Scribbles (A Niall Horan fan fiction)

9) October 8: Bellybutton Plug

8 October, 2011

            I got caught up in the glamorous life of school, friends, and life again.  I do apologize.  Apologize with a Z.

            Charlotte has been getting on my case about the “misspelling” thing which is disheartening because I thought we were homies.  She told me that my story about the Sebra was cute but it was her job as an educator to educate me.  I took more offense to that than was warranted.  I knew what she meant, of course, and I knew she would work with me to achieve her goal, but come on now.  I suppose I could try to do it the “right-but-still-obviously-wrong” way but do you know how weird “apologise” looks? 

            Wait…is that even one of the words you change?  I don’t even know.

            Anyway, this is not a rant about spelling.  This is an update on my ever-so-glamorous life.

            With that said, I should probably start off with the crazy shit that went down Wednesday.  It was the day after we watched the Sagging Shits do their thing.  Maggie and Camilla were over and we were making real progress on our song.  Chase and his friends were outside skating, practicing for their competition.  Maggie excused herself after awhile to use the restroom.  After she was gone for a solid thirty minutes, Camilla and I decided that she was not suffering from an ill timed bowel movement as we had previously predicted.  We set aside our things and went to look for her.  I could hear the boys skateboarding outside and Camilla and I looked everywhere we could think of.  Finally we decided to separate, her in the front yard, me in the back.   

            I walked into the back yard and shivered.  Did you know it gets kind of cold in England?  I mean, I had only been there a few months and all, but I wasn’t prepared for such cold.

            I’m getting off topic.  Probably because I’m trying to repress what I found when I walked outside.  So I meandered into the yard and instantly decided that no one in their right mind would come outside in the cold and turned to go back inside.  That’s when I saw it. 

            Maggie and Chase, pressed against the side of the house, kissing like the world was ending.  I could distinctly see his hand on her boob over her shirt and she was currently in the process of removing his blazer.  My level of mortification knew no bounds. 

            I was in that state of shock where you can’t do anything.  You’re paralyzed into immobility and silence.  All I could do was watch in horror as she tossed his blazer aside (comically close to my feet) and then started on his shirt.  Some part of me must have decided that if I stayed there much longer, I might witness something far more damaging.

            I tried to yell for them to stop or something, but all that came out was a strangled cry of defiance. 

            Maggie jumped so far away from Chase that she caught her foot on a planter and tumbled to the ground.  Chase squealed like a little girl and closed his shirt.  I still couldn’t form a coherent sentence so I just went, “AHHHH!” and gestured between them.

            “Bailey!” Maggie gasped.

            “I couldn’t find her anywhere, but Max and Rex wanted to know if I’ve seen Chase, so maybe some vortex swallowed them or—Bailey?  What’s wrong?” Camilla asked.  She walked through the sliding door of the house and joined me.  I made another noise and waved at the scene in front of me.

            “Holy shit,” Camilla breathed.  Her wide eyes landed on me and then she burst out laughing.  She clutched her stomach and held onto my shoulder for support as she laughed.  Call me crazy, but I just didn’t see the humor (humour?).  This was my baby brother we were talking about.  He was only fourteen which meant he was practically only twelve, which practically means he was only ten and what kind of sick pervert makes out with a ten-year-old?