Rag Doll Ch. 07 - Ricky's Family 02

"I'll do?" she teased, grinning cheekily, giving us a full 360 and a bonus wiggle.

I was speechless; I'd always known inside that she was beautiful, Hell, they both were, but now, this wasn't my sister; now, I was about to go on a (fake!) date with a gorgeous girl, and I was struck dumb at just how beautiful she really was, and how plain and ordinary I was. How the Hell were we going to pull this pantomime off?

Yaz sashayed over to me, looked me up and down, and winked as she grinned.

"We're going to cause a stir tonight, no doubt about that! Just remember, be aloof, do that raised eyebrow thing you do if any of the girls give you the come-on, and just look them up and down really slowly and look away, then whisper something, anything, in my ear, mutter 'rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb' if you can't think of anything to say, just let them see you do it. If anyone asks, just tell them your name and that you work for mummy, and DON'T get into a conversation with anyone, leave that to me; we're going there to scam those morons, not make friends, and I could care less if we offend anyone, it's not like they're lifelong buddies or anything, so screw 'em, got it?"

I smiled, finally relaxed enough to go along with the scam; Yaz wanted to leave them with something to think about, she was my little sister, so I was on her side and ready to back her play. Let the games begin!

*****

Shari drove us to the school, Yaz couldn't drive in those heels, and I couldn't drive, period, so we sat in the back of Shari's Mitsubishi Shogun and looked like we were being chauffeured. When we walked in, people started muttering and nudging each other, guys staring at Yaz with looks that brought out the worst in me; suddenly I was her protective big brother and I wanted to just grab those oafs and bang their empty heads together for ogling my little sister; weird, how it took that place and those stares to bring that out in me, huh?

The school auditorium had been decorated with tinsel and glittery streamers, and balloons and bunches of paper flowers in the school colours, and tables covered with elaborate swags of cloth, glitter-balls sent points of light everywhere, and a DJ played what I assumed were current hits. Yaz piloted me over to the bar, which was serving only soft drinks, even though everyone there was at least eighteen, and got us a couple of cokes; the school wasn't prepared to deal with a bunch of smashed teenagers, so the prom was 'dry', juice and soft drinks only. I don't drink anyway, so it made no difference to me.

As we drank our cokes, Yaz gave me a running commentary on who was who, who'd said what to her or about her, and a who's-who of the teachers/chaperones.

As we were chatting, I noticed the same four or five girls kept walking past us and staring at me; this was more than a little unnerving, so I pointed it out to Yaz, and she smiled, then pulled me down and around so her face was in the hollow of my shoulder, with her hand curled around my face and on the back of my head; from a few feet away it must have looked like we were kissing, but she was actually whispering in my ear.

"I see them; those scruffy tarts are trying to clock you, they keep trying to catch your eye! Remember what I told you? Look them up and down, then whisper something in my ear, and I'll give them a big grin; it'll drive them freakin' crazy!"

So I did. With Yaz nudging me I did the whole 'up and down and look contemptuous' thing, then whispered in her ear, and watched while she looked right at them and nodded, giggling maliciously, watching them with a big grin on her face as they flushed and scurried away.

I stared at her, amazed that it worked, but wondering what came next, so I asked her.

"OK, Yaz, it worked, what next? And by the way, why are they all staring at me?"

Yaz stared at me with a surprised expression on her face.

"Because you're gorgeous, Ricky, can't you tell? Look at them, they're wetting their panties just looking at you!"

Again that word; what was she talking about? At that moment one of the guys who'd been ogling Yaz came strolling up to her and asked her to dance. Yaz just stared at him and nudged me, so I leaned down and looked at him.

"If you want to dance with my girlfriend you ask me, got it?"

He kind of gulped and tried to look confident and scary.

"Look, I just want to dance with her, OK? You got a problem with that?"

Another nudge from Yaz, so I let him have it.

"Yeah, I do. Get lost, dickhead!"

He looked at Yaz and she grinned.

"You heard my boyfriend; get lost, dickhead!"

As he shuffled back to his mates, the sound of Yaz giggling made the back of his neck flush. I looked at Yaz, wondering what to do next, and she took my arm.

"I think it's time my boyfriend danced with me, so let's get out there, Ricky, c'mon, dance with me!"

As we danced, I asked her what we'd just done.

"What was that all about, Yaz? It looked like that guy really wanted to dance with you; I thought they hated you?"

Yaz had to pull me down to her level so I could hear her over the music.

"The guy's a creepoid; he just wanted to try and get in a few gropes, that's what he's like. I told you, they're all like that, that's all Shari and me are to them, something to grope, that's why I hate this place and these people. Now I've got my Fake Ricky-Boyfriend with me, they're going to keep their distance, so let's make them suffer, you up for it?"

I had to grin; she was irrepressible, and Ayesha was right, I couldn't actually say no to her, so I kept going. Another slow number came on, and she hugged herself closer to me, lightly tapping me on the back to keep me in-time with her as she moulded her body against mine, the pressure of her hand on my back conveying with light prods and pushes what she wanted me to do next to keep the charade looking convincing. It was really nice, the first time I'd actually danced with a girl (being trundled around by Shari didn't count, I was too busy trying to not fall over or step on her feet to appreciate it) and something was happening to me; after a few seconds I realised I was getting hard. I was in a welter of shame and embarrassment; this was my little sister, for God's sake!

Yaz slid her hand down to the small of my back and patted me gently as she rested her head against my chest, for all the world like a loving girlfriend.

"It's OK, sweetie, it's natural, don't worry about it..." she murmured, all the while plastered against me, my cock by now rock hard and pressing ever more firmly against her tummy. Yaz gradually edged us away from the centre of the dance floor and closer to the wall as we danced, until we were safely away from scrutiny, then smiled as she patted my cheek. I didn't know what to say, I'd never been so ashamed in my life.

"Yaz, I'm sorry...I...I...not my fault...so sorry...!" I burbled, afraid I'd deeply offended her, pressing myself against her like that, but she just hugged me.

"Sweetie, it's OK, it's not your fault, it happens, Ricky, it's just a guy thing, it's OK, really..." she reassured me, but I was too far gone in my embarrassment, and next thing I knew she'd pulled my head down and kissed me smack on the lips, and not a peck either; no, she plastered her lips against mine. I was wide-eyed in shock, and too stunned to do anything except stand there while she hung on to me, the kiss lasting forever.

When she finally let go and smiled up at me, I stared at her in shock.

"Yaz...why...you...I..." I stammered, and once again I got that trademark cheeky grin of hers.

"It shut you up didn't it?" she murmured, "Are you alright now, or do you need a few minutes?"

After what her kiss had done to me, more than a few minutes was what I needed, sister or not, so she stroked my cheek (which didn't help, either...) and straightened my tie, flicked off my lapels, and generally fussed around me, calming me down, before rolling her eyes at the knot of girls on the other side of the dance floor.

"Look, don't worry about it, Ricky, it's normal, I'm not offended, honest, and at least I know this dress works, sweetie!"

I goggled at her, my mouth dropping open in shock, but she just gave me a big wink, and her best, impish smile.

"Look on the bright side, Rick; at least we gave that herd of bitches something to stare at!" she grinned, and when I glanced where she was looking at least ten girls were staring back at me.

"Ignore them, hun; it'll drive them crazy!" she smirked as she led me back out on the floor and plastered herself against me once more. This time, though, I was able to hold 'that' reaction in check, and actually started to enjoy myself.

And so it went on through the evening; every time someone asked her to dance I'd glance at her, get that microscopic headshake, and tell him to sling his hook, she was with me and staying there, while her body swayed and curled sensuously around me as we danced. The guys watching us just stared hungrily at her lithe figure and sexy dance moves, and the knot of girls who were watching us like hawks just never let up for one second, until, finally unnerved by it all, I had to do something about it.

"Yaz..." I breathed and she just smiled and patted my chest.

"Relax, Ricky, it's under control..."

"Yaz, I mean it, do something..." I quavered, and she gave me a wicked little smile as she slipped her arm through mine and hugged me.

"Ricky, sweet, innocent Ricky, they're wondering how someone like me can hook someone like you, so shall we go over there and lie to them a little?"

Someone like her? Someone like me? What did that even mean? Still pondering just what the hell she meant, I let myself be tugged over to the knot of girls who'd been staring daggers at us all evening. When we were standing in front of them, Yaz cocked her eyebrow and grinned at the bunch of them.

"What? What are you lot staring at? Got something to say?" she challenged, nudging me to silence when I would have asked her why she was being so aggressive.

One of the girls got kind of pushed forward (or maybe everyone else took a step back) and suddenly she was alone in front of us. She looked kind of scared, and I wondered why; it wasn't as though Yaz was going to lash out...was she?

"Hi...hi Yasmin, glad you could come..." she quavered, "we...I...we...we were wondering...who...who your...date...is, just asking...never seen..." and then she dried up as Yaz just continued to give her the eyebrow and the sardonic smile, before smiling so wide I could see her fillings.

"Oh, so you want to know? As if it was any of your fucking business! What, got nothing to say? Right, you want to talk, now, after all these years? Now you want to talk and play nice? Then let's talk. This is Ricky; say hello to Ricky, we live together, and isn't he just gorgeous?"

What?

She grinned wickedly at me and licked her lips suggestively.

"Say "Hello", Ricky, these...people are just dying to meet you!"

"You...live...with...you never said...how long...?" stammered the spokesperson, and once again Yaz arched that eyebrow at her.

"Oh, ages now, since my eighteenth birthday, in fact; you bunch of slags really should try and keep up, you know, but then you never gave a shit about me before, did you?"

She tucked her arm back though mine as the group of girls stood there with their mouths hanging open in astonishment.

"Well, nice to see you and all that or whatever, let's not ever do this again, if you lot think really hard about it I'm sure you'll understand why. Come on Ricky darling; let's go home, I want to do things with you!"

We spun around and walked away as their collective jaws dropped open, and as we walked away Yaz with a triumphant smile pasted on her face, while my back itched between my shoulder blades, no doubt from the intense stares I knew we were getting, while my neck ached from the effort of not looking around to see what kind of havoc we'd wreaked in our wake. I was a little unsettled; she'd seemed to be almost baiting what looked like just a bunch of ordinary girls, and I could sense anger, lots of anger, and that was wrong; Yaz wasn't the angry one, Shari seemed to have a pretty good lock on that. I felt we needed to clear this up before we went home, so I sat her down with her back to those girls, because something was going on here that wasn't right and needed clearing-up. Yaz stared at me while I looked at her, trying to figure out what had made her kick off like that.

Eventually she caved in.

"OK, what, what's bugging you, Ricky?" she asked.

I waved back the way we'd just come.

"What was that just now? All...that...angry, nasty stuff? Why? I didn't come with you to see that, I thought we were just, I dunno, pranking some people, come in here like a lovey-dovey couple, fool them, have a secret laugh at them, leave; not that. Talk to me, Yaz, tell me what's really going on here, you can tell me, I won't judge, I can't, but maybe I can help you sort this out. Please, Yaz; this is not you, that wasn't you back there, you're a nice person, you helped me when I needed it, you don't do things like that. Please, talk to me..."

Yaz stared at me, her face pale and drawn and her nostrils flared; she was furious, even good old, non-perceptive me could see that; I just needed to know why.

"You want to know why, Ricky? Let me share a little history with you, Ricky; all our lives, we've been the butt of their racist jokes, their racist comments, their spreading racist lies about how people like us live in trees back where we're from, sit on the floor and eat with our fingers and don't wash, how badly we smell, shit like that every fucking day. This is East London, home of the British National Party and National Front, people like me, paki's, are not white enough to be part of their group, we're not supposed to live in white people's houses, in white people neighbourhoods, none of that. You try living with morons telling you every day to go back where you came from; where's that? I was born here, so was mum before me! What they mean is, I should get my non-WASP face out of their white country, and I've had that all my life from them. Way I see it, I was due that, payback isn't marked 'white only' in my world, got it?"

Her voice took on a low, harsh note, throbbing with anger and pent-up hurt; she was bloody furious.

"We get this shit every fucking day from fat, sweaty, common little shitbags like them every time we show our faces, they drive home every day how superior they are to me because when they occasionally take a bath their skins are whiter than mine, so tell me, at what point am I supposed to accept that's just how it's supposed to be and just stop caring and be a good little second-class citizen? You want to know why they were so shocked? Because you're white and I'm not supposed to be with someone like you, you're too white for me, you're supposed to be with one of them; I'm supposed to be with who they think I should, and it's not some white boy like you, have you got it now, have I got through to you, can we fucking go now?"

Oh. My. God. I never guessed she could be so angry, and over something that made no sense to me, but had obviously hurt her deeply over and over again. I honestly didn't know what to say, she was saying things I'd never heard of, or thought even made a difference, and I could only look at her in shock that her life here, in this place, had been so marred by all this stuff. All I could do was hug her, and at first she was stiff, unyielding, anger and outrage in every line of her at the remembered insults and exclusion, then she leaned into me, and I felt her trembling as she cried silently while I hugged her close, all this 'phoney boyfriend' stuff forgotten; now it was just me holding my little sister because she was in pain and she needed me.

After she'd calmed down a little, she fumbled out her phone and tried to call Shari, but she started crying again when Shari answered, so I took the phone from her and spoke to Shari.

"Shari, could you come and get us, please, Yaz is...not good, she needs you and your mum, can you hurry, please?"

Shari's voice was full of concern.

"It didn't work, did it? What actually happened?"

"It got...kind of nasty..." I admitted, "Yaz told me some stuff and it seems like she kind of had good reason to kick off like that, but I don't know, there's stuff I don't understand; please hurry, we need to get her home as soon as possible..."

"On my way, wait outside, and Ricky? Thanks for looking out for her. Be there in five."

*

Yaz was silent all the way home. Shari glanced at me when she picked us up, her eyes asking the question, but I shook my head; we needed to be at home for this, now was not the time or place. Yaz sat silently in the back with me the whole time, hugging my arm in a death-grip, with her face buried behind my arm, avoiding looking at Shari, and when we got home she kicked her heels off and ran straight up to her room, slamming the door hard enough to make the whole house shake. Ayesha questioned me with her eyes, watching as Shari followed her, before pulling me into the lounge.

"What happened, Ricky, it didn't work, did it? Whatever she was planning went wrong, didn't it?"

I drew a deep breath, wondering how to explain how I was feeling about this whole thing, still confused at how a simple prank had all gone so completely tits-up, when I heard Shari calling for me. Ayesha nodded, so I tore upstairs, not forgetting to knock and wait.

"Door's open, Ricky, come in." came Shari's voice, so for the first time, I entered my little sister's bedroom. Shari was sitting on a big, soft, frilly bed, all pink ruffles and plush toys, with Yaz huddled against her. She'd changed into a baggy sweatshirt and track-pants, and her eyes were two red blurs in her pale face. As I came up to the bed, Yaz jumped up and hugged me so tightly I swear I felt my ribcage creak.

I looked helplessly at Shari who just shrugged and mimed hugging her back, so I did, nudging her over to the bed so we could both sit down, me with my arm around her, holding her against me, and her with her face buried in my chest.

At first I wondered what she wanted me to do, but then I felt her trembling again, and my shoulder felt hot and damp; she was crying again, and suddenly a rush of insight, of compassion and family connection swept over me; she'd needed to cry, and she'd wanted me to hold her, not Shari, while she cried; I really WAS her big brother, and she wanted me to make it right again. Distressed as I was at her obvious distress, I was also elated at this first, tangible sign that I was one of them now; my days of being an outsider were coming to an end.

Holding my little sister, comforting her, was the single most satisfying, 'blaze of light' moment of my life so far; she needed me, she actually needed me, my strength, my presence, and it was so wholly satisfying I was actually blissed-out on the thought of it. The weeks of learning how to be a real person, how to fit in somewhere had paid off, and it was because of my sisters, two lovely girls who'd taken me into their lives and made me one of them and shown me how something so simple could be so profoundly special.

Shari looked at me quizzically; she could tell something had happened, that some sort of defining moment had occurred with me; maybe the way my arm around her had changed from a support to an embrace, but then she smiled and nodded, touched her finger to her lips and pointed at Yaz, mouthing 'talk to her...' before silently slipping out of the room.

Yaz seemed content to huddle against me in silence, and truthfully, it was OK by me; suddenly realising I really was her big brother, that that was how she saw me, and that's what she needed me for, filled me with a warm glow I didn't want to let go of anytime soon. We sat in companionable silence for a while, Yaz making no move to sit away from me just yet, and the room so silent I could hear Ayesha moving around downstairs, and the soft, regular flutter of her breathing. I'd just about decided she'd dozed-off when she spoke.