, that she could die and be reborn Emily Norin. That wouldn't happen though, not now, probably never. After all, she'd never really been that lucky. So instead, she stared at her hands, twisting and fidgeting, and told it as basic and emotionally detached as she could.

"I was walking to my friend's house. Her name's Rhiannon, she's a year above me. It's only a fifteen, maybe twenty minute walk. She has a pool. We were going to go swimming since it was so hot. But as I was walking down the street, just me, myself, and the heat waves, when a car pulled up. He was… I dunno, but he was older. Made some comments, asked if he could give me a ride. Wouldn't leave me alone. I told him to get lost, but then he grabbed me, wrestled me into his car. Drove back up the street, around a corner, into a school's parking lot. It's summer, ya know? No school. Not even the janitors or secretaries are there this late into it."

Inhale, exhale. Big girls don't cry. They don't cry.

"I was raped."

Inhale, exhale, calm down.

"I blew it off. Forgot it ever happened" They both knew it was a lie. Probably the biggest, and worst, of the century.

"Then I started getting sick. Daily, I would throw up. Just started a couple weeks ago. I snuck off yesterday to buy a pregnancy test. You can guess what I got."

BIG GIRLS DON'T CRY. Suck it up, be a woman.

"And, And I realized, shit, my mom's gonna kill me, and school, I don't know even know what I'm going to do about school. A-and I'm scared. Freaked out by needles and doctors and that's all being pregnant is, needles and doctors. And a baby. Hoooly shit, a baby. God, I'm pregnant with a rapist's child. I'm pregnant, and there'll be needles, a-and, and…"

Drip. Drop. Splash.

Suddenly, two things happened. The bony little body of the woman she admired and envied enveloped Emily in a hug with just enough strength and softness to reassure her she was safe. At the same time, a door slammed open down the hallway. Footfalls beat against the wooden floor through the blood pounding in her ears and the wailing in her head (or was that her voice echoing off the walls?). Something heavy attacked her from behind, crushing her chest against Mrs. Norin, an Emily-sandwhich. Her body was rigid, tense, screaming at her mind to reject physical contact. She resisted those thoughts though; she wanted this comfort as much as she hated it.

"Tony." It was a plea, a thank-you, a dream, a pray, and an ideal, all wrapped up in four small letters and a mess of floppy black hair. It was enough.

"Stay." Four more letters and an answer to everything.

"…"

"Stay," he repeated.

"…I-I, but… I can't–"

"Why?"

"Ho-home invasion. Breach of privacy. I'd just b-be another mouth to feed." She reached for any excuse. No matter how frail and idiotic sounding they were, Emily needed a reason not to stay. This was a mistake, a mistake. Big girls didn't need help.

"Too bad." He shook her a little, emphasizing his next words.

"Stay. Stay with us Emily."

She swallowed. The choices were simple: dead or alive. But then again, no choice is quite that simple. What doughnut to pick, homework or sports practice, or Harry Potter versus Lord of the Rings, they're all a little difficult, some more than others. Still, she just had to say one word, and she had a chance at a happiness that she had never known.

Instead of replying, she turned her head to look at Tony's arm and the dog scar that dominated the part below his elbow. Emily started to trace it, each jagged mountain a "yes" and every valley a "no."

"Emmy?"

"Hold on." She kept adding the mountains and valleys as she whispered. "And don't call me that."

"You're here all the time as is. Let's just make it official Em."

Emily grinned to herself; 11 mountains, 10 valleys. Failing to fight back more tears, she barely chokes out the word, "…okay."

She could feel Tony and Mrs. Norin's sighs of relief. "You do realize there really was no choice?" Mrs. Norin chuckled softly.

"We would have held you hostage until you simply said yes," Tony added as he smiled into Emily's hair. She kept herself from flinching, as to not ruin the moment.

So instead, Em managed a quiet snort, before clambering off the coach. "Would anyone like any more tea?" She said, brushing her red curls out of her freckled face, hoping for a chance to escape and get a hold on her reckless emotions. Tony stood as well, and leaned forward to swipe the tears off her cheeks.

"You'll never get me to drink that leaf juice as long as I live, you freak."

Emily punched him in the shoulder. He threw a pillow in her face, and then started tickling her. It was turning into a full-fledged war as Mrs. Norin shook her head and walked into the kitchen to get the tea herself. The sudden shattering screams stopped Lesile dead in her tracks though.

Tearing into the room, she saw Tony hurriedly scrambling away from Emily, eyes wide open. The girl was fearfully pressed up against the wall, holding a pillow in front of her, sobs racking her body. "P-P-Please d-don't…" Her ragged breath was the only noise anybody heard in the heavy silence.

And with that, it was not quite, "The End." Emily still faced many barriers. The baby's fate remained undecided, how the Norins could steal Emily away from her mother remained unplanned, and Emily's own mind was a chaotic mess that needed to heal. Yet, every great journey begins with that crossing of the threshold. The teenager had done that by facing those proud, determined, isolated parts of herself and crushing them by merely asking for help. So for now, this is indeed,

The End.
First - I am very proud of this piece. Feel free to rip it apart and tell me what I can do better. I really want to make this the best it can be.

Second - Sorry for the giant chunks of text. I hate how my formatting turns out when it goes from Microsoft Word to this :X I lose all my indents and spacing and italics. I spent the last 30 minutes trying to fix it.

Third - It's long. Like nearly 11 full pages. If you read the whole thing I love you. I worship you.

Fourth - I am so tiiired right now T.T So I sleep as soon as I upload.

Fifth - I may leave this as is, or I might continue writing more stories about Tony and Emily ^^ Let me know if you want MOAR! :D
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sojustlaugh's avatar
MAKE MORE.
AT LEAST TELL US WHAT HAPPENS WITH THE BABY ANS STUFF!!
ILOVEEDIT <3