Where I stood

Emily, 15, finds herself questioning her sexuality after her break-up with fairly long term boyfriend, Dean.Meeting Lexi confused Emily more than anything had ever done in her life. Did she have feelings for her? Could Lexi ever feel the same way?

Emily sets out on a path of self discovery, discovering romance along the way, where she never thought romance could lie. Young and innocent, Emily learns that there is more to love that she had ever known before, and sometimes you should expect the unexpected.

Based on a true story.


2. Chapter 2


      Click, click, click, click. I typed away on my computer. I had a drink to my side, and a pack of sweets on the other. Jelly tots. The only ones I really enjoyed. Being a girl it was odd for me not to like chocolate but nevertheless I wouldn’t touch the stuff. I’d never really been a sweet eater. I preferred carbs which is probably why my friends and family found it odd I was still a size 8 – 10 at 15 years old. I was fairly small for my size. Often my mum would exclaim ‘Emily, you need to eat some meat or some veg! Anything’, but my reluctance continued and still does.

      My mother was always ill. My father was always cheating. Which probably explained why I was unwilling, or unable to form a committed relationship of my own? The fact I drank like a fish, and practically re-defined uncertainty doesn’t help. As a result of which it comes as no surprise to me that the following events that year occurred. They did occur.

      Dean and I chatted via an online chat program. We spoke of nothing in particular, the general small talk of ‘How are you?’, ‘I’m fine thanks you?’ took place in a monochrome setting on the bland computer screen lacking an ounce of colour. Nothing out of the ordinary seemed to take place that night until another little chat box opened up.

      ‘You must be the famous Emily’ the computer screen read. I looked at the name of this sender to see ‘LilLexii’. ‘Who was Lexi?’ entered my mind, the name danced and twirled to no avail. My hands hovered over the keyboard and eventually began to move across the keys. ‘Y…e….s…,…w…h…o….a…r….e…y…o…u…? ‘ . The words found their way to her computer screen as if by magic and within seconds a reply appeared. ‘I’m Lexi, Dean’s ex, seems like you are now too’. My blood started to boil. What was she here for? To rub it in? It had only been a week, or thereabouts since we broke up and now I had a seemingly jealous ex to stalk me over the internet, not to mention her poor grammar. I decided not to reply to her as I wouldn’t want her talking to me every 2 seconds about Dean, but even without replying her name popped up again like an unwanted wart on the still bland, monochrome computer screen. ‘Don’t worry, I understand, I’m not going to go on about him. I’m well over him. I just wanted to see if you were OK?’.

      The girl seemed to be nice enough and my blood began to cool. This girl acted so calm about everything. I’d always thought that girls were supposed to hate each other because of guys, but this wasn’t the case for her, and I had no real reason to dislike her yet, other than the knowledge that she had cheated on Dean, but being fair, I didn’t seem to care all that much about him myself so who was I to talk? Plus, there are two sides to every story and so far I’d only listened to his.

      I never got a chance to listen to Dean after the break up. The only conversations we held were held on the computer screen that seemed to bore me so much that is was a mystery why I remained on there. When these conversations were held they only consisted of the previously mentioned small talk and were indeed pointless at best. Maybe speaking to this ‘Lexi’ would help set me up with the means to kill my boredom. I never really had any female friends to talk to. I figured they were always to immature and vulnerable for my liking. They seemed fragile to me, especially at our age with hormones running high.

      We continued to talk throughout the night, mainly about ‘girly’ things. I guess that’s why girls always had female friends. We spoke about make-up, and school, and such like. She played guitar apparently. Much like Dean. In fact the more she spoke, the more I found out about her, and the more she resembled Dean.  I began to like her. She was cool. I finally had a female friend I could talk to. Even if we did start off a little rocky with me making snide remarks now and again to put her in her place. I was unsure of her, but I now believed that she was fine. She was just a girl and not how I’d imagined girls would be, she was nowhere near fragile and seemed pretty together in comparison to others I had attempted to befriend before.

      Sleep. Sleep hit me like a brick. I’d said goodnight to Lexi and my head hit the pillow with all the force of an anvil. I never really slept till late. The clock may as well have given up telling time and purely stated whether it was ‘stupid o’clock’ or not, be it too early in the morning or too late at night. Sleep seemed to escape me back then. My mind would circle around different matters in my waking life. It was only on a night like this where I had actually spoken to a female, as females understand more, when the tiredness hit me and my mind began to drift slowly and silently into an interruptible sleep. 

      The morning came all too soon, but my body did not adhere to this. It lay there silently and lifeless. Finally at 1pm my eyes opened to see that my Mother had already made her own lunch. My Mother was kind and gentle, but a bit of a hypochondriac. She was genuinely ill, and she had a genuinely horrible life, but if she weren’t to milk it all of the time a lot of people would sympathize a lot more. My Mother reminded me of a clockwork robot. Every morning like clockwork she would wake up at 8am. Get dressed at 8.05am. Go downstairs and tidy up the kitchen which would always look like the remains of a college party that had gone on for three days. At 9am she would grab a drink of apple juice mixed 50/50 with distilled water, a bowl of cereal and take her 9 morning pills prescribed by the doctors. 9.10am she’d finish her routine for the day and sit on the sofa in the corner unable/unwilling to move, like clockwork, that exactly at 9.10am would switch off and stay still for the rest of the day.

      My Father was never to be seen. Having his own business, he worked non-stop, or so he told us.  My Father never was a trustworthy man. Maybe this is why I came to distrust men so much, oddly considering that I only enjoyed a man’s company. I seemed to fit in with the crowd. I wasn’t afraid to shout at the TV screen when Andrew Surman had no regard for the off side rule.

      However I was never a tom boy, nor did I look like one. I was petite, wore slightly gothic yet girly clothing, had natural blonde hair and an altogether average appearance. Nothing ugly, but nothing that stood out. I think I preferred it that way back then. I didn’t want to stand out, but I didn’t want to blend in. The average inner conflict for the average teenager. I wore make-up like foundation and mascara, perhaps eye-liner on a good day and simple Vaseline for my lips, plain and simple, which appeared to suit me fine. My altogether average look must have not have been as average as it seemed though, proof lying in the fact that I did attract many boys, few of which I was interested in, if any.

      I laid in bed, I could hear my mum listening to the TV downstairs and stared at my ceiling. I was so happy to get a lie in for once. My mind started to chug away to itself and I found myself thinking about talking to Lexi once more. I wanted to know more about her, if she was someone I could trust. She certainly took my mind off Dean for once.

      The day continued and to the naked eye it would have appeared like I had done nothing all day. I hadn’t even eaten. I’d spent the whole day thinking about Dean, and Lexi, even about school work and what I wanted to do after school. The thoughts did not stick to me. They whizzed around my head so fast that I could not grasp them for long enough to comprehend what had actually been thought. My mind had whizzed like this all day. I decided to finally move, I put my dressing gown on, it was huge, pink and fluffy, so comfortable, and went downstairs, said hello to my Mother to get a mumbled grunt in return. I got a drink, and stumbled back upstairs.

       I sat at my computer desk and didn’t think about turning the computer on but somehow my hands had done my thinking for me. The computer was loading up. I stared at the ‘windows’ logo and still only saw a dull, monochrome computer screen. It bored me desperately. I sipped my drink and swallowed a gulp, as I put the drink down, I signed into my online chat. It was always better to be on there talking to people than it was to not sign in and not talk to anyone at all.

      You see I lived in the middle of nowhere. Dean used to call it the ‘g-spot of the world’ because it was just so damn impossible to find. He did make me laugh those days, but living in the ‘g-spot of the world’ had its advantages too; I was never hassled.  I was always a calm person and I found people my age were too loud and immature and hectic. I preferred to sit in alone, with a cup of tea, perhaps some biscuits, a good book, and my computer.  The most important being my computer, because of my average teenage inner conflict, although I loved being left alone I wanted to still have connections to the outside world bar the radio. Where I lived was a fairly alright place. It was coated in trees, peppered in bushes, and sprinkled with people. The forest was out of the way which was perfect but the few people there weren't exactly in my list of people you want to meet on a daily basis, in fact, most of them made my list of people you wouldn’t want to run into in a dark alley, because although people from the countryside were, and still are, stereotyped as rich old folk who want to be left alone, which would make me list of people I didn’t want to associate with, the forest still had its bad areas, and I happened to live in one.

       My username popped up on the screen – ‘Emily’, pure and simple, like my altogether simple personality. I scrolled down the seemingly endless list of names of the people who were online as well, surprisingly not surprised by the amount of people I didn’t even know. Dean was online. Usually I’d click on his name and immediately start talking to him, which confused me seeing as I didn’t feel like I cared all too much. But, for once I didn’t feel the compulsory need to click on his name. If he wanted to talk to me then he would click on my name. Instead I searched down the names. ‘LilLexii’. Online. My cursor hovered over her name. Was I being stupid? This girl was Dean’s ex, surely it should be awkward? But before I finish my weighing up I’d clicked on her name and said ‘Hi’.

      I think it surprised her that I had bothered to talk to her again, probably because of the coldness I gave out the night before, but something was drawing me to her. She replied with a questionable ‘Hello’ and we began the same monochrome-like, dull small talk that Dean and I usually encountered. Maybe this wasn’t going to be my first ‘girly’ friend; she now seemed just as dull as everyone else in my life. Until, something unbelievably not dull happened.

      ‘Hey, wanna meet up?’ Her grammar scratched at my eyeballs. I realize that people do talk like that now, everything is abbreviated or shortened, as if the human race has become purely too lazy to talk, but surely when typing you can put in the slightest effort to spell?

      I was unsure of the answer to the outstanding question though. Did I? I knew I’d always wanted to hang around with a girl who didn’t seem like she was going to cry one minute and act insane the next, or slap a wall, and then start laughing, but how did I know she was who she said she was. I’d ask Dean before deciding. I clicked on Dean’s name and didn’t even say hi, just asked. Turns out she was who she said she was, but I don’t think Dean was altogether impressed at our blooming friendship. I replied to Lexi, ‘Yes, sure, when and where?’ She was going to be in Southampton the following weekend, my nearest town. ‘Why not.’ I couldn’t quite believe that I had been so, so, easy? I never agreed to anything without a month’s planning, yet here I was, agreeing to meet up with ‘Lexi’ in 6 days’ time. I started to feel excited! I was doing something interesting! Out of the ordinary! Something not dull! Something with colour.

      The moments seemed to pass like a race car and within no time at all, Saturday arrived. The week had been fairly boring as usual, the normal week, the normal lessons, normal conversations, and normal meals. Lexi and I had barely spoken all week, except on Friday night, just to confirm our meeting the following day. I still could not believe what I was doing but my feet led me to her. They walked around my room whilst I was getting ready, walked to the bus stop, let up to sit down, and walked to the place we had arranged to meet. A coffee shop. Nicely in public so I knew that I was safe and she knew the same.  I sat down at a table at the back of the shop, and ordered myself a pot of Earl Grey. I stared at the women walking past and wondered of their reasoning to be in such a busy environment. Shopping? Children? Meeting up with someone they had never met? My reasoning seemed out of place in comparison. Mother’s with prams and Father’s with toddlers buying the newly out football t-shirt walked past. Others around me were eating and drinking in the coffee shop with their portable laptops typing away, perhaps for business, or even personal reasons, who knew? I wondered what Lexi would look like? I had thought that she would probably not look too dissimilar to me seeing as Dean had a very particular ‘type’ of girl he liked. I wondered if I had dressed down too much whilst sitting in my baggy jeans, and my favourite baggy top that seemed to completely hide my body, but in my mind it had just the right amount of bag to exaggerate my features. My collar bones that rose to the surface just enough to make me look sophisticated, my breast’s only big enough to make a small cleavage at an average 15 year old size of 28B-C, my large hips that I’d always hated were nicely covered, and where the top touched my skin you could see a slight out line of what would lie beneath. A skinny, yet untoned body. Would she look similar? Who I was looking for?  

      The clock ticked by. I had arrived early as per usual so as not to be ridiculously late. The buses from the forest were irregular so I often had the choice of being an hour early or an hour late. 12’o’clock struck on the coffee shops peculiarly placed grandfather clock and the chimes, set off my own alarm system in my body. What was I doing here?  I heard chunky boots plod along the floor, and looked down to see black Dr Martins, laced with red thick laces, and the famous logo attached to the side. I looked up further to see denim shorts; short enough to be shorts, but long enough to not be vulgar. My eye’s continued. A white top with a black skull and various patterns surrounding. A million bracelets and ribbons decorated a perfectly shaped arm and wrist. Now looking down I realized that the legs were also perfectly shaped. Her whole body had a certain non-lacking. Unlike Dean’s. It was smooth, and curved, but skinny enough to see the basic bone structure, yet curvy enough not to see any actual bone. Perfect. Long red hair delicately lay upon her white top. It was a blood red, yet darker, obviously not natural. I finally drew my eyes to her face.

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