Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

I was numb. The fight my parents had three weeks ago was still fresh in my mind like the salty smell of the ocean was in my nostril. The blond stripper sitting clueless in my parents’ bed pissed me off, like having a burning pit of fire crawl up into your throat, just waiting to be released — spreading from the tips of my toes, to the tips of my fingers, to the tips of my eyelashes.

I wanted to kill that stripper as much as my mother did, but worse yet, I wanted my father’s head on a pygmy pole to be displayed in the “Bastard Hall of Fame” — with him being the star attraction, of course. Being the only other female in the house, I was the one who comforted my mother, getting her to the next day. I was her anchor, her savior. I was always there for her. My two brothers don’t exactly have an idea what to do when it comes to female emotions.

I felt someone punch my leg, rip off my ear phones and shout in my face, “We’re here! Isn’t it exciting?”

My head whipped around and I glared at my brother. Sam. Grr, he is such a little kid. I cannot believe that he’s older than I am. By one stinking year. Christ, he still likes comic books. They’re like his babies. You so much as poke one, and he lashes out at you. Jeez, talk about hormonal or what?

“Don’t touch me,” I growled. And Sam, being the idiot he is, laughed at me. My glare increased.

He then shook his head and sniffed the air like the puppy he reminded me of. “What’s that smell?”

“It’s the ocean, dumb ass. If you spent half the time outside as you do with your nose in a comic book, you’d know what that is,” I spat.

“Honey, play nice,” my mother chided me. I rolled my eyes at her.

“Yeah, Honey-Bee, play nice. Don’t be so cold; it’s a new town. Maybe you’ll make some friends this time,” my other brother — Michael — teased. I poked my tongue out at him.

Michael is the only one I like out of the family. He’s not annoying, and he’s definitely not emotional. Quiet, keeps to himself… most of the time. Easy to get along with, as long as he isn’t in protective brother bear mode.

So, who does that leave out now…? Oh yeah — me. If you haven’t guessed it yet, then, yes, my name is Honey. Most people just call me Hon, Honey-Bee, or Bumble-bee. I don’t mind being called Hon or Honey-Bee; those nicknames are great, and I like them — especially the way they sound. But, believe me, if someone calls me Bumble-bee, I will be sure to give that person a good telling-off (instead of ripping off their head and throwing it in a dumpster, because that would be murder, which is the last thing I’d want to do to somebody). My father gave me that nickname when I was stung on the nose by a bumblebee.

Basically, I’m the loud one, I hold my family up, I’m the glue for my mother. I drink, I smoke. I’ve done weed once (but never again, though). I go to parties and come home at one in the morning. I’ll sleep in until one in the afternoon, go to another party and repeat the cycle. At times, I drive my mother crazy. Sam doesn’t notice, and Michael tries to be a fatherly figure. But in reality, I know he doesn’t really care.

“Welcome to Santa Carla” obstructed our view, I turned in my seat, as did Michael, and caught the eerie lettering of the words “Murder capital of the world” on the back of the sign. We looked at each other, confused.

I was jerked out of my thoughts as my mother pulled into a narrow driveway. I climbed out and stretched. Hearing my joints crack, I sighed, looking around. I spotted the house in front of me; it sort of looked lopsided, like it was going to topple over any moment — too complicated, like too many things had been added over the years. I groaned, glaring up at the house. This is going to be so much fucking fun.

“Aw, lighten up, Hon. It ain’t gonna be so bad.” Michael smiled, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

“Yeah, right,” I doubted, shrugging him off and walking into the house. Sam and Mom had already gone in after Grandpa was finished playing dead.

“Hey Grandpa, which one’s my room?” I asked.

“Hmm, oh right. Last one down the hall, on your…”, he trailed off, lifting up his hands to make two ‘L’s, “left.”

I shook my head and made my way upstairs. Walking into my room, I looked around and sighed.

In the corner there was a double bed, a bedside table, a desk beside the window a small dresser and a closet to the right of the doorway. Opening the door to my closet, I found a smaller room.

“A walk-in. Impressive.” I smiled lightly. Of course, it wasn’t as big as the one at my old house, but it would do. Shutting the door, I walked over to the window and cracked it open. I stuck my head out and smelt the air. Looking down I noticed the lattice beside my window. I grinned. “Maybe living here won’t be so bad after all.”

For now, I stood there thinking of all the times I’d use it as my escape route.

Later that night, I was in my room tidying up, and putting my things in their place — the radio, along with my giant stack of CDs sat on the desk, while my makeup and hair supplies were on my dresser. My clothes took up my whole closet and my dresser. It was just barely starting to feel like home.

“Knock knock,” came a voice at my door.

“Hey, Michael,” I sighed.

“Mom, Sam and I were going to go down to the Boardwalk. Mom’s in need of a job. You wanna come?” he asked.

“Sure, gimme a second.” Walking over to the dresser, I pulled out one of my many pairs of jeans, and a simple low cut black tank that hugged my curves, and then threw my curly, red-brown hair into two low pigtails. After putting on my trademark brown cowboy boots, I walked down stairs.

“I swear, this is going to be like, my life or something. I mean, look at all the people, and when I mean people, I mean boys. The lights. The nightlife.” I sighed.

“Told you you’d like it here.” Michael laughed.

“I never said I’d like it here. Just the only thing good in the place is the boardwalk,” I reasoned.

“Right, you just like the boys here. If you ask me, you’re too young to be dating anyway,” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Talk about pot calling the kettle black from my perspective. You should talk; after all, you’re sixteen, and you don’t even notice girls yet. If you ask me, your love life is those stupid comic books you read. Get over it. No girl is gonna want to date someone who still reads about superheroes!” I growled.

“You should talk yourself,” Sam replied coolly.

“Hey! Knock it off you two,” Michael smacked us upside the head. We glared at him, and I huffed, looking away.

“Hey, Michael, can I go into that comic book store?” Sam’s eager voice floated through my ears; I snorted.

“Yea, why not,” Michael said as he continued to walk down the boardwalk, while I followed.

I begged Michael for us to stop by the free, mini band that was playing at the stage. I loved music if you didn’t know already; I live for it. Especially rock music. Pop and some hip hop is good too. As I was jumping up and down, trying to see the band, I noticed Michael eyeing a girl. Hmm… it looks like Michael’s got a skirt to chase, I thought slyly.

“C’mon, let’s go.” Michael tugged on my arm, his gaze never leaving the girl.

“Awww. But Michael, we only just got here.” I whined, but let him tug me along anyways.

“Where are we going anyway?” I asked as I practically ran to keep up with his brisk strides.

“Just walking,” he said. I looked between him and the girl he was watching.

“You’re chasing that girl, aren’t you? C’mon, Mike. I really don’t need to be seeing you drooling over her. You’ll scar me for life,” I groaned. Michael laughed, and jogged forward a little more.

“Hey,” he called.

“Oh, hello,” the girl called out in an airy voice.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Star,” she stated.

“Really? That’s a cool name. I like Star,” I piped up from behind the two. Michael rolled his eyes at me.

“I do, too,” she nodded.

“I’m Michael,” he stated.

“Michael. Michael’s great. I like Michael,” she said, and then smiled. Apparently, she liked the way it sounded; I could just tell.

“Wanna go and get something to eat?”

“Sure, but what are you doing chasing me around, if you already have a girl with you?” Star asked.

“Oh, silly me. This is my sister.”

“I see. Does your sister have a name?” Star looked at me.

“Honey,” I smiled.

“Honey. I like that name. It’s cute,” she replied and smiled at me.

I grinned in return. “Thanks.”

We continued to walk when a chilling voice called out, “Where’re you going, Star?”

“To get something to eat is all, David,” she sighed.

I turned around to face four boys all on motor bikes. Three of them were blond, one a brunette. All of them looked as if they stepped out of the 80’s — not to mention the one who seemed to be the leader was pretty cute.

“Who’s this?” the boy David asked, nodding towards Michael.

“This is Michael.” I stood coolly, leaning against the brick wall, watching the group converse. Michael stiffened a little.

“Michael? Hmm. Say, why don’t you come for a ride with us?” David invited.

“Um, I don’t think so. Not tonight. I’ll see you around, Star?” he asked.

“Yes, you will,” came her reply from the back of David’s bike. I watched as Michael walked away. I turned my gaze back to the boys and smirked playfully. David was looking at me along with the others. He winked at me and I raised my eyebrows.

“Move yourself, Honey!” Michael called. I saw him standing there, giving me a look that clearly said he wanted to go, now.

“All right, all right. Keep yourself together. I’m coming. Geez, you have no patience whatsoever!” I grumbled as I broke into a light jog over to my brother, where he grabbed the back of my neck and guided me forward.