Fic: ... And the Battle Began (Prologue and Chapter One)

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Title: ... And the Battle Began
Chapter: Prologue and One
Pairing: Naomi, Katie, Emily (but not in that way!)
Rating: NC-17 for swearing, scenes of a slightly sexual nature
Word Count: 9500
Summary: AU - Naomi learns their names, but not through speaking to them. Someone tells her that the irritating, flirtatious one is called Katie and the other one is her sister, Emily...
A/N: So yeah! AU. No pairing yet but - well. Wait and see... And thanks, as ever, to my friend twistomatic for betaing and general WHY AREN'T YOU WRITING, BITCH?! type encouragement :)

Prologue - [Untitled]

It's over // I must have seen her face before // I fell in love when I was born // And now they hide her with a whisper // It's over.

It's only every day that she remembers how all this started.

Something will jog her memory during the day as she's walking down to the city centre to grab some more tea, or when she decides to drink vodka straight out of the bottle in the evening and the wince is enough to kick start a thought about something, somewhere.

Or she'll remember, like she does today, the second she wakes up. Before she's even opened her eyes, the thought is there.

But then it's not really a thought, because they're things that Naomi considers to be what clever people have, and she's really not considered herself to be all that clever in a long while.

It's the lack of something that makes her aware, that sends her mind spinning back in time, back two years to when she thought that she could do anything, conquer anything, and have a fucking great time doing it. Because, really, it's been about six years since there's been nothing and then the something was always there, even when not physically present. Naomi could feel it.

So now, when she rolls over and finds the sheets next to her cold and the imprint of a head still left in the pillow, she thinks about the ghost of something once lost. Someone.

Not dead, of course not that. But still undeniably and irrevocably gone.

It makes her heart beat a little faster in her chest to wonder if this time she's been left completely alone. And the thought is terrifying, so much so that she trips as she falls hastily out of bed, grabbing a t-shirt from the floor as she makes her way to the kitchen.

She only pauses when she smells the coffee. Because people who are leaving you do not make coffee first.

They pack their things, leaving behind non-essentials, and stealthily make their way into the night. They leave a note, sometimes, and place a kiss on their sleeping daughter's head before taking the rest of the money out of the vase in the kitchen that looks like it's from somewhere exotic but is really from Oxfam (which makes it better, really) and cramming everything in the waiting taxi.

Sometimes, their angry, "Well fuck you forever then. Thanks for being as much of a cunt as everyone said you were," is the last thing you hear before they slam your bedroom door and breaks something on their way out.

And other times, the worst times, you wake up to quiet sobbing beside you, the pillow and your shoulder already wet, and you feel like you're going to throw up because this is what you did. Only they don't go. They might want to but they can't.

And you knew then, and you still do, that you'd never ask them to.

****

Naomi realises that she's been standing looking at coffee for a good few minutes when she notices that the back door to the chalet has been left open, which can only mean she's about to be robbed or that someone is guarding the house from outside.

She wants a coffee, or thinks she does, but her stomach's not quite settled from the fright yet so she rubs some dust from her eyes and approaches the door, leaning back on the frame with an almost-sigh when she sees it, right there in front of her like it had been there all along.

That red hair that's been the cause of her trouble for as long as she can remember now. That cheeky grin that's all, "Come on then - what are you afraid of?". That hand that's outstretched for her to take.

It's always been there. It just took her a fucking long time to see it.


Chapter One - Epoxi-Lips

This is how the story goes // I've got something that I stole

She blames her mum for making them move, really. No, wait. Not her mum exactly, but a combination of her dad for being a fucking useless, abandoning arsehole and her mum for being stupid enough to get pregnant by said arsehole.

Not that she regrets her existence totally, but right now, standing in front of what's to be her new tutor group in her new school in her new city, Naomi pretty much wishes that her mum could un-conceive her.

Or at least name her something slightly less retarded.

At her old school (or schools, plural, seeing as she'd grown up with kids in her infant and then junior schools and then first year of secondary) no one gave a fuck about her name, or her hippie mum or deserter dad - she was just Naomi. Naomi who was mostly quiet but always ready with something relevant to say. Naomi who loved cheese sandwiches and used to play football with the boys until she started getting into fashion, and Naomi who always put her hand up in class when she had the answer.

She just blended in, and it was nice. If asked, she might even have said she was happy.

But no one did ask her if she wanted to move, or if she wouldn't mind leaving behind her friends, or if she thought that, actually, letting the rooms of their house out to any random fucking straggler who crossed her mum's path was a good idea.

Her mum was sympathetic, yes, fine - but it was a decision that was made by her and her alone. And, over the summer, it had turned their relationship sour.

So, on the first day of Year 8 Naomi is letting everyone know how she feels by sporting the grimace she's spent all summer perfecting.

"Right, everyone," Mrs. Brown says over the low murmur of classroom chit-chat, smiling and gesturing towards the new girl who's stood next to her and is currently towering over her by a good foot (apparently growth spurts can happen even when you sit in your room all day and refuse to eat anything except cheese strings).

The class quietens and a few heads turn towards the front. Naomi tries not to look at them - doesn't want to get to know their faces, doesn't want to get to know any of them at all - and instead focuses on something written on the board at the back of the room about how it's okay for some people to be gay.

Mrs. Brown, who will be her tutor for the next four years, is obviously a PDL teacher and the walls of the room are all pasted with advice on safe sex and how drugs are bad and drink destroys lives.

Naomi rolls her eyes. Like she wants to do any of those things anyway. All they do is lead to unwanted pregnancies and a rapid murdering of brain cells.

Her teacher's going on about how they should look after Naomi as she's new and doesn't know her way around (like she can't read a bloody map) and then encourages Naomi to say a few words about herself.

And it's not Mrs. Brown's fault that her life's just been totally uprooted, and how she has to wait half an hour every morning for some dude with disgusting dreadlocks to get the hell out of the shower just to find there's no bloody hot water left anyway, so she introduces herself and tries to smile.

It hurts like it never used to.

She hopes that she finds a reason to smile properly again. Soon.

****

So she talks to people, or they talk to her, and she settles into a routine. A few of her teachers are all right (and she thinks she might even have a slight crush on her English teacher because he uses big words and always smiles at her nicely) and all the work is fine.

She makes a few friends and stands around with them outside when, after the first few weeks of sitting and reading on a bench by the D&T block, she starts to feel like she's disappearing a bit.

It's not really how she'd like to be spending her time, and what's going on in Heat magazine has never interested her before, but one of the girls does the crossword and Naomi likes that as she knows some of the answers and it makes her feel needed.

And she's pondering over the name of the girl who plays Stacey in Eastenders (which she sometimes watches when she's pretending not to) when she first notices them.

Or her, really, because her laugh is bloody loud and it's distracting.

This girl, who's leaning up against some boy, bashing his shoulder with her own occasionally and grinning when he tries to look down her top, is someone who Naomi decides in an instant that she never wants to know. She's pretty much everything Naomi can't stand in a person - flirty, cocky and just really bloody loud.

When she steps to the side, Naomi half-sees someone standing behind her, kind of loitering and looking down at the ground. Naomi watches for half a second more before her friend is shouting out, "Lacey something!" and she glances back down at the crossword and fills it in.

The bell rings a minute later and, when Naomi looks back up, the two girls (the two really short girls) are walking back towards the main block, the loud one with her arm linked in the boy's and the other trailing slightly behind them.

She stops, the straggler does, as Naomi watches, and turns her head back around, but Naomi doesn't want her to know she was looking and leans over to pick up her bag before she can catch her eye.

They're no one, Naomi says to herself, and they're forgotten about as she's caught in the crush trying to get into the Maths block, like they're all so bloody desperate to learn something.

But maybe it's about winning, Naomi reckons, because nobody's really here to do anything except figure out the easiest way to do it all before they can get out.

****

After that, she doesn't really see them.

The quiet one stays quiet and the loud one stays loud but they're not around enough for Naomi to be bothered with them. They're just extra people, and she never looks properly, never really sees their faces.

Naomi learns their names, but not through speaking to them.

Someone tells her that the irritating, flirtatious one is called Katie and the other one is her sister, Emily.

She should have realised that they're twins (and sort of can't believe she didn't notice it the first time) and tries not to think about how it wasn't how she expected twins to be - so very different from each other, like they hadn't really shared a womb or anything. She thinks that, maybe, they must have some similarities but when she overhears at lunch one day, when they're all crammed into the cafeteria because it's raining too hard to sit outside, that, apparently, Katie can put a condom on with her teeth Naomi just scoffs and picks the crust off her sandwich.

Loud and slutty, Naomi thinks, throwing a sneer in Katie's direction that she never turns around to see. Nice.

Naomi thinks herself lucky that she doesn't have to share any classes with either of them because (and she clubs them together because she doesn't know any better) they're both different but equal shades of annoying that Naomi doesn't know how to deal with.

****

Year 9 is, by all standards, a bit rubbish.

She's still in sets where people are causing disruptions and it's just pissing her off because she wants to do work, wants to get good grades, and people just aren't helping.

Naomi knows that, really, getting an education is the best thing she can be doing right now and it's actually offensive that people squander it so easily when children in other countries don't get these privileges. None of the kids there seem to get it, though, and she wonders where they'll all end up in five years time.

But Naomi cares, even if her mum never comes to parents evenings and instead just asks Naomi if she's doing okay and when Naomi tells her that she is she says, "Well, I trust you. Oh, someone's decided that television is only good for brainwashing us with pro-military propaganda so they've taken all the plugs off them, sorry love."

It's not like her mum doesn't care at all. She just doesn't seem to care enough.

It shakes something up in Naomi though and, rather than going to her room to finish reading Romeo and Juliet (which she's kind of enjoying despite the fact that she's certain no one would ever love someone hard enough to want to shove a dagger into their own stomach for them), she calls Amanda and asks if she wants to go down the park for a bit.

Amanda agrees, of course, because Jamie is going to be there with Martin, and Amanda has been falling all over herself to be his girlfriend and Naomi gets bored even thinking about it because it's all so fucking pointless focussing on things like that. But Amanda is one of her least annoying friends so it's her or nothing.

Naomi easily manages to swipe a bottle of cider from the fridge (fucking hippies - how do you like it when someone steals something of yours for a change?) and shoves it in the bag that she got last Christmas that's far too big but is coming in handy on this occasion and heads out of the door without anyone noticing.

****

She meets Amanda halfway (who Naomi refuses to call Mandy like everyone else does because it reminds her of that song, which she thinks is actually about a dog and Naomi really doesn't need any more reasons to go off her) and they walk quickly because it is bloody November and that bottle is weighing her down a lot more than she'd bargained for.

Amanda talks for England, so Naomi's already partially tuned her out when she catches, "... and I reckon that Martin fancies you, so it's basically perfect."

"Um, what?" Naomi snaps, because, sorry - no. Not a chance. "I never said anything about - "

"Oh come on, Naomi. He's Jamie's best friend and it would just be perfect, wouldn't it? You and me, going out with those two. And you never talk about fancying any boys so it's easier this way. Problem solved."

Naomi stops walking and Amanda takes a moment to realise and keeps blathering on until she notices that Naomi isn't beside her any more.

"What?" Amanda says in a huff, flinging her arms in the air and slapping them back down to her sides, the sound of it echoing through Dibstall Street.

"Amanda, while I don't really care if you want to get off with Jamie or not - and, personally, I find him repulsive - I really do not want to be set up with some boy who still gets his mum to pack his lunch for him."

"My mum packs my lunch for me!" Amanda sort of shrieks and Naomi wonders why she thought that Amanda really was the best choice she could have made and her mind, for some reason, leads her to think of Katie Fitch, and how even her company could be tolerable at this stage.

"Amanda," Naomi says, stepping closer and keeping her voice low and quiet. "That's fine, but I don't want to snog you, do I?"

It's the wrong thing to say because Amanda takes it wrong and her face lights up.

"So you do want to snog Martin! I knew it!"

She's still grinning as Naomi rolls her eyes and lets out a deep sigh.

"Oh fuck it. Come on then. Let's go get you a boyfriend."

****

Naomi entertains the thought for a second. Perhaps a whole second. Perhaps not quite that. But while Amanda's off somewhere behind them, giggling and pretending that she doesn't want Jamie's tongue in her mouth, Naomi lets Martin have a swig out of the bottle she's clutching and then, when he hands it back he smiles at her coyly and then, before she can stop it, Martin's pressed his lips against hers.

She pulls away quickly, muttering a, "Sorry," and he looks a bit abashed but she can't feel sorry for him and she figures she's done here.

Standing, Naomi catches sight of Amanda's legs, and the way that Jamie's hand is moving underneath her skirt, and she feels a slight twitch between her legs that surprises her.

It's not something she should be looking at though so, leaving Martin with another, "Sorry," and the rest of the cider as a kind of compensation, she makes her way home.

****

It's just because she's never seen something that sexual in real life before, she thinks. Just because she's seen a bit of that on TV but never actually right in front of her.

She spends the night reading about cheek-touching and consuming kisses and she feels herself flush at the words for the first time.

Naomi falls asleep, the image of Amanda's pale thighs imprinted into her memory, and she wonders if she's in trouble.

****

Thoughts about whether or not she actually fancies Amanda are quelled before their first lesson the next day because Amanda looks rough as balls and has a lovebite on her neck the size of a fifty pence piece.

And she was loving it.

Of course, she's a bit pissed off with Naomi for not getting off with Martin (who "vomited everywhere after you left - that cider was well minging.") but she's really too caught up in her own conquest to care all that much.

To make things easier, she was annoying Naomi so much that Naomi couldn't bear to be in her company so she left her to it, her and the other girls, to talk about who else had been fingered in the park and if it had been any good or not.

So she doesn't fancy Amanda. But Amanda isn't the only girl at school.

****

In fact, Naomi starts to realise, there are lots of girls at school and they are all experts at flaunting themselves, even as Christmas comes around and Bristol gets colder and wetter and more depressing.

Naomi knows she's good at not staring, though, and it's fine because none of the girls who wear their shirts bunched up at the bottom and their skirts a little too high up their legs are even nearly aware of her existence.

So it was fine. She could look but she would never, never touch.

****

The rest of the year is a series of figuring out options for the next two and Naomi finds that it's nice to be distracted.

She gets on with her work, like she knows she should have done the night she agreed to go to the bloody park, and her mum continues to invite strange men and women into the house that don't even know who Naomi or Gina are so Naomi spends more and more time in her bedroom.

Amanda starts going out with Martin, which is weird, but no one really seems to care (except for Amanda who feels she has to check with Naomi before saying yes to him, which Naomi finds sort of funny but can't quite bring herself to let Amanda in on the joke) and things plod along fine.

It's just... she knows it's not exciting, and notices that everyone seems to be having more fun than she is.

(Even though one night she had gone to Blockbuster and rented out what imdb.com told her was A comedy of sexual disorientation and she scoffed at first but then found herself getting warm all over when the rebellious one took the quiet one to a nightclub and ended up snogging her out the back and Naomi found herself pausing it to run her fingers lightly over the top of her knickers to find she was more sensitive there than she'd ever been before.)

But at least she's getting an education, she tells herself.

She's learning something new every day.

****

When the time to choose options comes around Naomi finds it relatively easy to pick them and, while her choices are in no way influenced by what any of her friends are doing, she's relieved to find that they haven't chosen the same ones.

It'll be a fresh start, she thinks. Yet another one in a series of them.

****

She spends that summer mostly reading and renting out the occasional film.

It's become a sort of secret that stirs up some excitement every time she retires to her room to watch one on the (most-likely stolen) laptop that someone had kindly donated to the house and she gets through a fair few by the time September is upon her.

She's lucky, she knows, that she looks a little older with her newly bleached and shorter hair, and had managed to rent out Bound with little difficulty. And it's far sexier than anything else she'd encountered so far, what the way that the women's bodies seemed to fit together, and how the two of them shared something that could have gotten them killed if anyone found out.

Not that Naomi had a death wish herself but she could see the appeal of doing something so reckless, so clearly laced with desire that they just couldn't help it even though they knew it could be the end of them.

It's that kind of love, Naomi's gathering, that no one can stop and she wonders when the film's over if she'd be like that - if she'd ever be able to want someone that much that she'd risk everything.

She laughs quietly to herself before skipping the DVD back to the sex scene and watching it again as she slips her hand into her knickers and fingers herself quietly in the dark. She knows that, really, this sort of stuff never happens in real life, and goes back to enjoying the watching from afar.

It's got to be better this way, to not be involved, and Naomi reminds herself never to get into a situation that's so desperate she has no way to control it.

****
Classes start again and Naomi's sort of relieved to be getting back into doing something.

While spending almost an entire summer experiencing her own body had definitely had it's perks it was better to be reconnecting with reality, ready to learn and put her mind to use.

And being in classes where people weren't likely to be dicking about made it even more appealing so when she realises with disdain that she's sharing some of her classes with some people who she really did not want to be sharing them with, Naomi's optimism wanes slightly.

The first thing she notes, though, is that she's not the only one who's decided to dye their hair this summer as the Fitch twins take their seats directly in front of her in Art.

It's all she needs, Katie bloody Fitch sitting right near her for a whole year, and she knows that it's not necessarily a dead cert that they'll sit there every time (twice a-fucking-week) but usually people pick their seats and it's set.

Katie's already whispering into her sister's ear by the time their teacher is calling the register and Naomi's rolling her eyes because it's fucking distracting.

It's worse, though, when Katie does a scan of the class to see who's around (looking for boys, most probably) and she sees that Naomi's behind her and gives her this sort of look that Naomi can only decide is a once-over before she says, "Nice bleach job, Campbell."

Naomi's too shocked to think of a decent come back and Katie's already whispering in Emily's ear again by the time Naomi's managed shut her mouth.

For a start, Naomi had no fucking clue that Katie not only knows who she is but also knows her name. Like, when she would have had the opportunity or the inclination to learn it is beyond Naomi, and it's just a world of a complete fucking confusion.

Not only that but, really, what was that look? And was she being sarcastic? Not that Naomi gives a flying fuck if Katie thinks her new hair colour is stupid, not that she cares what Katie thinks at all but Naomi just doesn't get it.

She's still staring at the back of Katie's head when Emily turns to look behind her, offering a small, apologetic smile. And that, Naomi's relieved to find, is something she can handle, so she glares back at Emily until she faces forward again.

Great, she thinks with a sigh. Now I've been a twat to the quiet one and I haven't even said anything.

Nothing about them sitting there feels good, and it only gets worse when Naomi arrives late to her Graphics class towards the end of the day and finds, to her absolute dismay, that the only seat left is next to Katie.

It's bad, Naomi knows, to have to share one class with Katie and Emily but it's far fucking worse to have to share another with just Katie on her own.

She's different, Naomi notes, without her sister, and instead of shooting Naomi another cocky glare Katie just shifts uncomfortably in her seat and turns away from Naomi.

At least she's about as fucking pleased about this as I am, Naomi thinks, and it takes her the entire lesson (which is mostly spent with their teacher's monotone voice explaining how to use a fucking ruler) to relax enough to stop digging her pen into her notebook.

After the lesson Katie leaves without saying a word to Naomi, strutting out of the room in a way that Naomi notices makes her arse sway from side to side. She blinks and clears her throat, going back to packing her bag and shoving her sketchbook back into her oversized folder.

Naomi doesn't like Katie and she has no interest in how tight her skirt is, she tells herself even as she feels her cheeks burn a little.

It was just because she flaunted it, obviously.

Anyone would notice; how could they not notice Katie Fitch?

****

It turns out, though, that just noticing Katie becomes the least of Naomi's worries, because she's actually totally unavoidable.

From going from seeing her on a rare few instances the year before it now seems that Katie is doing her damndest to be everywhere that Naomi is.

She's in the canteen when Naomi goes, or in the bathroom puckering her lips in front of the mirror, or on her way out of the English block when Naomi's on her way in.

And the lessons she's in - Graphics and Art - are bad enough, but it's not difficult to figure out that Katie is less of a twat without Emily around because it's fairly obvious that, as timid as Emily seems, she's a source of some strength for Katie.

When she's not around, Naomi notes, Katie is more studious and not nearly as useless as Naomi had thought she was.

Her graphics work is actually quite good, almost as good as Naomi's, but Katie never brags in that class, never gloats about anything. Her designs are pretty good, and Naomi wonders if Katie knows that she's got a keen eye for it but of course she never tells her that.

They speak every now and then, which was more than Naomi had expected, but it never goes beyond, "Have you got a sharpener? I left mine at home," or "Do you think that works in purple?"

One time, Naomi even gets a whispered, "Christ, if he gets any more boring I'm going to have to gouge my eyes out with this pencil as a distraction," which Naomi laughs at before they resume their customary silence.

But outside of that class everything is the same as it ever was. They don't acknowledge one another in the slightest. And it's fine. It's totally fine, Naomi knows, even as she catches Katie's eye across the canteen and Katie looks away and Naomi keeps looking, just for a second, just for slightly longer than she should.

****

In her spare time, Naomi continues to explore.

There's no point telling anyone about it, not her mum or anyone (not that she'd listen anyway), because she's not really sure there is anything to tell.

It's not a big deal, really, deciding that she might like girls. And, well, she might like boys too. It's just that she hasn't met anyone of either gender that she likes enough to... get to know. Although boys would be the easier option, certainly, she just doesn't feel all that inclined to bother with them.

The films she's watching are giving her an insight, though, into what it could be like to get to know another girl.

They look smooth, so smooth, and their lips look enticing, like she'd sort of like to kiss them. Or, at least, she enjoys watching girls kiss other girls, which Naomi figures makes her at least a little bit gay.

It's not a word she finds she cares about, either. She sees it plastered around school, about how it's okay to be gay, but she's not sure how okay it is to be gay at school.

Maybe, she thinks, maybe if there's someone else out there that might be a bit gay then they could be friends.

But she knows she would never know, because she would never ask. And it means that it has to be a secret for now. At least, for a bit, anyway.

****

There's a weird thing that happens one day, when Naomi's really not paying attention too much.

She's first in the class for graphics and she's flicking through her coursework when she hears the chair next to her being pulled back and the sound of someone flopping themselves down onto it.

Naomi turns her head to see Katie with her arms folded letting out a deep sigh. She doesn't look towards Naomi but keeps her gaze fixed on a far corner of the room, her jaw set in a hard scowl.

It's still early, too early for them to be there, really, and Katie never turns up before she has to, but Naomi's not sure what to say to her. There's something about the flush of her cheeks that worries Naomi, like there's something wrong, but she's not sure if they're friends enough (or friends at all) for her to ask what.

She barely manages a quiet, "Katie?" before Katie lets it all out anyway.

"It's fucking ridiculous, right, because everyone knows that I'm better looking and it's just fucking retarded."

Naomi's not stupid; she knows that Katie's talking about her sister, but the rest of it is a bit of a mystery. She's never really considered one of them to be more attractive than the other but, now she looks, Naomi can see the differences, at least.

She blinks, though, because she's not really supposed to be looking, and Katie has decided to speak to her. So she waits, because she knows Katie will continue.

"But then, like, fucking Jared, that stupid bastard, fucking came up to Emily and whispered something in her ear thinking she was me and bloody Emily jumped a mile and elbowed him in the balls."

The laugh is out before Naomi can stop it because, really, it's just funny that Emily would elbow anyone anywhere and it's sort of amusing the way that Katie's so pissed off about it, that they could be confused by someone.

"What? You think that's funny?" Katie asks as she whips her head around to Naomi, her brow furrowed, her lisp more pronounced than usual (which Naomi is totally sure she doesn't find cute, not in the slightest).

"Well it is, kind of. I mean, sorry Katie, but Emily doesn't seem like the violent type, does she?"

Katie glares at her a moment longer before she breaks too, laughing mostly through her nose in a quiet puff.

"Okay, very funny. But honestly, we look nothing alike, yeah?" Katie smiles as she raises her eyebrows in wait for Naomi's answer.

But Naomi doesn't take the bait - doesn't know how she could even begin to answer that, so she settles for a much safer, "I don't know, Katie. Maybe you should try name tags or something."

"Bitch," Katie smirks and pushes at Naomi's shoulder before reaching into her bag to start pulling out what she needs for the lesson.

Naomi smiles a moment longer, considers continuing the conversation, but then Katie's got her phone in her hands, texting rapidly with fingers that have nails which seem to shine under the harsh tube lighting of the classroom.

She glances back at her own nails; pink varnish chipped and jagged edges where she's bitten them down.

They're not like Katie's. And if there's something that Naomi knows it's that she and Katie have fuck all in common, other than a penchant for graphics and, apparently, a sense of humour that neither of them knew the other had.

****

It's the only time something like that happens that year, and Naomi almost misses it, that brief bit of conversation that they'd shared, where Katie had felt a bit shit and Naomi had made her laugh.

But Katie already had her people and, while she had been a little nicer during the rest of their classes, she didn't really have time for Naomi.

And Naomi doesn't care because she has her friends, and she has her room with her laptop and her DVDs and her poetry and it's all fine. Though she can't help that, sometimes, she'd glance across at what Katie was sketching, noting the bend and flex of her fingers around her pencil and the way she delicately brushed away rubbings with her pinkie.

Naomi knows she doesn't care about Katie, even as she watches her link her arm through Emily's on the last day of school and wave at her friends with her free hand and walk off to the back of the school where the shortcut is, leaving Naomi to wander over to the bike shed and begin the long cycle home, alone.

****

Whatever it was about Katie Fitch, Naomi intended to forget about it over the course of the summer.

There's nothing about Katie that's all that special, after all, so it's surely pointless to spend even a tiny amount of time wondering about what she might be doing during the six-week break.

And it's a long one this time, Naomi finds, as she wakes every day to either Bob Marley or Donovan or The Carpenters, everyone in her house driving her fucking mental. They just don't give a fuck, these people, the way they carry on. Like, Naomi totally believes that people should be able to express themselves; she just wishes that they would stop expressing themselves all over the bathroom floor.

There's nothing funny about it (and Naomi's relived yet again that she has no proper friends because she'd never be able to bring them back to this fucking farce of a home) and though Naomi tries to keep calm, sometimes she just can't.

It's Brian, the artist's, fault that she snaps in the end and finds herself getting ready to go to a party she doesn't want to go to.

It was a stupid move, she knows it, to have left her art folder downstairs. It's the same size as the graphics one, and they're just big, cumbersome things to carry around, so on Thursday when she got in from the library (because there was no way she could focus in her own house) she made the error of dumping them both at the bottom of the stairs and leaving them there until morning.

She doesn't notice at first, because the graphics one is still there, but when Naomi picks it up she feels that it's lighter, which means that there is only one of them.

Naomi knows she didn't leave it at the library because she would have noticed the weight then, which could only mean that someone had fucking taken it while she'd been sleeping.

She was prepared to go on a hunt for it but only made it as far as the lounge before she saw her sketches, pasted up everywhere, and Brian standing there, stark-bollock naked with a paintbrush in his mouth, staring intently at them.

It was an invasion of privacy, really, but what flusters Naomi the most is what she hadn't realised before; they were all of girls.

Girls with long hair, short hair, tight jeans and tiny skirts. They're not very good, she knows that, but they're all there, obvious and under scrutiny by someone she barely knows.

What she notices, though, is how the majority of them are all girls with shoulder length red hair and dark eyes eyes peering out from under too-long fringes that are cut at angles.

She can't bear to look at them any longer, so with a, "What the fuck do you think you're doing, you massive thieving prick!" she starts to tear them all down, not caring if they rip along the way.

Brian is mumbling something behind her about being sorry and how she seems to have excellent technique but it doesn't matter what he's saying because all Naomi can hear is the blood rushing to her head and swilling about between her ears.

It's just that it's... well that it's... it's unfair and unjust and he's a wanker and nobody has the right to touch her things. It would be the same, she knows, if she were to touch something that belonged to somebody else - it just wouldn't feel right.

So she yells at him a bit more before stuffing it all into her folder, not caring for now if it's all ruined, and storms up the stairs.

It's horrible, willing yourself not to cry - Naomi knows it. But it's worse to want to cry over something like this, something so trivial. It's because he touched her stuff, she tells herself, only she cries harder when she closes her eyes and pictures the sketches and wonders what the fucking hell she'd been thinking when she drew them.

****

She's managed to drink about a third of a bottle of vodka, which she borrowed from the kitchen and had had to drink neat for lack of a mixer, when she decides to text Amanda.

It turns out it's excellent timing (and Amanda seems to have forgotten the fact that they have barely spoken for a year) because there's a party somewhere tonight and Amanda's got to go because everyone is going which means Naomi has to go to. But, for the first time, Naomi doesn't even need the fucking speech - she just needs to get the fuck out of the house.

So she gets them (Amanda and [whatever the fuck his name is] and another girl she doesn't know) to pick her up in the taxi on their way and almost falls into the backseat.

Her thigh is pushed up against the other girl's and Naomi tries not to feel it there because, for fuck's sake, she doesn't want this.

But when the taxi goes over a bump and she knocks the girl with her shoulder and they smile at one another apologetically Naomi knows that it doesn't matter if she wants it or not - it's just the way that things are going to be.

****

As soon as they pull up outside the party, Amanda drags the other two away and leaves Naomi standing outside the front door to roll her eyes at them (which she finds she's going more often of late) and dig a cigarette out of her bag.

She sits on the low brick wall that surrounds the front garden as she tries to find a light and is surprised one suddenly inches away from her face.

She's more surprised, however, when she looks up to find that the lighter is being held by a smirking Emily Fitch.

Naomi holds her gaze as she leans in and lights her cigarette, pulling back as she inhales.

"Thanks," she murmurs, and Emily sits down.

It's the first thing she's ever said to her, Naomi reckons, and she's not sure what to follow it with so she's relieved when Emily speaks next.

"It's a fucking nightmare in there," is what she says, the grin slipping from her face as she rolls her thumb idly across the top of the lighter. "I know about two people and they're both smashed."

"Right," Naomi says, because she's having a hard enough time keeping steady on the wall without having to come up with conversation as well.

Emily doesn't seem to mind though and it's quiet for a minute before she speaks again.

"Want a beer?" she asks, reaching into her bag and pulling one out for Naomi and then one for herself. "I nicked them from the kitchen."

"Yeah, cheers." Naomi takes it from her, popping it open as she holds her cigarette between her lips. She's not a huge fan of lager, really, but it's better than just having the vodka settling unpleasantly in her stomach.

"Okay, well. I'd better go," Emily says, sighing. "Katie will start shouting for me soon if I'm not within ten paces."

Naomi's head clears up a little at the mention of her name. Great, she thinks. Of course she's here too.

Emily stands when Naomi says nothing more, but she turns and smiles before she heads back inside.

"See you in there, Naomi."

"Yeah, all right. Thanks Emily."

Emily looks back at Naomi and the smile she shoots her then seems to Naomi like it's one of relief or even just... she's just smiling. It's nice.

And then she goes, leaving Naomi to finish her cigarette and wonder if she really should just call it a night now before she drinks any more and has to encounter any other redheads with small smirks and eyes that tell her nothing at all.

****

Probably against her better judgment, Naomi enters the house and Emily was right: it is a fucking nightmare in there.

Naomi's not sure how there can be any parents more irresponsible than her own but apparently they do exist and have kindly buggered off so some fifteen year old can have a mammoth houseparty with almost everyone from Year 10 in attendance.

There are faces she recognises and some she doesn't, but she speaks to no one, choosing rather to wander around sipping at her beer (which is tasting better with every mouthful), and it's not until she's done a full circuit of the house that she realises she's looking for someone.

And it's not even like she wants to see Katie - she's still all of those things that Naomi hates, and she's reminded of that when she hears her voice coming from the lounge.

Loud, again. Always loud, obnoxious, demanding attention. Not like Emily, who's quiet and thoughtful and just nice. Katie is a pain in the arse, and every syllable she utters is like nails on a chalkboard to Naomi, more so tonight than at any other time.

But still, Naomi ventures further into the living room, nudging her way past people who are blocking the doorway.

It's not a huge shock that Katie's sat in a circle of people, an empty bottle of vodka being spun in the middle of it, and everyone laughing and leaning into each other. And Katie's still managing to be the centre of attention even though there are other people there who are just as loud, just as annoying, and Naomi is about to roll her eyes and walk away when someone calls to her.

"Hey, Naomi - come and play, yeah? We're short on girls."

She's going to decline, has the words on her lips, but then Katie looks at her daringly and says, "Don't invite her, Dave. She won't play anyway."

And, well, just fuck her, because what does she know? Naomi is used to public humiliation (sort of) and it's nothing to her, really, that Katie's saying go but looks like she means stay. It'd be easy to walk away, and she wouldn't give a fuck what they thought of her, but with Katie there it feels to Naomi like she has to prove her wrong.

So she wanders over, their eyes never leaving each other's, and sits down with an indelicate thump, finding her place in the circle opposite Katie.

Naomi glares and Katie raises her eyebrows and Naomi's a bit disgusted with herself that she feels like she's impressed Katie somehow, just by not backing down from a challenge.

The boys whoop their approval but Naomi barely hears them, even as one of them spins the stupid bottle and it lands somewhere away from both Naomi and Katie as their line of sight is invaded by a giggly blonde girl and a grinning dark-haired boy.

Fine, Naomi thinks. Let's fucking play.

****

Naomi's given a light peck to Greg from History and has almost finished her beer by the time the bottle lands on Katie.

She's watched Katie sloppily kiss a few boys (the bottle almost magically manages to point in her direction) and they all looked like rubbish kisses, and Katie's not shied away from any of them, but when it's Naomi's turn she looks a bit nervous.

It's a mixture of the beer and vodka, Naomi knows, that's making her stomach tighten, and it has nothing to do with the way Katie's looking at her like she's torn between declining her first kiss that night and getting the fuck on with it. And Naomi's emboldened for a second by the way Katie could really be shown up here, so she taunts her, telling herself that she wants Katie to turn it down and look stupid and cowardly in front of everyone and then, for the first time in almost forever, Naomi would look cooler for saying that she'd do it.

"Come on then, Katie. I know you've been eyeing me up," Naomi winks over the top of her can of Carlsberg and she knows there's no way it's seductive - she doesn't mean it to be - which is why she's not sure of the reason Katie's blushing. Maybe she's just drunk, Naomi thinks. I fucking know that I am.

When Katie doesn't budge from where she's sat between two bored looking blondes Naomi thinks that she's going to bottle it, that she's going to bolt, and then Naomi can laugh and gulp her beer down and get the fuck out of there like she'd meant to an hour ago.

"It's fine, Katie, if you haven't got the balls. To be honest you'll be pretty fucked if you kiss me because I'm rather fucking good at it and you'll only end up stalking me or something." Naomi's smug, she knows she is, but she also knows that her palms are getting a little clammy and her throat's gone a bit dry.

Katie rolls her eyes and Naomi knows she's got her. And she's really not sure when this whole thing changed from a silly game between a bunch of kids to some sort of stalemate between almost-enemies but she knows for certain that she's going to get Katie (obnoxious, slightly homophobic, totally up herself Katie fucking Fitch) to kiss her, in front of all these people, and then she'll have to shut the fuck up about lezzas and all that other shit (and Naomi's heard it, her saying that stuff, and it's always made her feel anxious) because there will have been witnesses.

And she almost can't not do it now, not now that there are boys watching anyway, and they've got that look in their eyes, that hungry one that Naomi's seen before and rolled her eyes at and walked away. They want to see this, and Naomi couldn't give a fuck if they want it or not because it's Katie she's worried about. And Katie will kiss a girl if it means the boys will like her more.

All it takes is one last, "Come on..." from one of the boys nearer to Katie and she's pushing off her heels and shuffling across to meet Naomi in the middle of the circle.

Naomi's ready, and she sets her can down by her knees and leans forward onto her hands, placing them either side of Katie's stocking-clad thighs, and she only has about enough time to catch Katie swallowing hard before her head's being tilted up with slightly more force than she'd like (but this is Katie, after all) and then Katie's kissing her.

It's nothing, at first, just a pressing together of lips, and Naomi's sort of relieved that it's like this. But it doesn't stop there, not when Naomi really wants it to. Naomi considers being the one to move but then she's not the one who's trying to impress anyone so she just waits. Waits for Katie to pull away or to push harder, just something to break them out of this stasis.

She feels her eyebrows nearly spring off her forehead, though, when Katie starts to move her mouth, which means that their mouths are opening and closing against each other and it's not like any of the other girl-on-girl kisses tonight and is a lot more like the boy-on-girl kisses and, Naomi's sure of it as she suppresses a moan, it's almost as filthy.

It's surprising, totally surprising, how Katie's getting into it, and her fingers are squeezed tightly around the hair at the back of Naomi's head, and Naomi wishes she were in a better position so she could grab onto something herself because all of this is making her light-headed. She doesn't get the chance to think about it any further, then, because Katie's pulling back quickly, almost like Naomi's burnt her, and they catch each other's eyes.

Naomi's the one swallowing hard now, and wonders if the look that Katie's wearing mirrors her own - eyes glazed but focussed, lips slightly parted and moist. Naomi can only watch as Katie licks her bottom lip and she feels teeth biting her own but then she's looking back up and Katie's face has changed. She's back, now, with a smirk on her face and an eyebrow raised and Naomi has no fucking clue what just happened.

She's not sure when the boys started cheering and the girls started laughing, but Katie's back in her spot now and her friends are high-fiving her and that stupid boy from before is grinning at her and when Katie grins back Naomi feels her stomach knot and she realises she hasn't moved back out of the way.

As she sits back in her place, raising her beer to her lips with a shaky hand, she catches someone watching from the doorway behind Katie.

Naomi had almost forgotten that Emily was here tonight, but then it was hard to pay attention to Emily anyway. Not when there was a Katie around being louder than anyone, drawing all of the focus onto her. Tonight, though, there's something about Emily that makes her seem even smaller, even less of the person she is at school.

She's staring at Naomi, openly, and Naomi wonders if it's because she's seen and thought she was coming onto her sister. But surely Emily could tell it was a game, that it was obvious by the way that the others were already snogging again in front of her.

Emily blinks once, then cast her eyes down, and Naomi follows them to where Katie is now heavily snogging that twattish boy with the gold hooped earring and short back and sides gelled to his head, and Naomi's stomach knots again as she watches his tongue slip into her mouth and she has the sudden intensely strong urge to throw her less than half-full can at his head.

It's wrong. Something about this is all wrong.

It feels worse, somehow, like she's really just made a big mistake, when she looks up and Emily is gone.

****

Naomi leaves right after that, opting to walk home to sober herself up, even though it's far too fucking late for that now, really.

She texts Amanda just so as not to be a complete twat and isn't sure she doesn't make a drunken mess of it, but hopes that it gets the message across that she's gone.

It's a long walk, even walking as fast as she is, and Naomi wishes she'd actually got a taxi because it's leaving her with too much time to think about what had happened.

She lights a cigarette, having found her lighter hidden in the inside pocket of her bag, and it takes a few goes because the wind's picked up and she totally by accident wishes that an Emily Fitch would appear out of nowhere to help her again.

But, having seen her face tonight, Naomi imagines that Emily helping her do anything ever again would be a fucking miracle, and it's making Naomi feel all kinds of guilt that she didn't know she had within her. That face, that fucking face, that was covered in disappointment and aimed right at Naomi, and Naomi can't figure out why for the life of her.

She stops for a moment then, and leans against a wall, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples, the light from her cigarette all too close to her hair, but she doesn't care that she's too near to the heat of it.

It's nothing, really, to remembering the burn of Emily's gaze and that of Katie's lips, and she can't piece it together just yet, why Emily looked at her that way and why Katie kissed her that way and why can't separate the two of them - the kiss and the guilt.

It's probably what makes her vomit where she's standing, her stomach lurching horribly until it's empty and she's wiping the corners of her mouth with the back of her hand. The wall is a useful and sturdy structure, holding Naomi upright as she leans on it with one palm flat against it while she starts to shake.

After a moment the headache kicks in and she knows she has to get home and vows never to drink vodka again. It only gets her into trouble.

She walks home quickly, silently, taking one last drag of her fag so that her mouth doesn't taste like puke and throws it into the street without breaking her stride.

It's hard but she tries to think of anything other than the Fitch twins (Is Katie still there? Is she going to fuck one of those boys tonight? Where did Emily go? Does she think I was trying to molest her sister?) and she almost manages but can't quite, even as she's sneaking into the house (not that she'd need to - her mum would probably be glad she was out 'making friends') and cleaning her teeth.

Examining herself in the mirror as she brushes away the taste of everything, Naomi wonders who she is. If she's now this person who watches lesbian DVDs and wanks off thinking about girls kissing and conjures up reasons in her head as to why it would be acceptable to get off with a girl she mostly despises.

She downs a glass of water, like one of mum's boyfriends told her to do once even though she'd scoffed at the time because she couldn't understand why anyone would ever drink enough for that to be a problem, and then fills the glass up to take to bed with her.

There's still an unsteady lilt to her stomach as she lies down, slipping naked underneath the sheets, and she pushes the images of it all away as her body finally relaxes under the tentative stroking of her fingers, working all the stress of it away as her other hand cups her breast gently, fingertips squeezing around her nipple.

She tells herself, even as it's happening, that she's not thinking about how she's actually kissed a girl now, felt a tongue in her mouth, and how she wants to do it again. How she might really, actually want to do it all over again but with no one else around to watch, and leaning forwards and pinning Katie to the ground, pressing a thigh between her legs and pushing upwards.

Naomi bites down on her lip to shake the image away, but it's already too late and she comes thinking about a pair of chocolate brown eyes that bore into her own and ask questions Naomi's not sure she has the answers to.

It's not until after when she's panting and lolling her head to the side, more ready for sleep than she's ever been, that she realises that she's not sure just who those eyes belonged to.

Chapter Two