Chapter 1: Brooklyn Gruehen
That’s the color I want the streaks to be in my hair. As I picked up the hair dye box, I studied it. Skinny white girl looking happy with blue highlights in her hair. Why didn’t they ever put an Asian up on the box for once? Whatever.
“That’s so funny! Well, I’m at the mall right now so call me back later…bye!”
I didn’t even have to turn around to figure out the most hated girl in my mind just walked into the thrift shop. Brooklyn Gruehen.
I slipped the hair dye into my sweatpants since I didn’t have any money to actually buy it and hid behind a stack of old granny panties. I couldn’t let this thing see me out in the open like this. So vulnerable. Brooklyn was like a lioness and I was the baby elephant who got left behind from the herd. You know how it all ends. Let me just tell you a few things about this girl, Brooklyn.
First of all, she’s white. Well at least she looks like she is. Except she doesn’t have blonde hair and blue eyes. She’s one of those girls that wear nine inch heels and carry around a designer handbag and are always wearing the latest clothes with thick layers of makeup on. That’s just to go to the school. Imagine what she would like at her wedding. That’s if any guy is that desperate to marry her.
Second, this girl has probably been with over twenty guys in our school in just one month. I think. I don’t know what guys see in her. Sure she is pretty, smart, rich (her dad owns almost every freaking business in town) and all that stuff. But, she’s a total drag queen.
Last, but most definitely not least, she hates me. Like she wants to kill me. I don’t know why, but she just doesn’t like me. It’s not like not like were strangers or acquaintances. We’re enemies ready to kill each other in war. It’s been like this ever since I first met her in the beginning of fourth grade. We’re in tenth grade now. Sophomores. When will she ever just give up and admit that she is a snob and I am the best person she will ever meet?
I had to get out of there before she saw me or else it would complete chaos. Like when my mom drinks too much. I had to get out of this shop and quickly. As I got up to make a mad dash for the door, our eyes met. Crap.
Chapter 2: Dylan Ban
“Shoplifting again, Dylan?” I said
That little dumb twit, Dylan Ban, was in my presence. Again. Why in the word would her parents give her a guy name?
“N-n-no! I mean I’m not shoplifting. The-the- the question is why are you here?”
I wasn’t going to tell this short little Asian girl why I was here. I turned around and sauntered away slowly just so I could catch her looking at me.
“Take a picture of my butt, it will last longer. Everybody already knows you’re a gothic lesbian. You might as well just come out of the closet!”
I saw the heat creep up into her cheeks so I knew I hit her right on the point. She looked as if she was about to say something, but then closed her and walked right on over to the magazine stand. Lesbo.
“Mom! Dad! I’m home!” I said to the top of my lungs. I kicked my off my brand new burgundy seven inch Mona Lisa heels. The hottest stuff on the market I thought to myself.
I popped my head into the kitchen and saw nobody. I saw that the refrigerator had a green circle sticky note from my dad. I remember the good old days when both of my parents would write on a sticky note together.
I saw that you got an A+ on you final exam in Pre-Calculus. The only student in that class to actually get `100% on it. That’s my girl! Anyway, I’m going to be on a business trip for the next few weeks few days so it will just be you and your mother. By the way, that boy, Ryder, called. He left a message on the house phone.
Same old messages every single time from my father. The upside to that would be that Ryder called. Time to go see what he said. I pressed the missed call button and as soon as I heard Ryder’s voice it made all of my problems just melt away. That’s why we were best friends.
“Hey, Brooklyn. Just wanted to say that I really needed your help on that science project and you weren’t there to support me. But, I see that you had enough time to work on you class blog and your own personal blog though. You owe me so I’m coming over today! Bye!
That was the typical, unpredictable Ryder. That was what I liked most about him. Ever since we had first met in 4th grade, we had become inseparable. Of course there were rumors flying around school about us secretly dating, but none of it was even true. We were used to it now, so it didn’t matter much.
“Speaking of the devil, I need to upload a new picture if myself and post something on my blog.”
I rushed upstairs to the third floor, into my room, and grabbed my laptop from underneath my bed. I plopped right down onto my stomach and turned my pink cased laptop. As I logged onto my own personal blog (that was open to the public, not just the kids at my school) I wondered what I would post today. I first wanted to see if I had any new members. At that exact moment I knew who, more like what I would write about. Dylan Ban.
Chapter 3: Blogging Secrets Revealed
I powered on my old stationary computer and prayed that neither my mom nor dad barged in and me looking at pics of Brooklyn. My mom would just swear at me until my ears would bleed and hit me until my skin my skin turned black and blue. My dad would just push his body into mine and force his tongue so far back into my mouth that it almost makes me vomit. I wish they would just leave me alone.
While I waited for my computer to sign in to Brooklyn’s blog site since I was a member, I decided to wash out the old pink streaks out of my hair and use the blue one that I just bought(stole). The water felt so cool going through my hair; it was a calming feeling, a feeling I don’t feel all the time.
When I finally finished my hair, it looked amazing. It actually looked good on me. I liked this style. But, I knew I would probably wash it out in a week or so.
As I sat back down to my computer, it seemed that Brooklyn has two new posts to her blog. One of them had an attached file to it, while another one had the title of “Thrift Shop”. I clicked on the one with the attached file first because it was likely to be a picture of Brooklyn. I was right.
Brooklyn was sitting on the edge of her bed with her legs crass-crossed and with one of her fingers on her chin. Her eyes were looking up to the ceiling to give the appearance that she was thinking. She was also wearing “cheeky” glasses in the picture. Brooklyn once posted that “cheeky” meant chic and geeky.
I wonder if Brooklyn ever thinks of me. In any kind of way besides enemies. I glance back at her picture. Her light brown curly hair perfectly puts her soft, round face into a frame. Her hazel eyes set her pale, clear white skin into a perfect complexion. I bet even without makeup, she is that gorgeous. That beautiful. I can feel the heat creeping up into my cheeks, making me blush even more.
I click the back button on the computer screen to go to the homepage of the blog. Then, I clicked on the most recent blog that Brooklyn posted called “Thrift Shop”. The first thing that popped up was a picture of me at the thrift shop today. That was the first time Brooklyn had ever mentioned me in any of her blogs and I knew this wasn’t going to be good.
Hello fellow blog readers! Today while I was walking form the mall, people, blocks, Mexicans, Asians, ratchets, and hood rats. It isn’t really about what I saw, it’s who I saw. I saw Dylan Ban. I know many of you blog readers may think this person is a boy, but this boy is actually a girl. I don’t know why her parents named her this, but I guess they wanted a boy. Anyway this little Asian girl was probably supposed to buying a rice cooker for her family, but was instead shoplifting some blue hair dye. No matter how much makeup, jewelry, or hair dye she puts one herself, she will always be ugly. She’s probably just getting over having yellow fever. You know how Asians are. She actually had the audacity to ask me why I was there. Since she has no rights to ask me, I turned and walked away. As I was walking away, this little rat was staring at my butt. You should have seen her face when I caught her. It is now known to the public that she is a lesbian. So, if you are also a disgusting looking person who is so short that my pug is taller than you, go right on ahead and meet this creature. But first let me give you a description about her. She goes to Shell Lake High School and doesn’t say much. But, if you get in her face, she can turn into one nasty little bitch. She has jet black hair with pink streaks in it so bright that they hurt my eyes. She’s short (about 4’11) and dresses like a slutty school girl who has physiological problems. Her mom works as the towns most not wanted prostitute. Her dad is always see walking into some strip club and is always seen leaving with a new lady. So sad, yet so funny. By the way, has anybody noticed the cuts on her arms?
At first my tears came down slowly on my cheeks. I quickly wiped them away before I noticed how much this had hurt me. I tried to stop myself from breaking down but I couldn’t. I started crying with no control over it.
I strolled down the page to view the comments and most of them said things like “I could hit her up if she’s that easy”, “she’s ugly’, and “OMG! I can’t believe I sat next to her before!”. They just kept going on and on.
“Why doesn’t anybody like me?” I said in between sobs. “I’m nice to people and I try to be their friends. I just don’t understand!”
Later that night, I took a razor knife for my dad’s tool box and cut myself. The first two cuts always bring pain, but the rest of them just start to feel numb. I did eight of them in total. I watched as the blood dripped right onto my bed sheets. I was just going to let them drip dry, but decided against it. I washed the cuts and bandaged them up.
I could hear footsteps coming up the stairs. Not just anybody’s footsteps…it was my fathers. I had about 15 seconds to hop into bed before he would reach my bedroom. I made it there with about 5 seconds to spare. This gave me just enough time to my breathing so he would think I was sleeping this whole time.
“Delilah? Are you awake? I need you,” he said in a grunted voice.
I could how close he was to me by how strong his tobacco scent was. He started to slowly moving my hair out of my face. I could feel his cold, greasy hand on my neck as it was moving down towards my chest. Then, he was basically groping my boobs. I was not in the mood for him to be taking advantage of me.
“Get off of me now”, I said.
“Are you deaf or something? Get away from me! Get out of my room!”
“You little whore”, he said quietly.
He reached out and grabbed me by the hair and pulled me out of my bed. He then ripped open my shirt and tried to rip off my bra. I punched him square in the jaw. The look in his eyes told me that he wasn’t going to show any mercy. He pinned me down to the floor so I couldn’t move my arms or my legs. As soon as he lifted one hand off me to pull down his pants, I stroke. I grabbed the razor knife off the floor and stabbed him right in the arm.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!?” he yelled at me.
“Nothing. The question is what is wrong with you. I hate you! I never loved you because you never loved me. I should’ve stabbed you in the heart, but I have too much respect for myself. I’m leaving!” I said boldly.
While he was on the ground swearing at me, I grabbed my old backpack and filled it up with things that could’ve come from a jungle. I put in clothes, makeup, and hair dye, my color changing contacts, markers, spray paint, and my yearbook.
I took one last look at my room and left. Maybe I’ll come back to it someday I thought. I only had one friend who might take me in. It was a long shot, but I was willing to do it.
Chapter 4: Don’t Hide the Truth
“Can I stay with you for a little while Maja?” I asked me one and only friend.
“Only for a few days Delilah,” she replied.
I know everybody calls me Dylan, but my real name is Delilah. Dylan is just a pet name that Brooklyn came up for in 4th grade after my mom took a knife and cut my hair into some butch style. That day Brooklyn kept on calling me Dylan. So did the rest of the school. Even when my hair, grew longer to make me look like a girl, I was still called Dylan. Every time one of my teachers would call on me by my real name, all of the other students would start whispering “Dylan”. I got so fed up with it that I told all of my teachers to just call me Dylan. They were confused at first, but once I told them my whole story (well, part of it) they sort of understood.
We sat in the comfort of Maja’s room that she shared with her little sister, Anne. We were eating chocolate covered raisins, our favorite. Maja would glance up at me every once in a while.
“Are you going to tell me what happened or what?” Maja asked me.
“Where’s your brother at?” I replied.
“Don’t try to change the subject up on me!” she said in her British accent. “He went over to his girlfriend’s house.”
“He has a girlfriend?”
“I’m just kidding. Don’t get all serious now. He has a huge crush on this girl named Brooklyn Gruehen. You know her?”
“Um, no. I don’t know who she is.” I said faintly.
“Really? She’s like one of the most popular girls at our school. She’s one who’s the head editor of the school blog. Let me show you her from your yearbook.”
As her hand reached towards my bag tm grab my yearbook, I slammed my hand on top of hers. I couldn’t have her look at it. I wrote and drew in there. Private stuff.
“What’s going on? Are you okay?” Maja said jokingly to me until she realized that I wasn’t joking at all.
“You can’t look in there!”
“Look. I’m going to look through it whether you like it or not.” She began turning the pages to go to the G’s until she stopped.
“You really don’t-“
“What’s this?” Maja was pointing at the picture of Brooklyn with a pink heart drawn around her. “Did you do that?” Her voice faltered at the end of her sentence.
“It’s not what you think it is.” I said still trying to take the yearbook away from her.
“You never told me you were a dyke!”
“Shhhhh! Keep your voice down. You never told me you were a homophobic.”
“I’m not. I just can’t believe that you would keep something like this away from me! I’m your friend; you can trust me.”
“Well, I sort of like Brooklyn more than just friends. Actually, we aren’t even friends. More like enemies. She hates me!” I tried speaking without losing my temper.
“Calm down. I promise I won’t tell anybody but everybody already knows. Brooklyn posted this horrible article.”
“I know. She’s not even that good of a blogger, she just knows a lot of gossip.”
Suddenly, the room door swung open. “What are you guys talking about? Mum said lights out.” Anna said smugly.
“Anna! How many times do I have to tell you to knock when one of us is in the room with the door closed? God! You never listen!” Maja sharply replied.
“It’s my room too!” Anna exclaimed. “I’m turning off the lights.” And so she did.
Later that night, I woke up with a major headache. I almost forgot where I was at until I realized I was on the floor of Maja’s bedroom. I checked to make sure that everybody was still sleeping. Then, I grabbed my yearbook and headed towards the bathroom.
Once I got in, I locked the door behind me. I opened up to the page of the yearbook I liked the most. My favorite page had a picture of Brooklyn in front of the computer working on the class blog. It showed that she was equally smart and pretty, but I knew I could do a way better job at being the head of the class blog.
I started thinking about what it would be like if Brooklyn and me where ever in a room alone. Just the two of us. All of a sudden, I felt this sensational feeling between my legs. I opened up my legs and just started to slowly massage my inner thighs. I looked back at the picture of Brooklyn and the feeling became stronger in between my legs. I had to solve this dilemma.
I slowly moved my hand inside my underwear while still looking at Brooklyn’s picture. I knew what I wanted and I wanted it badly. I couldn’t believe that I was doing this, but I was fingering myself. I began moaning and imagining that Brooklyn was giving me this pleasure. I had to get comfortable.
I took off my all of my clothes and laid naked in the bottom of the bathtub. I went at it. I could tell I was reaching my climax because I was moaning louder and louder.
Fuck. Oh my god. Mmmmmmh. That was all I could think of to myself. I was cumming. I could tell from the sound of my fingers going in and out. Finally, I stopped because I heard someone knocking on the door. I quickly got out of the bathtub, got dressed, washed my hands, and grabbed my yearbook. I opened the door and came face to face with Anna.
“Were you fucking you self up in there? Did it feel good? Can you teach me?” Anna said excitedly while she was trying to see if I was wet.
“You are just a little 13 year old girl. You shouldn’t be using words like that.” I said as I pushed her out of my way.
© Copyright 2016 Jahmila. All rights reserved.
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