Anti-Society Socks

Contest: Who the hell am I? I had fun with this one!

 

(1)

Anti-Society Socks

 

“Amalia! Hurry up and get ready! People will be arriving in thirty minutes. Honestly, this party is for you dear, and you put no effort into making yourself look presentable. I bought that expensive new dress from your favorite designer, yet it’s scrunched into the back of your closet. Now I’m going to have to steam out the wrinkles…”

At this point, Amalia tuned out her mother’s impassioned speech. Not only was it annoying to listen to, but it was completely convoluted as well. For one thing, she didn’t even have a favorite designer mostly due to her lack in high fashion. That meant this dress was her mother’s choosing and taste, something Amalia herself would rather cut into pieces and set on fire. For another, her mother would never steam out the wrinkles herself. That job was strictly for the maid. Amalia doubted if her mother had ever had to lift a finger her whole privileged life.

She hated these parties. However, to her parents Sam and Molly, they were life. Their family was a social staple in their tight knit community of snobs, and all the parties were merely her parents’ attempts to socialize her- or so they said. But Amalia knew it was only to keep up their image of an acceptable, posh, upper-class family and they would not tolerate Amalia ruining that image. That’s all it was and all it ever had been. Not that Sam and Molly weren’t loving, caring parents…they were. They just had a different way of showing it.

Amalia pulled on the fancy slip for underneath her dress, god forbid she show any skin above the knee. On went her fanciest-and slightly sexy- bra just in case she felt the need to freak her parents out a little. Last was the designer dress, apparently her favorite. She’d never heard of the name. She supposed it was pretty by any normal standards- cream white, just below the knee, a bow in the back, the front dipping low enough to accent her curves. It just wasn’t something she wanted to wear.

To top it all off, Amalia pulled on her favorite black and white striped knee high socks. She had bought them behind her mother’s back and wore them to bed frequently, so the bottoms were still intact. As an added bonus, they made the heels she was forced to wear much more bearable. To hell with what Molly would think or say. If she was going to this party, she was going in her socks. No one paid her much mind anyways so maybe the socks could actually start a conversation that wasn’t dripping with awkwardness.

“Are you done?” Molly yelled up the stairs.

“Yeah, Mom.”

Appropriately enough, the doorbell rang about ten seconds later.

Here we go.

 

<<< >>>

 

It was nothing less than what she expected.

The ballroom was absolutely jam packed with high society folks just like her parents. She was fifty-fifty on the guests; half the people she recognized from past affairs, be they parties like this, Sunday tea, afternoon tennis game, or lazy weekend pool bash. The other half was new faces, all of which seemed delighted with themselves. After all, they’d managed to get an invite. No matter who they were, old or new or borrowed or blue, Amalia had no intention of becoming pals with them. That would drag her into being the society girl she was already perceived to be.

Regardless of her disdain for any of the guests, she had learned to interact pleasantly enough and remember her manners without getting too personal. The only reason she did that was much was for the sake of her dear parents. She feared they would have a heart attack if she was ever rude or sarcastic. Another thing about society folks was that they had no sense of humor pertaining to anything outside of their exclusive world. This seriously limited Amalia’s discussion topics.

“Hi, Amalia.”

She turned to see a boy her age, seventeen, dressed in a stuffy tuxedo and wearing the same look of boredom and forced politeness as she was. That alone convinced Amalia it wouldn’t kill her to indulge him in some sort of conversation.

“Hi.” She gave her practiced smile.

“I’m Kris. It’s short for-“

“Kristofer? Yeah, I kinda got that. This your first party?”

He scoffed. “I’ve been to hundreds of these things… This is my first one here. My parents met yours in what they described as a rather riveting game of racquetball.”

“Sounds like my parents.”

They didn’t say anything for a minute. She took advantage of the lack of speech to take a small swig from her glass of apple cider. Even being a high society daughter didn’t get her the real stuff. Kris had the same problem it seemed.

Disappointed by the silence, Amalia brushed past Kris into the magnificent, and expertly decorated, backyard. Complete with water fountain and plants from countries she’d never heard of, this yard was something her mother was all too fond of. She was unaware Kris had followed her until he sat next to her on the bench which was imported from Italy.

“Nice socks.” She shifted her gaze towards his and studied him. He had a common color of light brown hair that was made nothing short of handsome by a set of enchanting green eyes. The rest of his face was rather average, not that she cared of course. She was only looking.

“Thanks. I’m pretty sure my mom hasn’t seen them yet.”

“How do you know?”

“You wouldn’t be sitting with me right now. I would have had my disobedient a*s dragged upstairs by that doting mother of mine and been made to take them off at once. Instead, I’m sitting on the bench from Italy in my mother’s beloved backyard that mixes almost every possible culture in the world together. Simple.”

He was looking at her oddly. It wasn’t a this-girl-is-crazy look, but rather a look that searched beyond her words for the kind of girl she actually was. Quite honestly, it freaked her out. She got up and walked to a more secluded part of the yard where there was an iron arch with a bench swing attached. Amalia kicked off her shoes, curled her white and black striped covered feet underneath her, and began to swing. Kris sat next to her…again.

“You know there’s a thousand other people at this party right?”

He nodded.

“So why are you following me around?”

He thought it over. “You’re interesting.”

Amalia didn’t know how to take that, so she left it alone. She and Kris swung silently for half an hour before anything happened. She didn’t know how it happened or where it came from, but she did know that, in her opinion, it couldn’t be labeled as just anything.

Because after that silent half hour, Kris took her left hand in his right and used his left hand to angle Amalia’s body directly towards his. Before she could loudly protest, Kris kissed her right on the lips. Everything in her was screaming to push him away, throw a decent fit, and storm back inside. Her mind told her this was never something she thought would happen to her, much less with a society boy who was more or less her male counterpart. But nothing she told herself motivated Amalia to break it up.

She tentatively let him kiss her, trying to mimic the movements his lips were making on hers. If her attempts were pathetic, Kris didn’t let her know. In fact, he seemed to be helping her right along. The hand that had pulled her towards him moved up to the back of her head and gently pushed her even closer to him, causing her to push her lips harder against his. When he could tell she had the hang of that, his hand moved down to press against her lower back, sliding her even closer. Amalia, shyly at first, moved her left arm around his neck and her right hand running through his hair.

All things considered, Amalia enjoyed kissing Kris. It was a nice feeling. She went to an all girl prep school which put a damper on having proper interactions with boys. Not that she’d ever minded before now. The movement of Kris’s hand to play with her hair distracted her from those scattered thoughts. Their kiss had deepened since it started a minute ago… Amalia didn’t remember when she’d allowed the foreign object that was his tongue inside her mouth. Nor did she remember extending the same courtesy to him. Yet there they were, French kissing on a Chinese made bench swing. The silliness of it almost made her laugh.

A loud crash signaled something had broken inside the house, but Amalia and Kris took no notice. They were too lost in each other to even remember there was a party going on at all. She was pretty sure they’d been making out for a good ten minutes when Kris’s hand moved a bit too far up the front of her dress. Surprised, Amalia broke their kiss and their embrace, and shot up from the bench.

“I’m sorry Amalia… I didn’t mean… You could’ve just pushed my hand away and I would’ve stopped. Come back.”

But in that one touch, Amalia had come to her senses. What was she doing making out with a guy she barely knew at a roaring party she hadn’t wanted to attend in the first place because she didn’t care about the high society life her parents had chosen? For Pete’s sake, she didn’t even know the guy’s favorite color.

She turned and dashed. Kris called her name but she didn’t look back or stop running. The wet sensation on her feet informed her that the damp grass had finally put a mark on her perfect socks. Her rebel socks. Her freedom socks. Her one-dollar-heaven-sent-smell-of-defiance-and-empowerment socks.

Amalia felt the hot tears pouring down her cheeks when she found the old secret hiding spot she used to spend hours in as a little girl. The barely visible door was concealed by a few overgrown bushes on the opposite side of the house. What was a little dirt on her unwanted designer dress? She got on her hands and knees, searching for the small crevice that was the handle for all intents and purposes. When she found it, she pushed it open and crawled inside. As she backed into the now-too-small-for-her-body space, something hit the wall behind her. An empty bottle of apple cider.

Amalia cried herself into pitiful silence as the crickets started to play their tune of the night, and the muted music pounding on the walls lulled her into sleep.

<<<>>>

Author's Note

Here's the thing. I ended up really liking this as a story, got way too many other ideas in my head, and decided to turn it into a book, this being the first chapter. Wish me luck!

Reviews

[Tegon Maus]

It's fun, very believable. I think you should carry the socks through out the rest of the story

[Crow]

I like the flow an the characters you've introduced, the story leaves the reader wondering where it will go next. I'm hooked.

[Daydreamer54]

Intresting part so far, but i wonder why she would be crying, i would be embarassed maybe and be wondering WTF just hapened... but...idk it seems a bit off to me.

[nostal]

Hmm... remind me to read later.

[Shellie]

Its so descriptive, fabulously so. I really enjoyed it, its not OTT on anyhting and the storyline is simple but different all on its own. Its written expertly, not that im an expert on storywriting, i struggle a bit but i know when i read others work if theres something missing and theres just not. already its brilliant, im glad there's more. cant wait to go on.

[An owl on the moon]

You have such a way with words, descriptions that bring alive your wonderful characters! I am so glad you're writing a book. You have so much talent and truly can shape a story beautifully. VERY well written! Amalia is amazing!

[deeps]

Very well written and creative
I like your charcters.
Wonderful theme as well

[Andrew'sWonderland]

A Colorful, Creative, and Dramatic Piece of Literature!!! I love the narration and details presented!! Definitely worth the read and I shall soon start on Chapter Two!!! I wish you the best of LUCK!!!
"The wet sensation on her feet informed her that the damp grass had finally put a mark on her perfect socks. Her rebel socks. Her freedom socks. Her one-dollar-heaven-sent-smell-of-defiance-and-empowerment socks." My favorite lines!! So much revealed in such short statements!!

[Alexander Z. Anthony]

=D
Not really my favorite area of literature, but that didn't stop me from liking it!
Kudos, very well written first chapter.
Above all, I love the socks, not only the design of them, but what they stand for. =)
(Just imagine a Borat accent...) Very Nice!

[Taylor H]

this was a great first chapter. Seriously amazing. I cant wait to read chapter 2. But I want to know what is up with Kris...touchy feely on a girl he dont know lol what a pig lol