The British Chippy - 1967
The British Chippy - 1967
by Amy Robinson
Title: The British Chippy - 1967
Author: Amy Robinson
Email: amy_robinson@email.com
Category: Romance, Series
Season: any Season
Pairing: Jack/other
Rating: PG
Warnings: language
Summary: I'm not telling you squat, you'll just have to read it.
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. I have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author(s).
BC - 1967
The school was practically fogged up with smoke emanating from the bathrooms and the new girl thought she might actually enjoy the latest addendum to her worldly education. Lex barely got a second look from the stoned students sprawled in the corridor as she washed past them in a netted stone-dusted white dress, psychedelic bag slung over her shoulder, looking for an office or at least someone who didn't have to be peeled off the ceiling.
Eventually she reached, what she assumed was, the canteen and pushed through the double doors, sight seeking someone who could help her. She spotted a table full of lads and grinned - the perfect place to start her first day. Over the years of moving around she'd discovered that boys were so much more fun with their fast cars and motorbikes than girls who consumed their vacuous minds with make-up, fashion and 'college men'. "Excuse me?" she stopped at the head of the table.
Seven pairs of eyes turned to look at her. Blonde, beautifully curled, hair down to her waist, thick eyeliner along the upper eyelid and voluptuous eyelashes, all set atop a graceful nose and full pink lips. "What can we do for you, miss...?"
She smiled, leaning forward on the table, "Lex. Could you tell me where the reception is?"
"We can do better than that - we'll take you there ourselves. We're a very friendly school." The boy grinned through blonde bangs and stood, bowing slightly.
"Why thank-you, kind sir, I would be much in your debt."
"That's what he likes to hear!" blurted one of the others, punching him lightly in the arm. Lex simply rolled her eyes.
"No matter what country you're in, all men are the same..." she snorted, "And as much as I'd love to hang around with you lot, I was supposed to check in about twenty minutes ago with the headmaster."
"You hear that? She'd love to hang around with us..." they all winked conspiratorially.
"You like bikes?" asked someone who had remained silent until then.
"I love bikes." There was nothing like hurtling down a deserted highway with one-hundred miles an hour of machine between your legs.
"You wanna come for a ride later? Show you the town..?" his eyes were fearless, deep brown pools of soul and edge.
Their gazes locked; she was trying to see past the bravado and he past the deceptive hippy garb. "I'll meet you at the gates after class."
He grinned, happy at the response and the sheer balls of the girl - but then again she'd only been at the school five minutes and hadn't heard about his reputation yet. "See you then."
She was going to leave with the boy who had offered to take her to he office when she turned back to the 'bike-boy.' "So what do I call you?" she asked.
"What everyone else calls me."
"Which is?" she prompted.
He paused again, lazily propping his feet up on a nearby chair before saying, "Jack."
The rest of the day passed with relative calm, with the usual parade of standing up and telling the class who you are, where you come from and what you like. She'd been tempted to say, "My name's Lex, I'm from Uranus and I like to play Russian roulette - anyone fancy a game..?" but settled for simply telling them, "My name's Alexandra Thompson and I'm from Plymouth in south-west England." She'd been allocated a locker with a ridiculous six digit combination that she was positive she would forget almost instantly so she resolved to never keep anything too important in there... of course it would be a perfect place to keep all the homework she hadn't done.
The other girls, as she'd predicted, were airheads who couldn't string two serious words together and avoided the male population unless there was a dance coming up and they were in need of dates - so mostly useless to the fun way of life Lex had adopted to amuse herself. As schools went it wasn't the worst she'd been to, but then she'd been to a fair few, for example the all girls school in France had been horrendously boring and the on-base school in Latvia had been too rigid, Lex much prefered the freedom of the co-ed, public high school here in northern Minnesota.
Now Lex stood, amongst the throng of students on their way home, by the large archaic iron gates waiting for her lift home, only slightly put out by the fact that she was wearing a billowy white dress and was about to jump on the back of a motorbike. She shifted her bag on her shouder and pushed a length of hair out of her eyes. "You ready?" it was Jack. With mousey, shoulder-length hair and a winning smile on his face he handed her a helmet.
"If you are." She smiled, taking the black head piece from him, "Friends gone home to do their homework?"
"Is the pope a buddist?"
"I'll ask him next time I'm in Rome." She shook her head and started for the carpark, curls bouncing over her shoulders. Most girls her age weren't so quick to jump on the back of an almost stranger's bike but when you move around so much you learned to make friends, simply throwing yourself in at the deep end.
"So you're from Britain?" he asked, wondering if he should make some effort to get to know this vibrant young woman he was whisking away.
"England, yeah."
"I heard that it rains there..." he rolled sarcastically.
"I heard that too - you know I'd never seen the sun until I came here."
"I take it you get comments like that a lot."
"No, not a lot, just everywhere I go, really."
"I can see we're gonna have trouble with you."
"Why's that?" she asked, as they came to a halt by a sleek black motorcycle parked beside somebody elses banged up second hand car.
"Because everyone's gonna want to date the gorgeous, smart chick who loves bikes."
"Chick?"
He grinned and slipped his helmet on, gesturing for her to do the same while he kicked the vehicle off it's stand and rolled it out of it's space. "Where to?"
"I wouldn't mind going and changing my clothes - Langly Street, do you know it?" she asked, hiking up her dress and bundling the material beneath her as she slid onto the seat behind Jack.
"Yeah, be there in five - you might want to hold on tight." Her fingers tightened on the lip of the seat on either side as he revved up the engine and powered out onto the road, gaining speed with every meter covered.
Formal buildings, houses, hotels, motels and pubs flashed by on the route to her house. Wind whipped the hair that was unprotected by the helmet and her legs had come up in goosebumps from the chill air slipping over them as they squeezed the bike in a effort to stay on. After no time at all, they were gliding up the quiet surburban street where the Thompsons had been placed not a mile from the military base - parents and two daughters.
"Nice house." Commented Jack, hitching up the bike on it's stand and removing his safety helmet. It was a simple structure with two floors plus an attic and an all encompassing porch, painted sky blue.
"You haven't seen the best bit." She grinned enigmatically, leading the way to the back of the house. There were stairs leading up to the attic from the garden and she pulled out a set of keys, unlocking the door. "Separate flat."
"'Flat'?" he queried.
"Apartment, then." She amended, stepping into the surprisingly proportioned living area and throwing her bag onto the couch. "Beer's in the fridge, help yourself."
She disappeared into what he guessed was her bedroom to change and he took a moment to look around. There were the usual knick-knacks - teddybears, books etc. - but covering an entire wall there was a murial painted in vivid, shimmering blues and silvers and greens. A unicorn, sinewy with bright starry eyes, brushed delicately onto a breathtaking backdrop of fairytale forestry, stood over five feet tall, embued with majesty and magic.
The rest of the furniture in the room stood away from that wall as if not good enough to bask in it's glow and he wondered briefly who had painted it before dismissing the thought and helping himself to a drink while he waited. He'd thought that she was going to be awhile (as females usually were) but had barely enough time to open the bottle before she reappeared clad in her leathers. "I had to leave my bike in Uraguay but I thought I'd bring this in case I needed it." She held up navy blue fitted helmet with red flames painted beneath a polished surface.
"Nice - nice picture." He gestured toward the unicorn unable to make sense of the flip flops his stomach was attempting.
"I was bored and stoned, stoned and bored and I thought the place could be brightened up but I'm glad you think it's 'nice'." She smiled, opening the fridge and taking a beer.
"You painted this?" he asked incredulously.
"Bored and stoned, stoned and bored..." she repeated almost laughing at the amazement on his face. "Are we going?"
"Sure, the guys are waiting at the track."
"What track?"
"The highly exclusive, members only, brat pack, dirt track."
"Also highly illegal?"
"Only if you get caught."
"Drink up then." She ordered, opening the bottle with her teeth and drinking half the contents, opening the door as she went. Jack followed.
At the front of the house Lex paused again, sticking her head through the open living room window. "I'm going out, see you later."
"You haven't eaten yet!" he heard a shrill female voice call back.
"I'll get something later - bye!" she jumped over the porch rail and finished off the rest of her drink before throwing it into the wheely bin ten feet away. "Come on let's go before she asks where I'm going and when I'll be back. If she doesn't ask then it's not my fault."
"What's not your fault?"
"The polital state of the world, now go!"
She climbed onto the back of the motor and squashed on her helmet with at least a tenth of a second to spare before the bike lurched to life and she heard the trademark catterwalling of her mother's 'where are you going?' Her laugh of jubilation was muffled by the helmet as she slipped down the viser and streaked down the road.
This was just the first day of school in northern Minnessota for Alexandra Thompson and there were many more to come. She got into as much trouble as possible, hung out with the boys for as long as possible and flirted insatiably with Jack. In short, it was the sixties and nobody was going to 'harsh her mellow.'
THE END
22:25
Monday 29th July 2002
1
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