This first chapter of Lost Footsteps I've Misused remains on this site as an indicator of my ownership of the work.

The following chapters are not in chronological order, but are instead one shots I have written for the purpose of developing These Lives I Walk into a more convincing trilogy.

Lost Footsteps I've Misused

Ariana's POV

Three-Quaters of November

Chapter Number One
Footsteps In The Sand

Sure, I'd made my fair share of mistakes.

Sure, I wasn't the best daughter.

Sure, I lied, I cheated, I thieved, I destroyed everything with a pulse…

But in the end I was just following the footsteps that had been carved out in stone for me…

"What are you staring at, whore? My startling beauty?"

My smile was as fake as the hair Molly was flicking vainly over her scarily narrow shoulder as she practically sprawled her breasts over the girl-dick that was, well, being his normal dickish self…

"No, actually, I was staring at the sign on that wall that's pointing to you with the word S-T-U-P-I-D on it, but close."

A brief moment of irritation coloured his eyes, before he looked away and to the offending sign and tore it down with dirty hands. It had amused me beyond belief that the sign was actually pointing right towards Bryan's dumbass head. Even inanimate objects had enough sense to be able to point out such an obvious fact.

It was either amuse myself with that, or sit and stare up at the moth caught in the light casing above…

Maths truly couldn't be any more boring.

Someone off to my left must have found my comment amusing as they stifled a laugh. There were still people who laughed at my jokes, just like how there were still people who would talk to me.

There were a lot of people talking about me too. The Gossips.

You know, the year twelve that always has her hair in a bun, and walks around like this? *Cue the boob thrusting* Hey look, that's her right there!

I wasn't quite sure why they described me like that…I only wore my hair up like that on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. And I definitely didn't stick my chest out like a whore.

They say actions speak louder than…well…ah, words.

I was going to say looks, but there you go.

We'll pretend that's what they say. Actions speak louder than looks, and I'm pretty sure that what I did may have made people believe that I'd have to shove my tits out like there's no tomorrow.

I knew for a fact that there would be tomorrow, just as long as I didn't get hit by a car or something on the way home.

"Whore." Bryan spat again, as if the second time around would have more effect.

I feigned a dramatic gasp, "Yeah, no, come up with some new insults, thanks."

Bryan pulled the finger at me and then progressed to ignore my side of the room completely, Molly on the other hand was still looking down on me. Condescendingly. Not that she had the faintest idea to what that word meant.

Molly was the epitome of dumb.

Sometimes I wondered if she actually had a serious mental disability that enabled mass amounts of drooling, and vacant glazed eyeballs. That and the vocabulary of a three year old.

Other times I wondered if she could look anything more like my Barbie Max scribbled all over with vivid, when he was three. All stringy frazzled hair, and badly made up face, and features that deserved to be blacked out…

My pen began to tap against the budget desk that I was kicking with the toes of my shoes. A few people turned around, as if about to tell me to shut the hell up, then closed their mouths as soon as they realised it was me.

The old coot of a teacher drawled on and on with his ghastly bald spot and his lazy eye…the one that I couldn't take seriously no matter how hard I tried. What he was telling us wasn't making the slightest portion of sense.

The bell seemed to take years to ring…and when it did, relief and anxiousness both overwhelmed me at the same time. Relief due to the fact that the monotonous drone was finally over – anxiousness because I was going home.

I would be sure to put this off as long as humanely possible.

I wasn't stupid enough to think that my parents didn't already know.

Everyone from the school was rushing, floods of people breaking out and around to the driveway that ran between the high school and the primary school. Where the school buses would be.

My school was rural, in a largely expanding town on the edge of the flat city. Farming country for miles, sheep, cattle, horses, pigs, sheep…yeah, mainly sheep. It was a country folk sanctuary, with all the lamb you can eat.

I, on the other hand, didn't especially like it.

I'd lived here thirteen years. They weren't the best of years, but they weren't that bad either. They were bearable.

My feet tumbled and tapped against the uneven pavement of the school grounds, the single tree that sat between T-block and Social Services heaving and rushing in the hot wind.

People who had heard the rumours (I tried telling myself that wasn't the whole of the school, then failed when all eyes turned to me in any situation) glared, whispered and laughed. It pissed me off more than it hurt my feelings. My feelings were brushed of somewhere before year three, when my best friend was the local loser of a boy.

The wind blew again, whipping through the drift that the collection of blocks had caused. My school had only one building that had two stories; the rest of it was flat and spread out. Irritated, I brushed my hair out of my eyes…and someone nearly ran straight into me.

"Oi! Watch where you're-" And that was the end of words from me. Like the end of the end.

Ewan's dark eyes were staring amusedly into mine. Stupid plain brown eyes. There was this lump in my throat. It felt a lot like a fur ball…maybe Narnia crawled down my throat while I was power napping last night. "'Sup Arie," He was a conceited asshole, he wasn't asking me how I fricking was because he wanted to know, but because he wanted to piss me the hell off.

I guess that revelation escaped me…

"Fuck you." I spat as acidic as possible, before violently tearing past him. Forgetting completely that my anger was exactly what he'd hoped for.

"Too late. You know, because you've already done that and all." He called after me; I just knew that he'd have that stupid assed smirk on his face.

From out of nowhere one of his hollering friends oohed at the burn.

It wasn't a burn.

And I'd like to deny that it was true…

But it was. He was completely right…and I had an applicably terrible choice of words.

It was official.

As I sat on the bus, bouncing backwards and forwards at the slightest jar in the road, I thought. I puzzled. I fumed.

What I hated was the dirty label that had been slapped on me, while that manwhore, Ewan got away with credit. How the fuck did that work?

I'll tell you how that works, sexism is how.

Because if I girl has sex with someone in a toilet stand, then she's a whore. If I guy manages the same feat, he's a legend. Ewan hasn't been getting stares; he's been wearing that sex in the bathroom around on his chest like a badge.

Yes, I, Ariana White, was stupid enough to have sex with my ex in the A-block toilets. Fifteen minutes before the end of school…and we got caught. Majorly caught.

I cant really remember much of what happened, just that one minute we were sitting on the bench outside the music room, bunking sixth period, discussing out our problems, and the next – temptation was too much – and we were inside the stall in the far corner of the girls room, bonking each others brains out.

Of course, he'd suggested that he should come back to mine…but that was a definite no-no. My mother would kill me if I brought a boy home without pre-telling her, and then she would kill me again when she heard my headboard banging…plus, Dad would literately kill him.

I'd asked about his house, and he'd just told me that he had been thrown out three days ago…

The only option left had been the bathroom, and it sounded like a great idea at the time. We locked the door into the bathroom, then locked the door into that one fucking stall.

But it hadn't been enough. Someone had gone to get a teacher when the door into the bathroom hadn't opened at all…the teacher had used his keys, and what we were doing had been revealed.

It was embarrassing. So embarrassing…I knew that there wasn't a way I was going to be getting out of this one, socially and consequently.

The bus slew to our stop, Max glanced back from further up the bus as he stood. It must have been obvious to his eyes that I wasn't getting off. Not here, at our stop. Max also knew not to mess with me and my behaviour. I was sure that he had to have heard the rumours. My little turd of a brother wasn't completely dead on the social scene.

He shrugged his shoulders and saluted me as he got off the bus.

I slouched back in my seat. Take me now!

A piece of something hit the back of my head, and there were giggles that overrode the chatter of the bus. I didn't turn, I truly couldn't be bothered with taunting from the it girls in my year. Usually they wouldn't bother trying to mess with me, I wasn't exactly the best influence on anyone. And these girls were as squeaky clean as their shoes, all short skirts, made-up faces, and not a joint, cigarette or orgy in sight.

Their faces were crisp, their hair elegantly done. None of them had a half an attitude. I ate their kind of girl for lunch…usually.

At the moment my self-esteem, and capability to act the careless girl that I usually was, was at an all time low.

It's hard for me to be anything but nervous when I know my mother has found out something I never wanted her to know. Sure, I flashed it in her face a whole lot that I wasn't the perfectly little girl she'd wanted to raise me into. Like the stud I got on my upper lip, and my latest dyeing session that ended my brown hair with blonde and bubblegum pink sections.

I'd just never unintentionally tried to piss off my mother.

For one, she didn't even know that I was long gone a virgin.

She was a controlling bitch, and sometimes I couldn't find it in myself to hold in the hate I had for her. My dad wasn't so bad; we didn't grate on each other's nerves as much…

Still, I didn't want to face either one of them.

So I rode the bus into town, and got off at the mall, my arms wrapped around my stupid uniformed self. I hated uniform; it made us look like we were some form of cult or something.

Also, the red really didn't compliment my skin color.

Anger was flaring everywhere within me. Anger at myself. Anger at Ewan. Anger. Just general anger that I couldn't express within school, because it would show that I did give some sort of shit about my image.

I didn't. I never cared…people never talked so openly about me.

I had to do my best to just pretend that I didn't know what it was they were talking about. I'd have done anything to have just blown up at everyone that pointed and whispered.

That would shut them the fuck up.

I didn't go into the mall; instead I started on my way home, my head down, my arms swinging furiously at my sides…I wanted for the world to implode, for Ewan to explode.

The asshole thinks he's so damn cool. Well he's not. He's just Pakeha dipped in shit and chucked flat on its nose. One that you cant trust a secret around, let alone your wallet.

What did I ever see in him?


It was going to take me hours to get home.

Good. My mother'd be pissed off, maybe so pissed off about me being late that she'd completely forget to yell at me about the fact that I had sex with someone in a school toilet…

Everything was red and blurry in my sights. I just wanted to hit someone. Really, really hard. Girls could be such bitches. What had I ever done to a single one of those skanks that are talking about me? What did I ever do to deserve to be ratted on like that? Sure, maybe I'd thrown Melissa's pink frilly undies up the tree in year ten, and maybe I stuck a pad on Andrea's back last year, just to inform the whole school that the skeletal girl was yet to get her period…

Not that this was the end of my life or anything.

I could deal with this, perhaps being labelled as a slut doing it in toilet cubicles was exactly what I needed. Some good, uncomplicated sex with boys that I could ignore later was never a bad thing. In fact, I could make a business out of it!

My pleasure for theirs.

No cost required!

Lets see who gets the last laugh then.

It was as I was trotting along, chortling to myself at my master plan that someone slammed into my shoulder with the force of two bulldozers – and the contents of my bookbinder in my arms went sprawling everywhere.

"Fuck me sideways! That's the second fucking time today!" I spat, irritated, throwing up my arms and plainly walking away from the person and the mess. There was nothing in me that cared about my folder or its contents, it was only schoolwork. Schoolwork could rot in a fucking ditch for all I cared; there were far more important things to worry about. For one, my arm was throbbing painfully in its socket. Like, oww!

I bruise easily you inconsiderate asshole!

"Hey!" the voice rose in what I assumed was normal pitch, the sound of footsteps against the warm pathway thudded behind me, and a large hand reached over and tugged on my poor shoulder.

"Ouch! Idiot! That hurts! Why don't you just leave me the fuck alone! I don't care about my papers, or chivalry, for that matter…"

It was then that I realised who I was yelling at.

No way. No fucking way.

"What!" I demanded at his face. No way was I going to melt, just because…just because…

"You're that girl, Ariana, the one that did Ewan in the chicks toilets."

Thank you very much Captain Obvious!

"Yeah, and what?" I replied in the snappiest, most irate voice I could muster.

"Nothing." And to my pure frustration, the punk turned around and walked away, as if he really did mean that there was nothing more for him to say. As if that was the only thing he had to say to me.

Great, Ethan Merisel – my crush since year four – finally knows of my existence, but only for the one stupid reason…I publicly had sex with his best friend.


Hello again readers!

So, I have decided to post up oneshots of theoretical situations that the characters from my These Lives I Walk trilogy never actually got up to, or did, but things that occur outside the narrative.

I've been writing these irrelevant pieces to develop character and understand the function of the story outside of what was actually written. I thought that this would be a good opportunity to share more of the series with any of you old readers that may still have the stories on alert :)

The following chapters will be these said writings. They are not in any order - chronological or otherwise - and do not function together, but rather as individual snap shots. If you are interested in reading something meatier - with a plot - then please do check out my new story Pretend to Chase.

Thanks again, definitely tell me what you think!