Title: Ghost You Know (2/5)
By: a_lil_nothing
Rating: PG w/ some language.
Summary: Emily, Naomi, & Katie in middle school.
Notes: 1) Could be considered a prequel to A Comet Appears. Some of the same characters are here. This takes place before the start of series 3 (when they're in middle school) so in this universe I guess series 3 is the sequel. 2) I've changed my narrative to a sort of first person. Just trying it out. Let me know if it works or doesn't work. 3) Feedback is always appreciated. Thanks to everyone that left feedback on my other fics and favorited them. 4) Not beta-ed so please point out mistakes and such so that I may correct them. Thanks!
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Ghost You Know
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Emily POV
People don't naturally have that hair color, right? That angelic blondish white. At least not in England unless Naomi is of Scandinavian descent. This, now that I think about it, could be a possibility due to the fact she is the tallest person in class- boy or girl- and her eyes a bright azure. Except Campbell isn't a very Scandinavian surname, is it? No, I didn't think so.
I was sitting to Naomi's left as she commandeered the distribution of work load. I couldn't stop myself from glancing at her every few minutes… ok, every few seconds, pretending to look at the outline in front of her. If she were to ask me what I was doing I needed to remember to answer 'new social programmes implemented by the government' or something to that effect. Fucking post World War II gobbledygook.
The gazing started with the short hair. And then her long eyelashes. Her straight nose. That little chickenpox mark above the nostril made me want to ask her about it since Katie and I had chicken pox when we were seven. I noticed she had a beauty mark on her cheek and wondered why she covered it up. I was positive it would look quite attractive. Truthfully, anything would look great on that face.
As I clandestinely studied her slightly parted lips I realized it wasn't that the girl was always sneering- her upper lip had a bit of a natural curl to it that just made it look like so. Fucking alluring that was. To top it off she smelled of sweet oranges. Perhaps because that had been her snack once we'd gathered the reference books and sat down. Apparently, she didn't care the library had a no food policy and had even silently offered me a wedge. Best orange I'd ever had in my life.
I sighed without being too obvious about it. See, I'd been… enamoured… with Naomi Campbell since the very first moment I saw her and our eyes connected for that fraction of a second. I didn't know what to think the moment my back got hot and my body forgot how to breathe. At first I thought Katie had finally poisoned me but then understood what it truly was: I'd been struck by cupid's arrow. I'm not shitting you- it was a direct hit. Now here we were a year later and finally having a bit of conversation. Ok, the conversation was lacking but I honestly couldn't think of anything witty to say. It was driving me mad.
I looked at the half finished outline again and foolishly said the first thing to pop in my head, "Your handwriting is awful. Anyone ever tell you that?"
Naomi's head whipped a bit too close to mine. I hadn't realized I'd leaned over so near. "Is it?" she wondered as she looked down at my notebook. Thank baby Jesus I wasn't doodling hearts and stars around the margins like I normally did - that would have been proper embarrassing. "Well, yours is… It's… bubbly." She said it like that, like it was infected and gross or something.
"Yeah?" My handwriting is bubbly. Who cares? "So?"
"It's girly."
"I am a girl."
"Yes, you are."
I didn't get her logic… "So are you."
"Your point?" She'd asked it in that queensy accent of hers, not Bristolian at all. It was so cute. Naomi's voice was something I could write a 5 page essay about. All her different tones: angry, disillusioned, surprised, confused, loud, quiet… She could use them all in one hour if we were having a class discussion.
"You write like a boy." I elucidated.
For the first time ever Naomi looked mystified. She surprisingly shrugged me off quietly and went back to her writing. I, on the other hand, mentally slapped myself over and over again.
A few minutes later she finished the outline and she spoke. "I think we're about done here." She handed me another piece of paper with my assignment. "Here's your part. Think you can have it by tomorrow? I'd like to get it done before the weekend."
I wondered why but I was still embarrassed by my attempt at conversation. Keep it simple, Ems. You can tell her 'yes, it's only five paragraphs'. However, "Sure," was what I said instead.
Naomi gathered her belongings and turned to me one last time before leaving. "Ok, then… See you, Emily."
I realized that was the first time she'd ever said my name. Her vice was so soft, like a whisper, and my heart was beating so hard I thought it was going to burst out of my chest. Crushes totally sucked shit.
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"I need your help with this fucking project. You know I'm rubbish at history." Katie said as she fixed the chemise she was wearing. It was that tiger stripped one that made her look like a whore. Or, maybe it was her makeup. Or, a combination of the two.
"You're rubbish at it because you don't do your own homework." I answered back as I sat on my bed writing my assignment. I was pleased I'd at least gotten one paragraph completed- having spent at least ten minutes staring at Naomi's drunken monkey handwriting with too many 'Naomi is so bloody gorgeous' thoughts running though my head.
Katie was now over by the mirror painting her lips again, "I've got a date with Mike tonight, yeah, and that bitch Michelle wants me to write my part by tomorrow. It's not even fucking due 'til Monday."
"It's a school night. You can't go out." I said like the lame loser I was.
Katie looked at me thinking the same thing. "Yeah? So? I'm telling mum I'm off to work on the assignment. If you ever got yourself a boyfriend you'd know school nights don't matter." Her demeanor changed in a flash, she was about to say something to me in her sweet, sisterly tone to sucker me in, "Please, Em."
I was an idiot. "Fine." I sighed. "What's your subject?"
"I don't know." She was gathering her purse, getting ready to leave.
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"Fucks sake, Em." She glared at me, "I. Don't. Know. Michelle wrote something down on my notebook. Look it up there." She opened the door to our room and exited. "See you!"
Grumbling, I crawled out of my bed and over to hers. After rummaging through her bag full of make up, pills, and even a bottle of vodka I found the binder she used in history class. I read the topic and rolled my eyes. What the hell did I know about the Clean Air Act of 1956?
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