I heart Kim Kelly so this is something I just wanted to write. I'd love to hear what anyone has to say about it.
Starts off with Kim coming back from road tripping with deadheads and then fun stuff ensues. Will feature lots of Kim and Lindsay friendship, the freak guys being lovable little shits, and maybe a few cameos from our geek boys. Biggest thing I'm wrestling with is whether or not to do Lindsay/Nick. yes no maybe so? ;D not sure..hmm.
(did you know that Kim's mom is named Cookie? lol that might be helpful to know. I used the actor's real name for her stepdad since he didn't have one. also I don't get the ages in f&g so all the freaks are seniors to make it easy, and Daniel's 19 going on 20 I guess)
After the van dropped her off, Kim found her Gremlin parked in the same spot she'd left it almost three months ago. It was in some friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend's backyard. Luckily, they were nowhere in sight so she could take her baby out straight away.
It was a shitty car with faded, chipped paint and more dents than she cared to count. Not done by her, of course. Well, not mostly. Hats off to Aunt Kathy for those.
Daniel once told her that Gremlins were the worst cars ever made. They rusted like crazy, guzzled gas, and something about the emissions or engine was bad or whatever. She couldn't remember. Cars were his thing; not hers.
But it was her shitty car and she loved it more than the shrew she called her mother.
Kim shook her head and tossed a family-sized bottle of pop on the passenger seat.
It was the hardest thing she'd ever stolen, that 2-liter tub of orange Faygo. It was sheer luck when a pretty woman in a sundress came into the store and distracted the cashier for a moment. Sometimes things actually did work out for the best, Kim thought. They had to eventually, considering the odds.
She pulled out a bundle of mixed flowers from the back pocket of her denim shorts and threw them carelessly next to the pop. They were only slightly bruised.
The rich bastards living in the house she picked 'em from wouldn't miss the flowers lining their outside fence. But if they did, she couldn't give. Kim plucked Dahlias, lilacs, and forget-me-nots. Not that she knew any of their names.
And to think she went through all this effort just because she was trying to be nice. Nice. To her mother.
She must've lost some screws of hers back in Colorado.
With a quick glance, she considered herself in the rear-view mirror. Her face was shockingly bare to her own eyes without a lick of makeup. But the deadheads didn't wear makeup or carry mirrors, and Kim was too broke to buy either.
(Though she did manage to 'lift an eyeliner or mascara from a corner store now-and-then.)
She thought she looked haggard and somehow almost...innocent? More and less like a seventeen year old at the same time. Like a slut who didn't know it, she laughed.
Though bleary, her eyes were white as fresh snow. It was important to be sharp in case her homecoming went south.
She didn't expect it to go well but she rarely expected anything—it was the only way to keep from being disappointed. Though others always seemed to expect her to be disappointing. She didn't think about that much. It only pissed her off.
Kim had felt like a different person that summer. And, yeah, it wasn't like she was anything impressive.
(Not like Lindsay, who went back home after two weeks because she had a family worth going back to.)
But for a little more than two and a half months she was a different person, and different was better than whatever the hell she was when she left this crummy town.
Just fifteen minutes driving alone in her car without the chatter and laughter of her deadhead friends, and she was starting to realize nothing changed. Not really. She was still Kim Kelly from Chippewa, Michigan and she was still driving her beat up car to her screwed up family home. And tomorrow when the first day of school began, it'd be the same old crap with a shiny new name: Senior Year.
Biting her lip, Kim raised the volume dial and let the blaring music drown her darkening thoughts.
"Live in dreams, Sunday Girl..." she sang along, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. The guys hated this 'new wave crap' but she didn't mind a Blondie jam. They were her band, with the name and all, and Debbie Harry was rad.
She knew she was procrastinating her arrival when she was dangerously close to passing by Daniel's house. He lived in the rougher, poorest side of town like her but his neighborhood was nicer. Folks decorated for holidays around here and swept their front yards sometimes.
Kim resisted the urge to do an impromptu drive-by and slammed down on the accelerator instead. She broke nine laws on the way to her house but only knew of five of them.
The neighbor's dog across the way echoed a bark in the background. She pulled up as quietly as she could. Hopefully it was late enough and her parents were fast asleep.
Kim shut her car door, softly, and adjusted her eyes to the darkness. She smiled to herself when she saw the living room's window wide open in an attempt to cool the steamy house. It was as hot as midsummer despite being early September.
Gracelessly, she ducked through the space and her feet found the hard floor, and took cautious steps. She bumped into something out of ordinary in the room and caught her breath. When she looked down, it was her older brother's sprawled body on the ground.
"What's going..." He blinked owlishly. "Kim?"
"Dammit," she hissed, whispering. "What the hell are you doing on the floor, headcase?"
Chip stared at her blankly.
Sighing inwardly, she wrapped her arms underneath his limp torso and dragged him back onto the couch. It was times like these she was glad to have a bigger, more muscular frame instead of the petite one guys creamed their pants over.
She was straightening out his legs when she heard him say, "Missed you," a little too loudly.
Kim glanced through the plastic curtains, apprehensively. When she was satisfied that no one was coming, she gave a nod and cracked a smile at her brother.
"Sleep, Chip," she told him with a gentle pat on the arm.
He wouldn't remember that she was even home come morning.
Putting the pop bottle and flowers on the dinner table in the adjacent room was easy enough. Not bad, not bad. Might actually make out alright.
Taking a few more light steps, Kim made it to the hall entrance when she tripped over an open gallon of paint lying haphazardly on the ground. The tin rang out loudly and the sound of gurgling seemed obscenely noisy for what it was.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck.
She was never good at being subtle.
The house lit in a sickly, yellowish glow. Hideous mustard-colored paint was smeared across the wooden floor and splattered on her lavender Nike sneakers. Kim felt as if she was about to be discovered at the scene of a murder she committed.
Her mother's snappish voice was like nails on a chalkboard against the quietness.
"Look who finally decided to come back," her mom announced, stalking towards her. She was dressed in pink night robes and her hair was up in curlers. "sneaking in like a lost tramp—"
"I'm going to my room," Kim said gruffly, pushing past.
Cookie caught the top of her shoulder and her sharp nails dug in painfully. "Oh no you're not. No, you are not, sister. You're gonna—"
She thrashed against her grip. "I have school tomorrow!"
The woman laughed, mockingly. "And when have you ever cared about school, huh? When have you ever cared about anything other than whoring yourself around doin' God knows what?"
Her mother backed her into the main room and Kim bared her teeth, finding her ground. If her mom wanted to play the part of a cat, then she was going to fight back like a mutt and win.
"You know what I was doing. I told you in my letter—"
Cookie scoffed and pointed a finger at her daughter. "One letter, you wrote me. Sayin' you was traveling around in some stranger's filthy van—"
She clenched her jaw. "I was with my friends. We didn't do—"
"Nu uh. You was havin' sex with strangers for drugs all summer long like some junkie whore. Marlene from down the block told me what those hippies do, Kimberly." Her hands flew up dramatically and she was shouting now. "And everyone knows about it! My daughter! Oh no, that's it. That's it!"
"You don't know what the hell you're talking about!" Kim spat. "You are so full of shit!"
"You are done for, Kim Jean Kelly! You are mistaken if you think this is gonna blow over. I ain't kiddin'. You are done for, for good! First I'm sellin' that car—"
Kim growled. "No. You can't. It's—"
"What's this?" asked a deep voice, scratchy with sleep.
Her stepdad barreled out of her mom's room, only in boxers. He frowned at the paint disaster and rubbed the side of his unshaven jaw before locking eyes with her.
Kim swore under her breath and dashed for the front door.
"Grab her!"
The rickety door jammed when she tried to swing it open. Just her luck. A laugh mixed with disbelief and fear bubbled out of her throat.
Jack's hold from behind was suffocatingly tight across her ribs. He picked her up like a rag doll and shifted them around to face her mother.
"No," shrieked Kim, over-and-over again until her voice became hoarse. "You can't. It's mine. Mine."
Her mother's face was stern, unrelenting. "I can and I will. You won't get away this time, sister. I was too nice before and look how you repaid me." She gestured rudely. "Say goodbye to your car 'n' say goodbye to your freedom, honey. And you're gonna pay for this mess you caused."
Kim was lashing out with everything she had, kicking and screaming like a total nutjob. But it was no use. She could hold her own in a fight, but her stepdad was nearly a foot taller and had eighty pounds on her.
She almost elbowed him hard in the chest, but he caught her arm in time and twisted it. Kim grunted in pain.
"Look at her, fightin' like that," Jack said to her mom. "You'd think she was a man. We're gonna hav' ta send her to juvie at this rate." He smiled cruelly when she turned to look at him.
"One of them centers?" Cookie piped up. She scrutinized her daughter, who was still fighting a losing battle. "Maybe."
"She's never gonna learn, she's never gonna change. An' look what she's become."
This isn't working. Gotta find any other way.
"Oh yeah, dumbass?" She was winded, but continued. "I'd figure you'd know all about juvie, but you don't know much 'bout anything. Surprise. You guys don't have the cash to send me away."
"They're takin' the real bad ones for free nowadays," he replied easily. "Gotta get them before they turn into criminals."
Kim couldn't hold back her sharp laugh, which came out more like a gasp. "You're calling me a criminal? That's fucking rich. I have so much dirt on you, I could send you to prison myself."
"You don't know nothing." A wave of hesitation weakened his face and she saw her chance.
"You wanna bet?" She relaxed in his arms. "Because I don't think you can afford it."
His hold was firm, but loose enough. Lifting up both legs, she swung them back and battered his crotch until she hit her target—and then struck him again with all her might.
She escaped his arms as he went down in pain and cursed up a storm. Her mom was yelling something and trying to grab her, but Cookie slipped backwards on the wet floor and landed with a thud.
The huge, enraged man caught her wrist and crushed it. She kicked recklessly, managing to strike his armpit, and he released her.
Kim practically tore the door off the hinges and ran like hell.
It was all happening so fast, her hands were moving like they didn't belong to her. Opening the door, slamming and locking it, and finally inserting her key into the ignition like perfect clockwork.
Her entire arm was throbbing, but it was her wrist that was screaming in fresh pain. Still, her fingers reached for the stick and she pulled out wildly but with precision, like she was a goddamn stunt driver.
When she looked in the rear-view mirror she expected to see them chasing after her, shouting and swinging like usual, but saw only her dried eyed, flushed face.
A strange whoop of victory came out of her mouth as the familiar shack houses whipped past. Kim tried to let out a guttural scream, but it died in her throat. Instead, she bit her lip until she drew blood and licked away the metallic taste.
She really should have expected that.
The buzz of adrenaline only lasted briefly. A half an hour passed as she tried to collect herself. She needed somewhere to crash, fast.
Where could she go to? More importantly, who would even have her?
Daniel, her thoughts answered at once. God, she wanted to climb through the window into Daniel's room and let him make her forget this whole damn night.
Let him say something stupid that was just witty enough to make her laugh. Let him kiss her all over the way no other boy could imitate, so demanding and yet tender—like he actually cared. She could almost believe that he did when she was in that dirtbag's arms.
But they were on bad terms now.
She had enough of his apathy. Enough to leave him for the whole summer. (Though she thought of him more often than she'd admit.)
When they had their last fight, it felt like their final one. She could've listened more or he could've tried harder, but neither did and now their break up was a weird, sore memory she didn't want to relive.
That left Lindsay. Her best friend. No, her only real friend.
Lindsay had gotten in so much trouble for missing the summit and last Kim heard things were still rocky. The Weirs could be so uptight, but at least they weren't batshit insane.
No, she couldn't barge in on them. They'd let her spend the night, she was sure of it. They were good people, Lindsay's family. But it would be the nail in the coffin to her relationship with the Weirs. They'd only see her as real trouble and then Lindsay might not be able to hang out with her anymore and then...and then she'd lose the one person she had. If anything, she had to save that friendship. So no Lindsay.
She didn't have anything to lose besides her best friend. Oh, and her shitty car that was quickly running out of gas.
God, my life sucks.
Kim wanted to cry, but no tears came. She choked out a few dry sobs and settled down with cool determination. Pushing her messy hair away with her good hand, she locked her sight forward and focused only on getting to her destination.
Rogers Park was a large community park not too far away from her house, but far enough. In the daytime it was a place where families and little kids had picnics and stuff. For people like her, it was a good spot to smoke a joint. Or hideout for the night.
Kim braked with a jerk and parked under the cover of a weeping willow's wispy branches, but made sure she could easily book it if worse came to worst.
She never had to do anything like this before. It was all her stepdad's fault. The scuzzy, psycho bastard! Who the hell does he think he is?!
Before Jack entered their lives a year ago, little scuffles at home sparked into confrontations where her mom would call her a dumb whore, Kim would throw it back, and at most a slap was exchanged. And then a day later they were back to snide remarks and the normal arguments.
But now that happened.
Her life was a joke. The most unfunny, consistent joke of all time. And she wasn't laughing.
Kim gave the dashboard a couple good kicks and then sat in her car seething, staring out into the distance for what seemed like forever.
She got away and that was what mattered. Her blood was pumping lava and she wanted to kill, but it must've been hours past midnight and the sudden fatigue hit her like a sucker punch. With her hands still gripping the wheel, she slipped into the blackness and slept a dreamless sleep.
more to come...
