Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1303068-Awaysick---Chapter-One
by keti
Rated: 13+ · Chapter · Young Adult · #1303068
This is Chapter One of my story, 'Awaysick'. Just a first draft, but I hope you like it!
Okay, so this is Chapter One! I think it needs refining and expanding, but it definitely gets the story going! Yay! Please read and hopefully enjoy!


PS. The title, 'Awaysick', may be changed to 'The Pure and The Free Man', the meaning of which would be explained in the story.

Beech Drives sat still and alone, undisturbed by the hungry growls of the distant metropolis.
A shadowed sunset was advancing towards the hushed township, casting twisted silhouettes upon the virtually bare main road and the tiny lanes that fenced it. Yellowing, limp banners informing passers-by of an upcoming street fair hung slackly between the light poles that lined the stagnant street. It seemed that the dusty road, and indeed the whole of Beech Drives itself, had been long forgotten. Ignored by those who had dismissed it for an existence somewhere more active, somewhere less eerily still and somewhere that offered more than the drowsy whisper of Beech Drives upon the end of day. There was an air of melancholy that lingered upon the place. It seemed to slither its way into the dosing lanes, and punctured the relaxed look of the town.
A deep magenta had set upon the walls of a large, brown brick house that sat, almost lazily, on the outskirts of the little suburb. The house was old, decaying, and the roaming climbers that masked its front window and most of the surrounding wall seemed to appear angry as they gradually engulfed the building in their leafy hold. A number of disassembled cars lay scattered across the front lawn, forming a sort of obstacle course before the house and adding to the ‘eye sore’ sense that hung about the property. A balcony protruded from the upper storey, adjoined to a large window that reflected the orange of the current twilight and revealed a withered lacy curtain, rippling gently in the breeze.
Beyond the curtain, a young girl was seated behind a desk, evidently absorbing herself in a sheet of paper that lay before her. Though the girl seemed comfortable in her surroundings, her appearance challenged the entire air of the building she occupied. She wore a short strapless black dress, and her hair was coloured a deep purple. Several brightly coloured, thick bangles adorned her wrists, and her hair was placed in a short ponytail set atop her head. A pair of shiny, vivid pink heels on her feet, she clicked them against the leg of the desk frequently as she stared at the paper in front of her. A pen gripped in her fingers, the girl lowered her hand to the sheet and began to write.

To the Pure, my dearest,

The girl paused. She seemed to be considering what to write. After a few moments, she sighed and put her pen to the paper once again.

There isn’t exactly too much to tell. I miss you. Before you say anything, and I know that you will say something as you read this, I am aware of the fact that you’re coming home in a few days. I’m so aware actually, that I know you’ll be boarding the plane in around 74 hours and 26 minutes. Approximately. And even though I miss you horribly and am hating Beech Drives without you, I wanted to write one last letter to my darling Katia, while she was on another continent (and yes, seeing as you may well read this as you’re flying, Albanian airspace does count as part of another continent). My world-exploring Katia. My Katia who, unlike me, got to experience another country, in Trianni or Tirono or Tyrannosaurus, or wherever it is you went.
I can almost hear you correcting me. But, I suppose I won’t have to wait much longer until I can listen to you correct everything wrong in my grammar until your heart is content. By that logic, I shouldn’t be sad. But I am. I’m sad because I don’t have any reasonable, any normal, any grammar-correcting Katia to keep me sane. Without you babe, Beech Drives sucks. In fact, it sucks even more than it usually sucks. It’s too hard for me to be here without you, Katia. The parents and the brother seem to agitate me even more so than they normally would, assuming you were here. In short, Beech Drives drains my brain and my soul and my heart. And without my Katia, it’s even harder to resist the temptation of smothering myself with a pillow. Of course, that was a joke. Gosh, I hope that plane speeds up. No pressure, babe.
Oh, you will be proud of me though; I managed to do something right while you’ve been away. I have a job, Katia! I am now officially the latest addition to the ‘warm and attentive team at Evers N’ Afters Eatery’ (quoted directly from the restaurant’s training video), and my first shift is Tuesday. I’m what they call the ‘maître d'’ (who knew that anybody in Beech Drives spoke a word of French!). You know, the hostess who stands at the door and allocates customers a table. I bet you’re proud of me, babe. I know I am.
I miss you, Katia. And I love you. You mean the world to me, even if I haven’t even seen as much of the world as you have. Now please, if I can manage to send you a letter consisting of over three sentences, I believe the least you could do is ‘persuade’ the pilot to fly his plane a little faster. And yes, I was winking as I wrote the word ‘persuade’.

Forever yours in the sweaty boredom of Beech Drives,

The Free Man.

PS. I have something to tell you when you get home, Pure. I’m so excited, and I know you will be too.

The shocking violet of the girl’s hair jiggled mischievously as she finished and placed the pen upon the desk before her. With a heaving groan, she thrust her chair backwards and stood. Her lack of height became immediately apparent; despite the highly stacked fuchsia heels she sported, she was noticeably petite. Her eyes were a potent colour of coffee, and were defined even further by the heavy use of metallic golden eye shadow. While her general appearance made it seem as though the girl looked somewhat vain, the way in which she pranced naturally across the room and towards the door complimented the way she dressed and the makeup she wore. A broad grin was upon her face, and it was almost as though the bright, dense cosmetics blended in with her usual features.
Upon reaching the door, the girl extended her fingers in desire of the handle. As it turned, a throaty cry floated through the air,
The girl’s beam faded at the call of her name, and she emerged from her bedroom with a pinched expression. She took only a step from the room, before halting and folding her arms.
A tall, gruff figure stood before Cokey. She took in the figure’s sullen presence and, almost systematically, she rolled her eyes and flung an incredulous laugh at her older brother.
‘Mm, Lehiff?’ she said, an air of impish distrust surrounding her. Lehiff did not respond, but merely stared at her with an impassive expression. His face emitted an idea of routine, that this kind of insincere conversation with his sister was a regular occurrence. His hair was ink-hued, dishevelled and apparently unwashed. It hung haphazardly around his equally dark eyes and his hands were thrust deep into his pockets. His chin was masked by a mass of disregarded stubble. Upon his left cheek was a smear of dirty, brown grease. Cokey noticed this and snickered,
‘I see you’ve actually been at work, dear brother.’ She laughed, placing a finger to her lips in mock observation, ‘How is Mr Michael White today?’
Cokey giggled to herself. Michael White, the father of Cokey’s closest friend, Katia, and Lehiff’s boss were the same person. Mr White was the proprietor of Mickey’s Mech-House, the car repair shop situated in the prime location of halfway down the main road of Beech Drives. She continued to titter when, after a few moments, Lehiff retorted harshly,
‘I see you’re still dressing like you should be standing on a corner, Charlotte.’
Cokey’s face fell, and became drawn. She narrowed her eyes and raised herself up onto the balls of her feet. Although she was obviously attempting to appear intimidating to her brother, she was not even close to matching his height.
‘I don’t like that, Lehiff. Whatever it says on my birth certificate, I dismiss the name Charlotte, thankyou. It is Cokey.’ She had evidently had almost enough of their meeting, and demanded, ‘Now what do you want?’
Lehiff’s hands remained in his pockets, and he had not even wiped the grease from his cheek. A tiny, hoarse groan sounded from the back of his throat and he grumbled,
‘Where’s the ladder?’
‘What?’ Cokey grimaced, confused.
‘The ladder. The one that’s usually in the garage, and today conveniently isn’t.’ He seemed impatient, ‘Where is it, Cokey?’
She was midway through an agitated remark back at him, stating that she had no idea where the ladder was, and that she didn’t see why she should have any idea where it was, when a thunderous crash and a high-pitched whimper erupted from the next room.
Without hesitation, Cokey’s neck whipped around in the direction of the shattering sound, and she saw Lehiff dashing towards his bedroom, liberally scattering swear words. Cokey followed instinctively. Her heart was immobile in the back of her mouth, and she gently pressed the door open upon reaching her brother’s room. Almost immediately, her previous panic dimmed and she released an irritated, though unsurprised cry.
Within his bedroom, half of Lehiff’s body had vanished out of the window. Following a few scrabbled moments, however, he materialised once more. Cokey grunted as she noticed he was now clutching the elbows of a busty redhead, who had evidently just tried to enter the room by hurling herself from the branches of a nearby tree. Cokey rested against the open door, her lips pursed, and observed her brother’s frantic attempts at heaving the well-endowed girl through his window.
‘Oh – ouch! Ohh, I really thought it would work. I did!’ The would-be home invader was stammering at Lehiff, ‘Oh, owie! Lee, that hurt!’
Once a panting Lehiff had managed to haul the girl successfully through his window and the two were collapsed on his bedroom floor, Cokey cleared her throat obnoxiously and sneered,
‘Ohh, the ladder, Lehiff?’
Her arms were crossed once more, and she was sniggering at them in contempt. Her brother turned to face the doorway, breathing rapidly.
‘It’s time for you to go now, Cokey’ He said.
Cokey merely shot him a disdainful look, cackled sarcastically and screeched,
‘Have fun, my darling brother! I look forward to meeting whichever half-witted, half-dressed wench blesses us with her presence in your bedroom tomorrow night!’
She slammed the door and commenced marching away. Although, she made certain she was still in their earshot when she bellowed,
‘You’re twenty-one, Lehiff. Move out!’

There we go!
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