Hello & Thank you for taking time out of your day to read my story! I've not written many fanfics in a hot minute so my skills though perhaps a little rusty I hope will be entertaining nonetheless. Reviews, comments, & constructive criticism are always welcome.
To whom it may concern: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is NOT mine! Kevin Eastman & Peter Laird ARE the original and amazing creators who brought our beloved ninjas into this world! Any similarities to the Original and or other TMNT Fanfics are purely coincidental and I DO NOT mean to 'plagiarize' in any way!I DO however lay claim to my character Avril LaSalle and any other O.C.s I may create in the future.
Also, I am aware that real places (such as the Manhattan Mall) may not be as I portray them in the story. I do not live in and have never been to New York so you'll have to forgive my limited knowledge.
Thanks again and please enjoy!
The Minikui
Chapter 1. Lies of the Beautiful People
In virtually every novel or lyrical prose to be found the lead character, be them male or female is (more often than not) always attractive, causing the writer to occasionally lapse into a never-ending depiction regarding the persons 'majestic' features. However in our little tale that is not necessarily the case…
Any child with multiple siblings of at least two of more knows how difficult it is being the 'middle' kid, sometimes being in the middle can have its advantages because you don't have as much responsibility as the oldest sibling but on the down side you may not get as much attention as the youngest of your family either.
Well the same thing goes for me; being third out of five siblings I am not the eldest bringing fame and reputation to the family nor am I the youngest and a child to be coddled.
However there is one more disadvantage I have and to the rest of the family it makes me even more of an 'undesirable', that thing being my appearance… my choice of clothing didn't help much either.
Some people may say it's alright to just call me a 'Goth' and be done with it but that would be a misconception. There are SO many sub-genres in fashion you can not just simply lump them altogether and expect people to have the same visual image, but that's a story for another time.
This particular topic of 'style' was just one of many that sparked my so-called 'rebellion'.
It started one late July afternoon…that also happened to be my second eldest siblings' birthday. The jerkwad decided he had to have NEW clothes for the 'surprise' party his girlfriend and best bros where throwing him at Spaceman Sam's (the cooler teen version of Chuck E. Cheese' without the creepy guy in the suit or automatons).
So off to the Manhattan Mall we all went, all but the 'genius' first born who was studying for collage entrance exams at home. Man he pissed me off! Always acting like he knows EVERYTHING! "If you cut your hair short like that all the time it will never grow back long and beautiful!"
Again a story for later…
As soon as we entered the giant three story building they all split up going different directions. Jeffree went straight to Hollister… or American Eagle... One of those over priced preppy hipster stores, Mom took the youngest two aka the Lucifer Twins (I call them that because they are as two faced as the Devil himself) to get new clothes and stuff for kindergarten, while Dad went to scope out the newest Golf crap or something.
And I you might ask? Well with no other 'grown up' left to give a crap about where my 14 ½ year old self went I headed upstairs for Hot Topic. My stash of nearly $200 burning a hole in my pocket as it begged to be spent.
I stopped by the bathrooms really quick to check my overall appearance and to make sure I wasn't going to be kicked out of the mall for looking like a loitering vagrant.
Standing in front of the body length mirror I study myself a little; the last time I was this thorough about my looks was my first day of school.
Adjusting my rectangular glasses and ripped knee blue jeans (hello MEGA hand-me-downs), neatly rolling up my long sleeved black V-neck and then turned my attention to smoothing out my mop of hair.
Two years ago for my birthday I had made a (rather foolish) request to my parental units to have my hair cut to about an inch or so past my shoulders since I was starting to become a tomboy.
What do I get instead? My dad dragging to the barber shop when he and my brothers all go for their monthly visit! I practically begged to not be given a military buzz from the crazy old man who ran the place and instead got stuck with a much too long bowl cut.
Once we got home I dug out the scissors and hacked at it enough to look somewhat 'presentable'. I also got grounded for a couple months after that but least I no longer resembled Rock Lee from 'Naruto', needless to say since then I have been cutting my own hair.
After seeing not much else could be improved upon I washed my hands and left the huge fifteen stall bathroom.
The combination of the air conditioner and new leather smell hit me all at once as I walked into the open doors, Siouxie & the Banshees boomed throughout the shop filling my ears with the last quarter of 'The Passenger'.
I was lucky enough to find the shop unexpectedly slow right now and had the place essentially to myself except a few other people.
One person was a slightly balding ginger haired man in his late thirties to early forties and the other being a young girl about my age who I assumed was his daughter because she had his same red hair.
As I wandered about the store my curiosity peeked a little (for some reason still unknown to me) and I watched…okay…'spied' on them pretending to be interested in some nearby jewelry. The girl currently tried to convince him to let her buy a Black Veil Brides shirt and kind of failing except for the giant puppy eyes she gave him and finally they agreed on a more 'toned down' M.C.R (My Chemical Romance) shirt.
I happened to have my eye on the same one (I had snatched it up earlier before they got to that section) and had it tucked under my arm as I kept sorting threw various rubber bracelets, I glanced over to them again wondering how people so 'straight laced' would be caught dead or alive in a store like this for 'wannabe mall-goths'.
Avril Lavinge's song 'What the Hell' starts.
Nearly the minuet I thought it the girl let out a sigh and was looking down at the shirt in her hands.
"What is it honey? Something the matter?" the father asks.
"Well they don't have any size mediums left..." she replies but the comment seems to go over the fathers head and she explains further. "The shirts here mostly run on the petite side and so I need the next size up."
The dad then nods in understanding.
Even though it shouldn't have mattered and I had no reason to care I peak at the tag of the one I picked out.
'M' it read.
I momentarily look over at her trying to decide on a different design and after a minuet I let out a sigh and walk over to them. The man became aware of my presence only after seeing that I wasn't looking at the t-shirts displayed on the wall but at him and his daughter; she still occupied herself with choosing until the man put a hand on her shoulder.
"Yes dad?" she asks looking up at him and then noticing me.
"Here." I said in a somewhat monotone voice holding out the shirt to her but she only stands and looks at me confused and a bit hesitant.
"You said you needed a 'Medium' right?" I asked and she slowly nods and takes it from me as I then pick out an 'L' instead. No biggie right? It just makes the clothes more comfortable and doesn't stick to your body like a second skin in hot weather.
"What do you say April?" the girls father gently reminds her with his hand still on her shoulder.
It gave me a little shock when I heard him say it… this girl and I technically had the same name!
She looks up from admiring the shirts pattern.
"Thank you!" the shorter girl says looking up at me with sparkling eyes like I had just made her day or maybe even her whole week.
I nod "No Problem." and walk off to the register since I had all I needed for the moment; good timing too cause more people started to trickle into the shop and I hated trying to look at and choose things with a bunch of annoying and inconsiderate people in my way. Plus sometimes when others see me they must have some preconceived idea about who or what I am because the item doesn't seem to 'match' me appearance.
"Thanks again young man." The girls dad says with a smile from their place in line once I have finish paying.
I nod again even though the comment is a blow to my self confidence; taking it down about 15 points as I start to feel my blood boil some. Nevertheless I smirk and give a slight wave to them as I leave the store.
Okay, so you may (or not) be wondering why I would get so upset over some completely random old guy calling me a boy.
Well it mostly comes down to part about why I'm called a freak even in my own home. The same place I have lived all my fourteen years, where I'm supposed to belong, have support (not just monetarily but emotionally too), and be 'loved'.
Well to put it (very) bluntly… I'm ugly. Ya, ya I know what you're thinking'
"Oh, the poor emotional Goth brat is all depressed!"
NO! I am not some little Emo, self-harming, weirdo sitting in their dark ass room listening to Marilyn Manson or some crap! (Though don't get me wrong, I do like some of Manson's work.)
My skin though 'light as porcelain' have these odd patches of pinker toned skin with pale freckles reminiscent of cinnamon on top of them, you know kinda how red head people have sometimes. It's spreads almost over my whole body; on my shoulders going down my upper arms slightly, my collarbone/upper chest area, as well as a little on my thighs. Of course I've also got the signature sprinkling of freckles over my nose and cheeks too.
And get this; I don't have a single even slightly ginger hair on my head! My parents don't have it and neither do any of my siblings.
Now don't go thinking I'm on a ginger bashing rampage; I'm not.
This is simply an observation and I happen to be using red heads as an example…unless there is another group of people with the same skin tone with which I can compare myself to. No? Okay then stop your complaining.
There are a couple other things that add to my odd boyish appearance. My shoulders are a bit wider (than I would like) for a girl my height and even though I don't really work out or lift weights or anything (other than riding my bicycle everywhere I cant get a ride) I'm pretty muscular… or so I'm told. I also have a couple so-called 'beauty marks'; one between my chin and lower lip and one near my eye but far enough away that if I cared to wear eyeliner I could and it wouldn't be in the way.
What I'm trying to say is that ever since I was young I have basically been the 'ugly duckling' tomboy of my family; and with all those promises of one day 'transforming into an elegant swan' they all just turned out to be lies of the beautiful people in my life.
After I finished drifting about the mall for another few hours thinking surely the rest of my 'family' was at least near finished shopping if not already; I sit on a bench in the centre of the mall near the fountain waiting for them to find me.
I ended up falling asleep within minuets; my Hot Topic bag held tightly in my crossed arms and sadly (but not completely unexpected) I missed the warning call and voicemail my dad left me saying that they where leaving if I wasn't out soon…so they left me there.
. . . . .
Well this ain't no sideshow
This is the great unknown
This is the poison we take
Yeah
Outside the velvet rope
Standing there all alone
Are the grotesque and ashamed
Yeah
Well if you think real beauty's on the outside
Well that's a far cry
From the truth
Maybe all the information you received
Well you should not believe
that there's no proof
Save yourself from all the lies of the beautiful people
It's time to run from the lies of the beautiful people
I feel so traumatized
Doped up and televised
Life can be cruel and insane
Yeah
But we've got these ugly scars
On our infected hearts
Maybe it's time for a change
Yeah
And if you think real beauty's on the outside
Well that's a far cry
From the truth
but maybe all the information you received
Well you should not believe
that there's no proof
Save yourself from all the lies of the beautiful people
It's time to run from the lies of the beautiful people
Save yourself from all the lies of the beautiful people
Just run and hide from the lies of the beautiful
Save yourself from all the lies of the beautiful people
It's time to run from the lies of the beautiful people
Lies of the Beautiful People
By: Sixx A.M.
. . . . .
Yay first chapter finished! I hope you liked it and it wasnt too boring, Please join us again soon for the next chapter! ~ Selene