The book is a collection of moments that make being a teenage girl so hilariously uncomfortable; full of firsts and when-you’s like the first time you went tanning or when your mom steals your copy of “Fifty Shades of Grey.”
Check it out. (More to come…) awkwardteenagegirls.tumblr.com
“young adult dystopian novels are so unrealistic lmao like they always have some random teenage girl rising up to inspire the world to make change.”
a hero emerges
And just like in the novels, grown men and women are going out of their way to destroy her. Support our hero.
And it’s not even like it doesn’t happen regularly.
Teenage girls are amazing.
Sometimes they’re not even teenagers
Reblog every time a girl is discredited/ignored
Who they are:
Emma Gonzalez
Malala Yousafzai
Ruby Bridges
Greta Thunberg
Mari Copeny
Autumn Peltier
Afreen Khan
Sophie Cruz
Charlottesville Black Students Union
Naomi Wadler
DAPL protestors (names not found)
Ahed Tamimi
This isn’t a coincidence. Revolutions almost always happen when the population of a country is at its youngest and that’s a lot more true nowadays with social media.
It is easy to pick up her trail at Movie Gallery when she comes off shift at 11pm, two hours after dusk. She changes out of her red and yellow polo shirt and into something stringy and tight, much more appropriate for the sticky Jackson heat. From there, I follow her to a Formica-and-polyester diner where she meet with a gaggle of teenagers to drink sodas and onion rings and dish. She keeps her dark hair in pigtails and her eyes painted with thick liner. Her shiny pink lipstick has to be constantly reapplied.
Her name was Savannah, that typical Southern name meant to conjure alluring images of the Confederacy, and of dripping, humid parties beneath oak trees and blooming crepe myrtles. Her cheeks are rosy under a bronze complexion and her eyes are as thick and dark as nighttime on the swamp. I didn’t care about these things in the beginning. To me, her beauty was secondary to the unadulterated blood flowing just below her skin.
When her friends break for the night, my Savannah drives her rusting Chevy to the Natchez Trace bike path. It is the deepest part of the night when she pulls on old sneakers and a sport bra, then sets out to run. I jog after her, careful not to expend too much energy so that I’d have to feed before I’ve watched long enough.
I need them young, before the blood is poisoned with ibuprofen and alcohol. It’s never been easy for me. I’ve been hunting only since the mid 1980s and any kid can find any drug to taint themselves. One sip and I’m dizzy or tripping. It isn’t worth it to hit fast – that’s why I watch.
After Savannah finishes her run, she heads to the narrow modular house she lives in with an old drunk she calls Poppy. She creeps in and showers, then reads or writes in a green diary until the sky is gray. As she falls to sleep, I hide.
Every night is the same, and I was convinced she was pure. Perfect.
Max, a bloodsucker who appears as young and beautiful as me but who is older by more than a century, once laughed at me when he found me skulking around in shadows up in Detroit.
“Date them,” he said. “It’s easier.”
“Than what?”
“Hiding bodies. You could get away with it, too” he sipped his Coke. “That baby face, and big blue eyes. You look like a star quarterback.”
I’d been a star quarterback.
“If you date one, you can make sure she doesn’t drink or snort or smoke anything long enough to take your fill. Or get it in doses. I used the same girl for almost three months before she was too weak to be any fun.”
“Fun?” I cracked the knuckle of my right forefinger. Old habit. “Like having fun with my granddaughter.”
Max laughed. His teeth were whiter than porcelain. He must’ve seen a dentist. “I am one hundred and sixty-three years old, Dove. If you find a human appropriately similar in age, do let me know.”
I imagined dating Savannah as I tracked her home on the fifth night. What would we talk about? Presidential politics? Hematology? I doubted she was interested in the same things as me. If I had lived, I would be thirty-eight. She was 17. I was modern enough to think that was a crime, no matter how high school I looked. It wasn’t like my brain stunted when I started sucking blood. (I recognize that murder is also a crime, and I don’t know what that says about me, or my society, that it was an easier taboo for me to overcome.)
At the mod-home park, I snuck close enough to realize her Poppy was awake. He threw something into the wall. The smoke alarm shrieked and Savannah stumbled back down the concrete porch steps. She dashed across the yard and disappeared into the darkness of the pine forest between the park and Highway 20. Her feet slid on grass damp from an afternoon storm, and the pine scent was so think I lost track of her strawberry shampoo. But I could hear her crying and the scrape of her shoes as she kicked at piles of needles and pinecones. The trees were like prison bars jutting out of the ground.
Adrenaline tingled in my fingers as I realize this was it. Tonight I would twist her arm behind her back and bow her spine until her artery stood out in her neck. I would drink until I burst and then leave her body at the foot of a pine tree. Her Poppy would not come, even when they called from Movie Gallery to find out why she was absent. It would be days. I would be far gone.
Savannah sucked in breath and froze. I leaned into the shadow of a thick trunk and watched. She bent, staring at something near her feet. It fluttered. A bird – broken and cheeping terror. Reaching out a finger, she touched its back.
The bird flapped its wings and Savannah faltered back. I saw tears running down her burnished cheeks. Her lips pressed into a line and with a swift jerk of her foot, she kicked the bird high into the air. It slammed into a tree only a few steps from me. Savannah turned away, a gargling moan trailing behind her as she ran.
But I did not follow.
My heart fluttered like the broken wings of that bird: I was suddenly, irrevocably in love.
“I am honored to mark my 18th birthday with the brave and inspiring girls of Syria. I am here on behalf of the 28 million children who are kept from the classroom because of armed conflict. Their courage and dedication to continue their schooling in difficult conditions inspires people around the world and it is our duty to stand by them,” Malala said. “On this day, I have a message for the leaders of this country, this region and the world — you are failing the Syrian people, especially Syria’s children. This is a heartbreaking tragedy — the world’s worst refugee crisis in decades.”
I met Felicia in high school. We were on the varsity soccer team together. She was stunning beautiful. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I had known for some time that I was attracted to girls, but I never felt an attraction this strong before. I swear that there were times that I saw her trying to catch a glimpse of me. Especially, when we were showering or changing in the locker room. My bestie told me that I should talk to Felicia. I was a little reluctant because I was white and she was black. I didn’t know how she felt about having a biracial relationship.
I approached Felicia one day. I told her that I thought that she was a good athlete. She looked at me weird and said, “thanks, I guess.” I finally had to woman up and I said…
“I think you’re really pretty! Would you go out with me,” I said.
“You mean like a date? Like girlfriends,” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied. I could feel my cheeks turning red.
“Yes, I’d like that,” Felicia replied.
It was with Felicia that I had my first taste of pussy. She came to my house. My parents were at work and wouldn’t be home until after 6pm. We went up to my room and started kissing and making out. I was really nervous when Felicia pulled her top off and I saw her beautiful breast and dark nipples for the first.
“Let me help you with that,” Felicia said as she pulled off my polo.
Felicia rand her hands over my petite breast. My nipples were really hard and sensitive. She gently played with them before taking them in her mouth. My whole body shivered and I got goosebumps.
Felicia pushed me down on my bed. She kissed down my chest and abdomen. It made my pussy tingle. When Felicia reached my belly button, she looked at me with her deep brown eyes and smiled as she slowly started to pull my pants down.
My heart was racing as she wiggled my pants and panties over my hips. She pushed my legs apart and buried her face between my thighs.
“Oooohhhh, aaahhhhhh,” I moaned when I felt her lick my pussy.
I leaned up and held my legs up from behind my knees. I watched Felicia eat me out. It was the first time anyone ever did that to me. It felt so fucking good. Her tongue was so soft. She made me so wet exploring my vagina. I especially loved when her tongue fluttered over my clitoris and how she sucked on it. It drove me absolutely wild. She didn’t stop until she made me orgasm. It was one of the most satisfying orgasms I had. It was way better than just me masturbating and having one.
Felicia pulled off her pants and panties. She straddled my face. She reached between her legs and rubbed her pussy. I watched as she fingered herself. Felicia pulled out her fingers that were coated with her cum. Her rubbed her fingers across my lips.
“Open up, taste me,” she said.
I opened my mouth and Felicia put her fingers inside. I ran my tongue over her fingers and licked off her juices. She plunged her fingers back inside her body and offered them to me again. I sucked off every last drop of her ambrosia.
“Do you want more?”
“Yes,” I answered.
She spread her lips open. Her pussy was really pretty. Her clit was hard and sticking out of it’s protective hood. Her inner labia glistened with her juices. Her aroma was intoxicating. She wiggled closer to my mouth. I stuck out my tongue and tentatively began to lick around her femininity. She rolled her pelvis back and forth across my tongue. She caressed her breast and played with her nipples. I held onto her wais and caressed her ass while I ate her out. I couldn’t get enough of her flavor.
We laid on our sides in a 69 position. Each of us lapping at the other’s pussy. I slid my fingers deep inside Felicia’s body. Her pelvic muscles gripping my finger.
“Mmmm, that feels so good! Go deeper! Oooohhhhhh, deeper,” moaned Felicia.
Felicia’s body started to shake. I could see her pussy quivering as she started to orgasm. She buried her face in my pussy and ate me out furiously through her own orgasm. Suddenly, I started to orgasm also. I pulled her closer to my mouth and kept on eating her.
“Oooohhhh Fuckkkk,” I yelled in her pussy.
We laid there in each other’s arms enjoying our post orgasmic recovery. It was so nice just holding and kissing each other and saying I love you.
That was until Felicia’s phone rang and her Mama asked when would she be coming home. I watched Felicia get dressed. She kept apologizing and kissing me.
“I really love, Veronica. You’re so beautiful. I’m so so sorry that I have to go.
I threw my robe on and walked her to the door. I kissed her goodbye. Well, actually several times. We just couldn’t stop. We craved one another so badly.
“See you in school tomorrow,” god that sounded so lame.
“And after,” said Felicia with a naughty grin.
I headed back to my room. I took off my robe and laid spread eagle on the bed. I took my hairbrush and masturbated with it as I relived every moment of Felicia and I making love to each other until I came, again!
So, the director of my favorite LGBTQ film said that she’s going to read my novel O_O Holy shit…I did not think she was actually going to respond. Man, I really hope she likes it. It’s already such an honor that she’s saying that she’s going to check it out. If you want to check out my book too, it can be purchased here. Thanks!
