Yes, another short piece I've written out of pure boredom. It is AU and set at the time where everybody is a teenager and peer pressure plays a significant role in their lives. This particular narrative is light and pretty much as Sakura-like as I can make it. It is rated T for teenage pregnancy, but like I said, Sakura's narrative is clean. Clean of profanity that is. I thought I could try a hand at this kind of narrative work again. I think sometimes it's rather fun and challenging. Please, feel free to tell me what you think. Heck, flame on (only if you critique, too). Yeah, I'm in a good mood, so I'm letting a few things slide.
Disclaimer: Sakura Kinomoto and Syaoran Li are not mine. Obviously. Duh. Like. Whatever. – Ahahaha… You can all hate me for sounding like a brainless blob tonight. I like taking on new roles.
The things I do for my friends astound me. The things I do for my friends are beyond what I might do for myself. I am the greatest gift to all of human kind and that is not debatable, my friend. I jump hurdles for them, eat dirt for them, and kiss butts for them. Yes, that's me. I do everything for my friends even take a bullet for them.
I love Naoko, my best friend. She appreciates what I do for her, what I have done for her. I guess there are cruel and unusual conditions to this friendship, but I don't think Naoko meant for there to be conditions. It is my choice to help a friend in need. You cannot refuse someone clawing at your skirt as she crawled at your feet like some four-legged creature with bark and no bite. If you have a heart too, you would have gone with her every whim.
I grimace as I stand next to the gaping automatic doors of the drug store, dreading what I am about to do. The things that got one foot in first is that nagging voice saying, 'It's all for your best friend' and that memory of the cute pouting face of the best friend incessantly thanking you after you agree to do her a favor. I certainly cannot put off these things, lose my nerve, and dart out of there like a scared kitten. I cannot think for myself at such a crucial point of our teenage lives. No.
So... Here's the game plan I am walking through at this very moment. I grab a basket and go to the groceries aisle. I pick a few chocolate bars from the sweets section and slowly, but steadily edge to the Health Aids aisle. I look at a very nice and tight foot wrap that will fit my aching soles quite perfectly. Then, I twiddle my thumbs and skip further down the aisle holding a box of foot wrap. I toss that box in the basket and in the same motion snatch one of those pregnancy tests. I am burning up like a summer heat wave in the middle of a winter solstice. This is not part of the game plan.
I mean, me snatching that pregnancy test is the main reason for a game plan. Me-boiling like a festering sore is not part of the game plan. I am supposed to be smooth and calm, if not incognito. I am still wearing my school uniform, darn it. Naoko had better not be pregnant, dog gone it. I just might have a seizure, fudge it. Crud. I think I see someone with the same school colors go into the aisle next to mine.
Well, I walk up and down the aisle for a minute longer, trying to come up with some sneaky plan to get away without having to spend every yen in my pocket for just a stupid pregnancy test. Goodbye month's savings if I have to buy candy that I don't want to eat and a foot wrap that probably does not fit my extra small foot.
I sweat. There is no avoiding this. Naoko will only reimburse me for this one stupid little box with a stick in it. I set no conditions for a friend in need. I straighten my back and square my shoulders as I march to the counter run by a young woman a couple of years my senior. She rings my items up and puts them in a plastic bag, but when she gets to the last item she pauses and finally looks up to stare at me. I sweat beady balloons of sweat and I get the feeling that someone coming up behind me is also staring daggers into my backside. I am as rigid as a doe caught in a set of headlights.
"Would you like this in a separate bag?" The stupid clerk girl asks very loudly.
I want to tear one at her. 'Why are you being so loud and obnoxious, you stupid woman?' Uhn, but I dare not be rude and just take the box from that fluttering hand. "No," I croak. I turn with the box still in my hand and the purchases in a separate bag are in my other hand. I don't pay much attention when I get nervous.
I turn and walk right into a solid human wall, wearing my school colors; the gray-blue blazer over a white shirt and navy tie. He wears black slacks instead of my black knee-length skirt. Dang it! Syaoran Li! Out of all people, it has to be the one guy who hates my guts.
How do I know he hates me? It's simple. When my teacher paired us up the first time, she calls out my name and his name. Immediately after she announces us as a pair, Syaoran Li goes, "who?" One year later, we wind up in the same class and he still calls me "hey you." Only a guy who hates my guts will refuse to remember my name.
The boy grunts at me and gives me a disdainful look as my face bounces off his chest. The fire in his eyes are lethal and the only sound that comes out of my horrified body is "eep." He is the one who snatches the dreaded thing that falls out of my hand in midair. Syaoran Li looks at it and glances back at me. His glare is deadly as it stays longer on me. My pregnancy test is back in my possession and I see a yellow balloon face with the two black dots and a wide U. That is what's on the pregnancy box. Seriously.
"You're in my way," he says, looking through my face and behind my shoulder at the stupid clerk girl.
"It's not what you think!" I blurt out as I hover over his elbow, desperate to explain myself.
"I don't know what not to think," he merely stated in a grumble.
This boy will be the bane of my existence if I do not attempt to redeem and explain myself.
"This is merely for…"
"Cheerleader, you don't have to explain your personal life to me. What you do or who you hit it off with is not my business."
I blink in shock and point at him. He went cross-eyed staring at my pointer as I state, "You know I'm a cheerleader."
"Kinomoto, I know what you are and any jock in our school can be the father."
Okay. Seizure time.