Yup. All original characters. Just using White-Wolf's new World of Darkness back drop. Please R&R.
Just chapter one in what's hopefully going to be a full story if I stay motivated.
Janet was skipping class and slouching on the otherwise empty track field when she noticed the red-haired woman watching her. Janet had just finished rolling the weed she'd filched from her Mom's stash into a blunt and was fumbling for her lighter when her eyes met the woman's. They stared at each other for minute. Janet was pressed back against the chain link fence, her backpack next to her feet. The woman was on the bleachers, leaning forward, her elbows on her knees, her eyes intense behind the mane of red hair framing her face. The red-head was too old to be in high school, and wearing a heavy leather jacket, rugged jeans, and combat boots.
Despite the distance, Janet felt her heart hammer in her chest. The woman was looking at her like she was a ten ounce ribeye steak. Janet could barely breath. She wanted to run. But, in the back of her head she had some sticks tied together – metaphorically speaking - and for the past few weeks they'd been slowly curled downward toward a breaking point that never happened, and the tension caused by those sticks not breaking caused Janet to act stupid. Instead of flee as she thought she should, the sticks made her choose to hide the blunt behind her and yell, "Hey, you! Pedophile!"while flipping off the woman with her other hand.
Janet felt a trill up her spine—she rather wanted to get punched, and almost hoped that it would break that bundle of sticks—as the woman stood up, skipped languidly down the benches, and wandered over, shoving one of her hands into a pocket. "G'head, light up," the red-head said, looking Janet up and down. "You sharing?"
"I'm not in to girls," Janet responded, sing-song, crabwalking sideways to maintain a three foot radius.
The woman completely ignored Janet's question. "You gonna light up? Or are you a chicken shit like everybody else in a ten block radius?"
Janet straightened up from her slouch, promptly yanking out her lighter she had moments before been struggling to find, and lit the end of the blunt she'd rolled. She took in a deep breath through it, and held, struggling to hold in the cough. Red-faced and strained, she passed the blunt to the red-head.
The red-head puffed twice and passed it back. She sighed out a breath after a moment. "That's good. Real deep."
Janet finally exhaled, choked, and sputtered for a moment. Then she slouched, her chin raised as if she'd meant to cough all along. "Well," she said, as a queen would speak to a particularly stupid peasant, "it's a good bud."
"You get that shit from your mom?"
Janet jolted and felt her whole body flush red from embarrassment. "Yeah."
"Well," said the woman, "At least she's got good taste in something."
"You're one of my family's people," Janet spat. The branches were being curled down, getting closer to snapping. If Janet was mad at anyone, it was her family and their friends.
But the woman just laughed at that. "Fuck no."
Janet hunched her shoulders and moved the blunt from one hand to the other. She knew if she got mad, if she just pushed herself, those branches would snap. Sometimes she wanted them to snap. She wanted the constant tension in her body to end and she wanted to go back to being someone who could laugh without feeling the weight on her shoulders. She didn't even know what was weighing on her shoulders.
The woman's eyes were intense, like she was a lion hiding in some grass and was about to leap on a zebra calf who was teetering along. "You're just pissed at the world, aren't you."
"It sucks," Janet said. "I can't do anything."
"Yeah? Breathe."
"That's not what I mean!"
"What?" The woman said, head tilting, folding her arms over her chest. "You mean you can't wiggle your fingers and make your tea boil without the stove?" She made a farting noise out of the side of her mouth.
Janet jolted a bit and sucked hard on the weed. While she did want that tension to break she was simultaneously terrified of it happening. She didn't know what it was, and hearing stories from her mom, it was the unknown that was always scariest. "Yeah. Because I can't do that. And because I can't, I have to stay at home while Mom and Dad and – and stupid Neil can go and do awesome stuff and then brag about it. And meanwhile, I'm stuck here," Janet waved furiously at the school. "Learning about hydrogen and stuff. Who the fuck cares?"
"Uh huh," the woman said, staring across the track field. "Fuck them. What's your name, anyway?"
"Janet."
"And here I was all set for you to be chicken and not tell me. I was all ready to nickname you dipshit. But," the chainlink fence clanged as the woman settled back against it, "Janet it is. When's your period, Janet?"
Janet puffed up like a chicken fluffing its feathers. "My period? What the fuck kind of question is that?"
The woman rolled her eyes. She leaned toward Janet and sniffed. Then she put her fingers on Janet's neck and squeezed as if taking her pulse. Her hands were strong and callused. Janet tensed again.
"Eh, week's my guess," the woman said.
"The fuck?" Janet said, stumbling away from her.
"I'll see you in about a week, Janet." The woman smiled and turned to walk off, hooking her thumbs in the pockets of her jeans.
"The—the fuck! Weirdo pedophile bitch!" Janet shouted, scrambling for her bag, yanking it on, and rushing home, despite two more classes being left in the school day.