Pink Secrets & Little White Lies: The Beginning.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 7 (v.1) - Prelude to the Weekend.

Submitted: March 20, 2013

Reads: 357

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Submitted: March 20, 2013




I was so not looking forward to going over to my dad’s house today. I laid in bed and looked up. The dusty pink flowers that clung to the ceiling were my new found friends. I’d rather lay here and count the grooves in the ceiling than to go over and stay an entire weekend with him.

I sat my bag down at the bottom of the staircase. Mom told me that he was on his way, but I did my best to plead with her.

“--Couldn’t you just tell him I’m sick or something?” She cut her eyes at me, “Okay, bad idea. But mom, I don’t want to go! What am I supposed to do there?”

Try to have fun,” she said simply, and then the doorbell rang.


Spending the weekend at my father’s house wasn’t so bad after all, but it wasn’t so good either. He was hardly ever there. And, I’m beginning to think that he only bought me the cell phone to keep himself in my good graces while he attempts to get back at my mother for whatever reason. I hope he doesn’t think that buying me things will make up for the years that he forgot that I even existed.

* * *


He dropped me off at school on Monday and took my weekend bag back over to my mother’s… Get this, she has to see his face every Monday for as long as I spend the weekend at his house. Maybe this is his new way of torturing her.



I’ve been a little scared lately. Me and Jesse have been getting closer, I think. Well, I’ve been feeling a little close to him, but I’ve been keeping him at a distance. Megan has been staying after school late for some kind of thing… I think she joined the school’s cheerleading cult. And Cat…I just love Cat.

Last weekend, my father got mad at me for leaving the hall light on… That’s no real reason to get mad at anyone! My mom says he gets mad at me easily because I look a lot like her. So, whenever he just gets mad at how I look or something, I calmly ask to go over to Cat’s house, and there is where I spend the night.

Which reminds me, we have been talking a lot lately, since Megan’s so busy and not really in the picture so much nowadays. We have much more in common than just green eyes. She has such a caring personality--and sure I've known that for a very long time,but I never really noticed because Megan’s bright personality always overshadowed Cat’s. Megan’s personality could kill a thousand watt light bulb, I swear.



It was Friday again, and I had gotten better at staying awake in sixth period. Jesse had to wake me up for seventh period for a month straight. But lately, I've gotten the hang of this staying awake thing, and I actually didn’t have to run to seventh period anymore.

School let out, and I leisurely strolled to my locker and placed the last of my books in there for the weekend. I took out one book so that I could open it whenever my dad wanted to talk. If he sees my nose in a book, he tucks tail and runs for some odd reason. This weekend, it’d be my Literature book.

“Hey, you got a second,” Jesse asked as I closed my locker.

“Sure, what’s up,” I said, pulling the strap of my book bag over one shoulder.

I leaned against the locker and waited for him to say something, but the cat had his tongue, I guess? Soon, I glanced off to the side.

“Um, look, I really have to go. My dad’s probably outside waiting for me.”

“I want you to take something with you this weekend,” he said, pulling his hand out of his pocket.

I reached out into the air, “Alright, give it to me,” I said, palm open and a wild grin on my face.

He took his hand and clasped it in mine.

I felt like a deer caught in the headlights of an eighteen-wheeler, and all I could do was stare stupidly into his burning brown eyes. The closer he moved, the less air I could inhale; and when his lips touched mine, I could feel a light turn on inside of me. I was curious.

I was very curious, but I could do nothing but stand there with my eyes half open, hoping that he would continue to satisfy the new questions that sprang up within me.

I tried to kiss him back with more force--to better  feel what he tried so desperately to hold back from me--just to see if I could ignite something inside of him as well. I did.

He pushed back with just as much force. I gave in to him; my head rested against the locker, and above me, he pressed my hand against the cold, lifeless metal of the locker door.


When he broke the kiss, I could’ve sworn that he sucked the life out of me because when he let me go, I could barely stand on my own.

I was so dizzy… how embarrassing. The first time I had a kiss, I think I was in third grade. I was in gym, and Timmy Dougan dared me put my lips on his and count to five. Come to think of it... none of my kisses have felt this real--this gratifying.


Jesse sort of held me up while walking me to my father’s car. It took every bit of my strength to refrain from tackling him in front of my dad. But, I was dying inside. If I couldn’t have his lips pressed ’gainst mine again, I felt like I was gonna melt into the ground.

Jesse held my hand, and before letting go, he enclosed a crumpled sheet of paper within my warm palm. After getting into the car with my father, I opened my fist and saw that it was his number on the wrinkled bit of paper… Just what in the hell was I supposed to do with that?

I think it was fear that suddenly washed over me. If I would let him kiss me like that, wouldn‘t I shamelessly let him do it again? No, no… I can’t think like that. I mustn’t. I took out my literature book and placed the paper in the back of it. Then, I pretended to read.

“So, nothing interesting happened today?”

He was totally prying into my business, I swear. He must have noticed some change in my composure.

“Dad,” I said, laughing nervously, “It’s not that important. Seriously.”

“Then who’s the guy? I’ve never heard anything about him.”

“Oh my god, dad,” I groaned, turning a bright shade of red. “Stop it!”

“Alright, alright,” he said laughing, and pulled away from the school.

© Copyright 2018 Jennifer Brighton. All rights reserved.


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