|Scandles and Candles Part I (standard:romance, 6500 words)|
|Author: River Not Crossed||Added: Jan 07 2001||Views/Reads: 3485/1977||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Seventeen-year-old Janie's past reads like a cheap grocery store novel. She is hurt, angry, and now responsible for her little brother. When Derek, an intregal part of her family's breakdown, reaches out to her, will she be able to reach back?|
Janie tried very hard to think of a way out without humiliating herself. "Look, Harrison-" she put her hands on his broad shoulders "You've got to stop it." Harrison looked down at her and the moonlight hit his face. He was cute, no denying that. His blue eyes and bleached hair made lots of girls swoon- once. Because in spite of being on of the cutest guys at Crestmore High, Harrison was kind of a jerk. And Janie didn't take well to jerks. She had no idea why he had asked her out- most boys stayed as far away from her as possible. They had seen the news reports, read the newspapers, been told the whole grotesque, eye-catching story. Even after eight years, it made an impression. But Harrison Williamson had asked her out anyway, and more out of shock than anything else, she had said yes. Her first real date, at seventeen. And it had to turn out this way. "Why?" he asked, his lips against her lower neck. His hand moved to her waist under her shirt. "It's our first date," she hissed, feeling the cold hardness of her living room wall behind her as he pressed against her. And I know you don't care anything about me. "Don't act all innocent with me, Janie Davins. We both know you don't come from a family of priests." Janie lowered her eyes in shame and allowed him to continue for a few more seconds, then she pushed at him again. He sighed angrily and grabbed his keys. "Fine. But don't count on a second date." "I wasn't," she snapped, and the door slammed. "Evan, if you are not down here in about three seconds stuffing your face, I'm going to ki-" Janie put a piece of brown hair behind her ear and reviewed her choice of words. "Kiss you." "I'm coming," Evan hopped down the stairs two at a time, X-Men book bag already on his back. Janie scraped the rest of the fried eggs off the frying pan and into her brother's plate with the spatula. She poured both of their orange juice, then sat down. "We're out of pickles, so you'll have to have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, like every other kid in America." She stabbed her eggs with her fork. Sticky yellow blood flooded the plate. "Yuck," said Evan, mouth full. "I'll throw it away." "You'd better not throw it away. We're not exactly the Gates family here, kid." She stuffed the rest of her egg in her mouth. "But I'm going to the store today, so you can go back to good old pickles and mayonnaise soon enough." "Is Dad coming this weekend?" Evan gulped his juice. "Your dad is coming on Saturday to take you bowling." "Aren't you coming? You can be on my team." He grinned at her, and Janie wondered how she was going to get braces on him, without going bankrupt. "Even if I wanted to come, which I most certainly do not, I have a project to do. Ohmigosh, it's eight thirty-five." She jumped up, sopped up the last of the egg-juice with half a piece of toast and crammed it in her mouth. She tossed him his bag lunch, fed the cat, and put the dishes in the sink. Janie sneaked a look in the mirror hanging in the living room. She was thin, bony even, with brown hair that fell a few inches past her shoulders, parted slightly on the right and curling in a bit at the ends, with large blue eyes and freckles on her shoulders. "Ugh," she said, and ran out the door to their small condominium. Evan was already in the Jeep. Click here to read the rest of this story (892 more lines)
Authors appreciate feedback!
Please vote, and write to the authors to tell them what you liked or didn't like about the story!
River Not Crossed has 1 active stories on this site.
Profile for River Not Crossed, incl. all stories
For a quick, anonymous response to the author of this story, type
a message below. It will be sent to the author by email.