Sorry about the wait, my computer has been a fucktard...

When I was nine years old, my dad taught me how to play poker. Whenever he was out of a job, which was a lot after my mom died, he'd always play underground poker games to win us money to pay the rent and to set food on the table.

"Take it off!", Jim Muir screamed as he slammed his cards down onto the table, winning the round yet again.

There were a few mutters heard from around the table, and I watched Peggy Oki, the only girl skateboarder in the Z-Boys gang, flip off Muir before pulling her tanktop above her head. I had yet to lose my shirt at that point, but considering how bad I was playing, it was going to be gone soon enough. I hadn't much experience with alcohol, and the mere three beers I had slipped down were affecting my judgement and abilities in poker a lot.

I had never been drunk before, so it was a rather special feeling. The world felt like it was in constant movement, and I was starting to feel a bit sick. Much of it probably had to do with my low weight and my build, and I was truly the epitome of 'a lightweight drinker'.

Bob Biniak handed out a new round of cards, and I looked at them and avoided furrowing my eyebrows, or making any facial expression what so ever really.

"You in, or you out, Mags?", Biniak asked me with a big drunken grin on his lips, and I snorted out loud before giggling.

"In!", I announced and pulled at the strap of my tanktop, signaling I was betting my top.

Everyone else around the table did their bets, or folded. Most stayed in the game though, because as it seemed, no one really cared if they lost, they were losing clothing articles either way. I watched Jay tilt his head slightly, bite his lip for a second or two, and then announce his bet, this time the last time he could bet his pants before they had to go.

A pair of pants or a skirt were worth three bets, a shirt two bets, and socks one bet per sock. I couldn't remember what underwear was worth, and I didn't want to either way. I was going to pull out before I had to take off that, or at least I hoped I was going to pull out before that moment came.

The round went on, and person after person pulled out of it until I was sitting there scratching my head opposite Jay. It was a strange moment, as that peculiar feeling in the pit of my stomach that I couldn't exactly register seemed to return each time I glanced over at him. For some reason I wanted to know what he was thinking of, I wanted to get inside his head. I couldn't understand how Jay functioned, not at all. He seemed so.. easy, but he was the most complex person that I had ever met in my fourteen year old life.

"Fuck yeah!", I snapped back to reality as Jay did exactly as Jim Muir had earlier and slammed his cards onto the table.

I had never even realized he won over me.

"Dude, Adams just played the shirt of his sister", Muir mumbled in a slur to Tony, and then he laughed out loud.

My cheeks went instantly hot but I hid it by pulling the spaghetti strapped tanktop over my head and threw it onto the table where a collection of clothing items was piling up. I then wrapped my arms around my torso to shield any view of my boobs, but it took me another minute to realize I was only in my underwear now.

For a moment, I glanced over at Jay again and caught him looking at me. There was something in his eyes, an emotion I had never seen in him before. The thing about Jay was that you never exactly knew what he was feeling, though his eyes seemed to reflect a lot of it. Though this time, I had no idea what sort of feeling was going through his head.

"I think I ought to pull out now", I thought out loud, and with horror I watched whatever of that unknown feeling in Jay's eyes disappear as he seemed to register the words.

Kathy handed me my clothes, and I slipped into them easily before I gave her an onearmed hug and left the room with a tight grip around my glass of beer.

The feeling in my stomach had returned as well when I thought of Jay, and I felt sick just thinking about him. I had come to realize what the uncanny feeling in my stomach was, and I wasn't liking it. I downed the rest of the beer in an attempt to block it out, but the face of my fifteen year old brother still came back, and I clenched my fingers around the empty glass so hard that my knuckles became white. I knew exactly what it was, and a sudden feeling of hate washed over me.

Lust.

It's strange how one single moment of feelings can destroy the future of two persons.

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I walked home alone in the chilly night weather that was rather common for October. It was never really cold in Venice, but during the night you could feel the crisp breezes coming in from the sea. I had nothing against it though, as it felt nice, and it made me feel like I would sober up a bit. After a while, I realized walking alone was probably my most stupid choice of the night. Although I tried to not think of it, the thought of what I had felt still came back. It felt like a sin just thinking about it, and I wasn't even religious.

It didn't help me in the least though, and my thoughts still ended up wandering back there. I finally gave up halfway on my way to the Adams' house, knowing that I had no will power what so ever to repress the thoughts. After all I had been drinking, and the alcohol going through my veins only lessened what little control I had over myself.

It wasn't supposed to turn out like this.

Philaine was passed out on the couch in the livingroom when I stepped through the door. Taking care of her reminded me of taking care of my dad during the periods when he drank a lot. I threw out the empty beer bottles left over from what seemed to have been her own little party, and emptied the ashtray into the trashcan before giving Maserati new water and closing the door to my bedroom.

I felt somewhat sober now, and reality had come crashing down. Whatever magic that had been spread over the night had disappeared, and left was a fourteen year old girl dressed in a former twelve year old's clothes, with her hair teased into oblivion and the make up around her eyes smudged into large black circles. My body felt heavy, as did my eyelids. I was too tired to even wash off my make up, so I just opened the window a bit to let some air into the room, and then slid under my covers.

After I had stopped crying that night I finally managed to rock myself into troubled sleep where I dreamt of Jay. It would soon become a common element in my dreams, watching Jay come so close to my face that our nosetips almost touched, and then disappear into thin air. I hated the dreams just as much as I hated whatever feelings I had for Jay, because the dreams seemed to be only a confirmation of what I felt.

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When I woke up the next morning, my head was throbbing, and my eyes stung. I felt sick just trying to move my head, and when glancing around the room I saw Maserati huddled up on the far end of the bed. He had woken up when I moved, and was now staring at me.

"Let's go for a walk", I mumbled but my voice cracked anyway, and I sat up as slowly as possible trying to avoid my head feeling like it might explode.

As I stood in front of the mirror I let out a deep sigh. I was of course still wearing the clothes from the night before, and because of crying myself to sleep, the black make up had created heavy lines across my cheeks in diagonal directions - because I had been laying down. It looked like hell had dragged me over - twice.

I stood in front of the mirror for a few minutes while listening to Philaine and Jay conversating in the other room. I couldn't properly make out what they were saying, but it didn't matter.

Maserati followed behind me as I sneaked unnoticed into the bathroom which was comfortably placed next to my room, and Maserati curled up in the corner of the room as I turned on the shower hoping there was warm water. There was, and I sighed in relief before stripping off my clothes and stepping inside the shower, letting my body soak in the scolding hot water.

The cleaning ritual that followed took me twenty minutes. I scrubbed my skin until it was red and stung, as if the cleansing would take away any trace of whatever feeling I had felt last night. I had tried to tell me several times since waking up it had only been a side effect from the drinking, but deep down I knew how wrong I was.

After getting dressed I attached the leash to Maserati's collar without speaking to either Philaine or Jay and steered my feet towards the Zephyr shop a few blocks from the Adams household. It wasn't that far of a walk, but it felt nice either way, because the wind was blowing in from the ocean pretty nicely.

Although Skip Engblom hadn't exactly taken a liking to me, nor having Maserati trample around inside the shop, he usually was far too drunk to even notice. He reminded me of the alcoholics my dad used to scam money off when we had it really bad. A dollar or two can be enough money for some noodles that can work as dinner if you're hungry enough.

Though we never really had it that bad, sometimes it was bad. After my mom died, my dad didn't exactly work. He was fired fairly quickly from his formerly permanent job because he was depressed after my mom. It hurt a bit watching Skip, because at the same time that he remembered me of those drunks, he also remembered me of my dad.

"Hey Twiggy", He greeted me in a slight slurred voice though he seemed more sober than usual, as I entered the shop, "What have I told ya' about bringing that bag o' lice in my shop, Twig?"

Twiggy, or Twig. My nickname because I was so small. I wasn't much shorter than Peggy who frequented the shop, nor Tony's sister Kathy who also was there a lot. I was a whole lot thinner than they both were though, so I guess that's why he called me that. Even though I eventually grew boobs and ass, the nickname stuck for as long as I can remember.

"Where are everyone?", I asked him and ignored his question before sitting down at the empty chair next to the glass counter where the cash register was placed. Behind the glass there was a collection of wheels for skateboards, and other small stuff.

Skip shrugged before disappearing behind the drapes separating the shop itself, and the store. Not even Sid was there, so like a few times before I moved from my chair and sat on the one behind the counter instead. Skip would disappear for more than an hour at times, and he didn't seem to mind me managing the register. Some payment for my services would have been great of course, but considering Sid who did more than I didn't get paid, I wasn't one to get my hopes up.

I dwelled in my own feelings there in the quiet and practically deserted shop for an amount of time I can't even remember.

There was one thing I was absolutely certain of by the time I yanked Maserati's leash a while later and left the Zephyr shop behind me. The feelings I'd felt for Jay hadn't been a figment of my imagination.

That same day I bought my first diary.