Series: Blue Bloods
Story: 1. Blue Beat
Chapter: 1. Prologue:
I peered in the mirror, turning my face this way and that. I groaned at my appearance as I saw the multiple, small zits that covered my forehead and cheeks. No amount of makeup could cover the ugly little red-headed flaws upon my face. I had tried. Still, with the amount of foundation I had used so long as no one peeked too closely at my face, you could only see the minimal amount. Pulling my bottom eyelid from my eyeball, I picked up the darkest eyeliner that I owned (and the only one I used) and began to carefully…carefully…
"June, we gotta get going!"
My jaw dropped, gawking at my reflection in horror at the streak of black that now ran from below my eyeball to just before my left ear. I ground my teeth in irritation at the pest behind me. "Devon!" I released in a screech behind my teeth. Devon's eyes grew at the mark upon my face, his jaw pulling down as he gave me a "whoops" face. "Get out and I will give you a ride when I am done." I spoke as I picked up the make-up smothered washcloth behind the dirty faucet and began to scrub at the eyeliner mark. Unfortunately, this also scrubbed off part of my foundation, leaving a sad irritated dark red streak, lashing out from behind my russet Quileute skin. As I scrubbed and furrowed my brow in sheer frustration and sorrow at such hard work wasted, I finished speaking. "If you are unsatisfied with this, then you can refer to mom to take you to school." I offered in irritation.
Unfortunately, my work had gone to much waste. I could see all the flaws that punctured the casual weather-savvy look I had gone for. My hair, being straightened in its pitch dark blackness, seemed fried and frizzy, the sheen gone from every last strand. My face now seemed uneven in its makeup until I would be done with the eyeliner. As I hadn't put any gloss or Chapstick on, my lips were cracked and paler than my skin. My eyes were too dark for my complexion, too large for my face. My eyelashes seemed near nonexistent and my brows seemed un-plucked aside from the center because I had actually taken the time to trim the center so that at the very least I didn't have a unibrow. Now if I had been laying myself out in front of a full-length mirror, I would've found several flaws with my body as well. As my self-esteem thanks daily, we do not own a full-length mirror (so instead I stand on a counter in order to check my outfit).
As I had mentioned, my outfit had gone weather-savvy as despite the September time, the weather was full-on Washington weather and consisted of rain, rain, ooh sunshine and then more rain. And when October sets in, we'll truly know winter like no other and then rain. I had put together a thin black V-neck as to not end up blazing in layers, set together with a black and white plaid button-down, completely unbuttoned, and a soft, thin yet wearable grey fashion scarf. All of this was paired with a set of dark-wash skinny jeans (my height of 5'0 equals too long pants which equals pants dragging and getting wet in Washington weather) and a set of almost heavy new un-scuffed combat boots. I finished with my ruining-of-my-makeup only to once-again pick up the magic wand concealer and begin to dot onto every last disgusting little pock-marked zit on my face.
I scowled at my image as I saw the "before" of my makeup and rolled my eyes as I glanced Devon in the background. "What are you doing?" Devon managed behind his snorts and poorly-concealed laughter. "It's called concealing. It lightens marks on my face." I grumbled bitterly behind the wand as I dotted yet a few more zits nearer to my ear. I finally placed the wand back into its container and picked up the recycled sponge-applicator and liquid foundation. I just barely squeezed two drops onto the sponge before folding it in half and rubbing together to smooth out the liquid. "You're gonna need a lot more if you wanna cover up those landmines." Devon snorted, pointing an irritating finger in the direction of my face. "Gee, thanks." I murmured with a sigh as I smoothed in the foundation to my face, coating on top of the streak to not only cover the marks but also the irritation.
"I can't waste this stuff, Devon. To get it in this shade, I had to spend twelve fucking dollars." I hissed at my little brother as I glared at his reflection. Devon gawked in disgust at my statement as I placed down the sponge and picked up the softer, powder foundation applicator and began to pat down my face. "Twelve dollars on a wee little bottle?" Devon emphasized, his fingers in the air and his index just a little bit from his thumb. I growled at the little pest as I finally finished up the cover-up and began to redo my eyeliner, this time paying closer attention and making sure not to streak. "Besides, doesn't that stuff cause acne?" He questioned accusingly as I finished on one lower lid and moved on to the opposite eye. "So long as I don't keep it on for too long, it tries its best." I sighed as I moved on to the upper lids of my eyes.
Devon rolled his eyes before moving on to pulling out his cell phone from his back pocket and gawking at the time. "June! It's almost 8 and I promised Micah I'd meet him at the front steps so we can walk in like a boss together!" Devon raged, waving his phone as if I could actually read it. I rolled my eyes, flinching as I accidentally poke myself in the action. "Relax, Devon! We'll make it before 8 and besides, school doesn't even start 'til 9!" I cried back, setting down the eyeliner and picking up the mascara. I relaxed my eyelids and pulled the wand flush against my nonexistent eyelashes, causing more to rise and actually appear as though I had eyelashes. I carefully stroked the wand against my lower lashes and before I knew it, I was satisfied with my eyes at least. I didn't do eyeshadow.
With a final, torturing act I picked up my gloss and slowly…slowly…
"JUNE!"
I released a laugh as I quickly finished with the gloss and set the tube aside, shoving it into my backpack in the pocket reserved for such things. I began to file each item into the pocket as Devon made a show of tapping his over-sneakered foot upon the grimy tile of the bathroom. No, we didn't live in a crack house. Just a dirty house.
"Alright, alright; don't get your panties in a twist." I grumbled to Devon as I began to walk to him, lugging the fully-stocked floral cloth backpack over my shoulder. I had gone the extra mile and requested my textbooks early and had already stocked each one into the backpack, emphasizing the damn heaviness. "Besides, how in the hell are you and Micah gonna walk in 'like a boss'?" I questioned, my brow furrowing at this subject. Devon smirked at this whilst walking out to the only truck I could ever own, my dear Berta: my ruby red '97 Ford F150, with a skull sticker on the driver side door and the Monster sticker on the back window. Devon literally heaved himself up to the truck and he was a good five inches taller than me at age 14. I circled round to the driver side, pulling wide the door and stepping onto the little helper on my side.
With a slam of the door, I twisted the key into the ignition and turned my body to peer behind the truck. Once I saw no one behind us, I easily and slowly pulled the truck from our dingy house's driveway and onto the pot-holed tarred up blacktop street. As my back tire fell steeply into one of said potholes, the truck gave a jolt before I managed to pop it right back out onto even street. Devon grimaced at such an event. "Jeez, could you learn to drive please before we get killed?" He protested.
I rolled my eyes once more at the annoying pest in the passenger seat. "One, you don't backseat drive. You're fourteen and you just turned fourteen; you don't know anything about driving yet." I began as I sped Berta to a nice 35 mph pace along the road, flipping us up from our seats every chance the street got. Devon groaned and rolled his eyes, having heard this speech more than once in a while. "Two, it's not my driving. It's the damn town and its tar and that goddamn council that refuses to fix the goddamn potholes. Not. My. Fault." I continued as I pulled onto a smaller side street along the way, pulling us to emptier areas, no houses in sight along the scenic route of trees, trees and ooh, trees. Every once in a while we'd get a good glimpse beyond the leafy greens and catch sight of First Beach, beautiful even in the gloomy gray day.
"Third of all, watch your fucking mouth. We aren't gonna get into a damn accident because I'm way too quick to get us in a damn accident." I finished as I watched the road ahead, glancing at the sides of the road every once in a while in search of the constant animal traffic that I'd had the misfortune of coming into contact with before. Chief Charlie said they'd hit my insurance if I hit another deer. "You don't know how stressful it is to be behind a wheel and why it is that I'm not so damn worried about a goddamn pothole!" I scolded my brother as I pulled into the not-so-oversized parking lot of La Push High.
First day for Devon and my final first day; it was the beginning of my senior year and the final year before I leave this dump. For the diner and Port Angeles cash register, most likely, but still leaving the school. I had no high hopes; I knew I'd most likely get stuck with a dead-end part time job before I married some loser and came home to the sitter to take care of 'our' kids while he goes to drink the night away. I hate my drunken imaginary husband. And that's if I ended up getting a husband and kids in place of thirty two cats. I released a sigh as I grimaced at the school. It was small; too small for the something-something amount of kids that roamed these halls and this lot.
Often enough, there weren't enough desks for the students and more often than not, I ended up in a hippie class where we sat on blankets because they don't want to admit that all their funding is being used up by the Council for god-knows-what.
The click and slam of the door being open and shut heaved me from my thoughts and yanked me out the truck door. "Hold your goddamn horses, you little brat and get back here!"I hissed out to Devon as I pulled my phone from my bag and checked the time: 8:05. Devon glared back at me, yielding from where he stood before he decided to not anger my wrath for the day because he would hear it on the way home. "What?" Devon grumbled as he trudged up to me once again. I stepped out from beside the truck once more so that all the sophomores, juniors and seniors in the lot could see him along with his fellow freshmen. Finally I leaned in and left a sloppy, gruff kiss; a puckered lips-shaped glossy mark staining his cheek. "Ugh! Really, June? Really!" Devon cried out as he flounced away from me, his hand swiping at his cheek as if it was contaminated with cooties. Ahh, sister-cooties, how I love thee.
I merely laughed in response as I hitched my backpack back higher onto my shoulder. I peered at the screen of my LG Motion and smiled as I saw a little (1) on my messages box. I tapped the box only to reveal:
Get here now. Hannah is killing me.
Ahh, how I love the theatrics of my darling Bernie. I snickered to myself as I typed in a quick "o.m.w." and began to fall in line towards the front doors. I grinned to myself, my snickering continuing as I saw Devon and Micah count their way before they pulled open the double doors for a dramatic entrance. I rolled my eyes as they swaggered down the hall. I knew exactly where Bernadette Collins was being viciously murdered by Hannah Tagger and her constant chatter: the cafeteria. I stepped down the hall, the familiar seniors waving the occasional 'hi' as I passed them. I would grin and wave, passing on my witty banter every now and then.
Upon entering the cafeteria, I must say this was the newest and most well-kept room among the school. The tables and chairs had been recently replaced last year and so were still new, not as much gum under the table as the older ones had had and the hard-shelled plastic seats, though uncomfortable, looked good and almost brand new aside from the occasional scratch over this past year. The tables were round and yellow topped, an ugly color and yet the school's choice. I could spot easily, Bernie with her head against the table, her arms splayed out at her sides as she constantly groaned in agony as Hannah spoke of her fantastic summer in Seattle, interning at Seattle Times and setting her path to become a world-renowned journalist. I had always been envious of Bernie and Hannah and they knew it; they just thought I was joking. We constantly threw around compliments. We're girls; that's what we do. But I always knew that their compliments were unfounded. I could never live up to their image.
Bernadette Collins: senior of La Push High, no extracurricular activities aside from smoking a cigarette every other break behind the gym. Her cropped hair, sleek and bobbed just parallel to her chin always taunted me. Her skin was smooth and unblemished, even when she didn't wear makeup. I know: I've been to the sleepovers. Her eyes were lighter than mine and more caramel than brown, really. Her face had a definition that made her strong and her 5'6 height didn't either. She was small, petite and loved to cloak herself in her favorite form-fitting brown leather riding jacket, jeans and a tank top. Her favorite choice of shoes: Nikes. Her nails were always trimmed despite her badass/relaxed look and attitude and she seemed very dramatic at times while other times, you feared she could kick your ass.
Hannah Tagger: senior of La Push High, editor of the school newspaper to help fulfill her lifelong dream of being a reporter, just like her daddy at Seattle Times. Her face was round and slightly chubby, not fitting her toned frame and perfect ass. Her eyes were the rarest of ours, an icy blue color that could see into your soul and charm you right out of your pants. Her hair was her natural sleek black with light red highlights that she had managed to perform perfectly by herself out of sheer luck. Trust me, it was luck: I've been to that sleepover. She rarely, very rarely, wore her hair down and would more often than not have it looped up in an intricate, tight-fitted bun placed perfectly on an angle behind her head. Her favorite clothing choice was more…professional than Bernie's. She would choose a button-down top, often a pastel color, and place it over a white tank top and a white bra and then wear it tucked into her tight-fitting black non-jeans skinny pants. Her choice of shoes: sleek black pumps. Her choice of coat: a trench coat.
These were the two women that I spent every waking day with and that I couldn't stop envying. I couldn't help but wish that I had either of their bodies instead of my chubby muffin-topped body. I wished to have Bernie's waist and Hannah's ass and Bernie's thighs and Hannah's breasts and so on and so forth. But as I approached these two women before me, I couldn't let that affect my brain because no matter what, these two were the only two that I would want by my side 'til the very end.
At least, so far.
A/N:: This is the prologue of my beautiful, beautiful new story; the one that's finally taken me off the writer's block. This is the first story for this account as I wished for a clean slate however, I believe I want to bring back my beloved character that I loved from my old stories on my old account (reapersama101 if you're interested) and that would be….
Mr.D!
Mr. D: "No! I don't want to be back, I thought I was done with this!" *begins to run away*
Me: *Pulls back by collar of shirt because apparently Mr. D has a shirt instead of being a giant letter D* "Nope, I was just taking a very, very, VERY long vacation. Nothing permanent, though. 'Cause I'm back, baby so do it."
Mr. D: "If I do it this once will you set me free?"
Me: "Sure." X's fingers.
Mr. D: "Alright." *deep breath* "Reapersama101/Rhiannon's Soldier does not own any characters or events from Twilight or any other story that may seem familiar by brand or title. She does not claim to own it and begs to not be sued by any copyright laws/lawyers. Thank you."