Better start where all of it seemed to be put into motion, right?
So, there was once a girl who loved making music very much and earned money with it ever since she got an electric guitar, a synthesizer and a quality PC. And she lived in Phoenix, Arizona, with a wind-in-her-head maman, who got herself a very stupid male. Though I must say, he compensated for stupidity with aesthetic muscle mass. That's why the maman, who decided to settle down, was not difficult to understand. And his tolerance ended when the girl began to take other girls to her bedroom to make those other girls loud.
And the girl was caught doing that completely by accident, all the while the mother was not too intolerant on her own... Oh, if only dear mother had not decided to return from the fitness club earlier, because, quote, her quadriceps thigh muscle hurt unbearably. Although, as it turned out later, it wasn't that serious, just the usual fatigue.
Unbearable, right.
And all this is not too important, because all the same, my comfortable stay with my mother was spoiled by the incompatibility of my views on life with this empty-headed dude, as well as my unwillingness to put the issue squarely before. Such an opposite willingness, however, arose in this asshole, fuck him and his jellyfish brain by a log through his anus. Well that's what I said anyways, the heat of the conversation making it all obviously final.
I hope Mom held no hope that sending me to a small town in the woods near the Pacific could help with discovering the love of my life in a local woodcutter or native guy? It doesn't work that way, and by the way, it should also have to be conveyed to my father somehow, otherwise I know these brain farts about "you just didn't come across a right man", I was like this myself at some point, not quite understanding the issue because it wasn't my issue at all.
I looked at the message from my friend, Tomiko Koyama, who stayed in Phoenix. A bunch of simple emojis and obscene constructions in Japanese, but in Latin letters. She also sent a photo of the night downtown, such a bitch she is. I'm going to cry now, honest! I bowed my head a little to take a photo of what was happening outside the window, well, and with the success of a person who got into a black stripe of life, I caught myself on something I had to know was there, if only I payed attention.
A moment later, Dad, who had slowed down at the traffic light, turned around in surprise at my swearing and started laughing into his mustache. I was picking thorns out of my chin. You shouldn't hug a pot with a long cactus when this cactus can theoretically get close to your face! You just shouldn't! But I did and it did not at all theoretically got right into my snout.
Oh, a new message chimed!
I still haven't gotten used to the fact that I can't even swear in Russian, and I really want to, but my mother strongly asked me not to speak another languages in front of her. But Mom is there, and I'm here! Ha! My time has come! Inspired and elated by this thought, I decided to take a look at the text of the message.
"Have fun Grapeshot!" - Tomiko wrote, accompanying the wish to have fun with an emoji of a broken heart, which completely killed the meaning of the message in the bud. - "Have sex with some sexy pale bitch and forget all about your Tiny Tom!"
I rolled my eyes at this nonsense and sent her a sincere wish to stay up all night. To which the answer immediately came that she was already working on it.
I adore her.
Obviously, my friends called me Grapeshot because of the two components of my personality. First. The only relatively strong alcohol that my puny little body is able to cope with would be liqueur, and it just so happens that I like cowberry liqueur shots. Second. I can't stand my name, and at first they just called me Grape. Because, obviously, my name suits the grape variety much more than it suits me. The name was chosen, by the way, by Dad. Charlie always had terrible taste, though on the other hand, I wouldn't be there if he had good taste...
Mom, of course, is a beautiful woman, but sawing with a jigsaw on the brain is her main feature, which can only be overlooked if you get married because of a very strong teenage infatuation, which indeed happened once upon a time... And it's not worth mentioning, because this event marked my birth and stay in the body of a girl, despite the fact that I remember my life as a man. A man from Russia, to be more precise. The same Russia, which is the former abode of evil-slash-communism, and all that, yeah.
Certainly I could get hooked on barbiturates to calm my heebie-jeebies, but even from that life I had a negative stance towards things that cause clouding of consciousness. But it's in this life that I actually started drinking more often than on holidays, and earlier than it is legally allowed. Well, we're all going to die, so what's the problem? YOLO and all that.
At that time I didn't know what exactly the trip to the local high school would turn out to be.
***
I was nervously smoking near my dad's gift, skeptically examining the rattletrap. I was by the school, where smoking is generally not worth it, cus not allowed and I could get in trouble. And I smoked Swisher Sweets Grape, obviously with the taste of grapes, because "girls love berries", as one odd but nice bud once put it. He constantly bummed them even though he's a son of the owner of my favorite club, a likeable boy, sorta womanizer and obviously a money-grubber. That's why I had a two-fold attitude towards him. Meaning, we could hang out, but I low-key despised him for his slights.
In general, it's too early for me to go clubbing around, but I'm the emancipated girl, I literally earn money by creating music and mixing tracks in the prog, doing everything so that it's a bang - as a minimum. And, well, so it deserves the attention of the bigger clubs of my area - as a maximum. Two different aliases - and voila, I ate the fish, and I didn't have to sit on the fish-rod. Electronics - in one pile, and attempts to hit rock - in another.
Of course, it won't be soon for me to go to the legendary Tomorrowland in Belgium as a performer, if I get to this level at all. In addition, it does not yet exist, it will manifest its popularity in the industry only a year later, but in the USA there are fests for fans of dance music, like the summer Coachella in California, which I certainly will not go to.
And why's that? Because I'd like to go to a cool university and I am going to crush myself under the huge academic workload to get there.
And why's that? Because this is my dream from my last life, and here I can implement it. And music... What of music? I'm certainly not Armin van Buuren, but why not make money on the obvious talent of this body for meticulous work and on the not quite definite knowledge of a bunch of songs from the future? I know for sure that in my previous life everything was initially too shitty, and I just didn't have the strength and time to fight both with the opinion of relatives about what I should do, and at the same time provide myself with money for at least something beyond a certain minimum they could spend on me. If I really start complaining - I was called a free-loader from the age of ten, at least the first memory of it, and I never even had lunch money or any food but apple I took with me. All the bullshit they put me through affected me a lot. When I remember my previous family situation, I can't help but shudder.
All in all, this world is just a sweetheart compared to what I had to go through my past life. Mom always supported my hobbies, Dad doesn't really care, since he doesn't really ask, stepfather - only worries more about himself. I'm internally jumping with happiness that they care of me more than "make yourself something, freeloader" or "get up to school, idler." Although probably it's all about the life attitude. And the money they make, I think.
My thought process was interrupted by some kids who drove up on BMW M3 and Volvo Silver S60R. These cars were extremely noticeable in this middle of nowhere town. I'd kill for such a beauty in my use, let's be honest. But I can't really afford it yet. I always arrive early to have a quiet smoke, and Tom used to occupy my time and auditory canals... Speaking of her. She did promise to call before school!
I took the phone out of my pocket - so far there is simply no need to smoke and scroll through the phone at the same time, the Internet is infuriating, because it actually does not exist the way I want it. It's the first decade of the two thousandth, not the blessed 2018. Just think, even the first Iron Man hasn't come out yet! I'll be out of school by then. And Game of Thrones? I haven't seen the last season yet! Why do I even remember my past life, for fucks sake!
"Blyat!" I swore in Russian under my breath. "There was a call, I just forgot that I turned off the sound!"
Beside me - and I parked right near the entrance to the school building - the very kids who drove up on unreasonably cool cars for this backwoods are about to pass. Again, I'm being arrogant, however, but I lived almost all this life in the largest city in Arizona and one of the largest cities in the US. I am not in the least surprised at the sight of such expensive cars owned by ordinary high school students, it's about where they choose to be glaringly rich that grates on me.
And right then and there I almost broke my neck and almost swallowed a cigarette, looking at a beautiful girl, like an autumn sunset of the wild Siberian taiga. Much taller than me, but it will be just right in bed - unlike her, I'm without heels.
Golden blonde hair, don't look like dyed, and such odd eyes...
Allrightey, I've had enough of blondes, I've been allergic to them since the last breakup literally four days ago. So I would like to move on from past relationships first, and admire other women second.
More so, I drooled for, like, three to four seconds, I doubt she noticed. Only one romantically colored thought about the taiga sunset managed to flash by - and that's it. More so, there is another cutie here, right by the first one. And she's even tinier than me, elven looking, archly smiling without showing teeth. Her turned-up nose scrunched a bit, and she got these smooth movements too. But she's like ready to jump some sort of somersault right then and there, her movements are so different from that blonde who seems to almost float through the air...
And again I return to the blonde both in my thoughts and with my eyes. This fixation is irritating!
I viciously stubbed out my cigarette on the side of the pickup truck. It's from the middle of the last century, thanks Dad for your utmost care and I would've been better on foot. By this action, I weirdly attracted the attention of the blonde. Not to say that it was good - she looked at me like I'm trash. My little heart fluttered in response. I like such looks, I even put them in a box and take them out on dark sad evenings, while lying in bed under a warm blanket. She somehow looks a bit like my ex, minus the blue eyes and tan.
In Arizona, it seems, everyone except me has a damn tan, because I'm an owl and I only walk the streets in the evening.
And apparently now all blondes look the same to me or something. The only thing left was to look at her in response to her angry face and speak my mind to dispel all the starting fantasies about her, being in the place of my ex in some of our memorable sex feats.
"See something you don't like?"
I said, raised an eyebrow and blew the always bothering me bangs off my forehead. It's kinda necessary to get a haircut, well, or grow it again - whatever kind of mood will be at the time when I make it to the hairdresser.
She just opened her mouth to say something, and her, kinda, obviously boyfriend even smiled behind her back when she still decided what to answer. But Tomiko's call was much more important to me than the local pale version of the bitchy blonde, whom I had to part with thanks to the actions of my dearest new stepfather and the fact that mother puts relationships with men first.
Since I had already turned on the sound, everyone who had ears and the ability to be surprised reacted to the ringtone. I have the soundtrack from the Witch Delivery Service in Japanese. And if I remember correctly, she has one of my songs.
"Hi, little witch," I smiled at the phone, while looking at the rich kids a little less closely than they did me, and for some reason they did not go in. "Lessons are already starting, what the hell?"
"Your girlfriend burst into tears, called her father and bought a ticket to Washington State."
"Ex," I corrected, still slightly fascinated by the beauty of both the blonde and the elfishly cute brunette. "What the hell is she needing in the White House?"
"Moron, it's your Washington I'm talking about. And her father almost took a flight from New York to you so that it would be easier to kill you with his own hands. He's barely accepted your existence as it is, you know. She talked him out of it, as far as I understand. She said she had to talk to you again and wouldn't settle until she figured out what went wrong."
"Our meet the parents situation was fucked up, that's for sure," I scratched my temple and sighed. "Listen, Tom, I realize it'll hurt when she finds me. Everything was kinda... I told her somthing on the lines it's not about you, it's about me and all that..."
"I know. Just keep in mind. Your death is near." the humor in her voice was unmistakeable.
I stared blankly at the noticeable bust of this blonde still waiting for something right by me. Now she's left only in the company of another girl, and not all of those who came out the vehicles. They quickly dissolved, as I briefly noticed, dragging away the only one of them who still looked more like a teenager. He, it turns out, was also angry about something, so much so that they had to squeeze him from both sides and head all together into the forest.
"I see. Are you done? I'm done."
I poked the red phone - the button, not the sensor, is still freezing me out even after all these years - and hid the mobile phone in my bag.
"Did you see anything entertaining?"
I've been staring at her curves all this time, is that it? Damn, I so don't want to be known as some pervert. At least not before the first sex in the walls of the school, really!
"Nothing special," I shrugged my shoulders and shot a cigarette butt into the nearest urn, of course I got it, I've been training this skill for thirty years. "If you wanted to say something, you should have said it. Lessons starting. And I need to get my schedule."
"I'll show you where!" the other girl chirped, I can't find a better word for describing her voice even. "I'm Alice!"
"Swan. Nice to meet you."
"Me too!" the girl clasped her hands. "Don't pay attention to Edward, he's been in a bad mood since morning."
"Who's Edward and why should I pay attention to him?" I frowned and looked at the blonde. "The only one who paid attention to someone here is her. What's wrong, by the way?"
"You don't take care of the car at all," the blonde rolled her eyes and waved my obviously questioning gaze away. "Just the impact of my hobby. I love cars."
"You just compared a cactus with a hedgehog. An old Chevy truck I didn't even choose myself and your BMW convertible. I'd lick your car inside and out, don't you worry."
"I'm Rosalie Hale," she mirthlessly chuckled. "But you have a Chevrolet, not my car. It's worth preserving what you have while you still have it."
"It's worth not having what you don't want," I snapped and turned my face to the oddly frozen Alice. "You said you'd help? Are you coming or should I go myself after all?"
She silently pointed at the door, and we went in.
I didn't know then who I was trying not to flirt with.
***
Oh, Lilian, look what you've done...
What I was most afraid of happened. This woman - and I'm not calling her a girl after all the sex we had, she's going to be called the woman for my sanity mostly - started her incessant calls. I'm not going to answer. Not at school, for sure. It's going to be a hell of a discussion.
"Fuck," I swore softly, crawling out of the school doors after most exhausting communication with a bunch of teenagers greedy for new toys.
Kids worthy of the slightest mention and, well, me remembering their names would be Angela Weber, Jessica Stanley, Lauren Mallory, Tyler Crowley, Ben Cheney and, all the gods bless his soul, Eric Yorkey. It seems that I will spend a lot of time with him if my suspicions about the absence of open lesbians in my school are confirmed.
The guy was almost definitely gay, because we are not in the anime, so that Angela's obvious doe eyes in his direction were ignored. And after all, they clearly have known each other for a long time, at least since junior high. Both are rather tall, under six fifty of course, and the guy's quite thin. They also work in the school newspaper. Therefore, when I promised Angela to give an interview, I had a chance to see enough of their interaction. And I agreed to give an interview, because it was very interesting to communicate with these two, there was no bad feeling about them. That's the one I always try to listen to. I've always had it, and I wisely call it the ass feeling. And besides, Weber accidentally Googled me and realized that I could fill the school newspaper with something more interesting than the achievements of the local sports teams.
Lauren Mallory was quite a pushy and cute girl whose communication with me today was very much odd. She did make her cute face look like my stepfather Phil's snobbish muzzle when he found out that I had a girlfriend. All this girl needed to get to that scrunched up nose and pursed lips was - and I'm going to list in the order of the movement of her gaze - was to look at my ears pierced in several places, my hairstyle a little shorter than that of almost all the other girls present in the cafeteria, my favorite gray men's medium knit sweater over a white T-shirt, because the winter is here and all that. Well, last of all, her eyes lingered on my favorite ring on the left hand thumb, which some people see as lesbian or such. It cannot be said that it always means it or anything, but that's the path her eyes took, really.
That is why, after her antics, she did not lose the status of a cutie in my head - she somehow knew the signs of the community, and it's worth thinking about. I was without a doubt the hugest fucktard when it came to determining someone's sexual orientation, because I always mostly liked the same types of girls as in my previous life. Somehow they usually end up being non lesbian. Or interested, which is obvious why.
There were wonderful and pleasant exceptions.
Pleasant, aha.
The one of those pleasant exceptions calls right now, not calming down. I ignored her throughout the school day and was going to keep persevering. Will she ever get tired of it?
"Oh Lilian, look what you've done..." the phone started up again.
Tyler Crowley was the child of a white Irishman, an employee of the local small docks, and that kind black woman who fed me a good well done steak and potatoes last night right before her diner closed. I didn't remember her name, she didn't wear a nametag, and I didn't talk much, because I was hungry after my walk around the town in search of a good place to rent a room for a recording studio.
My father met me with an overly displeased expression on his face, lips pressed into a thin thread. And there was this old red Chevy pickup on the terrace near the house. It was then, by the way, that I regretted that I did not wait for this Billy Black, about whom my father mumbled something extremely vaguely when I was imbibing my morning coffee and wasn't quite able to perceive information. Probably I would've just told my father not to spend his money, because I prefer to walk around because of my old Russian habit, especially if I have to walk for less than half an hour. It turns out cheaper, and it's good for health.
I bought Tyler a cold Coke in the cafeteria. It seemed to me an appropriate reminder to this quite probably forgetful dude. I came to this assessment because he seemed very much carefree. So I asked him to tell his mother that I'd pay for yesterday's dinner tomorrow after school, even though my father totally had a tab there or something. Tyler nodded absently, and Mallory glared at me a little after I gave him the Coke.
Likely, the boy is one of the most popular guys at school because of his success in sports - this was evident both by his muscles that were too noticeable for a teenager, and the thought that had a tendency to fade in and out of his eyes. The combination of these two factors usually spoke of a brilliant sports career and noticeable attention of girls, especially those clearly absorbed in their popularity, like Lauren.
It was difficult not to notice such a thing as the "hierarchical clique". And Lauren clearly fancied herself the alpha of sorts. She's also a cheerleader and an obvious bitch, oh how familiar it is.
I just wanted to get home and get into Baldurs Gate or Vampire Masquerade, patched of course, otherwise my frustrations on the topic of girls I like will lead to trouble. It's better to reduce communication to girls that I don't like too much, because I won't be ready for a new relationship until I make a new track. Well, at least a single. The distribution platform is still disks, but YouTube appeared just the other day. And I'll squeeze everything out of this shit, otherwise I won't be me.
So, about the girls I don't like.
Jessica was a petite brunette with amazingly beautiful eyes and, well, she's unreal chatterbox. It was because of her, being present at that proposal of those two extremely nice press-people, everyone now knew about my low-key popularity. Real low by the standards of Hollywood, but it doesn't really matter until I fulfill my dream from my previous life and finish Uni. For Forks, such popularity was novel.
And they don't even know yet that I'm planning to record my next album here and make an actual studio. I don't know how much time my mom decided to leave my ass suspended here, but I don't really like half-measures, because I'm not going to do my workplace half-assed even in such a deep ass of the world. By the way, the interest of too many kids in my activities resulted in one jerk trying to pursue me.
"Bella," a blond boy jumped out on the porch of the school, I think his name is Mike, and continued to nag me, still the same shit as before. "How would you like to celebrate the beginning of the semester together with everyone? It's going to be an awesome party!"
"I already told you that if there is no standard DJ console, then you shouldn't expect me," I rolled my eyes and turned back to Mike. "I don't like parties where I'm not a DJ. I need console. Or I'd be bored and fuck off anyways."
"There will be liquor!" the kid playfully moved his eyebrows and added a sly grin. "My bud promised to bring bourbon even. Beer will be for sure!"
"If I'm in the same room with you, Mike, I'm not ready to drink even tea. Moderate your friendliness, please," I made a snooty face, but couldn't hold it back and burst out chuckling. "But you can count on coffee if you just leave me alone with this question until you find out if there will be the DJ console at all."
This moment was chosen by all the Cullens who still stayed until the end of the educational process, in order to leave the building and once again catwalk - that's what they do here with such bodies and clothing, I swear - straight to the parking lot. The girls nodded to me, because we had any communication before, and the guys looked at me with odd looks, as if they doubted my mental health or something.
I am familiar with such looks.
Fucking homophobes amiright.
"Of course I will!" Mike sounded almost offended, and I made an incredulous face at his puppy eyes, but the promise of a cup of coffee in my company calmed him down, and he hastily asked again. "So, is this a date?"
Silence was very tense after this, that's how I noticed that the phone finally stopped being background noise. After thirty dialed from the other side, uh-huh. Such a stubborn girl, I must give her credit. I hate teenage hanky-panky romantic drama shit, but this is the only hanky-panky available to teenagers, it seems. There are disadvantages, but advantages actually do prevail if you don't fuck up as much as I did.
"A date?!"
The voice was familiar, and its intensity, almost shrillness, made everyone look. As all the Cullens passing by looked, so did I, when Mike opened his eyes wider and peered somewhere over my shoulder while I was trying to restrain myself from any recklessness that voice made me feel.
"What fucking date, Grape?"
"Melon, fuck off, be so kind," I squeezed through my teeth, but I noticed a case on her back and involuntarily gave out my surprise. "What did you bring with you?"
"Wow," Mike said, not taking his eyes off my ex. "Is this your friend, Bella?"
"This is my ex-girlfriend, Mike. I'll always find time for free coffee, but now come on, move along."
"What?"
Mikey was an extremely concise guy when he tried not to show any homophobia to the girls he liked, and I suspect he liked Lily from the bottom of his heart. Although perhaps it's all about her melons...
He threw me off my train of thought by speaking unexpectedly sharp.
"Girlfriend?"
"Izzy, please, let's talk," Lily whined, while I rolled my eyes and tried to shield my mind from what's happening. "Izzy, just stop being stubborn, I intentionally flew up to talk! It wasn't that important! I could be patient as long as you needed! I just started talking at the wrong time and about the wrong thing! Well, I'm sorry!"
"It's not that at all," I hissed, approaching her at a distance I could feel her warmth. "It's not about that at all! You always want things to be your way. If we were twenty-five years old, I would understand your quirks. But at our age, after good sex, to talk about such bull... Gah! Damn it! You're not going to make me discuss this! Especially not here! And anyway, that wasn't the reason, my Mom's boyfriend threw us out and we lived in my studio for a week. And I didn't like that your parents don't like me that much, and then there's you... With these plans of yours."
I burned out, talked this out and looked into her purplish eyes, tried to avoid their sharpness by slipping my gaze onto the tanned skin of her face and letting it go to the area under her ear, where she really likes intense caress. A herd of goosebumps immediately followed wherever possible.
Better look at the eyes, yeah.
There were tears in her eyes, and I sighed at that, then put the phone in my backpack and threw it on my back. My hands, as soon as I freed them, seemed to reach out to her cheeks on their own, warmly and gently wiping away excess wetness.
"I love you," Lillian whispered and her voice cracked.
"I know, Melon, I know."
She pressed her cheek on my palm and rubbed against it, sending a swarm of goosebumps all over her body once again. And everyone knows where these kind of goosebumps end their journey, because I think I started making decisions with my cunt. I almost said too much, but refrained and repeated.
"I... I know. Let's go. Stop making a scene, dearest, it won't change anything anyway. You are there, I am here, your father will tear me up, nothing has changed in the state of Denmark, although many things are rotten..."
"Don't talk nonsense, Grape."
Even though I took my hands away from her face, nothing prevented her from grabbing my hand, and I'm too old to get rid of her palm in a petty way, knowing full well that she clings so for the sake of feeling safe for the most part. Such demonstrations of emotions in public weren't making her happy much. It wasn't happiness she demonstrated, after all, but problems.
"Father will come to terms with it eventually. It is impossible to birth children back or something, and I am his daughter, after all, the one and only."
We moved towards my truck, and out of the corner of my eye I noticed the Cullens oddly loitering near their cars. I met Rosalie's gaze, and she seemed surprised. It's like that deer in the headlights look, or something like that.
"Is this your monster?" Lily asked me with hesitation in her voice and offered, while shivering from the chill. "Maybe it's better to walk?"
"Of course, dearest."
I turned on my mocking up to hundred and was not going to stop, because that Rosalie's look made some weird anxiety settle within me and I felt quite uneasy. So I needed some sort of recoup and what's better than sarcasm.
"We have all the time in the world! And you turned out to be your usual daft emotional self and didn't take anything warmer to wear! You silly woman. The fucking walk you're talking about? You're shivering! Why the hell didn't you bring your driver with you?"
"Dad said that if I want to insist, I have to pay the guard myself. Without using the card. I only had enough for a ticket in my pockets, so. He thought I wouldn't think of just not taking a security guard with me, heh. Well... Don't look at me like that! I know that it kind of is..."
"Stupid, that I'm sure of," I jerked open the door and gave this moronic girl a hand. "Even though you're Melon you act like moron, this is two letters difference right there! And I will have a long talk with Tomiko. If that witch had said you were going alone, I would have met you. She probably thought I'd run to you like a doggy anyways."
"You're one hell of a dog," she snorted, getting comfortable in the car, strapping herself in after my stern look, and then looking down on me with the look of a winner. "Naughty."
I squeezed behind the wheel, nervously buckled in and started this... Sacred Pickup Truck, blessed by the Jinchuriki of the Nine-Tailed Beast Uzumaki Naruto, otherwise why would it have such an eyesore color? But I still couldn't hold the answering barb.
"I'm not naughty, you dolt. I am emancipated."