#i've never had to write curby oddly enough idk if that's how we're spelling it

[punkscowardschampions]

@Ro

*Ali regretted wearing the black jeans. Even if a skirt would have made her bike harder to navigate, (as if she actually cared about flashing ANYONE next week’s washing, pah!), it was definitely still the weather for bare legs and arms. Every new freckle on her tanned-for-her body a warming kiss from the sun, still going strong, though September was right round the corner. God, she hoped it wasn’t like this when they had to go back to School. As if first day back didn’t whack of oppression enough, the woollen jumpers and skirts would be literal stuffy suffocation. It felt so wrong to be in School in anything less than horrible, grey drizzle. School, she reckoned, should be about escape. Escaping your shit home life, getting in the dry and (relative) safe and having a free hot meal, if you needed it. She knew it had been that for her parents, and that they’d had to do the rest of the escaping themselves, unaided by the education system after 16; and that they had escaped so she and her siblings could use School to get wherever they wanted. Literally wherever. Not, desperate, digging your claws in and not letting go no matter how hard life bucks, escape. More...a natural progression. Up, up and away, as it were. But knowing, you were always in control of where you went. She was a fucking rocket queen. Her siblings fellow space cadets. A joyous, dreamy hot air balloon ride of a life, or exhilarating, white knuckles and teeth gritted, G force fast ascent to the stars, whatever was more your speed, like; all that mattered was that they were not plane crash survivors, like those that raised ‘em. Nothing in their life was forced hand or JUST for survival. So, call her spoilt, oh, she undoubtedly was, but unless School was offering Ali McKenna better than a day stretched out in the sun, (and it never was), it could hang. It had always failed to be stimulating; and now she’d found her tribe of other weirdos, weirdness unable to be quashed by the buttoned-to-the-top polos and sack jumpers, they could definitely think of better ways to spend 7 hours a day. She shook her head, Home coming into view as she veered right across the quiet cul-de-sac road and mounted the path they had chalked up a hundred times before. She hopped off her bike happily, brain no longer focused so pointlessly 9 days in the future; she was firmly (and arguably as uselessly) focused on the various childhood summers past as she scuffed her trainers along the oh-so familiar, cracked paths, weeds defiant and fucking beautiful. Masterpieces in dusty rainbow pigment, only to be washed away the next day by the fleeting rain (’cos it always seemed perma-sunshine when you looked back, didn’t it? but this was Ireland so she knew that couldn’t be true) or a grumpy old neighbour with nothing better to do. Games of curby where she kicked her brother’s arses, and every other neighbourhood boy brave enough to challenge her. And of course, the time she and Ro had decided to live their Summer like it was an American film about an idyllic childhood, and they sold lemonade from this very pavement. Naturally, Ali had decided to give the customers more bang for their buck, and spiked the lemonade with some vodka; Ro keeping nervous lookout for the parental unit, as she poured half a bottle’s worth in their punch bowl. Ali laughed to herself, a smirk spreading across her face, she couldn’t say her idea of what constituted a single, or even a triple, had got much better, to be honest. Christ, had Ma been embarrassed when the old bird from next door who nearly choked to death on her seemingly innocent glass ‘o lemonade rapped on the door, horrified as much as she was enraged at being spiked by a seven year old. But even she couldn’t fully hold back her laughter when Da found out, his roaring laughter was always infectious, especially to Ma, though she protested with a well-aimed smack and a ‘IT’S NOT FUCKING FUNNY, FEARGHAL!’ Good times. This Summer had been pretty good craic, what with the holiday that eventually got going and delivered on its promises of being ‘fun for all the family’. And it only promised to get better. Now she was off shift, smelling like strong coffee and a day on her feet in the heat, the 3rd day of mayhem could officially begin. She was buzzing. She had big, big plans but she had one more thing to sort before she hunted down her boy to brief each other on what chaos they felt most needed to be caused tonight. She didn’t have to search long for her target; on her tiptoes, a cursory peep over the fence, (being careful not to lean on it as Rocky had barrelled into it the other day and now it was barely standing on the wonk like, never mind up straight), revealed her sister, form shaded by the big tree, sunlight glittering patchy through the canopy, Ro made a leopard by the light seeking her out through the shade. Ro was bent at her minuscule waist, carefully rolling up her yoga mat, hair stuck down with sweat, beads of trickling down her concave stomach. Ali bit her lip. Her sister was so small. There was nothing inherently intimate or sexual about seeing her like this, not even. They did yoga together all the time, for Christ’s sake. It wasn’t like that, it was the fact she had been watching her without her knowing, it made Ali feel queasy now, given what she wanted to broach with the other girl. He’d seen her like this now. But more. Less clothes, and far more vulnerable than a girl being watched by someone who loved her so dearly, someone with nothing but love, no agenda, no bullshit...Of course, it was always going to happen. She knew. And she had known it was going to happen soon. As soon as they got back. The other girl a ball of nervous energy, more than normal. The way she was looking at herself in their shared mirror in their shared room, looking at her whole body, taking stock, Ali knew she was assessing it as if she were him. Readying herself for the unknown with every slight swish of her hips as she left the house and looking up into her camera lens, eyes swimming with fear trying to glaze into sensuality, lips puckering with anticipation. And it wasn’t Ali’s place to ever try to stop it, she would never. But as the blonde swung open the creaky garden gate, orange rust staining her fingertips, letting herself be caught near red-handed, she felt the sadness you only felt when you knew something had happened to someone you loved,  something not necessarily bad but something BIG, and there was nothing you could have done to stop it. It was done, would always be done, it couldn’t be changed or taken back. She hoped it had been okay, would be okay, and would never become a regret. She deserved that much, if not so much more. She had to let her know, let her sister know that whatever the case may be, she was always here for her and would do whatever she could in the here and now and the future, if she needed her to. Wordlessly apologising for not being able to be there for her then, that it was something she had to do alone. Ali breathed out, making her way over, keeping her gait as confident and casual as it always was. No matter how she felt, it didn’t matter, you know? She’d be there for her, however Ro needed her to be. She’d be her and she’d be her. The way it always was. Some things were too important to ever be destroyed. Especially by a boy who didn’t mean to, really, he just had a bad habit. Maybe he could change, could be different for Ro. If anyone deserved his efforts, it was her, after-all. Ali waved her copper-tipped hands with a sheepish grin, reaching the end of the garden and Ro, she rested her back on the tree, her tree, every knot in its bark so comfortingly familiar as they entered this brave new world.* Thinking of starting a hot summer trend whilst I still can, wha’d’ya reckon, Posie? *She gently walked herself down, using the tree as support, to sit at its base as their home sat at the base of the Wicklow mountains. She patted the ground next to her, pulling clumps of the dehydrated grass from its roots and tossing it aside. Clapping her hands on her thighs, she just did it.* So...No point me beating round the bush about this, is there? Prolonging any awkwardness. This need be the only awkwardness at all, we can leave it here right now, under the safety blanket of the leaves. But, do you want to talk about it? Because you can, we can. *She gives her a pointed look. But even this feels like overkill and she sticks her tongue out, giving herself a smack on the forehead for being weird about it. They were well-versed and lingual in each other’s languages by now. She knew her sister would know what she meant, she’d know what to do. Which was, of course, do exactly what you want to do, always. That was Ali’s motto.*