idk man, I don't even really ship propunk, but the song was on the radio at work a few weeks ago and I've not been able to shake the idea ever since soooo...
Also, I'm aware The Clash broke up in like 1986, but for the purpose of them being Sarah's fav band lets pretend they didn't, cool?
-.-.-.-
She was everything I hated; prim, proper, with an air of superiority that could only come from years spent in private schools before being thrust unceremoniously into a public school system by her parents in order to "assimilate to the real world before college" – or so the rumours that followed her around for the first few weeks seemed to say.
She wasn't long crushing those rumours on the toe of her well pointed heel though. One swift look and the whispers around her fell away to nothing. One neat and fine-tuned upturn of her lips and people practically threw themselves on the floor around her as she strode from class to class, nose so high in the air I was sure it was to avoid the smell of "poverty and incompetence" (according to a guy I bummed a cigarette off that's a direct quote).
Yeah, she as everything I should absolutely despise (and don't get me wrong, I fuckin' tried). There was something about Rachel Duncan and her air of supremacy though that had me turning up to school for the first time since my freshman year.
-.-.-.-
She sat like a statue; giving off the air of a perfectly diligent student. Not a teacher's pet though – she wasn't up the front row like that Hendrix girl that scribbled frantic notes, and she never fought for attention like that Cosmos freak that waved her bracelet clad wrist in the air like an excited puppy – no, she wasn't a teacher's pet, they were hers.
It was impressive, like really fuckin' impressive. The way teachers eyes would hover over her, weighing up the possible outcomes of asking her to speak, eventually deciding against it and quickly darting their gaze away to a less volatile victim.
"Manning?!"
"Fuck…"
"Excuse me Manning?"
"Nothin' sir, nothin'…."
I could have argued. In fact I was itching to tell this twat here he could stick his pretentious fuckin' questions. I'd promised S I'd drive Felix to his art class and take Helena to her driving test though, and I had two strikes today already; a third one would just mean a detention I really couldn't be arsed with.
"Do you know the answer Manning?"
"Could you repeat the question?"
"I asked the class what they thought was Macbeth's greatest flaw?"
If I was that Hendrix girl or that Cosmos freak I'd have probably told him something dumb like his love for his wife and his desire to please her, though I was neither of those geeks and to be fuckin' honest the whole idea of pestering students with questions they didn't want to answer was just plain bloody irritating as far as I was concerned. Instead I shrugged.
"I dunno…"
And I swear if I didn't know any better I'd say I saw her poker straight back bow a fraction of an inch and a hairbreadth of a smile crawl across her face.
-.-.-.-
"Here was me thinking detention wasn't over until six?"
"Hey S…"
I didn't even bother to look at her. Just threw my bag down next to Helena and Felix's and dragged my feet to the fridge.
"We're outta apples…"
I slammed the fridge door and waited. It didn't take long.
"You didn't skip school did you Sarah? You weren't with that Vic boy again?"
"No…"
"He's twenty four Sarah, he's too old for you to be spending so much time with…"
"I just fuckin' said no, didn't I!"
"Then what're you doing home?"
"School's out at half three for fuck sakes."
"No detention?"
"I can go a day without gettin' in shit y'know. Bloody hell S, do you've no faith at all or what?"
"I just worry chicken, you know that… I can't have you getting in trouble with the law again Sarah… they almost took you away last time."
"Whatever."
It'd be lame for me to tell her that I was glad she actually cared, glad that someone finally cared about me after so long. Instead I dragged my feet back towards the door and tried my best to look disinterested when I looked back at her.
"Tell Fee and Helena to meet me in the car…"
-.-.-.-
"Sestra, can you believe I passed?"
Most people with this level of enthusiasm would end up with a black eye – Helena was family though (or as close to family as a Ukrainian orphan and an English orphan could get) and she was just after passing her driving test.
"I saw you parallel park…. You did pretty well meathead."
I even offered her a congratulatory smile from where I sat in the passenger seat. She wasn't paying attention though – too busy focusing on the road ahead – so instead I turned my head and stared out at the passing rows of houses as we neared our lane.
Helena was moving fast – she still sometime forgot cars and motorbikes weren't built for the same bloody speeds – and I almost missed the couple walking along the footpath. Her poker straight back and frigid blonde bob were unmistakable though, much like the severe jaw line of Paul Dierden, the guy she was currently holding hands with.
I expected myself to be upset, or even mad; instead I was impressed. I couldn't not be impressed.
Everything from the way they looked walking down the road, to the way their hands clasped between them screamed power, screamed don't mess with us.
Yeah, I probably shoulda been pissed off, just like I probably shoulda hated her from the first time I laid eyes on her, but this girl knew what she wanted and knew how to get it, so instead I smiled.
-.-.-.-
Gym wasn't really my kind of think if I'm honest. Running, star jumps, obstacle courses, all just bullshit in my opinion. Apparently Rachel Duncan had come to the same conclusion.
I stood under the bleachers, cigarette in one hand and my iPod in the other, watching those fucking idiots run laps around the football field like their life depended on it. All just fuckin' bullshit.
I pushed in my earbuds and hit play. London Calling by The Clash filled my head and drowned out the sound of harsh whistles and complaining teenagers. I took another drag of my cigarette and sat down.
It took me a while to spot her on the opposite end of the field sitting on one of the benches typing something on the phone in her hand. One of our coaches came up to her, though whatever she said had him retreating before she even had a chance to flash him a sinisterly polite smile.
I stubbed out my cigarette (I wasn't really a fan of them anyway, I liked them more for the aesthetic) and watcher her – hair brushing occasionally across the side of her face being swiftly put back in place by well-manicured fingers, and legs crossed neatly at her ankles to keep herself modest in her tailored skirt.
I realised then she didn't need Paul to mark her power status in this place; her sharp figure cutting above the dreary blurs that moved around her in waves was enough to do that all by itself.
Rachel Duncan didn't need power, she was power and I was nothing but a kid with too much attitude sitting in the dirt watching her and wishing she knew who I was.
-.-.-.-
"Sarah please?"
Helena as at the foot of my bed, eyes wide and hair tamer than I'd ever sat it after S had spent hours flat ironing it and styling it simply with two pieces griped back at the sides.
"Listen meathead I've already said no, yeah? Go ask Felix or some shit!"
"Felix is only a sophomore he is not able to go to a senior prom without a date."
"Then take him as your date!"
Prom. Of all the places on this earth anyone had ever tied to drag me none were quite as fuckin' ridiculous as prom. Helena was staring at me like I'd just spat in her face though, so I knew I may not have a choice.
"Jesse is my date Sarah! I cannot take Felix!"
"Then why not just go with this Jesse guy?"
"We are meeting in the hall… Please Sarah, I'm nervous?"
"Fuck."
Yea, I didn't have a choice.
-.-.-.-
Credit here credit's due man; Helena and Jesse were cute out on the floor slow dancing. Not that anyone was paying attention to my kinda crazy kinda sister and her date. Rachel and Paul had demanded all attention in the room and to their credit they cut a pretty intimidating figure in the crowd, managing to make every other suit and sparkling dress look like potato sacks compared to their all black ensemble.
I, of course, claimed the darkest and quietest corner of the room for myself to subtly stare at the power duo. People tended to avoid the weirdo in ripped jeans and combat boots anyway, so it's not like I had much interruption while I watched Rachel and Paul dancing – their steps cold and precise and their eyes steely and reserved while their lips moved in quiet conversation, almost as if they were discussing business.
A second later Paul took off, and I really did start to think it had been business they were discussing because of the small smile and approving look Rachel cast in his direction as he left the hall, not once glancing back at her standing alone amongst the masses of low lives she'd spent her final school year with.
It didn't take her long to wander off as well – not that I'd call her confident strides "wandering" – and once she'd left I turned my attention back to Helena, now laughing at something Jesse had told her.
-.-.-.-
My sister and her date were still dancing, the spiked punch bowl had been lifted and Rachel and the stick she kept permanently wedged in her ass hadn't made a reappearance; aka there was no reason for me to still be here. Vic had text me twice as well, and in spite of my promise to S about staying clear of him and his crew, a few hours with them seemed a lot more promising than this blowout.
I was in the middle of texting him back to find out where I'd meet him when I felt her presence beside me. It's hard to say how I knew it was her; something about the sudden shift in the atmosphere around me maybe, like something significant had happened, or maybe it was just like a sixth sense, after months of watching her from afar my body had finally tuned into her on some weird wave length.
Either way I felt my lip start to shake and I looked up to meet those harsh steely eyes, not looking any softer now than any other time I'd made brief eye contact with her in the corridors between classes.
"Manning…"
It was just as harsh as I'd ever imagined my name sounding on her lips.
"Duncan, right…?"
She nodded once; sharp and precise like she'd measured out the angles in her head.
"I've noticed you watching me."
You'd think I'd panic after hearing something like that – but as ever, when given the option of fight or flight I chose fight.
"What makes you think I'd give two shits abou' you or your prissy life?"
I even added a scoff for good measure. Rachel however, seemed unfazed.
"I… have two tickets to The Clash this Friday."
"And, should I fuckin' give a-"
"I'd like you to come with me."
For probably the first time in my life I found myself unsure of how exactly to respond.
"I mean… I'd need to check… with Mrs S and…"
"I'm used to getting what I want Sarah, so don't say maybe, don't disappoint."
"Yea. Yea I'll go."
"Good."
She laid her hand on my shoulder then, her fingers curling around it feeling threatening but warm at the same time.
"No how about we get out of here?"
-.-.-.-
Behind the bike shed had always been the go to place. Her pretty black prom dress was ruined with mud, her neck was ruined with angry red bite marks, and I was ruined by the power I possessed to make Rachel Duncan come undone.
-.-.-.-
Did it last? No. Otherwise I'd never have met Cal, otherwise I wouldn't have Kira, otherwise I'd probably still be the moody little brat I was when I was eighteen.
Was it the best summer of my life though? Definitely. No one ever found out, it was just our secret, our dirty little secret; sneaking out to meet one another at three in the morning, keeping a hand over my mouth while I sat in her closet waiting for her parents to leave her room, trying to explain away the bruises around my neck by shrugging and letting Mrs S put it down to be just getting in another fight.
It was the best summer of my life, then she went to Yale and I went to the streets to find idiots to con and, well, you just move on, don't yah.