Young Love
By Madonna Tweety
The cigarette Veronica held trembled slightly as J.D. outstretched his arms
before her. Completely the epitome of a deranged martyr. He was prepared to
pay for his sins; ready to clean the slate once and for all. Ironically, it
wasn't really surprising- he'd killed others for his cause, why not himself?
Her eyes glistened with moisture, yet she fought the urge to rush over to
him, stop the bomb, talk some sense into him. But there was no point, this
made perfect sense to him. Or, she could tangle her white hands in his
gleaming hair, press her firm lips against his own, and hold on tight. Every
life needs static after all, shouldn't he be the source of hers?
I. One look: 3 days ago
jd** From the moment he laid eyes on her, J.D. knew Veronica wouldn't be
like the others. Like some rude procession, they had paraded through the
hall. Loudly clad in glossy sheaths of yellow, green, and red. Talking,
laughing, tossing silk tresses over their shoulders. She was the fourth, the
last; a faint glimpse of ebony. She was obviously accepted. *Part of the
crowd* J.D. smiled as the nasal words of Mr. Floyd, the Guidance Counselor of
his last school rung in his head *You're not really part of the crowd, are
you Jason?*. Yet Veronica's boredom, almost tangible, set her apart. She
was, of course, attractive, but her gothic coloring made her more appealing
than any of his past conquests. Those lush black coils set against stark
white skin. Dark, dark eyes, much like his own. He'd been tempted to start
the seduction then, find some way to make her notice him. *Fucking Christ, I
sound like some kind of hormonal school boy* he thought* with a chuckle,
catching the eye of both his American History Prof. and that chick decked out
in lemon. He closed his eyes, feeling the quickenings of nicotine lust.
Snow White would be his, alright. All in good time.**
veronica**God, she can't get out of her head. That trench, that voice,
that look of defiance in his dark, clear eyes. She'd been helpless upon that
first sweeping of the caf with her gaze, had wanted desperately to stand up
for Martha; start some chaos. Then she'd seen it; personified. Jet black
hair, longish in back. Firm lips, sexily arched eyebrows. And, oh God,
those eyes. James Dean, but better. Heart accelerating, she gazed wistfully
at him, until being knocked back to reality; literally bumping into Betty
Finn.
II. Little Red
Riding Hood:2 days ago
veronica**Is this love? What is this? She'd really like to know. This
desperate feeling in the root of her stomach. This absence of guilt for the
death of her best friend (and worst enemy). Feeling such desire that she'd
killed, and let him lie about it? Is this just intense physical lust? No,
it has to be love, she's romped around before with the cream of the
post-Yuppie crop , this is much deeper. The blood coursing through her veins
quivers with the memory of him, this is real. Good for her, but what about
Heather?**
jd**It's starting again. Her hate, his action. As much as he loves it,
(because, God, he does) the pain he inflicts, compensation, sweet revenge
flowing into his emptiness, he doesn't know if he can do it again,
accompanied by Veronica. Deep down, lurks uncertainty. He's not sure just
how strong she is. But then again, her strength coupled with her love for
him could be positive. Maybe she'll be the one to help him spread his way.
Help him clean the slate. What a thrill, what a fucking rush it had been.
Serving that bitch a rightfully earned cup 'o Hull Clean, scaring all the
other sheep into not being such assholes. But something's not working this
time- he's started thinking about her; the one who abandoned him so many
years ago. Didn't even the decency to leave- just went and fucking blew
her... NO NO NO, he can't think about it. So why is he?? Is he weaker? Is it
this fucking place? Or is it Veronica? The way he feels about her reminds
him of ... JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, he can't go there.
III. Cleaning the Slate: 2: now
J.D. held his breath, ready for the blow, prepared to feel just like she did,
prepared to join her. Or maybe not. Most likely not. But, what did it
matter? He hated his mother now anyway. Hated her for leaving, for failing
him. For the first time in his life, the floodgates parted and genuine
happiness swept in. He was making up for it, ready to do his proverbial
"time". Eternity.
The bomb suddenly halted, letting out staccato shrieks. Irritably, he rapped
on it with his fist, all the while watching Veronica. The difference in this
god forsaken hellhole was not only his locker combination, it had also been
her. Their love had triggered something ancient inside of him. Humanity
...Boom
Memory: Epilogue
"Did you say a cherry or coke slushy?" J.D. smiled at her, arching his
eyebrows in a seductive manner.
Wielding a twizzler, Veronica's upper lip curled back demurely as she
retorted ," I didn't. Cherry."
She looked outside, admiring the clear complexity of the stars, her senses
intoxicated with J.D. If young love ever existed, this was it.