i have finally been botherd to rite more
and i'll spell check it NOW 2 make sure no 1 cn gt confused by the cr@ppyness of mi spellin
About three months later, when Cara had turned eleven, and Bill was back from travelling with his father, Jack was walking into a tavern. He looked alot older than the almost fourteen year old that he was. He was immediately surrounded by three or four bar maid come prostitutes in moments.
The first time that had happened, he had been scared out of his wits. He hadn’t known what to do. After that- he was a natural at shaking them off. His oddly placed charm could control all females around him. From what he could tell anyway. He wasn’t about to try it on the upper class ladies any time soon.
And Cara was an exception. Simply because she was rather young, and knew him just a little too well.
After bestowing a gentle kiss on the hand on one of the maids hands, who giggled and almost ran away from him, a blush blooming under the powder of her cheeks, he cast his keen eyes around for Cara and Bill.
Instead of either of them, a body smashed into him. From the side. Not enough to even make him stumble. But enough to make him step side ways. He gave the stranger a hard look, as they jumped up, brushing themselves off with absolutely no dignity.
“Sorry, mate,” grinned the grubby boy, about the same height as Jack himself, probably a little older too, “that little-” he glared at a girl who was smirking at him, a hand on her hip, dressed in canvas jeans and a loose top. “Well… yeah…” the boy trailed off.
Jack’s eyes met hers. She carried on smirking, then winked at him walking off. To his utter horror, warmth spread across his cheeks. That was over come very quickly, as he memorised her face and how she walked away. It seemed so familiar. He just didn’t know why.
He turned his attention to the other boy.
“I’m Charles Barbossa,” he said, putting out his hand, “but call me Barbossa- I hate my first name.” He made a face.
“Jack Sparrow,” grinned Jack happily, taking the grimy hand, and shaking it, “what bring you to-”
He was cut off by a another familiar voice cutting through the chatter of the tavern.
“MOTHER!” screamed Cara, “WILL YOU JUST LET ME BE!”
A high pitched, scathing, cutting voice replied easily, loud, but not as frustrated. “No, child- because this is what you are. This is what you will be trained to-”
“Fuck off,” she snapped, though swearing was not uncommon in that area, heard from an eleven year olds mouth was still very surprising. “I will not. I won’t be like that. Sarah isn’t. And neither will I.”
Jack and Barbossa looked at each other when Cara’s yell came, and without saying a word, pushed their way through the people to where Cara and her mother were arguing. There were several spectators already. Most were expecting a cat fight of some kind. Jack wouldn’t let that happen.
“Sarah got killed because of it, you stupid girl,” snarled her mother.
“She died with dignity and honour,” Cara retorted.
Jack stared at what the younger girl was wearing. A dress. Down to about her knees. It was clean, and looked very nice on her. But at the same time incredibly out of place.
That was Cara. She didn’t wear dresses. She didn’t…
“She died because she wasn’t clever,” hissed the mother.
“I don’t care!” yelled Cara, “I’d rather die than be like you!”
“THEN DIE, B!TCH,” her mother screamed. She slapped her daughter with so much force that who ever was listening actually winced.
Cara didn’t move. She just met her mother’s steady gaze till the older woman walked away.
It was then Jack noticed the same girl who had attacked Barbossa. She looked as though she wanted to step foreword to help Cara. She did take a step- but then took it back. Her face clouded over. Then she turned away. A few moments later the tavern door slammed shut. She had left. Leaving a mystery in Jack’s hands.
He came to meet Cara, Barbossa by his side. The other boy’s face filled with shock and worry.
“Cara?” started Jack, as Cara sat by the bar, the bar tender, trying to comfort her.
The Bar tender glared at Jack then Barbossa as though the argument was their fault. He went on his way, not saying a word to either of them.
“Hey Jack,” she said without looking up, “and what are you doing with that scoundrel.”
“Barbossa?” began Jack, “I found him-”
“Actually, I was talking to Barbossa,” she said cheekily, looking up at them, smiling slightly. Already her rebellious sparkle was back in those fathom less eyes.
“You- know-” stammered Jack.
Cara laughed. “Yeah,” she smiled at him, then winked at Barbossa. “I met him when he landed here a week ago. Just gotten into an argument with who looked like his girlfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend!” snapped Barbossa, crossly, looking ready to go and sulk, “she just was…” he trailed off not knowing what to say.
Jack and Cara looked at each other and smothered a giggle.