Do You Know Her As Well As You Think You Do? (Part 1)

She thought it was all going to be okay. She thought it was all over and done with. She thought she’d never have to go through it again.

Linda Foster was wrong.

“Hi, I’m Chelsea! What’s your name?”

I looked up from my book, surprised. No one had approached me all day. I was just the new girl: uninteresting and a general waste of time to be around.

So when Chelsea Marks greeted me that day, auburn ponytail swishing, make-up and dangly earrings, bangles and all, I was kinda surprised, to say the least.

“Hi, uh, my name is Linda.” I tentatively reached out and shook her outstretched hand, which she shook roughly and returned to her side.

“Hi, Linda! New here, huh? Been there, done that!”

Chelsea was like an explosion of colour in my otherwise grey and boring life. She talked paragraphs without breaths and would carry on regardless of interruptions from anyone around her. It was like she was reading from a good book, like she couldn’t stop because it was so interesting.

I guess, to Chelsea, I was a good book.

I listened to her speak with fascination, watched as her eyes rolled and her hand moved around in crazy, incomprehensible gestures.

Finally she stopped. I realised that I had been staring and looked away, only to have her laugh at my shyness.

“Oh, you’re so cute! Want to come and hang out with me and my friends?”

She was smiling so warmly … how could I resist?

Chelsea practically dragged me towards her clique – tall, beautiful girls with cheerleading uniforms and long, cascading ponytails.

“Hey, guys, this is Linda,” she introduced me. Most regarded me coldly for a moment, and then brightened and came to greet me.

Aubrey did not do this.

She bounced up to me, grinning like a maniac and gave me a huge bear hug that made me gasp for air. She was the only one with short hair, which was positioned in a spiky ponytail on one side of her head. She looked hilarious and I warmed to her immediately.

“Hi! I’m Aubrey. Great to meet you!”

“And you,” I smiled.

“Hey, this lot are no fun,” she whispered to me, giggling. “They won’t come down to the lake with me! Will you come?”

“But it’s school,” I gasped. Aubrey laughed.

“So? We can catch up. C’mon! If it makes you happy I’ll call in pretending to be my mother and say that she signed us both out because we were sick or something.”

“What about my mother? She’ll want to know about her.” I pointed out.

“I’ll say that we’re “dropping you home”.” She said simply. “Please come! These guys are such a bore.”

“Fine, I’ll come.” I sighed, defeated. I liked school, but I wanted friends as well. Anyway, Aubrey was right – I could catch up the next day, and I was good and quick at schoolwork.

“Yay!” Aubrey squealed. “Let’s go!”

OK, I know this is a poem, but I want opinions! :')

Spectre

A ghostly figure sits by the crystal blue lake.

Her long, dark hair falls in tendrils,

Framing her perfect, pale face.

A sea of white silk cascades around her bare feet;

There is no reflection in the rippling water.

She turns; her transparent blue eyes are brimming with sadness.

Her gaze says just one thing:

“You never saw me here.”

And then she is gone, leaving her presence there

Like a bitter wind of secrets and death.

Silhouettes (Finally! A new story!) Part 1

I knew we shouldn't have gone inside.

It was a small cottage – crumbling, abandoned. The roof was thatched, but had huge holes in it, and there was no door. Just a black hole of darkness.

They say a witch used to live there.

Ash was determined to test that theory.

There were six of us: Ash and Harry, the daredevils; Gary, the wiry, nerdy kid; Tara, the pink-loving Barbie girl whom none of us actually like that much; Delilah, the emo with an attitude; and me. Stephanie. The shy one.

It had been Ash's idea – obviously. He was always the one with these ideas. Harry was just his idiot sidekick, agreeing with everything he said and occasionally pitching ideas, which Ash dismissed and then later claimed as his own.

It was hot day in August, and we were all over at Tara's house. We were really only friends with her because she was totally rich and had a swimming pool in her garden, which was great for cooling off.

Delilah and I were sunbathing – well, I was. Being Delilah, she wants her skin to be as pale as possible, so she was wearing combats and a long-sleeved t-shirt while sitting under a huge umbrella that had been pushed into the ground by Ash.

Speaking of Ash, he was in the pool, and Tara was obviously oggling him. I felt a pang of jealousy – I had always fancied Ash, but was too frightened that he would reject me to drop hints. I'm not a flirty kind of girl; I'm extremely shy and can't talk to boys without stuttering or saying something idiotic.

Tara was sitting on the side of the pool, the water just coming up to her ankles. She wore a blue bikini that was WAY too tight on her, and I stared at her body enviously. She was perfect in every way. Why couldn't I be like her?

“CANNONBAAAAALL!” yelled Harry, jumping in. Tara squealed and Ash shouted as he landed heavily in the water, splashing them all.

Gary and I laughed and Delilah raised an eyebrow, a smile flickering on her lips.

“You idiot!” growled Ash, running a hand through his now not-so-perfect jet black hair. “My hair's all wet.”

“Ninny,” Harry replied, sticking his tongue out at him. When Ash reached out to grab him, he disappeared under the water.

“Boys,” Delilah tutted, flicking through her Kerrang! magazine and saying, “PHWOAR!” really loudly at a picture of Andy Biersack. I rolled my eyes and my heart fluttered as Ash walked over and grabbed a towel.

“I'm bored,” he complained. “Can we go down the forest?”

“I'm comfortable.” Delilah said flatly.

“And I don't care,” smiled Harry, wrestling with Ash for the towel.

“I'll go down there,” Tara said flirtily, appearing behind Ash and resting her head on his shoulder. He shrugged her off and rolled his eyes at us. She pouted.

“I'll come too,” I squeaked. Ash smiled at me.

“See?” he said to Delilah. “Steph's gonna come. C'mooooonnn!”

“Fino,” sighed Delilah. At the moment she's very into Spanish, so she speaks it sometimes. Fino, the Spanish word for “fine”, is her favourite word so far.

“Everyone in?” Ash asked, looking around. “Stick your hand in the air like ya just don't care if you wanna go down there!”

Tara laughed – her laugh is the only unattractive part of her; she sounds like a horse – and threw her arms up above her head. Everybody else reluctantly raised their hands, and Ash smiled triumphantly.

“Off we go then,” he said, striding off.

“Wait!” Tara shrieked. “Let me get my wrap!”

More? What do you think?

Cootie Shot (Unexpected Part 4 that Miami forced me to write ;D)

Dear Mother,

I'm mailing this letter to you to tell you what happened. I know I told you that I didn't know where Margo went, that I supposed that she left, but I must tell you that that isn't true. This is what really happened – the whole truth now.

Oliver had just left us in the dank, smelly cellar. I was frightened, but I could tell that Margo was even more so – I could hear her crying.

“Margo, shh,” I comforted, trying to squeeze closer to her. When I reached out my arms for a hug, however, the chains stopped me short and I felt tears well up in my eyes.

Soon enough, Margo fell asleep. I really needed to pee and I was hungry and her sleepy whimpers scared me. I let a silent tear roll down my cheek and fall onto my wrists, which were folded in my lap.

Suddenly I felt the chains loosening. I could move my wrists around in them. They were coming off! I forced myself to cry harder, thinking of all the times I'd been shouted at in class, all the best friend fights I'd had with Margo, all the slaps I'd had from my numerous stepfathers.

Finally, I was able to slip my wrists through the little handcuffs. I jumped for joy, but only once, because I didn't want Oliver to come back and catch me.

I then remembered Margo, and my heart sank. She couldn't cry through willpower – she'd had such a happy life! And I couldn't cry in front of her; her face would make me burst out laughing.

I couldn't wake her up and then leave her – it would break my heart. So I fiddled with the door, opened it up, and left.

I don't know whether she's still there. I don't know if she's even alive, Mum! I'll never forgive myself for doing what I did, but I know it was the right choice.

Who knows? Maybe she's safe and well. Maybe she escaped too; maybe she figured out that water could break those chains.

I don't know, Mum. But I pray that she's OK every day. So please don't hate me.

If you were in my shoes, you'd understand.

Your daughter,

Jade.

Happy now, Miami? ;D

Cootie Shot (Part Three)

The next day, lunchtime came around quickly. I took Kevin and Margo to the R.E. Room, where, as he had promised, Oliver was waiting. He sat on a table, swinging his legs and drinking a Coke. I knew that fizzy drinks weren't allowed in our school, but didn't mention it.

We stood there awkwardly until Oliver gestured towards the table in front of him and said, “Going to sit down then?”

We squashed onto the table in front of him and waited expectantly as he sipped his Coke. Then he fixed his eyes on us.

“I heard that you all believe in cooties.” He said, keeping his gaze steady. I was sitting in the middle and felt as if he was staring at me alone instead of at us all.

“Cooties!” Kevin shrieked.

Oliver raised one eyebrow.

“Lots of us do,” Margo explained. “Kevin started it.”

“Do you believe in cooties, Jade?” Oliver asked, watching me closely for any kind of reaction.

“Yes,” I muttered.

“Well, then,” he got up and threw his Coke bottle in the bin. “It seems that you all need cootie shots.”

“Cootie shots?” said Kevin. “I've never heard of them.”

“You wouldn't have,” said Oliver dismissively. “Come here. I've got the shot in my pocket. Don't tell me that you're-” he looked at me with a glint in his eye, “chicken?”

“No!” yelled Kevin, stalking towards him. Oliver took a long needle out of his pocket. Kevin stepped back a bit.

“Come on,” Oliver sounded a little impatient now. He grabbed Kevin's arm and stuck the needle in. Kevin gave a stifled scream and then dropped to the ground.

Margo and I stared. What had Oliver done to him?

“Have you killed him?” whispered Margo, beside me.

“Yes.” Oliver replied breezily. “Now, girls, come with me.”

We were so scared that he would hurt us that we followed him out of the classroom, through the twisting hallways. Soon enough we were in a part of the school I didn't know and didn't like – the corridors were narrow and painted either black or grey. Margo grabbed my hand and squeezed it hard. I squeezed back and we carried on.

“How do you know about this bit of the school?” I asked bravely, but when I got no answer I didn't speak again. Margo was frozen from the waist upwards, her hand now limp in mine. She bit down hard on her lip and I saw a trickle of blood there.

Suddenly we came to a dead end. Oliver turned to us and gave a snake-like smile.

“Now, girls, let's go in.” He said, the smirk fixed onto his face.

“It's a wall.” Margo pointed out.

Without a sound, the boy turned and pushed a hand against the wall. It slid open to reveal a chamber with nothing but chains attached to the walls inside.

I wanted to run. I wanted to scream. But suddenly I realised that I was frozen to the spot. Oliver was now inside the chamber and was beckoning us towards him with his index finger. I felt myself walking towards him and I tried to fight it, but it was no use. He'd put some kind of spell on me.

He attached the chains around my wrists and ankles, and then did the same to Margo, who looked terrified.

“Goodbye girls,” he said, his eyes suddenly turning cold with evil. “Have a nice century.”

And the wall closed shut, shrouding us in darkness.

“Is that story true, Auntie Sophie?” asked Mary. “Was there really an Oliver, and a Margo and a Kevin and a Jade?”

“I don't know, honey.” Auntie Sophie shrugged. “I doubt it. It's just a story. Will you go to bed now?”

Mary let herself be tucked in and then said, “Auntie Sophie?”

“Yes, darling?” the aunt replied.

“How much do you love me?” Mary cracked a smile.

“To the moon and back,” laughed Auntie Sophie. “Night, honey.”

“Wait!” the little girl yelped.

“What is it?”

“Are you sure you don't know if the story's real?”

“Why do you ask?” the woman cocked her head and smiled slightly.

“Because you told it as if it was you were Jade.” Mary said simply.

“Ah. Well, no, honey, I don't know if it's real.” Auntie Sophie lied.

Because her name didn't used to be Sophie. It used to be Margo, and she had gotten out that day, left her best friend Jade in the chamber to die and decay. She never forgave herself.

But that's a different story.

The End.

That's it! Is it good? :)

Some Recommended Authors :)

Just in case you're interested. :')

Dan Waters (Generation Dead, Kiss of Death)

Anne Cassidy (Looking for JJ, Love Letters)

Jojo Moyes (Me Before You, The Last Letter From Your Lover)

M.C. Beaton (The Quiche of Death, The Vicious Vet (( Agatha Raisin )) )

Stieg Larson (The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo)

Alexandra Bracken (Brightly Woven)

Julie Hearn (Ivy, Rowan the Strange)

Sue Limb (The Girl, 16 and Girl, 15 series)

Can't think of anymore. :P

Laters!

-Ickle

Cootie Shot (Part Two) ((Sorry if it's a little short!))

That night, I called Margo and explained the situation.

“Wow,” she said. “I will definitely be in tomorrow.”

“Good.” I said. “Since I have no other friends.”

“Aww, don't say that. At least nobody hates you.” Margo said, trying to reassure me. I sighed.

“Thanks, Marg.”

“Sorry.”

“Doesn't matter. Who else should I bring?” I asked.

“How about Kevin?”

I nearly dropped the phone. “Kevin?”

“Yeah,” Margo said bashfully. “Don't tell anyone, but I sort of have a crush on him.”

I really did drop the phone then.

“Jade? Jade!” I could hear her yelling.

“I'm here.”

“Good. So can we bring Kevin?”

I sighed. “Well, since there's no one else, fine. This should be interesting.”

“It shall,” said Margo mysteriously, and hung up.

I'll post some more later, guys. :)

Cootie Shot (Part 1)

When I was in primary school – about Year 4 or 5 – the kids used to believe in cooties. Now, we all know that cooties don't exist; especially those of us who French kiss their boyfriends or girlfriends in front of everyone every day! But when you're little, you think kissing is disgusting. It's unnatural, and so some imbecile invented the theory of cooties – that if you kissed someone, you had them in your system and therefore had to pass them onto someone else.

One boy I knew was called Kevin, and he was an extreme believer in cooties. If a girl tried to kiss him, he would yell, “Ew! Cootie-breath!” and run off. If a girl tried and succeeded, he'd yell, “COOTIES!!!” and run off screaming, grabbing random little girls and kissing them to get the cooties out of himself.

There is one incident I will never forget, which included Kevin, me, – Jade – my best friend Margo and the new boy, Oliver. Margo was much taller than me, and thinner too, with a cloud of almost orange hair that surrounded her oval-shaped head. She wasn't pretty as such – she'd have to wait until high school until she began to become passable in the slightest – but she was much prettier than me. My hair was limp and straggly and my eyes were the dullest puddle-brown you have ever seen. I was plain and shy and Margo was my only friend, so when Oliver arrived it was quite a surprise.

Margo was ill that day, and so the seat next to me was empty. Someone had scrawled some graffiti that I cannot really repeat here on it, but I didn't know what it meant then, being only nine years old.

Our teacher, whose name I can't quite remember, strode into the classroom, her high heels clacking against the hard floor. A boy with a blonde halo of curls and sparkling green eyes walked in confidently behind her, his gaze sweeping over the other pupils. I felt a hot flush come over me as his eyes settled on my face and I couldn't understand the bubbly feeling in my belly. Was this love? Was this what my mum had felt with all those stepdads I'd had? I doubted it. This felt like a once in a lifetime thing.

“Class,” the teacher's voice boomed out above the chatter and it died down slowly. I realised that while I had been staring intently at the table in front of me, she had gotten to the front of the class and was now talking.

“This is Oliver,” she gave a vague flick of her wrist in the boy's direction. “Please treat him with respect, as you would like to be treated yourself. Now, Oliver, where will you sit?”

He looked over the classroom with disdain. “There.” He said eventually, pointing at me. I widened my eyes and looked behind, though I knew that I was at the back of my class.

“Fair enough,” Miss sighed. “Sit, sit.”

He walked towards me and I felt fluttering in my chest, as if my heart had been replaced with a trapped butterfly, just itching to break out.

He sat down next to me and I could smell his shampoo – it smelled a little like the Lynx body spray my fourth stepfather Stephen used to wear. This boy seemed to ooze confidence, as if he knew that he could get anything he wanted just by clicking his fingers.

Half way through our English lesson, in which we studied some very confusing and nonsensical poems, a note was passed to me. I read it quickly, holding it underneath the desk so that Miss wouldn't see:

Meet me in the R.E. Classroom tomorrow at lunchtime.

Bring two friends.

-Oliver

I looked over at him, but he had his head down, doing his work.

Like it? Will post more later.

An Explanation :')

Haii guys. :)

I know this is pretty random, but I write a lot of stories. I know, right? Me - IckleAngel!

And since I'm only twelve, I know that they aren't going to get published yet. :/

So I'm going to post them here for you guys to read and comment on, OK?

Because I love you. <'33

And I want your opinion on my stories.

I'll be posting the first part of my first one soon. :')

Thanks for visiting!

Ickle x