Blossoming

Blossoming

Peeping through the keyhole instead of where they think I am which is tucked up in bed and snoring. Mom and Dad are watching a horror. Cool, blood and guts abound. I wish they’d higher the television up a bit I can’t properly hear the screams. Mom jumps and shoves her head into Dad’s chest protesting and giggling at the same time. He puts his arm around her and kisses her forehead. She snuggles up again tight. How cute are they.

Hang on this isn’t cute anymore the snuggle has turned into a snog. Oh, gross, my eyes I need to move but I’m rooted to the spot as if Medusa has turned me into stone. Finally, my brain reconnects with my feet when Mom’s blouse is removed. There’s only so much horror I can take; I mean after a certain age aren’t old people dead from the waist down, disgusting. I climb into bed, toss, and turn all night because I can’t get the image of my mom’s boobs out of my mind.

I go to the mirror and examine mine. Oh, gawd I look at the state of my hair; I think Medusa has taken possession of me. Sorry I digress, back to subject in hand, literally. There tiny and like little rosebuds, Tommy, says. This makes me smile. Tommy has made my rosebuds grow on quite a few occasions. This would be quite a thorny subject if Mom or dad over found out. See what I did there, hilarious, aren’t I. I wonder if he would still like them if they grew as big as Mom’s did, like cabbages say. I wouldn’t mind them a little bit bigger but that’s all, I’m quite happy for them to blossom to a rose but that’s it, and right now these rose buds are getting watered. Grabbing my detangling brush, I brush my mad bush; I only brush it before washing or after as it just goes bleeding mental, I never ever brush it dry as it takes on a completely new width and height. Hair washed and brushed to an inch of its life I’ve left half of it down the shower hole. I’ll do it later don’t have time now, must go to school, Tommy and I share a few classes today so want to look my best.

Back to my bedroom and yet again back at the mirror. It’s a fine line between just enough makeup to get away with it or none and scaring everyone away. A little wave of the mascara wand not too much or I’ll have to remove it just enough that it looks better but there is still doubt as to whether I’m wearing any. A little bit of lip-gloss and a tiny pinch of the cheeks and I’m good as I’m allowed by school rules to get.

I usually pound down the stairs saves any doubt as whether I’m up, the more they stay out of my personal space the better but today I don’t think I could look Mom or Dad in the eye so creep down and hope I’m well gone before they wake to make sure I’m awake. No toast and egg just a bowl of Granola, inhale it, and out the door. Phew, I made it.

I’m earlier than usual; a different crowd prowls the corridors. I’m not long in this school so I only have a small select few I turn to I don’t see any of them, we must be the latecomers I never noticed before. Probably because I am usually one of the ones running full pelt through the gates to get in and not get detention. I’ll go straight to class and for once get to pick where I sit the Gestapo hasn’t got around to assigning us a specific spot yet.

Great no one else has arrived yet. Hmm I know over by the window if the sun shines a particular way later, I’ll be able to keep an eye on how I look and daydream at the same time, cool. I sit down put my bag on the floor and decide just to rest my head a little while I’m knackered from picturing my mom’s boobs all bleeding night. I must have fallen into a deep sleep because I don’t wake until I am dispatched with a bang onto the hard tiled floor. Taking a moment to get my bearings, I look up to see my nemesis, Sarah fucking Paterson, leering down at me. Instead of thinking of my growing boobs I need to grow a pair of balls, big, thick hairy ones, and then I can plant this bitch in the nearest hole and cover her over, so I never have to look at her again. Today is not that day there budding but haven’t reached their full potential yet. Cursing I pick the chair and myself up and try to ignore the laughter and cheering that ensues from my classmates. I repeat my mantra “there not worth my time, I’m on a different level” repeatedly, as if a needle stuck on a record. They eventually realize I’m not going to respond and move onto other things. Lucky, I didn’t put blusher on earlier I’m scarlet enough now that if there was a power cut my face would still light the whole room.

I’m delighted when I hear Tanya and Tommy approach and even more so when Tommy takes the empty desk beside me. I turn sideways to look at him and hope he doesn’t notice that I’m a little teary eyed. He winks and looks as if he’s going to come over but sits back down when Mr. Clark arrives with his usual aplomb of spittle and an untamable comb over. He is one of the nicer teachers even though sometimes you would think he was giving a weather report instead of a lesson. Today our history lesson is the fashions that existed back in the day and how they have changed or not significantly changed. I look upwards as I know God is taking the piss when the first thing we are to discuss, and research is the brassiere. Today is a day of tits and things going tits up and now I can’t help it here comes the bleeding titters.