Paint It Black: The Story of Jezebel Engblom

Chapter 1: An Arrival and the Birth of a Tomboy

(Disc.: Don't own LoDt. I don't own Blackbird, either. That belongs to The Beatles.)

'Blackbird fly, blackbird fly

Into the light of the dark black night

Blackbird fly, blackbird fly

Into the light of the dark black night

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

All your life'

"Skip, Jezebel Lola. Bella, daddy. Take care of her. Bella, be good for daddy. I'll be back soon to take you to New York." The plump, stout brunette thrust the three-year-old child into her father's arms.

That was my mother. Yeah, never saw her again. Skip Engblom did not have the slightest notion how to raise a little girl. That's how I met Philaine and Jay Adams. I was at their apartment all the time. I remember the first time I went there; it was that exact day, the very first. I remember it so clearly….

*Flashback*

" 'Lane, can you take care of her for me? Name's Jezebel." Skip held me, a squirming, angry little girl, by the hand.

"Sure, Skip." Philaine answered in her laid-back, breezy California-hippie way, gently ushering me through the door.

*End Flashback*

He left me there for fourteen days. Fourteen days before the idiot finally came back for me. It was the first of many two-week periods I would stay with them, sometimes shorter, sometimes longer. One day, when Jay was six and I was four, he came home from school with Tony and Stacy on skateboards. At this point they were nothing more than cheap plastic boards, but I really wanted to try. I ran outside and down the steps excitedly; Jay had never brought anyone 'home'.

"I wanna try." I protested in my stubborn, now four-year-old voice.

"No Bella you'll hurt yourself. Go watch Mickey, okay?" Stacy coaxed like he usually did when they didn't want to be bothered with me.

"NO! I SAID WANNA SKATEBOARD! LEMME TRY!" I shouted hot-temperedly, stamping my bare foot on the cement. Fake crocodile tears sprang to my eyes, the result of months of practice.

"Okay you can try, just no more hollering." Jay had given in, as usual; even at that age I knew what I wanted, and I got it.

And that was how I learned to skate. I wasn't very good; hell, I'm still not very good. I don't care; I love it anyway, just about as much as I love surfing. Which I am good at. It's hard being the one of the only girls (excluding Peggy, just about my best friend of the group) hanging out with a bunch of boys. Most people just assume I've slept with all of them, being so close and all, which is as far from the truth as reality. I'm like a little sister; I'm fifteen, they're seventeen, we're all too much alike. Nothing will change that. I skate, they skate, I surf, they surf, everything they do, hell I probably do it too. I drink, I swear, I spit, I pull pranks, I party, I hang out with the same crowd. Only two things set me apart from the boys, and those were heavy eye makeup and certain 'assets' as Tony would call them.

I took a swig of vodka from the bottle under the counter, which I was ever-so-professionally lounging on, working in the shop. There were a few browsers, but other than that it was pretty much empty. Usually the browsers would have been kicked out by now, but I really don't care. Zephyr; it was a filthy, dusty, nasty looking little shop from the outside, (and kinda the inside too…) but most people don't care. They just want to surf, they don't need anything fancy. At least, that's how I usually explain it. Peggy skated through the front door, which we left hanging open for lack of air circulation, waving two tickets in my face. Peggy's a year older than me, and totally the most awesome person I know.

"Dude, who? How? Where? When?" I couldn't even form complete sentences. I set the liquor bottle down, since I'm a klutz and prone to breaking and/or dropping things, before she continued.

"Oi! Who, she says! Who else? The Sex Pistols, of course! I won them from the radio. It's in downtown Del Mar in two weeks. I've just got one question for you… YOU WANNA COME WITH?" She shouted melodramatically.

"Are you insane? Of course I wanna go you dolt!" I screeched.

"God Save the Queen!" We shouted in unison, leaning back to back.

Sorry, am I scaring you? As you can tell (obviously, I mean come on…) we're both obsessed with the Sex Pistols. We've even spontaneously adapted to use British slang.

"Peg, are these back stage tix?" I asked suddenly.

"Hell yes!"

"Let's go gloat. Skipper, we're going out! Get your ass out here and watch your own damn shop, I'm too young to work here anyway!"

Sorry, but I could just never picture him as a father figure, it's not like he cared if I spouted profanity at him, he was just 'Skip' to me. Never 'dad' or 'father'. He was a stoner, an alcoholic, and a partier. How could anyone see him as a father figure? I mean, I know he cares about me; but he cares about all the guys on the skate team. Just because he's my dad doesn't mean I have to be all affectionate with him.

Hold on, back up. I don't know why I said that, how could you possibly know about the team? Last month Skip decided to start a skateboarding team for the guys who were always surfing, skating, and hanging around the shop. They're all good kids, it's just some of them get a little carried away. Take Jay, for example. He acts tough; he's rude, loud, and obnoxious, but he takes care of his mother. That boy loves his mother more than I love chocolate (which is a whole lot).

Tony is just all around arrogant, but he'd protect his little sister Kathy with his life. I mean, the kid is even protective of her with his best friend, whom she's dating. He doesn't even like Kathy and Stacy touching, and Stacy's probably the safest one of us. That's pretty much all I can say about the team, other than we all have to wear dark blue t-shirts to competitions (as if you cared).

We skated out the door, although I immediately collided with Sid, who was, coincidentally entering the shop as I attempted to exit.

"Sorry baby Sid, it's really shitty today. Not like it isn't that way any other day, but it's horrible. I think Skip needed some boards stocked. See ya later!" I apologized, ruffling his hair.

Sid's a year older than me, yet I still call him baby Sid. It's kinda strange how things work out like that, y'know? Anyway, I'm getting way off-topic. We went out the door (unscathed this time) and down the street to the elementary playground, where everyone was most likely gathering. First person we caught a hold of was Shogo Kubo; I've kinda got a huge crush on him, even if he's not that great of an English speaker (and Wentzle Ruml too, but that's not the point).

"Sho, we're goin' to a Sex Pistols concert!" Peggy screamed from about 50 feet away. What a lung capacity.

"No fair, I wanna go! Where the hell didja get those!" Shogo rarely freaks out about anything, but then again, the Sex Pistols aren't just anything, or rather anyone.

"WKLJ, stupid! Where else?" I shouted; that was pretty much the only station most of us listened to.

Next, we (or rather I, again) ran into Jay. Literally, I ran into him; didn't seem to faze him much, though.

"Dude, guess whose concert we're going to, Jayboy?" I asked stupidly.

"Hmmm… the Easter Bunny's? I hear he gets a pretty good crowd this time of year."

"Shut up, jack. No, we're going to see the fucking Sex Pistols…." I started.

"God save the Queen!" Both me and Peggy shout simultaneously again, resuming our famous back to back 'Charlie's Angels' pose.

We went around for the next two hours announcing our triumph to every one of our friends, until a few people decided to tackle.

"Enough already!" Was the last thing I heard before my back hit concrete and I felt myself being held down by Jay and Tony.

I giggled hysterically, unable to catch my breath; having two boys on top of me was not the optimal situation for breathing.