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Post by Anya Morgan on Apr 8, 2011 20:30:38 GMT
Okay, that's it. I'm going to make friends, and I'm going to make them now, dammit.
That was the thought that was running through Anya's mind when she decided to go to The Warehouse on a cold April night. Although Maine hadn't exactly had a tropical climate, there was definitely something to be said for that of Ireland. It was at a Canadian-level latitude, meaning it was much colder than her home state and the clothes that she had packed for herself were only semi-functional when you needed to protect yourself from the elements.
However, The Warehouse had heating. The Warehouse had stuff to do. It was only her second day living with her aunt and uncle and she was already sick of them, so anything to get her out of the house would inevitably put her in a good mood.
Oh, Jane and Harold. So protective of a girl they had never met before. So religiously motivated. So invariably awful. She could not have a conversation with either of them without it ending in a lecture about submitting to the laws of the Bible, Anya spitting out an excerpt that condoned slavery, and her elders walking out of the room, shaking their heads in spite.
And so it was tonight that Anya decided it was time to get out of the house. She had heard whispers of The Warehouse all over school. According to Jane and Harold, it was a place for teenagers to go to have good, moral fun. According to everyone at her school, it was a place to have fun regardless of the morals you would pray to gain at church later that week.
Anya sat alone on one of the couches in one of the few sexy outfits that she had been allowed to bring - a tank top that she had covered up with a sweater before leaving the house (only to stuff it in her backpack as soon as she got there) and a short plaid skirt that she insisted was part of her old Catholic school uniform. She lounged back, her backpack next to her, watching people, well, have fun.
Well, this was certainly turning out to be a stellar night. Word count: 363 |
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Post by pippa doherty on Apr 11, 2011 18:58:01 GMT
Everything seemed to be going well for a change. It was distinctly unnerving, really. Usually half an hour into Download and someone had a nosebleed or there was a particularly aggressive dispute over whose turn it was to play Kinect. But tonight - nothing. The kids were acting like the little angels their parents would have you believe them to be. Pippa was so over the mistake of accepting that impression by now. There was a certain trick to being a youth worker and while it hadn't come as naturally to Pippa as she'd hoped, with time she had learnt to take things with a pinch of salt.
"Okay, ladies, don't forget tonight's competition starts at 8:30 for a change!" Pippa explained cheerily to some of the regular older girls who responded happily and wandered away in search of a free laptop and their other friends. She had always found it easier to interact with the slightly older kids. Anything younger and she felt a touch on the awkward side - there was always that apprehension they were about to ask her where babies came from.
Scanning the room Pippa noticed a girl sitting at the side. At first glance, under the flashing lights of the main hall she looked to be maybe fourteen or fifteen tops, but as the lights changed sequence she noticed the girl's make-up and outfit and hoped to Christ that she was older. She looked like some sort of Japanese businessman's fantasy in what could only be described as a 'Naughty Schoolgirl' skirt. Hastening her approach Pippa glanced down at her decidedly more conservative jeans and fitted shirt. Subtly attractive as opposed to revealing to the point of indecency.
"Hi there," Pippa stopped beside the girl and smiled, trying to prevent her preformed judgement that the girl was probably a massive slut being given away in the slightest. Lucky she was so in control. "You must be new? Are you here for the Peer Mentoring programme?" She asked brightly, extending a hand and hoping she wouldn't catch anything. [/size] word count; threefivesix |
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Post by Anya Morgan on Apr 16, 2011 16:30:36 GMT
The Download was quickly becoming boring, although Anya supposed that this was her own fault. Under normal circumstances, she would have approached someone by now, but as soon as she had entered the establishment it became clear to her that she was severely under-dressed. Maybe all of the people at school who wanted to act so naughty only came on weekends, or perhaps this was their interpretation of chaos. Either way, she felt like she was back in church, despite how much she tried not to. This was supposed to be fun, dammit. She was supposed to make friends and laugh and just generally enjoy herself so that she would have an answer for her aunt and uncle when they asked if she had been making her acquaintance with anyone in Ireland.
She was about to get up and awkwardly insert herself into conversation when she saw a slightly older girl announce something about a competition. She had no idea what sort of competition this would be, but it started in half an hour and she found herself wondering if she would be able to stay around for that.
And suddenly this girl was walking toward her and Anya started to look in her bookbag for some sort of ID in case she needed it (even though she doubt she did and wasn't sure if she had brought it anyway) and when she stood beside her and greeted her, Anya lifted from her seat to shake her hand. And she could tell she was new, dear lord. And here she had thought her red hair could fool people.
"How could you tell?" She asked, smiling slightly. She took a closer look at the girl and thought they could have been close in age, although it was clear one of them was dressed . . . older than the other. "I'm sorry; I don't know what Peer Mentoring, um . . . is." Anya had heard the term before in regards to The Warehouse, but it seemed like something that kids from underprivileged families who were addicted to crystal meth would go to. She suddenly felt very cheap in her short skirt and makeup and folded her arms in front of her chest. "It appears I'm a bit under-dressed." She said to herself.
But she wasn't here to apologize for looking good. Excuse her for trying to make an impression.
"What's the competition?" Anya asked quickly, trying to change the subject.
Word Count: 399 |
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