Chapter 1: Just a seed you buried inside her

Thinking back, I was a stupid, naïve child. I believed in witches and prince charming and that a candle could grant your every wish. I believed that just a touch from a young boy would spread me the horrible disease called Cooties. I believed that girls were meant to kiss boys, not other girls. But stupidest of all, I believed my father when he swore he was a good man.

 

Found dead and naked, beaten to death... alone.

 

Back then when the press hassled me and I ripped up letters with threats like go kill yourself and she was a child scribbled on them. Back when I'd change the channel when the news anchors cursed out my father. I was so angry. They didn't know him. They couldn't see his heart like I could. He was my father. He was innocent.

 

“Ouch.” I winced as Taylor pricked the center of my thumb with the needle. A drop of dark red blood dribbled down my palm and dripped off into the sink. She grabbed my hand and pressed her bloody thumb against mine.

“There. Blood sisters.” She grinned, pulling a circular band-aid out of the box of band-aids from our cabinet. She quickly secured one on her thumb and handed me one. I un-wrapped it and carefully laid it down flat on my small incision. I turned the cold water on and washed the clear mix with the red and wash it down, down, down... I grabbed the full book of memories off the counter and we sprinted out of the bathroom and into the backyard. Shivering as we swirved through the cold breeze, we dove into our large red tent and zipped it closed. I opened the book to the first page, running the tip of my finger lightly across the page, tracing around our faces. Our cheery, innocent faces, before all the drama began. Us at the tulip festival, wearing bright yellow wooden clogs and corduroy jackets. Us at school, leaned up against a tree smiling ear to ear. Us in our purple soccer uniforms, with a ball shared between our hands.

“This sucks.” She sighed, avoiding my gaze. My eyes became wet and and I wiped away the tears before they could leave my waterline. She breathed shakily, inhaling deeply. She blinked and a teardrop rolled down her cheek. I began to cry aswell. She reached over, taking my hand gently in hers. She squeezed, making a few more tears escape.

“Please don't go.” She begged, with mascara stains on the dark bags under her eyes.

“I wish I didn't have to.” I sobbed, licking the salty tears off my lips.

 

Back then I thought it was the most stupid thing that we had to move far, far away from our home in Montreal to escape the threats toward my Father. He hadn't done anything wrong, why were they tormenting us? Now I know the truth. The poor family of that girl... they wanted him dead. So do I.

 

Found dead and naked, beaten to death... alone.

 

I remember crying as we entered the tiny town of Truro, Nova Scotia. A one stop sign kind of town, with a huge, ugly, grey Costco in the middle. Little beaten down wooden houses everywhere, had they even heard of bricks? And cracked sidewalks with little weeds sprouting up. It was so different from Montreal, my city, where we roamed the busy streets, watching the cars' headlights' sparkle at night. You were only ever half an hour away from a mall wherever you went, and we had a big line of boutiques just next to our school where we went during our lunch break.

“Are we seriously living here?” I cried, banging my head against the back of the driver seat. My father reached back and slapped Cora's leg, and she yelped in pain.

“Daddy!” She yelled. I snorted, and it made me feel a bit better. My father always said that he had to reach back and slap us on the leg when we were bad, and he couldn't see who you were slapping, so you just had to follow your instinct. Since Cora was always in the middle, she usually endured the punishment without expecting it. Owen and Stephen, my older brothers, were in the back of the van, completely un-aware of what was going on. They held Stephen's mp3 in their laps, with one headphone each in their ears, pressed closely together. Owen was 18, a little old to still be relying on Mother and Father for everything, while Stephen was 12, just a year older then me. I envied him, the 12 year olds were always the top of the school. Cora, poor Cora, was 7, the younger, annoying sister who no one bothered to spend time with.

 

Found dead and naked, beaten to death... alone.

 

The last thing I wanted was to believe the press. To believe the notes tied around rocks thrown through our windows. No matter where we went, we couldn't escape the torment. My mother, a busty and quite pretty woman, was always clearing her throat and asking where Cora was. She worried terribly that Cora would wander out of the house and be taken away. Her baby, could never be harmed.

“Hey, I like your jacket.” A strange girl approached me, in jeans with a pink chinese dragon down the leg and a black t-shirt that read in bold pink letters NO TIME FOR LOSERS.

“Thanks!” I chirped, glancing down at my jacket. It was neon yellow, vibrant and bright, and I wore it over a green t-shirt paired with my favourite jeans and some black Chuck Taylors. Not a great outfit, but nice enough. The girl had raven black hair, and she was slim with small breasts, something I was not familiar with. Back in Montreal, all my friends were flat-chested, so we all felt perfectly at home.

“And your shoes, so 80's. Don't you just wish the 80's fashions would come back? I do.” She smiled.

“Yeah. Jean jackets, too. No one wears jean jackets anymore.” I attempted to sound smooth. Not like I desperately needed a friend, even though I did.

“I'm Jenna. You're new.” The girl remarked, pushing her bangs swiftly behind her ears, with a toothy grin. She squinted as she smiled, and she was really pretty.

“Yeah. I just moved here.” I nodded calmly.

“Oh, yeah? From where?” She asked curiously, cocking her head to one side.

“Uh, Montreal.” I explained.

“Oh my gosh, you're so lucky. I've lived here forever. It's so run-down. Nothing changes. You're big news, to tell you the truth.” She shrugged.

“Really? That's a little intimidating.” I gulped.

“Mmhmm. So, listen. I do the morning announcements, right? I'm Juicy Jenna. And it's a good way to make a name for yourself around here. By the way, what is your name?” She asked, her brow furrowed.

“It's Peyton. And, sure, I'd like to help with the announcements. Do I need a name? An acronym, right?” I asked quizzically. She regarded me, disturbed, like I was the biggest dork she'd ever seen. I flipped my hair with a phony smile, and giggled.

“You could be Popular Peyton, or something. There's two other girls though. Quirky Quinn and Cheesy China.” She explained.

“Do you want to come to my house this weekend? Me, China and Quinn are having a sleepover.” She suggested.

“Sure! You can call me if you need to tell me anything.” I explained. Out of nowhere she whipped out a  cell phone from her jeans' back pocket and glanced up at me.

“Uh, 897, 9796.” I mumbled, and she went crazy typing it into her phone.

“I'll call.” She assured me, and walked away with a two-finger salute.

 

Throughout my first week of school, I met China and Quinn. They were like the three stooges, them and Jenna. They fought, they gossiped. There was always big news. I reached into my duffel bag, gazing shyly over my shoulder where the three girls stood. They had stripped off their t-shirts and were putting on their pajamas. I pulled my white pajama top out of the bag, it had lavender hearts all over it. I shimmied out of my shirt, my bare back faced toward them. I quickly slithered into my pajama top, turning to face them.

“You're lucky you're so flat. You saw how the boys tease us at school.” Quinn admired. I had seen. The boys would snap their straps against their shoulder blades and hide their arms in their sleeves, creating elbow b***s.

“I don't know. I feel kind of out of place at school. I look ten or something.” I shrugged, crossing my arms uncomfortably. China and Jenna were topless, admiring eachother's bras. They were wearing the same one, but one in turquoise and one in magenta. I gazed over Jenna's flat belly, and noticed something silver glistening in her bellybutton.
“Is your bellybutton pierced?” I blurted out, my eyes bulging. I blushed, but it was just so over my head. We were twelve. How on earth had she pierced her bellybutton? I looked at China, and there was a little needle through hers. Quinn, too.

“Yeah. I taught them how. You have to leave the pin in for a while, but then you can put an earring in. Like me.” She explained, turning to show it off. I examined it closely. There was a little pink ball in her bellybutton, sparkling.

“That is so cool.” I exclaimed.

“I can put an earring in soon. Two more weeks.” China beamed proudly.

“Do you want to pierce yours? It's so easy.” Jenna prodded, with her hands on her slim hips.

“Uhhh,” I tried to consider my options. I could do it, and be cool, or I could chicken out and be made fun of for who knows how long, “sure.” I mumbled, my forehead throbbing with worry. My teeth chattered as I waited in anticipation as she ran upstairs from her basement and came back with a lighter, a sewing pin, a cork and an ice cube.
“Ready?” She asked, and China lifted my shirt just below my non-b***s. Jenna flicked the lighter on, and held the pin above the flame. China placed the cork against my bellybutton, and in Jenna stabbed the pin. Through the cork, through my navel. I yelped in pain, but it only stung for a few seconds. And there it was, a silver pin through my bellybutton, just like the others. Jenna handed me the ice cube, and I held it against my bellybutton.

“The pin sticks up, so you have to wear undershirts when you don't want people to notice it. But once you put the earring in, you can't tell anything's there at all.” Jenna explained, and I pulled my shirt down over my icy cold stomach. The pin did stick up. How was I going to live with it in my bellybutton for two months? I wanted to cry. Why had I done it? And my parents... oh my god, they were going to kill me.

“Okay.” I choked out quietly. After we finished watching a few cliché chick flicks, I grumbled and groaned about how I had a stomach ache. Lie. I told them that I was really having fun but I didn't want to be a party pooper. Lie. I packed up my bag and waited for my mom to come pick me up. I put on my baggy sweatshirt to cover up the pin through my navel, and went straight to bed when I got home.

 

I hoped I hadn't blown it all with my only potential friends and also disobeyed my parents in a big way.   Jenna had told me about a blog she had online, that she posted stuff on every day. When I woke up, I quickly logged on to my father's computer and typed in the url. Juicyjenna.blogspot.ca, I typed, and up came a pink and black decorated site with little squares with text inside them. I clicked on the most recent post.

                                    ***

Heyhey omg so much fun with china, quinnie && peytonnn! Omg feel betterz pey ;) ;) kisses <3

                                    ***

I gulped down my fear. I wasn't sure if being her friend was a good thing, but everyone has a bad side, right? So Jenna was took a walk on the wild side, it didn't mean she wasn't a good kid. Just as I finished looking at the attached pictures, the phone rang in my ear. I shuddered in shock, taking the phone off the dock and pressing it to my ear.
“Yeah?” I asked, yawning in mid-sentence.

“Hey, is Peyton at home?” Jenna was smacking her gum loudly into the speaker as she spoke.

“Oh, it's me! Hi! I'm on your blog. Nice pictures!” I giggled, gazing over them for a second time. There was one of China and Jenna, dressed up in funny get-ups, doing sexy poses on the stairs. Jenna's shirt was pulled up and she was biting it firmly. Her legs were tanned and slim, and her eyebrows arched. There was one of Quinn kissing a stuffed giraffe, and one of me, yes, me, sitting on the couch, laughing. My eyes were squinty, but my smile was bright and huge, and my hair was back in a flattering messy bun. Overall, it was a pretty good picture. One I was okay with having on the internet.

“Yeah! We took those sexy model pictures after you left. It was so much fun, you had to be there.” Her laugh was stretched and fake.

“I'm sure.” I agreed.

“So, are you feeling better?” She asked.

“Yeah, one hundred percent.” I replied. I could hear my mom and dad yelling downstairs, and I bit my lip. I knew she could hear.

“Good. I'll see you at school, okay?” She proposed.

“Yeah, for sure.” I murmured, biting my lip nervously. I bit off a layer of skin on my thick bottom lip. I then began to chew on my thumb, and I bore down so hard that I could feel the bone.

“Okay, bye.” She hung up quickly. I winced, closing my eyes tightly. I tip-toed down three of the stairs, sitting down where I could peek out behind the railing and see my parents in the kitchen, but they couldn't see me. My dad's eyes looked tired and red, and he had bruises on his cheeks. I could smell alcohol and his clothes had rips in them.

“Look at this! Look at what you did!” My mom yelled, shoving a photo in his face. He winced, turning away.
“She tried to bite my tongue off.” He protested calmly. Stephen was in the doorway to the kitchen, standing still, pale as a ghost. Cora, I prayed, was still asleep. Owen was puttering around in his room, with his heavy metal music turned up crazy loud.

“Why was she anywhere near your tongue, David?!” My mom screamed, slapping him hard. He blinked slowly, inhaling deeply.

“Marie, don't.” He whispered, glancing over his shoulder at Stephen.
“Because you were screwing her! You got a hotel room, and you hired a goddamn w***e!” She shrieked, sending shivers up my spine.

 

Found dead and naked, beaten to death... alone.

 

That was the first strike. My father had been with a prostitute, blonde and curvy, no stretchmarks. Not only was my mother jealous and furious, she was disgusted. In the mail, we received letter after letter with photos inside of the woman. Her eyes circled in black, her eyes bloodshot. Bloody scratches scarring her beautiful face, and bruises on her narrow cheekbones. And while our family cried and fought, the letters just kept coming. And I watched my mother go insane.

Reviews

[Calypso]

This book is unique and good!

[J.A.N]

This sounds really interesting.
I'm into it.

I love the name Peyton!
;D