tagNovels and NovellasStory of April

Story of April


Her gaze fell onto the wheels of her computer chair. The round blob of very dark gray plastic was covered by a thin hood, as if it were a real car tire that could throw up dirt. The color was supposed to be black, yet it was not nearly dark enough. Thousands of tiny little impurities in the surface kept the surface matte without reflection. Surely, this was the most boring thing to focus on. Yet, it provided peace and calm to follow the mechanical details of the chair.

"Your friends don't love you. Your friends use you for a purpose. That friend that just left, she only hangs out with you, because you can so totally let yourself go. She wants to experience that relaxation. That's all she wants. She does not care about you."

The step father was standing in the door of her room. His face was tense. His body moved forcefully, fast, and short with each phrase of the sentences that came out of his mouth. In her body, she could feel her physical heart tearing with terror. Physically, he was at a good distance, yet she felt like she had no space left. She tried to shut him out.

Her gaze focused back down to the casters on her chair. A black and white converse sneaker was pushing onto the beams that connected the little wheels to the center base of the chair. She had gotten the converse sneakers on a vacation trip to Italy. Instead of 'made in China,' they said 'fatto in Cina.' The black color of the canvas was a little different to fit the Italian taste. Only an insider would know. A cute boy at the hotel had written 'me amore' on the white toe tip. She remembered feeling good and excited in the foreign city meeting her new friend.

"You are so lazy. You spend your afternoons doing nothing. But, that's why Stephanie likes you. She is also an outcast without friends, bad grades, and a lack of life aspiration."

"But Stephanie really likes me. We had fun. We were going for a run together. We are good friends."

"C'mon, you are so naïve. You believe in those cartoons that you waste your time on, don't you? She has nobody else and she doesn't want to be alone. That's the only reason she is hanging out with you. She doesn't like you. She only pretends to keep your affection."

Her chin fell down on her chest. She saw her own cleavage. She saw the center of her teeming, young breast that did not grow that well. They always reminded her of buying plants in a store. The plants were always lush, full, and beautiful in the store. However, once they came home, the plants started to shrivel and lose foliage. Her breasts were kind of like that. She was stuck with them to love as her own, yet they didn't hold up to what beautiful breasts should look like.

She looked at the sliver of pink bra that cradled her breasts. There was a bit of a gap between the skin of her breasts and the bra, because they clothes didn't fit. In the morning, she had felt so proud and daring for wearing the pink bra that was visible beyond her clothes. She had felt titillating to the boys for showing a bit of her underwear. She had felt daring and strong to the girls, because she was showing how progressive she was.

Right now, it made her feel horrible. The stomach rolled over in agony over it. She stood out like a sore thumb, when she wanted to hide, crawl away, become invisible to blend in with the wall paper. The menacing step dad kept going at her. He did not leave, despite her silence. She felt helpless.

Her lungs wanted to quiver. She did not want to let him see her lungs quiver. She tried breathing deep, slow, and controlled. Seconds later, her chest quelled up with a deep inhale that on the exhale released quivering all over her body. Tears burst out of her eyes. Runny snot emerged from her nose. Everything overwhelmed her. She ran.

She only paused to think, when she was sitting on the closed toilet lid with her knees pulled up to her chest. Snot and tears were running out of control. Her body was quivering on its own. The bathroom door was closed. He had not tried to stop her. He had not followed her. He didn't even try calling after her.

Sad and alone is how she felt. Her young life was so promising. She had worked hard to get into an elite school. She was supposed to have fun with girl friends. She was supposed to tease the guys. She was supposed to be loved and held. There she was all alone crying in a bathroom. She was crying over her own beauty and the beauty of life that she could not get.

The minutes calmed her down. The terror of her step dad never left her. Though, you can't sit in a bathroom forever. You have to do something. She opened the door. He was gone. She went back to her room. Well, school would not wait for her. She had to do her math homework. She pulled out the notebook and put on headphones. Punk music drowned out her feelings so that she could focus on clear mathematical thoughts.

The next morning, the shrill screeches of the alarm woke her up. It was still dark outside. She had gotten up fifteen minutes early to study her bible. The bible study guide said that as Christians, we have to forgive our evil doers. We have to follow Christ's example. The bible study guide explained the pitfalls of forgiveness: Conditional forgiveness is not true forgiveness. We must forgive without expecting anything in return. Forgiveness for show does not count. If we get only one ounce of goodwill or better standing among the men of our community, then our forgiveness does not count in heaven.

April thought about her step father. She forgave him. She forgave her mother for never standing up for her. She prayed to be forgiven for any ill thoughts that she had about her step father. There was the day fantasy of screaming at her step father. She felt very guilty about that. She also remembered that yesterday during lunch, she had not shared the last cookie on the desert tray with her sister. She felt guilty and wrong about that. She asked Jesus for forgiveness for her failures. And, she would use her pocket money to buy her sister a cookie twice the size to mend her damage.

Half hour later, her morning routine was done. She stepped into the cool morning air with her book bag strapped to her back. The book bag wasn't just any book bag. The leather was pale brown leather. The seams were stitched with a large black thread. The book bag was the exact replica from a rock video, where the daughter of the lead singer climbed out of a school bathroom to ditch school. She admired the confidence in the girl to wear short skirts, drive a convertible, and seduce a male model to skinny dip only to run off with his clothes. One day, April would be that strong and rule the world. The book bag made her feel like she could touch that world. At least, she had the sense of style of that rock video girl.

The moon hung low over the buildings. The atmosphere magnified the moon into a giant orange ball with its freckles of dark lunar spots guiding her to school. The classroom was a busy shuffling of teenagers. They had five minutes to class start and so much to do: Put jackets on the chair's back. Pull out the books for class. Drink last sips of refreshments. Catch up with friends. The teacher had an extra green sweater on. The teacher was one of those serious teachers: Dressed like a teacher, focused on getting his lecture done, and on to the next class room.

Next to April sat Emma. Emma was one of those failing students that didn't care about her grades. Yet, Emma took offense at anyone studying hard or trying to impress the teacher. Emma's sweater had a worn green color that stretched a little lighter to fit around her belly. Her fingers were clammy and stubby. They were also wrapped around April's pencil eraser.

"Give me back my eraser!" whispered April, while looking straight ahead.

"Make you a deal: You get me Joana's text book in exchange for your eraser."

April reached over to Emma's half of the desk to get the eraser back by force. Emma smoothly pinched April's side under the table with a terribly painful effect. April's offense weakened like a slushie in the sun. The teacher took notice and rebuked April, while ignoring the gleeful smile on Emma's face.

With a red face, April slumped into her chair to figure out a plan for getting her eraser back. Emma played with the eraser trying to make it balance on the skinny side. The teacher talked about the Mexican-American war that started in 1846.

"April, you have to give me Joana's text book. She can look into the text book of her number. I didn't bring mine and can't follow class."

"I am not stealing Joana's text book for you. Give me back my eraser."

April's face grew narrow and focused. Emma seemed to grow larger.

"Okay, when the teacher reaches the point, where the army crosses the Rio Grande, I will fart on your eraser."

With that Emma's hands slipped down the back of her jeans. They were cheap and plain jeans, probably picked up at a Chinese thrift store. They were worn a year to long. Her panties were plain grand ma panties. The top of the panties was rolled over, because the elastic band had been worn out. Emma's hand slipped under the jeans and panties to position the eraser between her voluminous butt cheeks. April was ready to cry and did not know what to do.

Joana, the only black student in class, had taken notice of the hushed turmoil next to her. So, she clutched the text book on her belly with both arms around it. A boy excitedly whispered to his desk mate that Emma was going to fart on April's eraser. The class grew a bit quieter with excited expectations on their face.

April tried to stomp Emma's foot under the table. Emma was used to fights. Her reflexes made her pull the foot away before April head a chance. The teacher gave April a stern look before turning back to the blackboard to write a bullet point about the army crossing the Rio Grande. Emma let out a loud fart that lasted for about three seconds. A few students laughed. A couple knocked their heads against the desk in an effort to contain themselves. Joana moved her chair as far away as possible from April and Emma. The teacher admonished the class once more to pay attention.

Emma leaned into April to whisper into her ear: "I had big meat balls with pasta last night." April gave up and tried to focus on remembering the dates and major events of the war for the test next week. She had to get a good grade to make up for all the bad ones earlier that year. She could not afford to slip. For the last two years, her ma had made her promise her dad that she would get better.

They had a deal about the year end grades. For every A, she would get two bucks. For every B, she would get one buck. C grades didn't count anything. For every D, she would get whacked on the bottom ones. And for F grades, she would get whacked on the bottom twice. Her step dad had never touched her for the bad grades, yet April clearly understood that she deserved those. It was only his generosity that had spared her the corporal punishment. So, April had to pay attention to class and surrender her eraser. She would have to do a lot of crossing out mistakes in her notes instead of erasing.

Emma realized that April had left the power struggle. And, power struggles with only one party are boring. So, Emma upped the stakes by reaching into the back of her pants. She fished for the eraser between her fat butt cheeks. Then, she tipped her head to April.

"You eraser is already at the tip of my anus. You better hope that I wiped well, because it was a big load this morning that went into the can. You give me Joana's text book by the time that the teacher reaches the annexation of California by America, or your eraser goes inside my ass to mingle with my poop. It's your choice. Be a friend and help me out with the textbook."

April despaired. She gave up. How could she overpower Emma without raising the teacher's attention? Emma would not listen to her. April tried to pay attention to the teacher. However, her toes kept tapping up and down nervously. She was stuck. The class room was divided on Emma being way disgusting or secretly enjoying some Schadenfreude.

The teacher raised his voice to announce the annexation of California. Tough silence gripped the class room, except for the lecturing teacher. Emma's face distorted. The orifice of her mouth relaxed to a bathroom face. Her cheeks twitched to indicate an unusual body feeling. Her hand was deliberately moving around her hind. A bright grin announced the successful insertion of the eraser and relief of the awkward sensation of anal insertion.

All the students in class started announcing their forceful opinion at once: "Fuck, she can't do that!" "She is tough." "Poor girl!" "That eraser is so disgusting." The teacher realized that the uproar was centered around Emma, also he did not know the details. So, he could not punish her. To shut her up, he asked her to read a historic excerpt from the textbook.

Emma pointed out that she had forgotten her textbook. The teacher marked the failure in his tally. Then, his eyes roamed for the next visible textbook. It was Joana's. He told Joana to give Emma her textbook. Joana was reluctant. She held onto her textbook. The textbook was wrapped in brown recycled paper. All her friends had left her little notes, poems, and quotes on the cover. They were written with colorful pens and pretty girlish hand writing. There were cute stickers of animal baby's sniffing the world. Joana did not want to hand that pretty jewel into the butt stained hands of thuggish Emma. The teacher lowered his glasses to the front of his nose. Joana had to.

At the end of class, Emma made a relieved sigh. The sigh sounded on purpose just to rub things really in with April. Then, Emma swiftly pulled the eraser out of the back of her panties and dropped down under April's front clothing. April felt on her skin, how the eraser had pretty much a free fall between her boobs until the eraser got caught in a fold of fabric near her navel. April was near crying about the knowledge of Emma's poo trail down her body and the possible brown stains. Yet, she was a tough soldier and suckered up her emotion to avoid more embarrassment in front of her class mates.

Swiftly yet deliberately, she got a tissue out of her pocket to isolate the eraser in a safety bubble of tissue. With a second tissue, she traced the eraser's fall line on her skin. As she maneuvered around under her clothes, the teacher stopped lecturing. He stared at April working hard under her sweater. His mouth gaped open. His mind evidently was asked too much to switch from the Mexican American war to suppressing his sexual urges for young girls to mustering a respectable response. The bell saved them all. The scrambling of students to meet their next class washed away the incident.

Only, April was left feeling disgusted and like an outcast until she could get home, change and shower.

Luckily, it was Friday. That meant no school for two days and it was bible study group time. She had a few friends in the study group. Also, they did fun stuff from time to time, like a party or play volley ball in a nearby park. April's aspiration was to become good enough to be allowed to do an inspirational talk. Maybe, another three months and they would put her on the program. She had already read a few books on how to organize inspirational talks.

After waiting for fifteen minutes, she boarded the bus to the church. She always went to the back, because that's were the cool kids are. Though, sometimes, scary questionable people like the back of the bus as well. There was Steven. No, she had never met him. But, people knew a few rumors about Steven.

He was two years older than April. He was tall with short spiky black hair. His body language showed that he owned the place by spreading his legs wide and leaning his hands over three other seats. He looked intently at April. April stole little inconspicuous glances to get a picture of him.

Steven's jeans were old and ripped. He had patched them together with duct tape. It could have made him look like a homeless person, if he hadn't drawn druid characters on the stripes of duct tape. Druids are old Germanic alchemists with secret powers. They have their complete own alphabet. Steven had learned their alphabet and allegedly read a real druid book. People were divided on all druid stuff being fake or if he had stumbled on something very secret and very real.

April's glances were all too obvious for Steven, because he kept staring at her. April was wearing an above the knee skirt. The skirt was a narrow brown tube with a deep cut at the front to let April make steps. April had to be careful to cross her knees. Her feet were embraced by low black high heels and socks that went up to below her knees in a baby blue with red lines to make it look sharp.

April could feel Steven's intend energy. It made her feel as if he was grapping her hard and not letting go of her. April did not want to do anything to draw Steven to come clothes. Steven was wearing a black leather jacket with embedded medal ornaments to make him look tough. Rumors had it that Steven was seen with a gun a few times. He was without a home. So, he probably carried everything that he owned on his body, including the gun.

Steven stood up and made two steps towards April. Her heart fastened. She felt pinned. She was afraid that running would only trigger the predator instinct in Steven. Steven was so tall that he could easily put his elbows onto the hand railings at the top of the bus. He rested hanging from in between his two elbows. His leather jacket was folded wide open. His undershirt was lifted up to exposes two inches of his belly. The skin was smooth. The muscles under the skin formed the bumps for a hard six pack. His belly wasn't just the beautiful six pack of male models in commercials. His abdomen was tough as if toughened from fights and living in the streets.

Steven's stare at April made everyone in the bus uncomfortable. An old woman in plain brown grand ma shoes and clothing shifted her walking cane around uneasily. Steven stared directly at April's chest. April was wearing a neat purple-pink blouse that fitted smoothly and had a smooth textile. April crossed her arms in front of her chest. She shrugged spontaneously, when she realized that she had only achieved pushing her breasts together with her arms to make them look even sexier. Steven laughed as if he could laugh at whatever he pleased.

The bus driver stopped the bus. He walked down the aisle with the attention of the passenger following him. The bellied and bearded man in his forties yelled at Steven to get out of the bus immediately. The bus driver suit projected power for a moment. Steven raised his head slow to face the bus driver: "What?" His 'what' was slow and powerful. Hearing it everyone on the bus could feel the vibrations resonating from deep in Steven's chest. The vibrations that everyone could feel re-vibrating in their bodies gave them an idea of how frail and small their bodies were in comparison to Steven's muscular and outlaw physique.

The bus driver turned around and shuffled back to his seat, while yelling incoherently. The bus beeped its warning. The driver drove on.

Steven went back to staring at April's body. Her face was white and rosy. Her eyes had a dramatic frame of small, yet black eye lashes and eye brows. April's hair was black and smooth as it fell long around her head until it reached the ends, which curled softly and naturally.

Steven's index finger reached and pushed against April's skin. His finger was right in between the top of her blouse that had two buttons undone. His first knuckle bend backward due to the strength of his pressure on the finger. April completely froze unable to move, talk, or even think.

In a slow and determined rumble putting emphasis on every syllable, he said to her: "You have the soul of a princess. But you live in an oppressive environment. You are born to fight for freedom and live as a ruler of your world."

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bycowboy109© 1 comments/ 40594 views/ 18 favorites

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