Fanfictions Generally Have Cruddy Names and I Can't Think of What to Name Mine so Until I Have a Title (if I Ever Do) This Will be It (by Fall Out Boy)

So.

Y'all asked for it.

*looks critically at it*

Actually, it's not that bad.

In my opinion.

I thought it would turn out a lot worse, tbh.

I'll warn you that it's somewhat long, and it's only part one out of at least 2, probably 3.

So yeah.

Enjoy :)

___

“I mean, what do you do about it, though?”

Fel half-turned her head, long red locks spilling over her shoulders, to look at her twin. “Nothing,” she replied easily. “I mean, if people ask me, I tell them, and if it comes up in conversation, I tell them, but I don’t carry a banner around saying MY NAME IS FELICITY MERRIMAN AND I AM BI.”

Rebecca barked a short laugh. Fel could always make her laugh, always make her feel better.

It had been last Friday night, at the family dinner they had once a week, over over-done servings of mashed potatoes and baked chicken that Rebecca had told her family she was gay. She had told Fel a few months prior - Fel was her best friend and twin, and Fel had told her she was bi a few months before she told everyone else. But Fel was lucky, Rebecca thought. She had a boyfriend (who loved her very much) (and thankfully was pro-LGBTQ and thought the stereotypical legends of bi people being less faithful than straight people was utter nonsense) (and good thing too, because if he hadn’t Rebecca would have broken his nose) (maybe more than his nose, if she was in the mood). And Fel liked boys sometimes, too, and telling people “Sometimes I also like girls” seemed a heck of a lot easier to Rebecca than telling people “I’ve only ever really liked girls”. And Fel never cared what people thought, and sometimes - more often than she’d like to admit - Rebecca did.

Rebecca’s reverie was interrupted by the sound of Fel squealing. She whipped her head around, fully prepared to attack anyone who had set upon her sister with malevolent intentions, but it was just Cole, who had picked Fel up and swung her around and now was setting her back down and kissing her on the top of her head.

“Hi,” he said to Rebecca.

“Hey,” she said in response.

“Rebecca, um,” began Fel hesitatingly, “are you - I mean, we have to go to -“

Rebecca waved her hand dismissively. “I’ll be fine. Go on.”

Fel giggled and skipped off with her boyfriend to art class.*

Rebecca turned, steeled herself, and strode like she owned the school (and in her opinion, she co-owned at least a good third of it with her football friends) towards her locker. She only ran into a couple of people in the way, and made it to her locker without much incident (although she had half-hoped Caden or Jeremy or somebody would show up to unknowingly give her a boost of confidence). She quickly worked the combination lock until the metal door sprung back, then leaned down and began gathering up her books for English class.

SLAM.

SLAM.

SLAM.

Next to her.

OUCH.

OUCH.

OUCH.

Yelled her ears.

Rebecca turned irritably. “Would you actually-“

A short and slender girl looked down at her. Thick, long caramel layers tumbled down her back, and alert hazel eyes stared out of a creamy pale face. She wore a pair of light-washed shorts, a white tank top, and a long, gauzy, mauve kimono with blue Aztec print on it. She was gazing down at Rebecca with a slightly irritated look.

Rebecca had a soft spot for redheads, if only because her best friend was one.

“Do…..you….need….help?” she hazarded. She’d never been good at conversation.

The girl smiled faintly and sighed. “Yeah, I can’t get my locker open.”

Rebecca wasn’t sure why this girl had chosen to slam herself against the locker to try to open it, but she chalked it up to the strange idiocy of females in general and stood up. (She loomed tall over the shorter girl.)

“What’s your combination?” she asked, taking the slip of paper from the girl’s hand. She scanned over the numbers, turned the lock left then right then left again, and the door popped open. 

“Oh, thank you,” sighed the girl, much relieved. “My name’s Alaina, I’m new-“

“Great,” said Rebecca. She leaned down, picked up her books, and walked off.

___

Art Club met in art room 102, a large room that smelled faintly of acrylics, pastels, and pencil shavings, and was decorated by the masks, watercolors, and other projects of past students staring down from the walls. A skeleton made entirely of milk cartons (Fel had named him Joey) hung in the northeast corner by the teacher’s desk, and the counters were littered with cans of brushes, erasers, and drawing pencils, buckets of scrap felt, and boxes of wire. Fel loved the room, it felt like home.

She came here every Monday and Wednesday after school for Art Club (they met on two days, you were only required to come to one, but Fel usually came to both) to immerse herself in her sketchbook and the feel of her pencil sketching over the textured paper. She would get those horse ears right if it was the last thing she did.

Usually, there weren’t that many people in any given meeting of Art Club (since there were two meetings per week). There was Fel, a couple of girls who just sat and giggled in the back, a couple boys, and a girl named Hannah who always sat up near the front and could draw anything. So whenever newcomers entered Art Club, Fel noticed, and she definitely noticed the somewhat shy and very short redhead that shuffled up to the teacher’s desk, signed her name on a clipboard with a look of prominent relief, and looked hesitatingly around for a place to sit.

Fel waved her over. She liked making new friends.

The girl made her way over, pulled the chair next to Fel out with a squeak, and sat down with the thump. She slung her backpack off her shoulder, dropped it on the ground, and fished around in its pockets and compartments before taking out a blue sketchbook and a green box full of every kind of drawing tool Fel could imagine. She opened the notebook with a soft swish and scrape of the pages and began to flip through to find a clean page.

Fel’s mouth nearly dropped open.

Holy crap,” she whispered, putting her finger on one of the drawings to stop the girl turning the pages. “That’s so good.”

The girl smiled somewhat shyly. “Thank you,” she said. Her smile was warmth and sunshine, it filled up Fel with inner peace and snuggly feelings.

They talked quietly for the next hour and a half as they sketched. Fel learned the girl’s name was Alaina, she had recently moved here from Miller Bluffs, she was vegan, she loved art, she was bi, too, and she liked boho clothing. Fel decided she liked Alaina quite a lot and gave her a mental Stamp of Approval. As the hands on the clock drew closer to pointing 4:30, Fel decided she was going to do a Thing for Rebecca. It would be good for her, she decided, and she would probably thank her for it later.

“Do you know a girl named Rebecca Rubin?” Fel asked Alaina.

“Oh, no, I don’t know,” replied Alaina as she swung her legs and her pencil sailed across the page, creating waves and seagulls out of nothing. “I can only tell people by appearance so far, you see, as I don’t know anyone yet. What does she look like? Maybe I could bring her to mind?”

“Well,” said Fel, “she's my twin, actually. We have different last names because I took our mom’s and she took our dad’s. She has shoulder-length honey-brown hair, but she keeps it pulled back all the time. She’s tall and somewhat broad and wears t-shirts and jeans and has hazel eyes, just like yours.”

Alaina felt a school of fish flop around in her belly and with a mental Oh, God realized that that was the girl (the very good-looking girl, she added mentally, with the beautiful eyes and most wonderful frame and oh my God) who had a locker next to her and had rather unceremoniously and somewhat rudely (but Alaina didn’t mind that last bit, because she found the rudeness and toughness quite alluring) helped her with her locker combination that morning.

“Oh, yeah,” she said, struggling to keep her voice even as the school of fish transformed into a swarm of butterflies and began to clog up her chest, “I think she has a locker right next to mine.”

Alaina thought she had never seen a girl look so maniacally delighted as Felicity Merriman did right then.
___

What do you think? Do you like it?

Namarië,
Ellie

*Which she was rather good at. Fel would bring home sketchbooks and canvases full of realistic-looking horse drawings and brilliant landscape acrylics, and Rebecca would try the same thing and end up with a bunch of awkward shapes jumbled together on a splotchy background. Not that she cared much about the arts, anyway. No, she didn’t.

14 comments:

  1. Oh my god, Ellie this is amazing.
    I an already see this story being one of the sweetest things ever.
    You are such an amazing writer and I can see everything so clearly like a movie in my mind. The way you capture the characters personalities is so easy to understand.
    I. LOVE. THIS.
    ~Emily

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you so so much love. :)

      - Ellie

      Delete
  2. I'M SCREAMING. ELLIE THIS IS BRILLIANT AND WONDERFUL AND GAH.
    xo Adi

    ReplyDelete
  3. Yes.
    Yes yes yes yes yes.
    Now that we've taken a peek into their lives it seems so much more real.
    EGADS ELLIE I CANT WAIT FOR MORE!

    Rebecca sounds like me in all my awkwardness and hesitation over talking to people.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Ahhh this was really really REALLY sweet. And yesssss I'm so glad Fel is in this I love her!! I'm so ready to read part two.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you so much!
      IKR she's great.

      - Ellie

      Delete
  5. *SCREAMING* I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. THANK YOU LOVE YOU JUST MADE MY DAY.

      - Ellie

      Delete
  6. ELLIE THIS IS SO FLIPPING GOOD.
    I NEED THE NEXT PART I MUST KNOW HOW FEL MANAGES TO GET REBECCA AND ALAINA I MUST.
    Charlotte

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. THANK YOU LOVE THAT MEANS SO MUCH.
      *adopts eerie whisper* you shall see, young blood, you shall see......

      - Ellie

      Delete

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