Meet Fergus, a soon-to-be favorite with the girls but NOT with Whitney. Only Fergus and Fiona are my characters.
Chapter Three
Bring It On: Whitney
Dinner was a disastrous affair. Although Mom and Dad tried to perk Fiona up, the only response they got was a distant nod. Fergus was quiet too, but he was also very polite, and very formal. Jamie and I exchanged glances.
After dinner Fergus offered to do the dishes, so I handed him a towel and passed him the wet plates to dry. There was an awkward silence at first, then Fergus began to speak.
"Um, Jamie--"
"I'm Whitney!"
"I'm sorry! I really didn't know. Fiona has always referred to you two as Jamie and Whitney. Fiona, she..."
I kept silent and continued passing the plates.
"Well, she met this boy at a party a few weeks ago. He's an Italian boy, I think his name is Rocco or something, and I've seen him before. I didn't think much of him, but Fiona she thinks he's `as handsome as the devil and twice as tempting'."
I nearly dropped Mom's expensive Ming china plate. "Fiona said that? Fiona?"
Fergus nodded gravely. "She went obsessed over this Rocco person. I thought, fine, Fiona's first boyfriend. I didn't really like him though, because he's from Hockley."
"Hockley?"
"The downtown London, where the punks and lower class live." Fergus frowned as he concentrated on drying the edges of the fine china saucer. "Then a few days ago, Rocco decided to call it quits. He actually called Fiona a boring, tight-arsed bitch, phoney and disgusting, pretending to be upper class when she acts like a madam of a thriving street-side whorehouse!" he nearly bent the silver teaspoon in his fingers.
What a great description, I thought, it's really what Fiona is. But I just shut up.
"Fiona tried to slit her wrist yesterday in the kitchen. I was looking for a snack when I saw her holding the knife against her wrist. So I knocked her out cold. Mother decided to send her here immediately, but I decided against. Fiona needs some sense into her. When she gained consciousness, I gave her some talking-to. She wasn't hard to convince. The forgiving part was over, but now the forgetting part has just begun."
I unplugged the sink and dried my hands. I felt that I had to be nice to Fiona. Although she was a bitch, I am also quite a bitch too. But I am capable of being nice too. I shrugged carelessly at Fergus's words. I'm going to be a bitch with Fergus though. I doubt any cheerleader would even talk to a dork. Even Cliff Pantone, Torrance's new boyfriend, who may be a backdated punk, but he isn't a dork.
Leaving Fergus to linger in the kitchen, I grabbed a bag of crisps and headed upstairs to my bedroom. Jamie was listening to my old Spice Girls CD in her room. I went into my own room to practice my splits.
I looked at the new orange-colored dresser next to my own red dresser. It was bought in a hurry, just this morning. Fiona would stay with me until she was all right and could stay in a room by herself.
I dropped into a split and stretched my waist up high. Then I ate a few crisps. Fiona entered the room, gave me fleeting glance, then looked away at the posters on my walls. I was sorely tempted to ignore her, but I decided to be nice.
"Hey, Fiona. Have some," I held the bag out to her and smiled. Fiona looked at me warily before coming over. She reached into the bag and gave me a small uncertain smile. I continued doing my stretches. Fiona sat down and helped herself to more crisps. Then, as I pulled my taut leg to my forehead, she asked suddenly:
"Doesn't that hurt?"
Her first words of the day. It made me laugh uncontrollably with happiness. I had succeeded in being nice!
Chapter Three
Bring It On: Whitney
Dinner was a disastrous affair. Although Mom and Dad tried to perk Fiona up, the only response they got was a distant nod. Fergus was quiet too, but he was also very polite, and very formal. Jamie and I exchanged glances.
After dinner Fergus offered to do the dishes, so I handed him a towel and passed him the wet plates to dry. There was an awkward silence at first, then Fergus began to speak.
"Um, Jamie--"
"I'm Whitney!"
"I'm sorry! I really didn't know. Fiona has always referred to you two as Jamie and Whitney. Fiona, she..."
I kept silent and continued passing the plates.
"Well, she met this boy at a party a few weeks ago. He's an Italian boy, I think his name is Rocco or something, and I've seen him before. I didn't think much of him, but Fiona she thinks he's `as handsome as the devil and twice as tempting'."
I nearly dropped Mom's expensive Ming china plate. "Fiona said that? Fiona?"
Fergus nodded gravely. "She went obsessed over this Rocco person. I thought, fine, Fiona's first boyfriend. I didn't really like him though, because he's from Hockley."
"Hockley?"
"The downtown London, where the punks and lower class live." Fergus frowned as he concentrated on drying the edges of the fine china saucer. "Then a few days ago, Rocco decided to call it quits. He actually called Fiona a boring, tight-arsed bitch, phoney and disgusting, pretending to be upper class when she acts like a madam of a thriving street-side whorehouse!" he nearly bent the silver teaspoon in his fingers.
What a great description, I thought, it's really what Fiona is. But I just shut up.
"Fiona tried to slit her wrist yesterday in the kitchen. I was looking for a snack when I saw her holding the knife against her wrist. So I knocked her out cold. Mother decided to send her here immediately, but I decided against. Fiona needs some sense into her. When she gained consciousness, I gave her some talking-to. She wasn't hard to convince. The forgiving part was over, but now the forgetting part has just begun."
I unplugged the sink and dried my hands. I felt that I had to be nice to Fiona. Although she was a bitch, I am also quite a bitch too. But I am capable of being nice too. I shrugged carelessly at Fergus's words. I'm going to be a bitch with Fergus though. I doubt any cheerleader would even talk to a dork. Even Cliff Pantone, Torrance's new boyfriend, who may be a backdated punk, but he isn't a dork.
Leaving Fergus to linger in the kitchen, I grabbed a bag of crisps and headed upstairs to my bedroom. Jamie was listening to my old Spice Girls CD in her room. I went into my own room to practice my splits.
I looked at the new orange-colored dresser next to my own red dresser. It was bought in a hurry, just this morning. Fiona would stay with me until she was all right and could stay in a room by herself.
I dropped into a split and stretched my waist up high. Then I ate a few crisps. Fiona entered the room, gave me fleeting glance, then looked away at the posters on my walls. I was sorely tempted to ignore her, but I decided to be nice.
"Hey, Fiona. Have some," I held the bag out to her and smiled. Fiona looked at me warily before coming over. She reached into the bag and gave me a small uncertain smile. I continued doing my stretches. Fiona sat down and helped herself to more crisps. Then, as I pulled my taut leg to my forehead, she asked suddenly:
"Doesn't that hurt?"
Her first words of the day. It made me laugh uncontrollably with happiness. I had succeeded in being nice!