Admitting // Christy & Charlie
charlie-milton:
She was the psycho? Yeah, that much was obvious. At least the scowl had returned, and now Charlie was seeing the Chrosty she remembered: Angry, angry, angry, in a way a ten year old should not be. “Don’t read bad books? How exactly do you know, smartass? Did you ever bother to open it? Hell, did you even know how to read?
Okay she was probably being childish at this point. But why the fuck couldn’t she just apologise and leave? If she had just said I’m sorry about your book Charlie, none of this would have had to happen. But then again, Charlie had a feeling that Christy was not one of the people that owned up to their mistakes. She hated those people.
When Christy stopped facing her, she clenched her teeth and finally turned back to the computer to see the result of her search: Tunred out they had copies of the book in Dublin, and from what she knew it would take them a while to send the book all the way to Sawyer. She made a mental note to ask them exactly when the book would arrive when she’d call to make the order, so she wouldn’t be at the bookstore. If she never saw Christy again, it would be too soon. For a moment she considered telling her she hadn’t found the book in the database, nd get rid of her. But then she thought of the money Christy would pay for her purchase, and recollected herself. “Your book is gonna be here in a few days. We’ll call you when we get it.” She tried to make her tone neutral and professional, so that Christy would leave the bookstore, but there were traces of anger in her voice that she couldn’t hide.
Christy surely was going to grit her teeth down to nothing by the way Charlie spoke to her. The girl had no more insight in the story than that it had been her book Christy had torched, but other than that, all the jipes and snide remarks only made Christy more and more angry, the more Charlie used them. Of course she could read. That’s why she’d torched the book in the first place. It was shit. To be honest Christy hadn’t expected Charlie to go off like she did. She had thought, in some crazy way, that Charlie would have thanked her, would have wanted to become her friend. She thought the girl was playing a prank on her, like all the other children always did. It was shit because she’d thought it was a prank being pulled on her. And that Charlie never seemed to have taken Christy’s history as a victim of pranks into consideration, Christy could only argue with herself that Charlie had been one of those pulling yet another prank, and was now playing on the “I was innocent”-card.
But Christy wasn’t going to tell Charlie that. Oh, no. Absolutely not.
“Fine. Great. Splendid. Let me know when the fucking book is here, and be sure you’re not here when I come to pay and pick it up.”
And with that, she left the store abruptly, so as not to give Charlie any room to reply.
(Source: christyrossi)
Admitting // Christy & Charlie
charlie-milton:
Charlie rolled her eyes and her lis curled into a sarcastic smile. “Well, clearly the normal reaction to something you don’t like when you’re ten is to set fire to it. I mean it’s a normal reaction, I did it all the time. Didn’t like what we had for dinner? Chainsawed it to pieces. My parents bought me a Barbie I didn’t like? I poured gasoline on it and set it on for with a flamethrower. Normal fourth grade behaviour.”
“Besides, it’s not like I remember the actual torching of the book, I was way too angry over the stupidity written within.” Charlie clenched her teeth and took a calming breath, to prevent herself from slapping Christy right on the face. This had been her favorite book goddamn it. She had lashed out at first, pure anger driving her responses, but when she got home she had cried so hard her mother actually thought someone had died. So Christy insisted on being such a bitch even now? Very well. Two could play that game.
“You know, sometimes I can’t help but wonder why you reacted that way. But then again, how could you understand someone trying to be your friend? It’s not like you ever had any.”
Gritting her teeth, Christy really was on the fucking verge of loudly cussing out the girl if she didn’t just order the fucking book so she could go. Her snarky up-tight you gave me mental scars-behavior made Christy want to rip the blonde hair off Charlie’s head. The only funny part with this situation was that Charlie actually described things that Christy had done — or similar things, at least, without knowing it. Or maybe she did. Maybe she’d stalked Christy ever since she torched her book. By the look of the situation, it sincerely looked like Charlie had stalked Christy.
And then she had the fucking nerve to step on her toes. No, Christy had actually never had any god damn friends. Maybe the one or two. Maybe. But they’d run off when they saw how brutally honest and harsh with life Christy could be. And Christy had expected everyone to run off ever since, and never gotten close to anyone. Charlie didn’t know how close she hit with that one, but Christy wasn’t going to tell her that. After all, they danced a dance and when you dance you have to act, even though you’re sweating through your tights.
“I wasn’t about to surround myself with friends with a taste as fucking bad as yours, psycho,” Christy snapped, her arms folded across her chest. Alright, so now she was scowling. But not in a wounded way. Only in her infamously angry way. “And I was teaching innocent little Charlie a fucking lesson. Don’t read bad fucking books.”
So maybe that wasn’t exactly true, but if Charlie wanted Christy to push it, Christy damn well could.
“Could you just order that bloody book before I channel my inner fouth-grade-self and set fire to this fucking place? I’m not of a fucking mind to stay and listen to you bitch over something that happened eleven fucking years ago,” she growled at Charlie, stepping away from the counter to turn half-away. Giving up all pretense of that this day was ending in a good way, and that she could keep this bitch in a good mood so as not to refuse her the service of the bookstore (though Christy was pretty sure Charlie wasn’t allowed to do that, and if she defied rules, Christy’d make sure Charlie would regret it), Christy made sure to keep her dark scowl at Charlie.
(Source: christyrossi)
Admitting // Christy & Charlie
charlie-milton:
Childish grudge? Charlie loved that book. She had been reading it every night before the incident, and she only parted with it when she decided to offer some help to that stupid bitch. And it wasn’t like Christy had rejected her offer, or had yelled at her, or had thrown the book back at her, or even torn a fucking page. She had set fire to it. And for Charlie there was nothing more scariligeous than burning a book. Not to mention the trauma she had gotten.
She crossed her arms in front of her chest to hide her shaky hands. “Yes, because I am clearly the one that is mentally unstable here. What kind of ten year-old burns the book of her classmate? I mean, OK, I knew you were batshit crazy, but I was expecting some common courtesy. And if you didn’t want it you could give it back.” What agitated her the most was that Christy didn’t seem the least bit remorseful for her act. Not even upset, or proud or something. Charlie’s blood was boiling, and the other girl looked like she was watching a mildly interesting documentary.
Christy’s scowl didn’t get any angrier, because the anger she felt now wasn’t the usual passionate one. Somehow, in an attempt to keep this a good day, she had averted from the blind, blazing white rage she always tended to achieve when bothered, but now she just wanted to order the fucking book and leave. There was still a part of her that wanted to hang about and argue with Charlie, but she didn’t seem to connect to it as much. This was one of those days Christy just felt like actually giving her mother a hug. Where other people had bad days, Christy had good ones. With someone as… passionate as Christy, that was pure and simple logic. And now this bitch in front of her wanted to ruin it.
“I was fucking ten, you lunatic,” Christy said sharply, the annoyed, bored scowl still on her face, her eyes growing darker. “A fucking child. Why don’t you time-travel back and take it up with me then? It was eleven fucking years ago. Besides, it’s not like I remember the actual torching of the book, I was way too angry over the stupidity written within.”
Christy didn’t avert her eyes even by an inch, and every time she blinked she wished she hadn’t, just so she could stare darkly at Charlie.
Alright. So maybe Christy actually knew she hadn’t been a stable ten-year-old. So maybe she knew the tantrums she had made her black out in anger (and still did, sometimes). And maybe she knew that torching the book had been childish. But if this girl wanted to pick a fucking fight, Christy decided she wasn’t going to try and stop it. Not even to keep her good day good. It was too late now either way, it was already spoiled.
(Source: christyrossi)
Admitting // Christy & Charlie
charlie-milton:
Charlie typed the name of the author and the book in her computer, her mind drifting to the scarring incident in fourth grade. Charlie still partially blame herself for it. Time had proved that when she made the first daring move into the unknown, she usually ended up embarrassed and ashamed, wishing she could lock herself up in a hole forever. Case in point, the Comic Con incident.
Apparently Charlie has been dropped on her head as a child, because that was teh only thing that could explain why she had reached out to Chrsty Rossi of all people. In her childish naiveté, she had picked up one of her favorite books back then, Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, and had offered it to the girl. She had thought that maybe Christy was in a bad mood like Alexander (hence the scowl) and the book would perhaps help her. Books always helped Charlie. And what had Christy done? She had torched her precious book. By the time Charlie had found out about it, the only thing left from her book was a pile of black ash. The fight that ensued afterwards became is still remembered in their elemenatry school.
The memory of her book’s fate made Charlie quite upset, and even though she had decided not to begin another pointless argument with her, she couldn’t help it anymore. “You know, it’s nice to see young people loving books. Most young people today have complete disdain towards literature. Some even go so far as to burn them, for God’s sake. Thank God you are above all that.” She had managed to keep her tone flippant at first, but soon all cheerfullness was gone from it, and by the end her words were dipped in pure vitriol. She was making eye contact with her now, and had clenched her hands into fists, the computer results long forgotten.
Looking at Charlie, Christy managed to keep her face indifferent, thinking the girl to strike up some useless costumer-to-employee-conversation, but her usual kind of scowl appeared on her face as Charlie finished the sentence. Looking at her through the scowl, Christy somehow managed to not only sound so, but actually quite look agitatedly bored with the whole situation.
“Indeed,” she said shortly, her bored scowl prominently present. “And I’ve also heard some people in this town really can hold a childish grudge. Holding onto something and then lashing out because of mental-fucking-instability, I’d bet. Thank God — oh, but wait… are you really above that?”
Christy kept her sharp gaze on Charlie, eyes hard. Well, looks like she wasn’t going to have to ruin her own day. Apparently, Charlie still held a fourth-grade-grudge (not that Christy was any better; it was a glorified moment she loved to reminisce about), and though Christy could have gone home feeling slightly agitated just due to the stupidity of the town in general, Christy was certain she’d push people to the ground in order to get home today.
(Source: christyrossi)
Admitting // Christy & Charlie
charlie-milton:
Christy was eyeing her, which under normal circumstances would make her extremely uncomfortable, and in this case she had the extra worry that she was going to be recognised from the other woman. After the incident with the book, Charlie had been rather traumatized, and if Christy found Charlie familiar she’d probably stay more than necessary.
“Hi, yeah, I’m looking for this Swedish author, and you don’t seem to have him. I was wondering if you do this thing where costumers can wish for a book and you’ll order it?”
Christy hadn’t made a move to show her that she remembered her, which made Charlie thank every diety she knew, and she put on her very best professional and boring tone. “Um, yes, we can order the book from Dublin, just tell me which one you want, your name and phone number and I’ll contact them.”
She moved to the ancient computer behind the counter - she had to complain about that, the shop owner needed to realize that it was 2012 for Christ’s sake- and looked up the phone number of the firm that brought their books. The fact that they didn’t have the book brought the unfortunate complication of Christy having to come back to pick up the actual book when it arrived, which meant Charlie was facing the risk of being recognised the second time, if she hadn’t been already. She made a mental note to get Theo to cover her shifts the rest of the week.
Christy relished the memory of scorching that awful book she’d received from Charlie in fourth grade. Of course she remembered — which only brought more snide remarks to her mind — but she also remembered that Charlie was a person who’d extract her claws when she had to, and even though Christy could leave the bookstore with anything from the last word to the last scratch made, it would without a doubt ruin her day. The only thing she could pray for if she wanted to pick a fight (which, quite honestly she didn’t), was that Charlie had somehow lost her spine and gotten submissive. Though, having their recent conversation at all in mind, Christy wouldn’t bet on it.
“He’s called August Strindberg,” she said confidently, although the name was awfully uncomfortable on her tongue, “and he’s written a novel called The Red Room.”
Christy leaned forward against the counter a bit, resting her elbows on it along with the rest of the lower part of the arm, and looking at Charlie with raised eyebrows, still not scowling, but definitely not looking anywhere near kind. Biting her lower lip, the memory of scorching the book came back to her. It tipped the snide remark she’d had ever since she recognized Charlie closer and closer to the edge of her tongue. She bit back, however, not wanting to ruin every chance of not having to go to Dublin and pick up the damned book herself.
(Source: christyrossi)
Admitting // Christy & Charlie
charlie-milton:
Charlie was seriously beginning to regret that second cup of coffee. The thing had smelled and tasted like caramel heaven, yes, and after the night with Cooper she hadn’t exactly gotten a lot of rest, but it turned out that coffee was the worst idea, especially when she was alone in the store. This was the fourth time she had to run to the bathroom, and this time she hoped her bladder would be kind enough to remain empty.
She was washing her hands in the small and rather dirty bathroom in the back of the bookstore when she heard someone calling her in the front. Great. The bookstore was usually silent like a graveyard, and the one day she was preoccupied was when the costumers remembered to buy books. She dried her hands quickly and double checked to see if she had zipped up her jeans. She opened the door and hurried to help the customer. She didn’t know when and if the next pee attack would occur, and she would rather not have anyone around when it did.
And then she was faced with a girl. Her face was really familiar, but her mind wasn’t giving her the extra information she needed, like where she had knew her from or her name, and she was baffled for a moment. And then it clicked. Christy Rossi. Also known as Mega Bitch Sent Straight From Hell. The girl that had a scowl pemanently glued on her face. Maybe that’s why Charlie hadn’t recognised her, Christy seemed unreasonably calm and in balance with her surroundings, and it had thrown her off. The fact that they hadn’t spoken in what had to be years didn’t help her memory much either.
She cleared her throat, and decided not to remind her that they knew each other. If she had forgotten her, she was way more likely to avoid Christy starting a fight with her, at least hopefully. “I’m sorry, I was in the bathroom.” She pointed at the back of the store. “Can I help you with something?”
There was a certain pang of recognition, and as skillful a memory as Christy had when it regarded someone she had never quite held in high esteem even though they hadn’t talked, Christy realized quite instantly whom the receving employee was. There went the little voice calling, “No day of yours can ever be fully perfect, a-huh!”, and Christy’s mood sank. But only just a little. However not having scowled in the first place, Christy didn’t scowl by the recognition either, though her eyes might’ve scowled if they’d possessed eyebrows Christy couldn’t control. The recognition did nothing to throw her off either, and she only had to bite back a snide remark before saying, with certain clammed and icy indifference,
“Hi, yeah, I’m looking for this Swedish author, and you don’t seem to have him. I was wondering if you do this thing where costumers can wish for a book and you’ll order it?”
She looked the girl - Charlie, if she wasn’t incorrect - up and down, just that quick one time so as not to rouse herself into letting that snide remark (that was still resting on her tongue) out. This was a good day. And it was going to stay a good day, too.
“Well, you know, for money of course,” she added, waving her hand as if to mark it quite obvious. Christy hadn’t found the book online in English, but figured that a bookstore ought to have more tricks up its sleeve than her. Christy gazed at the girl, unafraid to catch her eyes, and maybe even wanting to do so a bit daringly.
(Source: christyrossi)
Admitting // Christy & Charlie
If there was one thing Christy was sure not to manhandle (but scream at from time to time), it was books. And, alright, to be fair she had torched a book she’d deemed bad enough in fourth grade, but it’d been some stupid book suggested by her teacher because Christy found all the other books too easy to read, and it’d been by some indie author who obviously hadn’t payed attention in school.
Now, however, she’d gone to the bookstore in a quest so as to appreciate the books, and maybe even buy some. After all, she’d walked away from her cousin’s birthday party richer than she’d expected, and what better to place the money on than something as lasting as a book?
Christy was, in short, in a very good mood as she swung the door to the bookstore open, her ponytail bobbing from side to side, and up and down as she brusquely walked to the shelves containing the slightly older books. Call her a cliche, but Christy enjoyed the typical authors, such as Charles Dickens, Jane Austen, Tolkien, Mark Twain and C. S. Lewis, Shakespeare, Stephen King and the classics. One of her more recent favorite authors had turned out to be George R. R. Martin, as she’d found the three first books of his series A Song of Ice and Fire lying around her mother’s attic.
Christy wasn’t in search for one of those typical authors now, however. She’d read some by a Swedish author, and wanted a specific work. Being the slightly independant woman she is, Christy walked right passed whomever was in the store, and straight to the shelf with foreign authors. After a while, however, she had to sigh frustratedly and scowl and it became apparent that the store in question didn’t hold the author’s name. He hadn’t been popular outside of Europe, sure, but he was still popular enough. Considered Sweden’s greatest and most influential author, he had to appear somewhere… anywhere. Maybe the store could order it if she asked?
Making her way back to the counter, Christy looked around in quest for any employee. “Hello? Anyone here?” she called out confidently, playing lightly with her ponytail and averting her eyes to anywhere but where a person could appear. But, books! Not only did they smell good, they were interesting to look at, as well. “Costumer willing to pay for books, here!”
