Read The Unwanted Winter - Volume One of the Saga of the Twelves for Free Online

from anxiety one minute to irritation the next.
    She was a pretty,
fifteen-year-old girl, despite the black lipstick and overzealous
use of black eyeliner and sky-blue eyeshadow. She had a typical
complexion for a Caucasian with a narrow, bird-like face, an
aquiline nose and prominent cheekbones. To any stranger, it looked
as though she powdered her face with white cover-up to extenuate
the contrast between her black lips and eyes with her complexion,
but she hadn’t. She was naturally pale, porcelain-white skin that
never ceased to burn, even from the weakest rays of the sun. She
was always working some sort of moisturizing lotion or sun
screening oil into her face to avoid it. Because of this contrast,
her blue eyes stood out moreso, especially when framed against the
blackness of her hair. Those orbs were the only color amidst the
absence of color, black and white, with two luminous pools of
crystalline blue in the middle.
    She wore a black pair of
torn up jeans, the brand long scratched away by her own hand to
give them a look onto themselves - unique, hers. She had cut all of
the holes and placed the metal studding. She’d even sewn the
patches and etched the various drawings in permanent marker. About
the upper portion of her person, she wore a clinging t-shirt, plain
white, under a form fitting leather jacket, a pair of broad
reflective sunglasses covering her eyes. Her ever-present
fifteen-holed, Dock Martins encased her feet, laced up to the
eighth hole and tied there, to let the topmost portion of her shoes
fold back down onto themselves. They bounced and flopped with every
step.
    Not walking now, Kimberly
was leaning against the railing on one side of the narrow walkway
running adjacent to the parking lot itself. It was constructed
bordering what had once been called, the Boy’s Gymnasium, but, for
reason’s Kimberly deemed idiotic, was now termed – The South
Gym. More ridiculous politically correct
bullshit to keep the parents of all the rich kids happy, she was fond of saying regarding the
matter.
    Her eyes, hidden behind
the sunglasses, flicked about her surroundings with a kind of antsy
twitch, as if she were late for a meeting or an event of some type,
though there was no such pressing engagement. She shook her head in
frustration, glancing over her shoulder to her left, stink-eyeing a
couple of preppie cheerleaders as they scampered their way down to
the football field. They walked behind Kimberly’s position, on the
lower terrace, lying directly before the broad stairs and multiple
doorways leading to the aforementioned gym. They yelled and laughed
with so much enthusiasm, it made Kimberly want to puke. God damned cheerleaders can suck
balls , she thought, uncrossing her arms,
now holding her textbook with her right hand cupping the
spine.
    Matter of Fact, she wasn’t
the slightest bit late. It was her boyfriend, Sonny, who was tardy.
This upset her more than a little, because he was never late.
Usually, he was the one bitching and complaining about how long it
took her to get out of her final period and meet him here in the
parking lot. He would rant and rave for a few minutes and would
then switch gears when she’d glare at him. He’s say something lame
like he was only anxious to see her, to have her in his arms.
Though, she’d roll her eyes, she actually didn’t mind hearing those
words from him and usually favored him with the smile he deserved.
That would be that, and he would zoom out of the parking lot,
nearly hitting her fellow students as he did so. It was so much of
a routine, she’d grown used to it.
    On the other hand, when
Sonny was late
that could only mean a few things, none of them were good. None of
them spelled a comfortable afternoon for Kimberly. This is what
bothered her at the moment.
    Only a few things would
make Sonny late – an argument with his father, which would mean he
would be in a horrible mood and, sometimes, in so much of a funk,
Kimberly would have to lay low