A/N - Hoping to get back in to writing and what better way to challenge yourself than FSOG? This is a one shot for now but will grow into a full story if you guys enjoy it. I always welcome feedback so please let me know what you think, bear in mind this is the first time I'm writing anything like this!
"Suspended from school again, Christian? What was it this time?" Grace has her arms crossed and a disappointed look on her face. I had hoped that I could just slink up to my room and escape the bombardment of questions until later. But of course Mia couldn't resist meddling, she loves to get me in trouble.
"He hit Ross McCormack at lunchtime. I saw it, looks like he's gonna have a shiner for the rest of the week!" Mia joked before flouncing up the stairs to her room. If only it was as easy for me but I knew there was a lecture following.
"I honestly don't know what to do with you anymore Christian. You've only been back at school for a week since your last suspension and here we are again. It's a wonder that school keeps taking you back, the way that you behave there. I'll have to phone Mrs McCormack and apologise on your behalf, and I have no option but to ground you. Off you go."
Ground me? That's fine by me, it's not like my social life is booming. The only times I leave the house are to go to school and to clean pools, and I'm not sure the grounding covers either of those. I stomp aggressively up the stairs, consciously trying to make the most noise possible, just to irritate Grace while on the phone. A mini moral victory. I slam my bedroom door shut behind me and launch myself onto my bed. I lay silently, face down on the bed, the only sound is my heard pounding. I'm so fucking angry I can't even think straight. All these "problems" at school, they aren't my fault. I only retaliate to people attacking me and yet it's always me that gets the blame. Ross wasn't called into the principal's office and suspended even though I only hit him because he was teasing me.
In the bottom draw of my desk I find the bottle of Glenfidditch Single Malt Reserve that I stole from Carrick's office, the seal still on the top of the bottle. Anyone with an interest with fine spirits would kill to own a bottle of this, I've heard it's pretty special, but to me whisky is whisky. It had been a wedding present for Carrick and Grace from a friend, Elena Lincoln I think. I glance at my calendar, the very same Elena Lincoln who's pool I am cleaning tomorrow afternoon. As I rip off the seal and take a long gulp I make a mental note to thank her for her very thoughtful gift.
No-one bothers me for the rest of the evening, not even Lelliot. He often comes into my room to play video games together but no doubt he's under the watchful eye of Grace. I barely feel hungry but the effect of drinking the expensive whisky on an empty stomach soon catches up with me. It's not often that I go without eating, food is a difficult topic with me, but I can't bear to face my "family" again tonight. My head begins to feel fuzzy and the room begins to spin eventually throwing me into darkness.
In my drunken state I forgot to close the curtains so I am rudely awakened by the sun way too early in the morning. The sun pierces straight into me and makes my already throbbing head feel 10 times worse. I try to swing my legs out of bed but the movement brings on a wave of nausea. So this is what a hangover feels like? It's almost enough to make me want to give up drinking!
With Herculean effort I manage to drag myself out of bed and manoeuvre the stairs. It's too early for anyone else to be awake so I know I'll have the kitchen to myself, but not for long. I lose count of the number of glasses of water I drink in a poor attempt to cure the hangover, when in reality all it does is make me really need the toilet. In all the films hangovers seem to be best cured by a greasy breakfast, and my stomach rumbles heavily at the thought, but that would take too long and I don't want to risk seeing Grace in the kitchen. Instead I make do with a bowl of cereal and a couple of Advil and haul my sorry ass back to bed.
I drift in and out of sleep for the rest of the morning, vaguely aware of everyone else getting up and leaving for work or school. I feel more comfortable having the large house to myself, despite the fact that I am confined to my bed. In my semi-conscious state the day passes quickly. By lunchtime the hangover is beginning to subside and I feel able shower and get dressed. Eating a big lunch makes my stomach feel infinitely better. I could honestly get used to this whole no-school thing; a whole day of lazing around listening to music and chilling. In fact, I find it so relaxing that time gets away from me and all of a sudden its almost half past three.
"Shit, I'm gonna be late, Mrs Lincoln's going to kill me!"
I grab my bike from the garage and set off as fast as I can manage, can't wait for the day I turn 16 and can get my own car. By the time I reach the electric gates of the house I am 10 minutes late and I can see Mrs Lincoln standing outside her house at the bottom of the vast driveway.
"What sort of time do you call this, you little brat?!" she bellows at me.
If I was talking to a peer I'd be tempted to argue back, but there are times when you have to respect authority. The Lincoln's are the richest couple in the area, and not the kind of people you want to piss off.
"I'm very sorry Mrs Lincoln; I'll get straight to work." I lean by bike against the garage door and head round the side to the garden.
"When you're done with the pool, cut the grass. Linc normally does that, god knows why he doesn't hire a gardener, but he's away on business. That'll go some way to making up for being late."
Sweat pours out of me as I get down to work in the sweltering heat. As I work I am aware that she is constantly watching me, and I mean constantly. Her eyes are transfixed on my every movement. I want to take a break from the heat, but with her watching me and given my tardiness earlier I just plough on. Eventually Mrs Lincoln takes pity on me and comes out with a jug of ice tea which she places on the wicker table beside the pool. She beckons me over and motions for me to take the seat opposite her. I can't work this woman out, when I get here she's colder than the Ice Queen and all of a sudden she's bringing me tea.
"Christian, your mother phoned last night and told me about your troubles at school," she states.
I'm lost for words. Grace and Carrick will do anything to uphold their reputation but yet they discuss their 'problem child' with the neighbours. I can't think of a witty remark or comeback so I settle for, "She's not my mother."
There's a sharp intake of breath and I see her hands twitch.
"Biological parents or not, Grace and Carrick have done everything for you. Paying them back like this is ungrateful. If you were mine I wouldn't let you get away with acting like this."
If I was hers, what the hell does that mean?
To fill the silence I take a long sip of the refreshing tea and she mirrors me. I have nothing to say to her. As long as I turn up weekly to clean her pool why should she care what else goes on in my life? As sickly sweet as possible I say, "Thanks for the tea, Mrs Lincoln, but I should really be getting back to work." It's my way of politely ending the conversation, because I feel that if I sat there much longer I'd lose my temper yet again.
As I walk back over to my tools I hear her chair scrape back and the sounds of her high heels clacking on the tiled floor getting closer. Her hand grabs the back of my shirt and she slams me into the wall of the pool house.
"No-one walks away from me, Christian, especially not a fucking adolescent boy. Someone needs to teach you some manners, and how to respect others."
Her face is literally centimetres away from mine and her body is crushing into mine. This proximity excites me for some reason yet I am still shocked when her face inches closer and her lips find mine. The kiss rapidly becomes rougher, with her tongue parting my lips and probing into my mouth. I've kissed girls at school before but this is a whole new level. When she eventually pulls away I am left panting, desperate for more. She lifts her hand as if to caress my face but instead delivers a swift stinging backhand to my left cheek. It's so confusing, the pain of the slap gets lost in the pleasure of the kiss from just seconds ago.
She slaps my other cheek but before I get a chance to register the pain her hands are grabbing hold of my t-shirt and pulling it frantically over my head. "You done this before?" she asks, and I know exactly what she means. I shake my head, hoping that this is heading in the direction I think it is. Her hand, with her perfectly manicured red nails, travels down to my crotch and I harden immediately at her touch. A smile flickers across her lips.
"In that case I hope you're a quick learner." She grabs hold of my hand and pulls me inside the pool house.
When I eventually leave the Lincoln household, I leave without my virginity. My stinging backside makes the cycle home incredibly hard, but I barely care.