Burn
Title: Burn
What: original short story
Rating: T for underage drinking and girl-on-girl making out
Words: 1134
Summary: Kenzie and Gloria do wonders for interschool unity, Wellington references abound, and I mysteriously make a cameo at the end (talk about self insertion).
Sample: It’s odd seeing each other in uniform but whatever, she greets you with a hug and you’re going with her to Taylor’s party on Friday night and she catches her bus.
It’s an accepted fact of Stage Challenge that Wellington Girls’ and Wellington College always win, so when you start up an interschool game of soccer supposedly in the name of interschool unity, you’re kind of hoping some of the Girls’ girls’ winning streak will rub off on you.
What you weren’t expecting was all the other schools suddenly wanting to join in; so now there’s a game out by Ferg’s between Raroa and a bunch of turd formers, and a bit of an en masse shared lunch in the foyer. You certainly achieved your announced goal.
So when some random blond girl wanders up and asks to join in, you say Sure. She looks kind of familiar. One of those tall, angular types that should be a model. The T-shirt identifies her as a Marsden girl, but you don’t know anyone there. Pretty decent goalie, at least.
Your team wins, and you bow out for the next game. Marsden girl joins you on the stairs. She looks folded up sitting here, awkward. Nice game, you tell her.
She wrinkles her nose. Hardly. I’m really a striker.
Could’ve fooled you, but it at least explains where you seem to know her from. Sixth form, collegiate 2A?
Seventh, senior B.
Burn! You really missed the mark there. No way! That you’re seventh form, I mean. You look so... But you of all people know appearances can be deceiving.
Her smile says she gets it a lot. School thought I was a genius and put me up. It’s kind of retarded.
She falls silent. You concentrate on your empanada, but you can feel her gaze on you, hungry and searching, like a boy’s. Interesting.
Kenzie, are you there? Come on, we’re having a ballet practice.
Coming, and you look back up at her and she says, Sorry, I’ve got to go.
No problem, and she leaves.
Wellington Girls’ has lost the plot this year. Seriously, what kind of theme is ‘cruise ship’?
But Marsden’s on afterwards, and they’ve really brought it on this year. You spot striker girl - Kenzie, did that random call her? - in the ballet segments, making the routine look effortless. Your camera can’t capture the way her legs seem a mile long or the way her angles and awkwardness are suddenly all grace, and even if creative writing was your thing instead of journalism, you still wouldn’t be able to put it into words.
In the interval she finds you putting your makeup on, and shoves a bit of paper into your bag and whispers Break a leg at you before disappearing.
The Wellington Girls’ teachers are hilarious, but they don’t win anything, and the school comes third.
St. Mary’s takes out every categorical award, and you accept a prize for best student choreography. Your school goes wild.
Inexplicably, Marsden wins. What the hell.
You’re cleaning out your bag that night and a piece of paper falls out: Mackenzie Perrin. Call me Kenzie. 021 2962 5267.
It’s the end of the month and you still have four hundred txts left. How this happened, you’re not quite sure. But you might as well use them.
Mackenzie does much the same subjects as you, but without RS and swapping out French for Spanish and textiles for photography. Calc is her favorite, same as yours. She’s single. Her little sister annoys the hell out of her.
You add her on MSN and Bebo.
Some mornings you go down to the Station before school to get stuff off friends, and one morning you see Kenzie get off the Hutt line. It’s odd seeing each other in uniform but whatever, she greets you with a hug and you’re going with her to Taylor’s party on Friday night and she catches her bus.
Taylor’s party is kind of lame, but that’s what you half expected from a Coll guy who wasn’t in with Cal when he was around. After all, it takes two Coll guys to change a light bulb, one of whom holds the other’s hand as he goes up the ladder.
It takes you a while to find Kenzie, but she finds you in the end and she challenges you to a drinking game. It’s not the drinking, it’s how we’re drinking and all that but you’re bored enough to accept.
Anyway she’s one of those posh girls who takes her vodka with lemon and shit in it, so it doesn’t take long for you both to get drunk. Fortunately Sol will pick you up any time, so it’s okay you don’t have a sober driver.
Kenzie kisses you, and she tastes like lemon so you kiss her back, and before you know it your hands are messing up her perfect blond hair and she’s pinning you to the wall. She might be skinny and she might be pointy but she’s taller than you and soccer’s given her muscles, not that it hasn’t given you any but there’s simply more to go round on her. You grind your hips up into hers and she bites at the side of your neck and-
Someone tells you fucking dykes to get a room.
You break apart. Kenzie spots someone she knows and runs off to talk to him like nothing happened. On her way though, she looks back at you and licks her lips.
Someone got lucky tonight, observes Sol, filling the silence on the drive back to Thorndon.
Fuck off, you reply eloquently, and you thank god it’s winter so you can cover it up with a scarf.
Your phone goes off. Kenzie again, and you wonder at her txting at a party. Wanna see that figure skating movie with me tomorrow?
You reviewed it last month, but you don’t have to work tomorrow. Sure.
The movie’s still crap. You spend the whole thing trying to pay attention to it and not make out with Kenzie. You are damn proud of your success.
Afterwards you go to Starbucks: Caramel frapp for her, double shot mocha for you. Caffeine loses its potency when you make coffee fifteen hours a week.
About last night, she begins, then goes quieter. I wouldn’t mind doing that again sober.
Neither would I, and you almost can’t hear yourself.
She sets the frapp down. Wanna go out?
Two girls holding hands at the Station isn’t exactly unprecedented, even for your school. Last year there was that redhead girl in - sixth form, she must be by now - who always went up to school with some midget Asian in teal.
They’ve probably broken up. You don’t see them together any more.
The Girls’ girl stares at you and Kenzie as you walk past her, and once she’s behind you you can hear a snatch of get a room.
You don’t really care, though, and Kenzie’s just amused.
Explanations owed:
Stage Challenge = drugs/drink/smokefree, student-run dance and drama contest for schools; part of the Global Rock Challenge
Wellington Girls' College = public girls' secondary school, won Stage Challenge from something like 2004-2006
Wellington College, usually known as Coll = public boys' secondary school, the brother school to Wellington Girls', also tends to win Stage Challenge a lot
Samuel Marsden Collegiate School, usually known as Marsden = private girls' school from kindergarten to secondary school, inexplicably won Stage Challenge this year
It takes two Coll guys to change a light bulb... = light bulb jokes about different schools in Wellington have been going around Bebo lately
Anything else?
What: original short story
Rating: T for underage drinking and girl-on-girl making out
Words: 1134
Summary: Kenzie and Gloria do wonders for interschool unity, Wellington references abound, and I mysteriously make a cameo at the end (talk about self insertion).
Sample: It’s odd seeing each other in uniform but whatever, she greets you with a hug and you’re going with her to Taylor’s party on Friday night and she catches her bus.
It’s an accepted fact of Stage Challenge that Wellington Girls’ and Wellington College always win, so when you start up an interschool game of soccer supposedly in the name of interschool unity, you’re kind of hoping some of the Girls’ girls’ winning streak will rub off on you.
What you weren’t expecting was all the other schools suddenly wanting to join in; so now there’s a game out by Ferg’s between Raroa and a bunch of turd formers, and a bit of an en masse shared lunch in the foyer. You certainly achieved your announced goal.
So when some random blond girl wanders up and asks to join in, you say Sure. She looks kind of familiar. One of those tall, angular types that should be a model. The T-shirt identifies her as a Marsden girl, but you don’t know anyone there. Pretty decent goalie, at least.
Your team wins, and you bow out for the next game. Marsden girl joins you on the stairs. She looks folded up sitting here, awkward. Nice game, you tell her.
She wrinkles her nose. Hardly. I’m really a striker.
Could’ve fooled you, but it at least explains where you seem to know her from. Sixth form, collegiate 2A?
Seventh, senior B.
Burn! You really missed the mark there. No way! That you’re seventh form, I mean. You look so... But you of all people know appearances can be deceiving.
Her smile says she gets it a lot. School thought I was a genius and put me up. It’s kind of retarded.
She falls silent. You concentrate on your empanada, but you can feel her gaze on you, hungry and searching, like a boy’s. Interesting.
Kenzie, are you there? Come on, we’re having a ballet practice.
Coming, and you look back up at her and she says, Sorry, I’ve got to go.
No problem, and she leaves.
Wellington Girls’ has lost the plot this year. Seriously, what kind of theme is ‘cruise ship’?
But Marsden’s on afterwards, and they’ve really brought it on this year. You spot striker girl - Kenzie, did that random call her? - in the ballet segments, making the routine look effortless. Your camera can’t capture the way her legs seem a mile long or the way her angles and awkwardness are suddenly all grace, and even if creative writing was your thing instead of journalism, you still wouldn’t be able to put it into words.
In the interval she finds you putting your makeup on, and shoves a bit of paper into your bag and whispers Break a leg at you before disappearing.
The Wellington Girls’ teachers are hilarious, but they don’t win anything, and the school comes third.
St. Mary’s takes out every categorical award, and you accept a prize for best student choreography. Your school goes wild.
Inexplicably, Marsden wins. What the hell.
You’re cleaning out your bag that night and a piece of paper falls out: Mackenzie Perrin. Call me Kenzie. 021 2962 5267.
It’s the end of the month and you still have four hundred txts left. How this happened, you’re not quite sure. But you might as well use them.
Mackenzie does much the same subjects as you, but without RS and swapping out French for Spanish and textiles for photography. Calc is her favorite, same as yours. She’s single. Her little sister annoys the hell out of her.
You add her on MSN and Bebo.
Some mornings you go down to the Station before school to get stuff off friends, and one morning you see Kenzie get off the Hutt line. It’s odd seeing each other in uniform but whatever, she greets you with a hug and you’re going with her to Taylor’s party on Friday night and she catches her bus.
Taylor’s party is kind of lame, but that’s what you half expected from a Coll guy who wasn’t in with Cal when he was around. After all, it takes two Coll guys to change a light bulb, one of whom holds the other’s hand as he goes up the ladder.
It takes you a while to find Kenzie, but she finds you in the end and she challenges you to a drinking game. It’s not the drinking, it’s how we’re drinking and all that but you’re bored enough to accept.
Anyway she’s one of those posh girls who takes her vodka with lemon and shit in it, so it doesn’t take long for you both to get drunk. Fortunately Sol will pick you up any time, so it’s okay you don’t have a sober driver.
Kenzie kisses you, and she tastes like lemon so you kiss her back, and before you know it your hands are messing up her perfect blond hair and she’s pinning you to the wall. She might be skinny and she might be pointy but she’s taller than you and soccer’s given her muscles, not that it hasn’t given you any but there’s simply more to go round on her. You grind your hips up into hers and she bites at the side of your neck and-
Someone tells you fucking dykes to get a room.
You break apart. Kenzie spots someone she knows and runs off to talk to him like nothing happened. On her way though, she looks back at you and licks her lips.
Someone got lucky tonight, observes Sol, filling the silence on the drive back to Thorndon.
Fuck off, you reply eloquently, and you thank god it’s winter so you can cover it up with a scarf.
Your phone goes off. Kenzie again, and you wonder at her txting at a party. Wanna see that figure skating movie with me tomorrow?
You reviewed it last month, but you don’t have to work tomorrow. Sure.
The movie’s still crap. You spend the whole thing trying to pay attention to it and not make out with Kenzie. You are damn proud of your success.
Afterwards you go to Starbucks: Caramel frapp for her, double shot mocha for you. Caffeine loses its potency when you make coffee fifteen hours a week.
About last night, she begins, then goes quieter. I wouldn’t mind doing that again sober.
Neither would I, and you almost can’t hear yourself.
She sets the frapp down. Wanna go out?
Two girls holding hands at the Station isn’t exactly unprecedented, even for your school. Last year there was that redhead girl in - sixth form, she must be by now - who always went up to school with some midget Asian in teal.
They’ve probably broken up. You don’t see them together any more.
The Girls’ girl stares at you and Kenzie as you walk past her, and once she’s behind you you can hear a snatch of get a room.
You don’t really care, though, and Kenzie’s just amused.
Explanations owed:
Stage Challenge = drugs/drink/smokefree, student-run dance and drama contest for schools; part of the Global Rock Challenge
Wellington Girls' College = public girls' secondary school, won Stage Challenge from something like 2004-2006
Wellington College, usually known as Coll = public boys' secondary school, the brother school to Wellington Girls', also tends to win Stage Challenge a lot
Samuel Marsden Collegiate School, usually known as Marsden = private girls' school from kindergarten to secondary school, inexplicably won Stage Challenge this year
It takes two Coll guys to change a light bulb... = light bulb jokes about different schools in Wellington have been going around Bebo lately
Anything else?