My Rose Does Bloom Ch. 00-02

This is the first submission of a multi-chapter lesbian story regarding a high school senior and her travels through life. It is not full of sex, in fact, these first two chapters have none, so if that is what you are looking for, move to chapter three, which will be submitted the day after this section posts.

I sat in a lawn chair on my front porch on a miserably sticky-hot Texas afternoon that left most people sweating and searching for a breeze, any breeze, just a whisper of wind to cool the fire burning down from the skies. The wretched, barren grass looked as if locusts swarmed from the heavens to steal its life. Decorated with beer cans, scattered cigarette butts and a rusty barbecue pit used but once on my tenth birthday, the front yard was a sickly desperate home to various vermin and pests. Two gnarled Mesquite trees grew in a mangled conglomeration of green and brown with a tire swing hanging from the closest one. A soon to die rosebush fought to release a single bloom. I stood, walked over to the bush and picked the bloom, putting the bush out of its misery. This is my home and my screwed up life.

I'm a pretty girl—not beautiful mind you, just pretty. My given name is Millicent, but everyone calls me Millie. I had the misfortune of being raised on the wrong side of the tracks—Southside, with the Mexicans, Vietnamese, Iranians and assorted white trash. We are the latter, the trash, generally considered better off than the Mexicans.

For some reason, I didn't miss the breeze today. I wanted the heat, the sun, the sweat, mostly the pain and the way it helped me forget about my father and his constant touching, grabbing and fondling. Daddy was a piece of shit.

I suppose I should let you in on a secret about me. It's true, though almost nobody knows it, or at least will admit to it. I'm damn smart for white trash. Most Southside trash are pretty stupid, in fact, I'd venture to say that many are just downright idiots with an IQ just south of the Mason-Dixon Line.

Certainly, I don't know where my IQ came from. Becka, my three year old little sister is a smart one also, but terribly shy around people and crying all the time. My mom is a drug addict and dad, well, I already told you about him. He's nothing but a pervert after his little girl's pussy. I've pretty much always hated him. Seems like I remember him doing some awfully bad things to me when I was little, I just can't put my finger on exactly what they were.

The clothes gave her away as Southside Mexican. Jeans, thread-bare, tight and short, indicated several prior owners. Shoes, meticulously cleaned of every speck of dirt, were shabby and of a dubious name brand. A T-shirt with an undemanding flower pattern squeezed her generous breasts and thick muscular torso. Luscious hips that enhanced her femininity seemingly oozed passion, albeit unknowingly to her. She must have the most gorgeous body on the planet.

Thick, shiny and lustrous, her hair flowed in expansive locks to her mid-back framing and hiding the mystery of her face. Light seemingly bounced from her tresses, producing a luminescence similar to a beacon in the night. Her eyes averted all onlookers, looking to the ground and covered by curls. Naturally, since she hid behind her hair everyone wanted to see her face.

Her hair . . . I couldn't breathe. I'd never been so moved by a female in my life.

Some of the kids started whistling and one shouted, "Puta." That lit a small ember in my heart, and my blood began to simmer.

Unconsciously sitting up in my desk, I focused on the secrecy of her eyes. I found myself drawn to her with insatiable curiosity as that lovely young woman's eyes carefully hid behind dark silky hair. She raised the ire of the others with her demure demeanor, drawing their snickers, catcalls and sly snide remarks. I'd just about had enough of their bullshit when Ms. Jensen, the matronly teacher of around forty with a pronounced limp, made it worse with her insidious comment.

"Class, this is Rose, she's joining us from Fundamental Math."

The students laughed.

"Another wetback from the stupid class," blurted Albert, one of the Northside jocks.

"No habla Ingles," yelled another.

I cringed with anger, Fundamental Math was for the slow kids, and the jocks would take no pity on her. Ms. Jensen quickly struggled to regain control of the disrespectful students. A wad of paper shot from the midst of the teasing kids and hit Rose on the head. She looked up and her eyes said it all. Dark brown and soulful, they held tears about to wash down her face.

Usually reticent I yelled, "Shut the fuck up!" Stunned, the students hushed. They were a bunch of stupid ass-holes . . . idiots!

Ms. Jensen reacted quickly, "Millie, Albert outside. Now!" she snapped sharply. I slowly turned and stared down the class, silently mouthing, go to hell, then walked outside behind a meek Albert.

The strong-willed teacher, normally calm and rational, was angrier than I'd ever seen her. She spent at least a minute calming herself in the hallway as Albert fidgeted uncomfortably. I looked at her, daring her to come after me.

"Albert, your childish behavior doesn't shock me any longer," she said. "I've become somewhat used to your bullying, badgering and abusive language toward those you consider inferior. You are a shit!"

Her use of profanity shocked both of us and we looked at her in silence for the longest time.

"I have a suggestion for you that is worth attending to. I believe the coach from A&M is interested in offering you a scholarship for some mundane athletic acumen that you may possess. Is this correct?"

Albert, looking worried, nodded his head in agreement.

"And this is your opportunity to escape from our illustrious community?"

He nodded again.

"I can't hear you Albert."

"Yeah."

"What!" Her sharp tone said she would brook no nonsense from him.

"Yes ma'am," he said with the slightest touch of sarcasm, not fully understanding how serious she was.

"If you desire for me to call the recruiter and describe your exploits in my classroom, I'll be happy to accommodate that request. Is that something you desire?"

He looked up in an expression that started with anger, but quickly ended in fear, "No ma'am."

"Then put your tail between your legs, walk back into my class, sit your sorry self down and shut your mouth. Is that plain enough for you?"

"Yes ma'am," Albert started to turn and walk away.

"And Albert, one more small request. That girl, Rose, you have no idea what her life is like or what she's been through. If you had half the courage she does then you just might turn into something. Yes, she's not wealthy, nor does she possess a star studded IQ, but she's special, ethical and hard working. She earned the right to be in this class. You have no idea how hard it is to overcome a mental, or physical, abnormality. May I suggest that you consider that possibility?"

He nodded.

"What?"

"Yes ma'am."

"You may go now."

"Sorry."

"Don't lie to me, just go back inside and sit down." The six-foot athletic boy went humbly back into the class while I smirked. No matter what Ms. Jensen did to me, the look of cowardice on Albert's face was worth the looming trouble.

The teacher looked at me with a mix of kindness and anger, "Millie, get the grin off your face." Then she smiled, "Oh God that was fun berating that immature child," she uncharacteristically said. I nodded trying to keep from laughing. Then we looked at each other for a few seconds.

"Dear," she said and paused for what seemed like a long time as if she was carefully considering her next words, "that girl overcame many naysayers to get to this class. She's been referred to as retarded and stupid for years, and I'm glad you stood up for her. But you can't use profanity in my class, understood?" Then she smiled again, realizing she'd just used profanity, "Some example I am, huh?"

"Yes, is that all?" I said and glanced at the door to the room.

"Not so fast young lady. You're not getting off the hook so easily."

I sighed.

"I'm about to make you angry so get ready . . . Your art teacher tells me you have talent. The best she's ever seen at eighteen. I've read your essays in literature—they're truly remarkable, child, and from one so young! Lordie, that poem about the girl with blue eyes just made me cry. You're exceptional." She stopped and looked at me trying to see if I would say anything. I didn't; I was trying to figure out her angle.

"So here's my question, are you just going to be another Southside banger's slut? Because that's where you're heading."

I looked at her enraged, "I ain't nobodies' slut." What was I supposed to do? Tell her that my mother's a whore, my dad's a pervert and I'm probably a lesbian? Shit, how could she understand my world? The bitch!

"Calm down. Look at me and listen," she said in a tone that meant business.

I looked at her with rage and contempt building up in me rapidly. If she was trying to push my buttons, she found them.

"Yes, you deserved to be called that," she said, continuing to rile me and making me wonder how long I'd take this shit from her, but I held my tongue.

"There's something in you dear. Something unusual that a few of us mature women at this school recognize. I've never seen one so talented as you. Don't you know what you are?" She looked at me waiting for an answer. I was suddenly puzzled.

"You have no idea do you?"

I shrugged, still seething but now listening with some growing interest. What was she talking about?

"You're a prodigy dear, an unkempt prodigy, able to light words with fire and produce art of beauty. I'd like to help get you out of here after this year if you're willing. I'm willing to do that if you truly want to do it, but you must do some things in order to earn it. Don't waste your life in the Southside sweetie."

After a moment of silence I asked, "Why help me?" No one ever helped me before.

"It's a long story my child, so I'll give you the short version. Twenty years ago I was worse than you. Crappy parents, not unlike your drunken mother and regretful father; I'm sorry, my dear, but this is not the time to be overly polite. My dear sweet father told me every day I was garbage. By the time I was fifteen, I was probably headed for trouble. My deformity predisposed me to ridicule, and I was destined for failure. My attitude back then would have guaranteed that nothing good would ever happen to me. I would be much different right now, and not exactly helping the world in my small way, save for one thing. Can you guess what that was?"

"A teacher?" I guessed, but I had no idea why I said that.

"Now see, I said you are a prodigy!" She smiled in a way that seemed playful, maybe teasing. "Yes, a teacher dear. A fine woman about twenty years my senior named Eunice. She took me under her wing and pushed me. Made me damned mad too, but she pushed me. I'm not near what you are child, but it's payback time for me. I owe that beautiful woman her reward. I want you to be that reward."

"I'm listening," I said a little wary, but realizing this teacher was up to something. My suspicious nature always figured that everybody had an angle for acting as they did. I wasn't going to fall for her line of BS.

"Suspicious, yet wondering, I like that!" she said.

"You need to take your SAT test, keep your grades up, then I'll help you with the scholarship forms. You may have to start off at a community college and prove yourself, but I have a feeling you may get into a really good school afterward. I know you've got it, but do you believe in yourself? If you do, this is the chance that you maybe thought you'd never have. So what is it dear? Are you a banger's slut or a diamond in the rough?"

I thought; it wasn't like me to take anything charitable. I must admit though, she intrigued me and maybe was serious. I tried to fight it, but no one ever gave me the time of day. Unable to hold back, I started crying a little. Ms. Jensen, who was still pretty fine looking in her own right, reached her arms around me and gave me a hug. At first I flinched, not used to being hugged, but the warmth of her scratchy sweater and the smell of her sweet perfume touched me deeply, and I took the damn hug and kept on crying. I felt something real for the first time in years.

With my head on her shoulder and my tears flowing, I shook my head refusing to accept the reality of her words, "I don't take no hand outs." We separated slightly, and I looked in her eyes then quickly added with the slightest touch of hope, "And what about my sister?"

"Well, my grass always needs mowing, and that woman I told you about earlier is senile and now lives with me. I could use a hand. Your sister, that could be tough, but I'll give it some thought. Deal?"

Furling my eyes I thought, No deal without Becka. But why was this lady doing this? I was a fuck up. In fact, I tried to fuck up so I would fail. Fucking up was ingrained into me as part of the learning curve in Southside.

Noticing my reluctance she asked, "You're not going to upset my dream now, are you?"

Hell! She wasn't going to give in easily. Screw her, what was her goddam angle? Most just quit on me right away, why couldn't she just quit like all the others? Resigned to disappoint another adult I told her, "I'll just fuc-mess it up."

"As they say child, 'nothing ventured, nothing gained.' You're going to find that I'm sort of a tough biddy and don't give in too easily. Deal?"

I looked at her intensely for a moment, then looked down to the ground and slowly spoke. "I—I'll think about it." I almost meant it.

"Then it's settled, that's enough to get started. Here is my phone number, so I'll expect my lawn mowed on Saturday. Now get your cute self back into class and act like I really chewed you out."

She was nuts! I didn't even say yes and there was no way I was going back into the room with tears in my eyes.

She caught on quickly to what I was thinking and said, "Okay, go to the bathroom and clean up first. Millie, just give it a shot. What do you have to lose?"

We paused, and this funny feeling sneaked into me that I didn't understand. "Okay," I said, then I did something I've never done before. I hugged her tightly and for some crazy reason kissed her cheek.

She pulled back surprised, blushed then said, "Now that really said we do have a deal, huh?"

I smiled at her. She smiled back. It's funny how a smile can mean so much. Then I turned away from her and ran to the restroom.

*******

Arriving home later that day, I made my little sister Becka a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a glass of milk.

"Choco?" she asked.

"Out, I'll bring some home from school tomorrow." Usually, I loaded my chocolate milk from school in my thermos, but today it slipped my mind and I felt bad about it. Becka loved her chocolate.

"Ya' gonna be okay if I go get me a choco at Taco Loco?"

"Bring me."

"Okay booger bear, I'll bring ya' one, but it's going to be all melty."

"Melty," she said and laughed. "Choco loco melty."

Smiling I said, "Be back fast, okay?"

"Fast," she said. "Choco loco melty."

Leaving the house, I took the shortcut along the drainage ditch to Taco Loco for a cold chocolate milkshake. Numbing my senses and burning my eyes, the dreadful smell of urine and feces escaping from the ditch almost made me wretch. Along the overgrown trail, the route was spoiled with stolen bicycles, two torched cars and a female mannequin with, "Fuck God," painted across her nude chest. Soon, the grass along the trail became trampled, signaling civilization was quickly approaching. As I exited to the irregular sidewalk, a gunshot echoed in the distance causing me to jump and turn quickly. Gunshots and similar explosions were not common in the neighborhood, but they occasionally occurred and scared the holy shit out of me when they did. Promptly walking the last quarter mile and crossing the invisible boundary to Northside, I entered the restaurant, reminding myself not to take shortcuts again.

Opening the door to the eatery, I went to the counter and ordered from a tired-eyed kid who looked no older than fifteen. The Southside stupid, as I liked to call those like him, was from way south of the Mason-Dixon Line because he needed my help to count change correctly. Yes dear, two nickels make a dime. I wanted more out of life than Southside had to offer and happened to think I'd get it. Yeah, I'm a bit cocky about some things, but just downright squirrelly about others, sex being one of the big others.

Sitting down in a small little booth with my treat, an effusion of grease, onions and aromatic spices invaded my nostrils. However, the spice that almost blinded my eyes was her, the girl from my algebra class, Rose.

Focused on her boyfriend, her lower lip trembled. He was a frighteningly tattooed beast covered with piercings, fake diamonds, gold chains and oversized blue-jean shorts hanging half off his muscular butt. Asshole and asshole magnet slipped into my mind as I watched the two. The boy started yelling, and the greasy joint quieted so all the voyeurs could enjoy the torment of the cute young girl.

"Fuck you puta," he yelled spewing spittle. "Where were you bitch?"

"I told you baby, I was studying."

"Pendeja!"

"What do you mean Johnny? I was studying, just like I told you."

"Lying retarded whore. That ain't what Puppet told me."

"He's full of shit Johnny, full of it."

"Not only are you messing around on me, my bro is full of shit?"

Her lips quivered and tears began to flow incessantly from her large dark-brown eyes. My heart sank to my knees. Johnny had no regard for privacy or feelings, but that wasn't so different from most Southside bangers. "Jo-Johnny, listen to me. I'm your girl, right?" The large boy didn't respond.

"Wh-Who are you going to believe?" the girl stammered as he glared at her.

"Aren't you going to say anything? D-D-Don't you believe me?" She asked and reached her hand to his. He pulled away, displayed a gnarled grin, then the shit slapped her hard across the face. I felt the slap as if he'd hit me, and it caused my anger to erupt.

"Don't touch me puta, I don't want to get stupid on me, this is over." Then he stood up, started to walk off, stopped and turned around to face the girl. "Oh, idiota, here's your piece of caca." Johnny took a hold of a thick gold chain around his neck, pulled it with his hands until it broke, then threw it at her.

The poor girl started crying loudly, and her tears pulled at my heart while simultaneously pissing me off. Johnny pranced off like an arrogant fool too ignorant to notice his own stench. The misguided girl shook and sounded as if she would vomit, drawing the repugnant stares of the pathetic patrons.

Gathering her strength, she looked up and yelled, "Johnny! You bastard, you fucking bastard, you fucked me then you leave. Bastard!"

Johnny slowly turned around with menacing contempt. "Hey stupid babe, yous got some good fuckable pussy. All my boys got a piece of that fine pink pie, slut puppy. Even retards can fuck." Then he grabbed his crotch and taunted her, "Some good educated pussy!"

That's when I became fed up and did one of my stupid things. I left my comfortable niche and walked up to Johnny. Looking him in the face, I stared, causing him to take a step back. "Get out of here, you've done enough," I told him without even thinking of the consequences.

He looked at me incredulously, too shocked for words and wondering what a hundred pound girl was doing questioning his godliness. When he spoke, he shouted, enraged, "Fuck you bitch! I'll take your pussy too."