Read Emily Taylor - The Teenage Mum Online
Authors: Vi Grim
Tags: #coming of age, #pregnancy, #emily taylor, #pregnancy and childbirth, #vi grim, #age 14 to adult, #the teenage mum, #young mum
Emily Taylor - The Teenage Mum (4 page)
zinodes and others, welcome to the first ever intergalactic fashion
show,' announces Azziz.
I haven't seen him in human
form for a long time. He looks ever so handsome wearing a smart
black suit and bright green tie that matches his eyes.
'Please put your hands together
for tonight's host, Coco Chanel.'
There's a long round of
applause and the woman with dark hair and pearls takes the
microphone. 'Bonjour aliens, ladies and gentlemen. It's my pleasure
to be here this evening and I must say that I'm delighted to see
that some of you are starting to wear clothes-'
She pauses while the laugher
and cheering dies down.
'I must say,' she continues,
'that it is a great honour to have Jesus in the crowd.'
Jesus, who is in human form and
wearing faded jeans and a designer surf shirt, shrugs his shoulders
and looks slightly embarrassed.
'If I had known, I would have
designed a new range of robes.
'With the help of Ossie
Clark and Vidal Sassoon, we’ve put together this show, a mixture of
our latest designs and current UK high street fashion. I hope you
enjoy the evening. If you would like to buy any of the outfits or
have us design something especially for you, please see me after
the show or visit our new store on Zwingly, the coolest asteroid in
the universe.
'Let the show commence!'
The lights are dimmed and music
blares out over the loud speakers. A spotlight picks out the first
model as she emerges from behind the ferns.
She's one of the teroid models,
and wears a dress made of little daisies, like the ones that grow
on my front lawn. While she could do with eating fish and chips
twice a day for a month to get a bit of flesh on her bones, she
does look magnificent, in a brainless zombie sort of a way. It's a
skimpy little number and I can see daisies on her knickers.
She struts up to the end of the
catwalk and back, walking all sort of stiff and funny, like she's
got a carrot up her bum. I almost burst out laughing, but figure
Coco might not appreciate it. She looks so deadly serious.
Next out are beautiful, lithe
anode girls. They're modelling florals: black jumpsuits with little
yellow and blue forget-me-nots; summer dresses in bright yellow
with white daisies; a beautiful dress shaped like an upside-down
lily, starting just above the model's boobs and opening out to flow
down to the ground; an evening gown with many layers in subtle
shades of deep red, like rose petals, with a hat to match; and a
girl wearing a plain white bathrobe and flip-flops with fake lotus
flowers on them.
I like the
flip-flops, they're so wonderfully tacky, but the next outfit is
more
me
: a pair of bootleg faded jeans with a few
strategic slits cut in them and a green T-shirt that has piffle
spray painted on it. The only thing floral about it is that the
model has a daisy chain hovering over her head like a halo. She
could really do with some devil horns instead.
taking the microphone says, 'Tonight's singer needs no
introduction. Ladies and Gentlemen, please give her a big
hand.'
After the applause dies down
the singer says, 'Good evening. It's funny how you change with
time. I used to be big onto flower power and daisy chains, now days
I wouldn't be seen dead wearing them, but I'd be quite at home in
this next outfit. Here's a song I usually sing with my good
friends, The Rolling Stones.
leaving just the stage bathed in flickering torchlight.
'She comes on like a rose and
everybody knows....'
The spotlight picks out the
next model emerging through the ferns.
She's all leaves. They start
around her boobs, or what little ones she has, and flow down to the
ground, trailing out behind her. When she gets down to my end of
the catwalk, I can see that it's actually the other way around, the
dress grows up from the ground with the ivy vines entwining their
way up around her body with the leaves getting smaller as they go,
with just the tiniest little shoots at the very top reaching up to
encircle her arms. She has dark ebony skin, short spiky black hair,
black nail polish, black eyes and black lipstick.
'Poison ivy,' sings the lady,
and we all clap until our hands hurt. It's just so well done.
The model glides smoothly
around the catwalk until the song stops then disappears back into
the foliage.
I've never heard anyone sing
like this before. The lady's voice is rough and raw with a cutting
emotion just under the surface, like she's just holding it together
but could collapse into tears and melt down into a puddle at an
instant. I wonder if she eats gravel for breakfast and washes it
down with whiskey.
'Thank you Janice,' says Coco,
and the singer heads to the bar where Azziz pours her a glass of
Southern Comfort, no ice, no mixers, no gravel!
Next out is an anode
wearing a dress made of one banana leaf, with the spine of the leaf
running down parallel to the model's backbone and trailing back
behind like a dragon’s tail. The greenery wraps forward to cover
her body, like a giant pea pod. I wonder how she sits down or goes
to the toilet. Maybe she just holds on and jiggles. From here on,
the clothes get more wearable but are all green. A beautiful
evening dress that echoes the luminous green shades of the banana
leaf, a range of short flowing dresses in shades of green, a green
trouser suit that would be perfect for a leprechaun to wear to a St
Patrick's Day parade, and lastly a model wearing a battered olive
green jacket with sensual green lacy knickers. That's me; I like
the jacket and love the knickers. I don't normally wear knickers
but they would be just right for special occasions, better than the
ones with the daisies.
Janice comes
back on stage and sings
Ball
and Chain
. Out struts a model
wearing words and dragging a ball and chain. The words are all
joined together but, with all the gaps, it's see-though. I try to
read it but, with the model moving, I can't make out what it says.
If I made it, the words would be a poem or a story or something.
She ushers in the work wear; smart suits and ties, trouser suits,
little black numbers for seducing the boss, overalls and lastly
some yellow cut-off jeans and a dark blue T-shirt with little white
flowers stuck on it. It hardly looks like work wear but is just
perfect for me to do my housework in. It'll take the boring edge
off cleaning the toilet and scrubbing the floors.
There's a break
and waiters come around with drinks and trays laden with delicious
canap
é
s, then Janice takes the stage again and sings
Summertime
. A Chinese model comes out wearing seaweed. It's very
light and floats around her as if in the ocean currents. She has
seashells dangling from her ears and a pearl necklace. She's
followed by models in swimsuits. There's a bikini in the same polka
dot as my old one, way back in Spain, with a matching bathrobe.
It's very tempting but I decide on a simple one-piece black
swimsuit. You just can't beat it.
There's so many
clothes that are just
me
that I smell a rat.
Jesus and Azziz are up to something; it’s one of their special
surprises. I get all excited, wondering what'll happen.
out some comfy, relaxed looking outfits, mostly jeans and tops, and
a couple of bright dresses for the summer.
Janice staggers up onto stage. She's having some difficulty
standing, but when she speaks doesn't put a word out of place, 'I
know we're a couple of months late, but better late than never.
Ladies and Gentlemen, please join me in wishing Emily a very happy
birthday!'
Wow! With so much going on,
like almost getting eaten, I'd forgotten all about it. It had
slipped by unnoticed.
Following
Janice's gravelly voice, the crowd sings
Happy Birthday
.
I'm wiping tears from my eyes when the birthday cake arrives with
sparklers and candles. Fourteen candles! Once the sparklers burn
out, I make a wish and blow out the candles. Everyone cheers. I
don't like having such a fuss made over me but it
is
neat. I cut the cake up. It's a chocolate cake. It's so
crusty on the outside that I have trouble getting the knife through
and inside there's white bits like the flour wasn't mixed in
properly. It's served up with vanilla ice cream and lashings of
chocolate sauce and in the flickering light from the torches looks
just perfect.
coffee has been served, Janice takes the stage again. She takes a
little ball of paper out of her pocket and once she's unscrumpled
it and got it the right way up, reads it and says, 'Yes, Happy
Birthday Emily. Apparently Zeus himself baked the cake. He
apologises for not being here in person tonight but sends his
birthday wishes. Emily, the clothes you liked have been delivered
to your cottage, I hear that you're due for a new
wardrobe.'
I want to get up and say
something to thank everyone but just sit there, smiling stupidly.
It's all so neat.
'I have a little present
for you myself. If you would like, I’ll give you singing
lessons.'
Double
cool.
I smile at her and
nod.
Zwingly, you're welcome anytime.'
Reading her scrap of paper, she
looks a little surprised and takes time to read it again before
continuing. 'Emily it seems that you have reached a very special
time in your life, you are no longer a girl, welcome to
womanhood!'
The guests cheer and
clap.
'As is the custom in these
parts when you reach maturity, that means you can make babies, you
receive a special present.'
She claps her hands as Jesus
and Azziz roll in a large round present about a metre across.
Womanhood, maturity,
babies!
I wonder what could be in it.
I'm a little hesitant to start opening it. It might be something
weird that I'm not quite ready for.
As I fumble with the knots
trying to untie the ribbon, waiters move the tables to one side and
arrange some river boulders in a circle to make a little fireplace,
then set flaming torches around me. The knot is too tight and too
tricky, I just can't untie it. I pull the fang from my belt and cut
the ribbon then tear the paper off. There's another layer
underneath.
'The custom,' continues
Janice, who seems to be greatly enjoying the mystery of it all, 'is
that you burn each layer as it comes off. Scrumple it up, set fire
to it and drop it in the fireplace.'
I scrumple up
the paper, set fire to it and drop it into
the circle of stones. It flames brightly, sending
sparks chasing skywards.
brightly coloured wrapping paper comes off. I use my fang to cut
through the string, ribbons, and scotch tape then scrumple each
layer up and drop it on the brightly burning fire.
What could be
inside? It doesn't weigh much whatever it is. After about a hundred
layers I have a ball the size of a football. Another twenty and I
have a grapefruit. Ten more and I reach the last one. There's a
small silver box inside, almost like the one I used to put my teeth
in for the tooth fairy. I open it expectantly.
Diamonds maybe?
bit of a disappointment at first, but then start wondering what
they will grow into; they might be pumpkin trees or spaghetti
bushes. It's been such a neat evening that I must thank everyone. I
look around to get everyone's attention and putting on my biggest
voice say, 'Thank you everyone, it's been such a wonderful evening.
Tomorrow I'm going to burn my old clothes and plant these seeds;
who knows what might come up. Thank you for coming. It's been the
best birthday ever.'
of space,' says Jesus. 'If you like, I can help.'
'Yes please,' I say. If anyone
knows their seeds, it's Jesus. 'Don't tell me what they are though.
I like a surprise.'
'I won't. I hope that one day
your babies will climb in their branches.'
Everyone claps.
All this talk about babies
makes me feel a little embarrassed. My body might be ready for
babies but I'm not. 'I'm not having any babies just yet,' I say
quietly. Everyone seems to hear.
It's almost morning by the time
the party finishes. I watch the last slither of Venus disappear
behind the hills as I splash my way back along the beach, firmly
clasping the little box of seeds in my pocket.
thunder and the sound of rain drumming on the windows. Negrita,
who's curled up by my feet, snarls at me, blowing little sparks in
my direction, then stretches and makes herself comfortable again.
I'm bursting to pee but don't want to get up so turn over and
snuggle deeper under my covers.
Knock, knock, knock!
Frapping on the door gets me
up. Who could possibly be out in weather like this?
'Hang on a moment,' I yell, and
go to bathroom before pushing boxes out the way so I can answer the
door.
It's Jesus. He gives me a big
hug and a kiss. It's always so nice to see him.