Yeah, I'm fully aware Naomi is of the Mary-Sue type. It's all part of my plan... She's just a preppy, well behaved girl.
So far.
I have no idea what the hell I'm talking about.
I stress my characters eyes alot because that's one thing about creating characters that I love. If you run out of something to write about, you can fall back on the signifigance of eye color or whatnot, or at least I can. Hey, it might just happen in my other story
Last Time:
"What way's the record store?" I said in the same voice- I don't know how I held it - like I was pissed off at them all but I had
to talk to them.
He looked at me. I almost thought I saw his eyes flicker, if only for a second. He just looked angry. He narrowed his eyes and held his switchblade tightly in his hand, walking slowly towards us.
Oh Man, I thought, He's gonna kill us...
I reached for Ashley's hand to pull her away incase we had to run, because, by the look on her face, the only thing going
through her head was sheer terror. It was one of the only things going through my head, too, and I didn't blame myself.
It was only a matter or who would have to move first - us or them.
"Over there." He nodded his head towards the intersection, "Now get lost, you-" He called us a few names I wasn't sure I'd ever heard before.
I still had no idea where it was, but I was pretty sure I wasn't going to bother these guys anymore. I pulled Ashley away, her face white as a sheet.
"There," She said shakily, once we were away, "We've conversed with the darling east side type. Now can we please go home before someone else nearly knifes us?"
"No," I said sarcastically, "That wasn't a close enough call."
"Then let's go!"
"I still want to get to the record store." I shook my head, trying to get the curls to stay out of my eyes. I was in need of a haircut - most of the time, I could only have my hair a little past my shoulders without it bothering me. Grampy used to tell me how much I looked like Gramma, how she had waist length curly blonde hair. So I'd try and let my hair grow as long as I could, but by the time it got to the edge of my shoulder blades, I'd be going crazy and need it cut.
"Not if I can manage to hold your head still. You won't be able to get that mop off your face and then you'll get disoriented and I'll lead you home."
"Good luck." I took off running, and pretty near ran right by the record store. It had stood out to us last time, because there was a crowd, music was blaring, and the door was swinging in the wind. This time, the door had been fixed and everything was silent. It looked like the place was-
"Closed!" Ashley moaned, running up beside me and stamping her foot.
"C'mon, let's try the door. It might just be a quiet day."
"Yeah. An empty, quiet day."
I knew the store couldn't be open, but I wanted to try it anyway. Just incase, by some weird stretch of luck, it was.
I was about to say, "It's locked," but I never got the chance. Instead, someone else said it for me.
"Store's locked, kid."
I spun around, in the process grabbing Ashley's arm and pressing my back against the metal door handle. I yelped and jumped forward. I hadn't heard him come up behind me, but then, I was making a racket trying to open the door. He looked like he might hurt us if given the chance. I had a cousin who looked a little like him, but this guy's hair was blonder.
"You wanna get the kid outta here." He lit up a cigarette and regarded Ashley knowingly.
"What?"
"I said you shouldn't have a kid around these parts."
"We were going into the record store," Ashley muttered, "Asshole..."
"Some mouth on a socy girl." He smiled, but it wasn't a friendly smile.
"I'm not a goddamn Soc," Ashley snarled, and I chose not to point out the fine line between high, highmiddle class and beingconsidered one of the rich kids, "And for the record, this isn't a kid. She's nearly sixteen."
"Ashley," I hissed, "Bad idea. Bad Bad BAD idea." But she already seemed to know.
"What are you doing in these parts, then?" He questioned slyly.
"We were going to the record store,"I said, not as confident as Ashley was, but I didn't feel like she should have to do all the talking. After all, it was my fault she was here in the first place.
"On the east side? Don't you got enough record stores over where you live?" He stepped closer to us, and I pulled Ashley a few feet to the side.
"No, we don't." I was still scared. You can bluff all you want about not being scared of them, but when you're face to face with a hoodlum that's questioning you in a strange way, you're scared. You really are.
"None over on the west side?"
"No, the ones on the west side don't sell the kind of music we're looking for."
"What kind of music?"
I couldn't say anything without him questioning me back.
"I...I was looking for a Neil Diamond record."
"Neil Diamond..." He cursed, and to my surprised, turned and walked away.
"So," hissed Ashleyquietly, "This is the species of human that you claim spoke to you calmly twice?"
"Two separate human beings, Ashley, obviously they're going to be different-"
"You and Hannah were mentally identicle!"
"You say you talked to someone over here?" He turned around suddenly, sauntering back over to us, "Who?"
"I don't know his name."
"What'd he look like?"
"Uh...About so tall, brown hair?"
"That narrows it down," he growled sarastically, "How old did he look?"
"About fourteen or fifteen. Not sixteen."
"Who'd you see him with?"
I tried to remember who the kid was with in the store, but he'd been alone when he'd talked to me, so I had to think back to the church. Who was he sitting with? I could only remember the guy who dropped the book, and the guy who'd waved. He was with someone else, who had blonde hair, I think...and another guy, who'd had...black hair?
"Two of the guys had dark hair, I'm pretty sure, and one had...blonde hair? One had a really goofy grin..."
"Sounds like Pony."
"Greeeeeeaaaat...So, I guess we'll be leaving now-"
"Kid got into some trouble lately," he ignored my comment, "Friend of his killed a Soc. Been on the run."
"Great. Why are you telling me this?"
"Where'd you talk to the kid?"
"At a church, okay? Now we're leaving."
"Church! Glory..."
Ashley and I hurried away, but by the time I got home, I was wishing I'd stayed back and answered that hood's questions. My Dad's car was in the driveway, and this was the first time he'd actually turned off the car long while he was inside, so he must have been staying. And this was the first time since I'd called my Mom a narrow-minded, possessive bitch that I'd seen my Dad long enough for him to talk to me. I took a deep breath, and tried to get by the doorway of the living room without him seeing me.
"Naomi? Could you please come in here for a second?"
I walked back to the door and looked in at my parents.
"Your mother's been telling me that you've been playing a nice song on your guitar, and I'd like to hear it."
I didn't say anything, rather cautiously walked over to my guitar, opened the case slowly, watching my parents, and pulled it out and sat down slowly on the couch, and started to play without a single word.
I got through the song until
"I know it's been done, havin' one-"
"That's enough, Naomi." I stopped playing, and looked up at my Dad, "Where did you get the music?"
"Mom hasn't told you?"
"She has, but I want to hear it from you."
Did he think I was going to try to lie, to defend myself, or insist my Mom was lying?
"Exactly what she said. I went over to that record store on the east side and bought the record."
"Why, Naomi?"
"No reason why not."
"You know your mother and I don't like the thought of you going over there."
"I don't like the thought of you leaving every single week for business meetings and stuff like that, Dad."
"But it's for my job, honey-"
"You and Mom seem pretty hell-bent on my career being in music, so why can't I go toa music store?"
"Naomi, your grandfather wouldn't have wanted-"
"Mom, he would have wanted me to have fun with my music at fifteen years old."
"You're nearly sixteen, Naomi."
"Not for another month, Mom."
"One day short of a month, and you'll be sixteen. It's time to start taking it seriously."
"Okay Mom," I sighed, "What do you suggest I do different?"
"You can perform at this convert we've managed to get you booked into. And no Neil Diamond." She warned, "My friend Shirley said she could help coach you vocally for a few beautiful songs she knows everyone would love."
"Sure, Mom. And you have to come over to the east side with me...sometime." I remembered that the only normal kid I sort of knew was currently on the run for murder. Maybe I wouldn't tell her that.
"Maybe after the concert."
"When is it?"
"February."
