If you are reading this, it means I finally have electricity in my house again. Yippee! I promised myself I would celebrate the return of electricity by beginning to post this story.
It's been a rough seven and a half days, but not as bad as it could have been. Thank God I still have a roof over my head! And it has also been a blessing that the weather has been extremely mild.
As for this story, I am calling it Teenager, since it is inspired by the Better Than Ezra song of the same name. It is not strictly a song-fic, but I will call it a "song-inspired-fic." The lyrics are below, all credit to the wonderful, talented Kevin Griffin.
I do not own the lyrics to Teenager, I do not own Kevin Griffin, or Lizzie McGuire, or Ethan or Veruca or any of the other characters in this story, except a few OC's that are not really that important. I DO own my wonderful little laptop computer and my own imagination. And more than happy with both.
BTW, I am rating this story M for strong language. "Darn, heck and freakin'" just didn't sound real for this story.
This story is already completed, nine chapters long, and I will be releasing it slowly, one or two chapters a week during the month of November, while I am otherwise occupied writing my NaNo.
Good luck and best wishes to everyone who participates in NaNo! For those who are about to write, I salute you!
And now on with the story! But first, the inspiration song:
-
-
TEENAGER
-Kevin Griffin
Listen
to them fight
Hear your mother cry
Weekend at your dad's
They
don't know what they do to you
Teenager
Wrap
yourself in black
Listen to The Cure
Love line won't call
back
They don't know
They don't care
They don't
see
But I do
And
if it feels good, do it
Cause if it tastes fine, drink
Well,
there's a range of possibilities to find
Teenager, Teenager
No
one knows your name
No one hears your cry
Fall in with the
fringe
Cause they know what you're going through
They do
And
if it feels good, do it
Cause it if tastes fine, drink
Well,
there's a range of possibilities to find
Teenager, Teeanger
No
one's wrong
No one's right
It comes down on you
I have
found your life
Inside mine
Hear
your mother cry
Fade into the night
And when they ask you
why
They won't know
They won't feel
They won't see
But
you will
And
if it feels good, do it
Cause if it tastes good, drink
Well,
there's a range of possibilities to find
Teenager, Teenager
-
-
"Hello, is Lizzie there? Tell her it's Ethan. Ethan Craft."
Ethan hung on the phone line, listening to Lizzie's brother scream her name throughout the house. He tapped his foot nervously, glanced in his bedroom mirror, smoothing down his jet black hair. The blue highlights were fading. He would have to have Veruca do them again. Maybe tomorrow. Right now, all he could think about was the possibility of hearing Lizzie's sweet voice on the other end of the phone.
In a moment though, he was talking to Matt again. "Well, it turns out that Lizzie's not home after all," Matt announced, and Ethan knew he was lying.
"Well, okay, dude. Thanks anyway. Listen, tell her I called. Tell her it's about the homework. Tell her to call me, okay?"
"Sure," Matt said. "Later, dude."
"Yeah. Later."
Ethan hung up the phone, hissing "Fuckl!" Foiled again! Why wouldn't Lizzie talk to him? There was a time she would have climbed mountains just to hear him say hello. What had changed?
He looked in the mirror again, at his pitch black hair with fading blue highlights, his Cradle of Filth tee shirt, his chains and piercings.
Oh, yeah. That's right. He had changed.
Ethan cursed again, then turned up Marilyn Manson on the stereo. He rummaged in the back of his sock drawer until he found the joint he'd been hiding in the jock strap left over from his days of organized sports. He put the joint deep in the front pocket of his oversized black pants, looked out his bedroom window at the red Corvette parked at the curb and cursed again.
"Fuck! Dad! What are you doing here so fuckin' early?"
But he already knew the answer to that question. Dad was here to torment Mom, to argue about alimony and child support, to rub it in her face that her boyfriend was history, but Bonnie was still with him. Ethan grabbed his knapsack and rushed out of his room, still cursing.
"Hey, Dad!" he called cheerily, coming down the long hallway. "Dad! What's up? Hey! Great weekend planned, huh?"
"Hello, Ethan," Dad said, once again running his eyes up and down his son's tall frame. It had been almost a year since the transformation, but Dad had still not gotten used to it and probably never would.
Ethan looked across the room at his mother. Her face was red and she was trying her hardest to hold back her tears in front of her son. Ethan glared at his father and hated him.
"Well, then, let's go," the elder Craft said. He glanced contemptuously at his ex-wife. "So long, Helen," he said bitterly, and Helen Craft jumped up from the couch and ran down the hall, sobbing.
Ethan looked at his father and sighed. "Dad," he said, "Why do you do that?"
"Do what?" Dad asked defensively. "I don't do anything. She does it to herself. And what's it to you, anyway?"
"I've got to live with her, Dad!"
"Not this weekend you don't. Come on. Let's go."
Ethan followed his dad out of the house and down to the red Corvette waiting at the curb. God! Ethan hated this car. He threw himself in the front seat, hoping nobody he knew would see him in it.
Dad ran around to the driver's side and slid in, easily revving up the motor. The stereo began to blast smooth jazz. Ethan pulled a CD out of his knapsack and began to insert it into the player.
"No way, mister," Dad said without hesitation. "None of that death metal in this car."
"Oh, Dad, come on! I can't take this jazzcrap!"
"It's a short drive," Dad said, pulling the car into the street. "You'll live."
They drove for a few moments in silence, then Ethan said, "So, old man. What's the plan?"
"Well, actually, Bonnie and I are going out tonight," Dad began
"Of course," Ethan replied dryly.
"So I was just going to drop you off at the apartment. Unless there's somewhere else you'd like to go."
Ethan knew this was going to happen, as it did every weekend, and he had his answer ready. "Sure," he said. "You can drop me at Veruca's house, over in Whispering Oaks. She and I were hoping to go to a concert tonight."
"Sounds great!" Dad smiled, glad to be relieved of the responsibility of caring for his teenage son. "That Veruca, she's the red headed girl, right? The one that might be really pretty if she would just lose a little weight?"
"Dad," Ethan said impatiently. "Veruca is beautiful. And it has nothing to do with her hair or her weight. God! Sometimes you're so shallow."
Dad smiled sarcastically. "So…" he mused. "Veruca is beautiful, huh? What is she now…your girlfriend?"
"No," Ethan said flatly. "Just because I say a girl is beautiful doesn't mean she's my girlfriend. Veruca's like my best friend ever. We really connect, you know what I mean?"
"Sure, sure, that's great. But you do have a girlfriend, right? I mean, you're not…funny that way, are you?"
"Dad, you ask me this every timed I see you, and the answer is still the same. No, I am not gay. Yes, I get plenty of action. Don't worry, your genes did not produce a defective son."
"Just checking," Dad said. "With you teenagers, one never knows. You seem to change so quickly."
Once again he glanced over, and Ethan could tell Dad was looking at his eyebrow piercing. "Yes, Dad. This is new. I had it done last Sunday. You like?" he asked with a crooked smile, knowing his Dad would hate it.
Dad said nothing but continued driving. Ethan just laughed quietly to himself.
They reached Veruca's house in beautiful Whispering Oaks, and Dad brought the Corvette to a screeching halt in front of the two story brick house with a porch swing out front.
"So," Dad said. "You have the key to my apartment, right? What time do you think you might be in?"
"Not sure," Ethan said. "The concert could go long, way past midnight for sure."
"You got a ride home?"
"Always," Ethan said. "I got friends."
"Well, I'll see you later then," Dad said. "Unless I don't. Bonnie and I may spend the night at her house. If you need me, you know my cell.'
"Sure, Dad. Check you out later. Hey, thanks for the lift."
A moment later Dad spun the Corvette away from the curb, leaving Ethan in its dust. Ethan watched the red car disappear down the street. Dad was such a trip. Since the divorce, Ethan barely saw him anymore. And that was probably best for both of them.
-
Ethan walked up the flower- lined front path, and rang the doorbell. From inside he heard Veruca's mother calling, "Veruca, dear! That must be Ethan!"
"Got it, Mom!"
A moment later Veruca stood before him in the open doorway, grinning.
Ethan grinned back. "Hey!" he laughed. "You did it. You really did it. It looks so cool!" He came forward to give Veruca a big hug, then pulled her back to look more closely at her long red hair. Veruca's hair had always been red, of course, but a sort of a carrot top red. This color now was more…scarlet, a deeper and brighter red than Ethan had ever seen before.
"Can you tell?" Veruca asked, spinning around.
"Hell, yeah, I can tell. It looks great!"
"I figured if I was going to be the girl with the long red hair, I ought to be the girl with the long RED hair, know what I mean?"
"It's so cool, Rookey. Hey, would you do something like that for me?"
"No way!" she said, smacking him. "What do you want us to look like, the Bobsey Twins? "
Ethan came into the house, laughing his confused laugh. "Who the hell are the Bobsey Twins?"
"I don't know," Veruca said. "It's something my mom says all the time."
"That's so cool," Ethan said, "that you still talk with your mom."
"Yeah, she's okay," Veruca admitted as they walked through the house towards the kitchen. "You want a soda?"
"Sure," Ethan said. "Thanks!"
In the kitchen they found Veruca's mother, sititing at the kitchen table with her feet up on a chair. "Oh, hello, Ethan," she said easily. "How are you, honey?"
"Very good, Mrs. Albano. How are you?"
She sighed heartily, putting her feet up on a chair. "Been better, sweetie.. How's your mom?"
"Oh, she's fine," Ethan lied.
"You tell her I said hello, okay?"
Ethan nodded. "Sure will."
"So, " Mrs. Albano said. "What have you youngsters got planned for tonight?"
"Concert down at Super Sounds Studio," Veruca explained. "Lots of local bands. Pedro's band is playing. Also Kendrick's."
"Oh, really!" Mrs. Albano exclaimed. "How is Kendrick these days? Haven't seen him much lately."
"All is well," Veruca assured. "He's really into his band these days. We want to go support him."
"Okay, well, as long as you're with Ethan, I know you'll be in good hands," Mrs. Albano said, smiling at Ethan. "You'll take care of my little girl, won't you, Ethan?"
"Of course," Ethan said. "The same way I would take care of my sister. If I had a sister."
"Veruca can be your sister," Mrs. Albano said. "You're welcome here any time you need a place to crash, Ethan. I hope you know that."
"Thanks," Ethan said quietly. " I appreciate that, Mrs. A. I really do."
Mrs. Albano looked at Ethan a moment longer, thinking about saying something more, but deciding against it. She knew the divorce had been hard on Ethan. She well remembered what it had been like for Veruca when their family had gone through the trauma of divorce five years ago. Ethan was basically a good kid, she knew, and she hated to see him hurting like this.
"Okay," Veruca said, grabbing two Pepsi's from the fridge. "Enough already. Ethan's my pal, Mom, not yours. Got it?" She smiled as she said this, but there was an edge of determination in her eye. "We're going upstairs."