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Bubblegum Pop by AzureEyedI






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Table of Contents
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Story Notes:

Top 10 Finisher in the Les Femmes Noires contest on ff.net! Thanks to everyone who voted and loved Miss Ness.

Nessie Cullen is her Daddy's Girl. Oh yes, indeedy do, she is....

Story banner created by the fantabulous shalu!

Author's Chapter Notes:

Just a one-shot that I wrote for the Les Femmes Noires contest. Enjoy!

 

Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer Owns Everything Twilight. I play around with the characters.

 

Supervisory Beta: qjmom

Jr. Validation Beta: LittleYellowPorsche

 

 


My name is Renesmee Carlie Cullen, I’m fifteen years old, and my mom is the biggest bitch in the world.

 ##

She’s a moron. She doesn’t understand me at all. She’s always after me to pick up my room, turn down the sound system that Uncle Jasper and Uncle Emmett bought for me, and constantly rides my ass over the clothes I wear, like she’s Tim Gunn or something. Her fashion sense is from K-Mart; the next thing I know, she’ll be stuffing her ass into those horrible mom jeans.

For example, first day of school I show up in the kitchen at Grandma and Grandpa’s house wearing black fishnet stockings covered by black knee-high socks with white stripes around the edge, a chartreuse tutu that Auntie Alice bought me, black tee-shirt that shows off my girls to their best advantage, my bangs were dyed a neon purple, and my favorite doorknockers in my ears.

She. Goes. Nuts.

 “Renesmee Carlie Cullen, you march right back out to the cottage and change those clothes. There is no way I’m letting you out of the house looking like that.”

 “Like what, mom?”

 “Like, a, a streetwalker.”

 “How would you know what a streetwalker looks like?”

 “Don’t you sass me, young lady!”

This is coming from a woman who is eternally eighteen.

Daddy just looks up from his book, rolls his eyes, and points me in the direction of our house. I know better than to argue with him; he knows what I’m going to say before I even say it.

Shit.

##

 I hate my name; it’s so ghetto.

 At school, the other girls can’t get over that my nickname is Nessie, much less pronounce my real name: “Who names their kid after some freaky dinosaur?” Laughing at me as I stand there in the hallway, seething, trying to control my temper, not smash their perfectly made-up faces into the lockers, remembering that Daddy told me how much stronger I am than the other kids, how I could kill them without meaning to, and that we don’t need that kind of attention, Grandpa likes his job at the hospital.

 Like, duh, Daddy.

 I get more grief from the bitchiest one of all, Kaela Van Bock, that freaking cheerleader who loves to credit card the jocks in the hallway during passing time. She whips out that pre-paid VISA card her dad gave her, and swipes it down Hunter Stevens’s ass crack when she sashays past him, swinging her hips back and forth like she’s advertising she’s open and ready for business. He always jumps about three feet in the air and acts like he’s all shocked, but if I brush by his arm, I can see that he’s loving it, and wishing he could do more to her than just credit card her ass.

Maybe I should whip out the AmEx Guardian card I have; that black beauty will shut her the fuck up.

I wish my name were something like Katie or Taylor or Emily.

Something normal, not like something a teenager would name her baby.

##

Then there’s Jake.

Jacob Black, that stupid wolf who is my constant shadow; if you can call some dork who’s over six feet tall, built like Kellan Lutz and radiates heat like it’s August in Vegas a shadow.

Apparently when I was born, he took one look at me and did that stupid imprinting thing the pack does; I was what, one hour old, and he pulls this stunt? I hadn’t even seen Mom yet, but he takes one look at me and gets all goofy and slobbery and won’t let anyone else hold me, not even Auntie Rosalie. Uncle Emmett told me that Jake and Auntie Rosalie got into some big fight when I was born, and Grandma was pissed about them breaking the doorframe they fought in. She’s such a freak about the house; everything has to be perfect, nothing out of place.

She’d die if she saw my room; Daddy doesn’t even bother going into it anymore, told me he can’t stand seeing my posters of Rob Pattinson all over the walls, especially that one with the creepy eyes that follow you all over the room, you know the one, from that vampire movie he was in? He and Daddy look a lot alike.

So anyhow, back to Jake. Jake thinks we’re getting married some day. As if. There is no way I’d marry Jake, much less kiss him. He’s just too hot and hairy and acts like a wimp, always asking if he can get me something, do I want a drink, something to eat, do I want to take a spin on his bike? What can he do for me?

He’s such a pain in the ass.

When I was a baby, I loved him; he was a big ol’ fur ball of a mountain to climb up and over and down, like an overgrown puppy. I loved playing with him like that.

But now I just wish he’d leave me alone, because I’m not interested in him at all much less in kissing him.

##

I’d love to kiss Hunter Stevens.

 ##

 Mom drives me to school. Still.

 I want to slither down into the passenger seat of that super-safe Volvo of hers and die; she drives so freaking slow, and besides it’s not like I don’t know how to drive.

 Mom won’t let me drive to school, says I need more practice before I can. But she won’t let me even drive to Grandpa Charlie’s house, so how am I supposed to get practice?

I have a car; Daddy bought me a cute VW Bug for my fifteenth birthday.  I named it Betty; it’s creamy white, and he even put a fake yellow daisy in it for me, because, he told me, “I’m his daisy”.

I love my Daddy; unlike Mom, he leaves me alone, doesn’t get on my ass about stuff.

Everyone else drives themselves or carpools with their friends. Hell, Mom and Dad did it when they went to Forks High, and that wasn’t that long ago.

They told the lady in the office the day they registered me for tenth grade that my name was Renesmee Masen, and that they had adopted me.

Well, they did graduate three years ago; it would be kinda hard to explain how their three year old looked and acted like a fifteen year old.

I even have the same Biology teacher they did when they met; sit at the same lab table, too.

Right next to Hunter Stevens, my lab partner.

Who doesn’t even know I exist.

##

I sit on the stool next to the window, exactly where my Daddy sat, the one with that stuffed white owl behind my shoulder, making me look like I have wings.

If I run my fingertips under the edge of the table, I can feel the deep grooves in the wood and plastic that Daddy made with his fingertips when he first got a whiff of my mom’s blood; I can’t smell Hunter’s blood, but I bet it’s just as sweet as a bag of Strawberry Twizzlers, my favorite candy in all the world.

Hunter Stevens has dirty blonde shaggy surfer boy hair that brushes those blue eyes of his that look like sapphires; I should know, since Daddy gave me a sapphire ring for my birthday along with the car. I wear it on my right ring finger, and I know that bitch Kaela was scoping it out in our Advanced English class. She’s about as subtle as Jake asking me if I want something to drink when I have a bottle of water in front of me.

Hunter smells like fresh air and sweat and cotton and what I think a human boy would smell like.

Not like Jake, who smells like a big, wet, sweaty dog.

##

Hunter Stevens and I are dissecting frogs. He’s letting me do most of the work, because he thinks cutting dead frogs “is gross.”

  “You don’t mind this, cutting and ripping its guts out, Nellie?”

Nellie.

He doesn’t even know my name. He has a gray v-neck sweater on, with a pale blue tee shirt on underneath it.

He smells like heaven; maybe that’s his Axe Chocolate cologne.

  “Nessie.”

  “Huh?” Glances over at me from scribbling in his notebook; X’s and O’s and arrows, must be some kind of football thing. 

  “Nessie. My name is Nessie, not Nellie. And no, I don’t mind it, my grandpa is a doctor, so it’s not a big deal for me to, uh, you know, cut stuff.”

  “Your grandpa’s a doctor, huh?” I edge my right pinky finger closer to his left arm trying to get a read on him, see what’s rolling around that hot blonde head of his.

  “Yes, he’s the head of the ER at the hospital.” I’m so close, if he just stays still, I can...

   “Doctor Cullen is your grandpa? You live in that huge old house outside of town?” Pulling his arm back, he folds it into his right arm, leaning forward and turns his head towards me.

Shit.

 “Uh, yeah. Actually we live in a smaller house behind that, my Dad and Mom and me.”

 “Wow. You guys must be loaded, to live in that place. My uncle Mike told me he went to some huge wedding there a few years ago, couldn’t believe it.” Scratches his head, just about to open his mouth again, but then the bell rings and he snaps it shut.

 “Oh, well, Nessie, see you next week.”

And with that, he bolts out of his seat, jogging towards the door in his black sweat pants, yelling for one of his friends on the football team.

Leaving me sitting there, confused and anxious, hardly able to breathe.

Nessie. He called me Nessie.

##

The next Friday, Uncle Emmett drives me to school to watch our Forks Spartans take on the Chimacum Cowboys in football. Mom won’t let me drive.

Again.

When we turn right out of our driveway, Uncle Emmett pulls his Jeep off to the side of the road, and throws it in park, turns and gives me that big ol’ grin of his and tells me “Hop on out Lollipop, yer drivin’”.

I love my Uncle Emmett. He is so beast.

When we get to the game, he tells me to have fun and that he’ll meet me at the same spot we changed drivers at then winks at me and ambles over to watch the game, far enough away from me that no one will suspect we’re together, but near enough to make sure no one hassles me.

No boy will, at least.

##

I sit in the stands with my two BFF’s Laidy and Madison. We’re cheering on our Spartans and having a great time. Flirting with the boys behind us even though they’re freshman and so immature, when it happens.

There’s a break in the game, and I glance over to our bench to see Hunter Stevens scanning the crowd, like he’s looking for someone in particular.

And when he sees me, he calls my name, breaking out that huge grin of his that makes my heart beat faster, and he waves to me.

To me!

That’s when that bitch, Kaela Von Bock , prances up to him in her short little rah-rah skirt, the one that barely covers her fat ass, pulls his face down to hers and slips him the tongue in front of me and everybody in the stands, then looks up at me and shoots me that evil cheerleader grin of hers.

I. Want. To. Die.

Laidy and Madison hug me, telling me not to let her bother me, she’s a skank and everybody knows it, but still.

Uncle Emmett doesn’t ask me why I’m so quiet when I pick him up down the road from the house, just turns up volume to Beautiful, Dirty, Rich bouncing from the Jeep’s awesome sound system, ruffles my hair and smiles at me.

“I know, Lollipop. Girls can be The Suck.”

I love my Uncle Emmett. He is so beast.

##

One month later, I’m standing outside school, waiting for somebody to pick me up after orchestra rehearsal. I’m not sure who is coming for me, I think maybe Auntie Rosalie or Uncle Jasper; Mom still won’t let me drive to school, the bitch.

Hunter Stevens is still my lab partner, just talks about class with me, nothing else. Doesn’t ask me what I like to read, what music I like, if I want to eat lunch with him in the cafeteria.

Just like Daddy did with my Mom.

There, but aloof. Drove Mom crazy, his mood swings; he still has them, and they still annoy her.

  “Nessie.  Hey, NESSIE!”

I look up, startled; I have Muse blasting on my ear buds. It’s Hunter, and he’s smiling at me, sitting in his beater Ford Ranger, with the Mariners and Seahawks stickers on the bumper.

  “Oh, uh, hi Hunter.”

  “Want a ride?”

He sits there smiling and waiting for my response. I look around, thinking he must be talking to someone else, maybe Kaela; I knew they dated for a while, until she dumped him for the quarterback; Hunter is the punter, usually rides the pine, but he doesn’t seem to mind it.

  “Hello? Nessie? Want a ride home?”

I don’t say a thing, just stare at him as some magical force field drags my feet across the cement and then onto the blacktop, raises my right hand onto the door handle, pulls and opens the door, then lifts my feet up and into the cab of the pickup, all without saying a word to him.

He laughs at me, the right side of his mouth sets into a little smirk as he does.

  "Cat got your tongue, Ness?”

 Ness. He called me Ness.

  “Oh, uh, no, and yeah, thanks.” I mumble. What the hell is wrong with me, why can’t I talk to him?

 We don’t say anything as we rumble over the blacktop, turning left out of the parking lot, towards town. Just sit there in silence, listening to some guy on his CD player singing about being “a punk rocker, yes I am.”

 Suck in my breath, looking for some excuse to ‘accidentally’ graze my fingers over his arm, his hand; seek out his thoughts, what he’s thinking about, if he’s thinking about me.

  “Who is this?”

 Turns those sapphire blue eyes back to me, grinning.

  “Iggy Pop. You like?”

  “Who is he?”

 He laughs at my ignorance, shaking his head. “Iggy is my guru, you could say; I like that old punk stuff. But he recorded this with some Swedish band a few years ago. He’s beast.”

   “Oh.”

 Turns the sound down a bit. Now somebody else is singing, a song about guns in Brixton or something.

  “What kind of music do you like, Nessie?”

 My hand is so close to his right leg, I can feel the heat hovering there. He smells of sweat and grass and shoulder pads. He had football practice after school, getting ready for State.

  “Me? Uh, I like Britney and the Jonas Brothers and Lady GaGa.” Oh my God, Nessie, why did you tell him that? He’s gonna think you’re a loser. The JoBros?

 Throws his head up towards the roof of the cab, grinning. Inch my left hand closer, almost there...

  “Bubblegum pop, huh?”

  “What?”

  “That type of music, my dad calls it Bubblegum Pop. You know, popular music.”

  “How do you know about that, what it’s called?”

 We’re at the stoplight in the center of town, halfway home. Oh God, he must think I’m a total loser, the music I told him I like. He listens to old punk stuff I can’t even imagine and...

  “My dad teaches the history of popular music up at Peninsula; he’s an old punk rocker, loves The Ramones and Blondie, stuff like that. For him, anything recorded after 1984 is crap.”

 I have to laugh at that one. His dad sounds like my dad; except with my dad, music stopped being relevant after 1918.

  “What do you like, other than Iggy Whathisname?” I venture.  My left index fingertip grazing his jacket, I can sense waves and ocean, but not like the ocean here; his water is warmer.

  “Oh, just about anything. Don’t tell anybody, but I really like Debussy. My mom used to play Clair de Lune for me when I was a kid. It was my lullaby, I guess. Always did the trick.” He has a happy little smile on his face, remembering that moment with his mom.

 Debussy. Just like Daddy did for me.

  “What does your mom do?” Now I’m seeing that he misses her. His parents must be divorced.

  “As little as possible. She lives in LA, is married to some movie producer; she’s met that Rob Pattinson guy, did you know that?”

  “Really? Wow. Are your parents...”

  “Divorced? Yeah. When they split they decided that LA is no place to raise a kid, so I moved up here with Dad when I was ten. Love it here, I don’t care for LA, it’s too crowded and dirty.”

 Turns right down towards our house, and we’re almost there; I so do not want to leave this truck, his presence. I feel so comfortable with him, but scared to death at the same time.

  “Where do you live?”

  “Do you know where Chief Swan lives? I live two houses away.”

  “Yeah, I know him.” What else can I say to him? Yeah, he’s my other grandpa, and did you know that his daughter is my Mom, and that we’re not like other people in town? “Oh, our drive is up here on the left, thanks.”

 Bumping down the gravel and dirt drive, he whistles in appreciation when he sees the ancient hardwoods lining the drive. When it opens up to the house, his whistle dies and I hear a soft ‘Whoa’ come from his mouth.

 I have my finger on his leg now, so softly he doesn’t even notice it. I hear his thoughts and just want to bolt from the truck:

 Holy shit, look at this place. Uncle Mike wasn’t kidding when he told me they lived in a mansion. And she lives in another house here? Jesus, they must be loaded.

 Uncle Mike told me that they’re different, that he had a major crush on her mom but that they’re not like other people and to watch my ass around Nessie, ‘cause her dad can be one scary dude, but she seems okay; kinda weird but really sweet and pretty.

 I pull my hand away from Hunter’s leg like it’s been shocked. I see my Mom watching us from the living room, Daddy’s grand piano behind her. Oh Jesus, she’s wearing some awful sweatshirt and reading Wuthering Heights again.           

 Hunter turns towards me, looks really uncomfortable all of a sudden.

 “Well, uh, Ness, guess I’ll see you in Bio lab, then.”

 Grab my books and bag; I can’t get out of that cab fast enough, throw open the door.

 “Thanks for the ride, Hunter. Uh, yeah,” I mutter, not returning his gaze.

Hop down onto the gravel drive, slamming the door behind me, fly up the stairs, through the front door and past Mom’s questioning stare, head towards the back door. Punch it open and skitter my way back to my room, deep in the forest.

Kinda weird.

Lock the door flinging my junk on the floor, leap into my bed.

Sobbing.

##

  “No, absolutely not Nessie. Not without someone going along with you.”

 “But Mom, I got my license a month ago. Come on, it’s just to Grandpa Charlie’s house. I want to bake cookies with Sue. You never do stuff like that with me.”

 It’s a month after Hunter gave me a ride home from school and neither of us has spoken about that day.

 He’s still nice and all, but now I feel like a wall has been thrown up between us, something that we both could probably break down, if either of us had the guts to throw the first punch.

 I know which house is his, where his bedroom is: second floor, in the back, has a nice big oak tree outside his bedroom window. Newer windows. I saw the guys installing them last summer, before I knew it was his house, his room.

 His window.

  “No. And that’s final.” Goes back to reading Pride and Prejudice. For my mom, literature ended with the deaths of Jane Austen and the Bronte sisters.

 I look at Daddy, hoping he’ll give me permission, make my eyes look all weepy and big. I know they’ve been arguing; they aren’t getting along like they used to. I heard Mom yelling at him last night, saying he was distant and what the hell was his problem, didn’t he love her anymore. He didn’t say much of anything, just told her he needed some space or something.

 And they sure don’t make as much, uh, noise as they used to. I would stuff my ear pods into my ears and shove a pillow over my head to shut out the sounds they made at night; it was disgusting.

 Daddy’s been going up to Denali a lot lately too; won’t say why, but I wonder if they’re thinking of splitting up. I know Auntie Tanya and he have been talking a lot. I heard him on the phone with her last week, and his end of the convo was really hushed, like he didn’t want anyone to hear what he was saying.

 “Oh let her go, Bella, she needs the practice, and Charlie and Sue enjoy her company. Plus she loves to bake, what’s the harm?” Goes back to tinkering around on the piano again, shutting Mom out.

Mom glared at him, then back at me. “Fine, go ahead. Just be home by ten.”

My smile could melt ice. “Thanks, Daddy!” Fling my arms around his neck, give him a huge hug and kiss his cheek.

And that’s when I knew I was right about him and Auntie Tanya.

##

I called Mom from Grandpa Charlie’s house, asked if it was okay if I spent the night there; we had off from school the next day, and I love hanging out with him.

When I stay at Grandpa Charlie’s house, I sleep in Mom’s old room. It’s kinda weird to sleep in her old bed, knowing that Daddy used to slip into her room through the window he oiled so Grandpa wouldn’t hear it creak and moan when he slid it up.  Mom was thinking about that when I hugged her after they’d been arguing over God knows what, and Daddy drove off in his Aston Martin.

Daddy would stand there and watch Mom sleep, which I think is pretty creepy, but whatever...

##

The window slides open just as silently as it did when Daddy slid it open.

I slip down to the ground landing on the balls of my feet, stealthy as a cat. Hold my breath, listening to Grandpa’s snores, steady and loud. He has no idea I’m not asleep, tucked under Mom’s old quilts, dreaming of Hunter Stevens.

Glide along the grass between Grandpa’s house and the Stevens’ house. The lights are off there, and I can hear the gentle breathing of his family as they slumber, deep in REM sleep, unaware of my presence.

Skitter up the Oak tree, balancing myself on the branch just across from Hunter’s room where he sleeps, dreaming of what, I don’t know.

Yet.

Reach over and slowly slide open his bedroom window, watching as the moonlight floods his room through the blue and gray plaid curtains as I part them, slipping into his room on my tip toes, not wanting to awaken him by stepping on the old floorboards, making them creak.

Hunter Stevens sleeps on his left side, his right arm thrown backwards over his body; he wears a pair of old gray sweatpants, and nothing else. I catch a glimpse of soft blonde hair trailing down his belly, continuing under the edge of his sweatpants.

He turns in his sleep onto his back, right leg bent while his left arm drapes across his thatch of blonde hair, murmuring and then falling back into the black abyss of sleep.

While I stand in a corner of his room, across from his bed, watching him.

Just like my Daddy.

###

 

Chapter End Notes:

Thanks to my betas: Reagan O’ Connor and Ceci9293 for their grammar review and gentle beatings over this story. Also to bethaboo.

Also a huge Dating Game Kiss to my daughter, Lainie P., for her help with current teen vernacular and getting it right. Love you, Lollipop!

To all my sistas on UU: MWAH!

Might be expanding this after December into a short series. Let me know if you'd like to read more about Missy Emo!

 

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