A vignette about Meg and Jacob
Jul. 30th, 2003 07:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
taratemimaThis is one small part of a whole world I made up, where teenagers in early 80s Massachusetts suburbia interact with fairies of myth and grow up with them. Over time, they find that their worlds are more closely linked than they think.
Here's about two of them, Jacob Bridges, a band geek and Meg Dunsmuir, a part fey enforcer whose otherwise a normal, slightly naive teenage girl.
"I'd like to have dinner with your family, Jacob." Meg then pushes a brown curl out of her face. "I mean, if you want to."
I couldn't think of a word to say. "I thought I'd treat you to dinner here," I reply, almost wishing I could slide into my seat and take my apple pie with cheddar cheese with me. I'm taking her to Pie Palace so I won't have her see my family.
Okay, she already has seen my family, when she comes to the door to get me for tea and whatever. Now, there's nothing wrong with her. In fact, she is the best thing to happen to me this summer.
It wasn't her appearance. She has thick dark curly hair tied back, freckles across her nose and under her green eyes, and a round face. Then again, so do other girls.
She was short and looked like she ran track, but so do other girls.
The difference is her eyes twinkled at the sight of me, that she never takes them off of me, and she smiles everytime she is around me. It makes it hard to refus her anything.
So, why does she want to have dinner with my family? Okay, Fridays is a better night than most, with Mom banning fights and discussions of work and school over dinner and with Aunt Rachel doing the cooking.
Even after the big battle with angry Sidhe and all that, I am still scared she will run screaming from my mom's nagging, my sister Anna's yammering about hair, malls and boys, and my other sister Dorian's science projects.
Then she looks sad. "I thought I was your kin."
I squint. "Huh?" I thought I'm her boyfriend.
"I consider you my kin, so I bring you to my house. I thought you would bring me to your house."
Then I feel bad. She must think I don't love her. She listened to my complaints of being under the thumb of my band director having no clue how to deal with percussion. You can too use xylophones to teach notes to the percussion section.
I grab the money to pay for the pie, and sigh. "I'll take you to my house for dinner. Trust me, Friday is the best night you could do it."
Here's about two of them, Jacob Bridges, a band geek and Meg Dunsmuir, a part fey enforcer whose otherwise a normal, slightly naive teenage girl.
"I'd like to have dinner with your family, Jacob." Meg then pushes a brown curl out of her face. "I mean, if you want to."
I couldn't think of a word to say. "I thought I'd treat you to dinner here," I reply, almost wishing I could slide into my seat and take my apple pie with cheddar cheese with me. I'm taking her to Pie Palace so I won't have her see my family.
Okay, she already has seen my family, when she comes to the door to get me for tea and whatever. Now, there's nothing wrong with her. In fact, she is the best thing to happen to me this summer.
It wasn't her appearance. She has thick dark curly hair tied back, freckles across her nose and under her green eyes, and a round face. Then again, so do other girls.
She was short and looked like she ran track, but so do other girls.
The difference is her eyes twinkled at the sight of me, that she never takes them off of me, and she smiles everytime she is around me. It makes it hard to refus her anything.
So, why does she want to have dinner with my family? Okay, Fridays is a better night than most, with Mom banning fights and discussions of work and school over dinner and with Aunt Rachel doing the cooking.
Even after the big battle with angry Sidhe and all that, I am still scared she will run screaming from my mom's nagging, my sister Anna's yammering about hair, malls and boys, and my other sister Dorian's science projects.
Then she looks sad. "I thought I was your kin."
I squint. "Huh?" I thought I'm her boyfriend.
"I consider you my kin, so I bring you to my house. I thought you would bring me to your house."
Then I feel bad. She must think I don't love her. She listened to my complaints of being under the thumb of my band director having no clue how to deal with percussion. You can too use xylophones to teach notes to the percussion section.
I grab the money to pay for the pie, and sigh. "I'll take you to my house for dinner. Trust me, Friday is the best night you could do it."
