Thanks to all for the reviews/alerts/etc! :)

Alright, third and final part, from Emily's pov.

Well, as it turns out, Brits don't have/get "cooties" and the boys apparently aren't going to Jupiter or are from Mars and the girls aren't from Venus or however the school rhyme goes. It's been a while since elementary school... Also, no stork bringing the baby. Curiously the internet wasn't as helpful with British schoolyard insults and whimsies so... :/ Did what I could, then.

That being said, I did my research (and found out the above) and as such modified this best I could without altering it far beyond the original. Cheers. :)

Skins isn't mine, none of the characters are either, etc. This story is though, in case you hadn't picked up on that quite yet... ;)

...

The first time Emily Fitch realized the difference between the bird and the bees, she was seven.

It was more than just boy and girl. Boys and girls were simple, any moron with eyes could see the difference. Boys had short hair, girls had long. Some boys had long hair, though…they were weird. And some girls had short hair… Emily didn't much like it simply because, couldn't their parents tell what they were? It wasn't too difficult, although at age seven, they all sounded the same when they spoke, all had energy and all looked the same covered in mud and twigs and such. Except there were very few girls willing to get in the mud at age seven. Perhaps earlier in life they weren't so reluctant, but as they grew, as their clothes got fancier, as the boys and girls started to seem as though they were from different planets, as boys started to follow their older models and girls started to follow their own, the line between boy and girl was less and less blurred and the few people who dared to stay close to the line, blurring it as best they could with their mud pies and multi-colored knick-knacks, and silly insults and childishness, weren't quite labeled odd but weren't quite norm, either.

Emily was on that line, and she quite knew it. She didn't mind, though, it was a nice line. Her friends were there, too, and as much as she loved to play dress up with her sister, she also liked to take her pretty pink dresses for a good run through the mud as it formed while they all frolicked through the sprinkler on a hot summer afternoon. Even Katie would join in, and it was bliss. She could be a girl and be a guy, all in one. It didn't matter. All that mattered was the water and the sun and the mud and her dress.

Emily didn't much care about boy or girl. If the person was nice to her, what on earth did it matter? If they shared half their peanut butter and jelly at lunch, or if they traded their cookies for her grapes, or flung their Jell-O at the person next to her, subtly giving her a thumbs-up to show they meant nothing if it'd accidentally hit her, or called her Katie and then shrugged nonchalantly, not caring if they'd gotten it wrong, just wanting to play. Or if someone shared their crayons, or helped her with her work, or said something funny…it didn't matter if they were a boy or a girl.

Katie, for some reason, liked to discriminate, slowly buying into the notion that all boys were odd, except the really fit ones, like her first boyfriend, who was actually friends with Emily first (as if it mattered) and had actually shown her how to find Batman's face on an American dollar, which he kept in his tiny Velcro wallet, from his trip to the US a year previous. Emily had been nothing short of impressed, both by the dollar and the Batman hidden on it, having seen the movie one night, sneaking in and watching it as her father slumbered on the couch. In their excitement they exchanged their favorite things, Batman not being mutual (except the cool factor of him being on the American dollar), but their love for various activities bonded them.

Technically, Emily knew, being in primary school meant more business than play and mud or about building and play time and making new friends with anyone that spoke to her. It was about 'rithmetic and reading and learning things like why the sky is blue and where babies came from, though she'd been informed that that was a bit advanced for her year. But she looked forward to the day she'd learn it. Because, really, her mother was of absolutely no use on the subject, always coming up with nary an answer whenever Emily chose to pose the question.

Of course, it was common knowledge that as they grew, things would start to happen. Emily's mum had explained it one day when Emily had asked curiously about Katie having a boyfriend.

"You see, Ems," her mother had started, glancing in the rear view mirror as they drove home from grocery shopping, Katie not with them due to illness that Emily was whole-heartedly going to devote her entire afternoon to alleviating, starting with the soup she'd begged her mother to buy.

"Things will change, yes. Like, Katie will probably not have a boyfriend long, and you know why?"

Emily could only stare, wide-eyed.

"Because boys will start to get…oh goodness, what did Margie call it? Cootles? No, oh! Cooties."

Emily furrowed her brow. Margie, her mother's elusive American friend. She knew little about the woman, or her expertise with children, for that matter, though if she knew of an ailment that her mother didn't, surely she couldn't be all bad…

"What's that?"

"Oh Emily, don't be silly, they won't really. But you'll hit a phase where you'll stop wanting to hang out with them, and it'll be just the girls for a while, sort of like a butterfly in a cocoon. And then, one day, you'll all grow out of the cocoon, and be older and wiser and fitter than ever, and you'll look over and the boys won't have…cooties?" Jenna scrunched her face, "Well, they won't be odd anymore and that…that is when you'll start dating them, for real."

"So Katie's just ahead of everyone?" Emily guessed, and her mother chuckled.

"Katie hasn't seen the oddness yet," her mother supplied, but Emily didn't believe it for a minute. She'd been around boys her whole life, why would they suddenly come down with the…well whatever it was? And could she actually see the change? Surely not!

Emily mulled over what her mother said.

"Will we be fit like the actresses and stuff?" she questioned.

Jenna laughed. "Yes dear, maybe."

Emily nodded. "And the boys too?"

"Yep."

Emily couldn't help but stare. She was trying to see the changes or ailment or whatever her mother had talked about on the boys as they walked by her, or around her as she walked down the street, a few paces ahead of her mother but not far enough for the older woman to panic like she had that one time in the department store when Emily and Katie had hidden (rather deftly) in a round rack and giggled so obnoxiously loud that just about the rest of the store found them without too much difficulty.

She clutched her twin's hand, happy for the comfort, glad for her other half, but completely distracted by passersby, boys of all ages and shapes passing without paying her really much attention, save for a double-take or two as her and her twin walked down the street. She knew she was wide-eyed as she watched them, walking. Some wore their hair funny, one man with completely different colored eyebrows and more hair by his ears than that on the top of his head; some wore funny track suits or slacks or just suits, or jackets. Some wore jeans or shorts…but none, as far as Emily could see, wore a single cootie…though she couldn't be one hundred percent sure what exactly that was.

And none really looked sick, except for the old man sleeping on the bus stop bench with thin rubber tubing wrapped over his ears and going up his nose, hooked to a big tank-thing. But he was too old to have the cooties, right?

Even the boys who were her age, or younger, or slightly older, looked the same as they always did. Emily examined them as well and as in-depth as she could while walking past them at a brisker than normal pace. They had places to be, after all. A Fitch Family lunch was in their imminent future, and, to enhance the bonding experience (or to feed their father's new obsession with fitness) they were walking to their destination.

It gave Emily time to observe and conclude that perhaps this "cooties" was an American ailment only (as apparently only the mysterious Margie had heard of them,) but was not present in England, and certainly not Bristol.

A theory which Emily had to retract when they arrived at the restaurant and took their seats, both her and Katie sitting as close to each other as possible on the square table, pushing their chairs practically together.

It caught her eye from across the room…the alleged "cooties".

Their drinks had come; the waiter gone and letting them decide what they wanted, Emily quite fancying mac and cheese off the kid's menu, Katie deciding likewise…that's when she spotted the disease.

She wasn't sure how she'd missed it, exactly, but her mother was wrong in her description of what it looked like. It didn't occur while girls were cocooned, or whatever her mother had said, it happened when guys were cocooned. Because there was no difference, really, between girls and boys in primary school, save for their hair. But something happened to boys. They got wider, thicker, Emily observed as a table several meters from theirs was occupied with a boy and girl, the boy large and bulky yet still much the same shape as the boys in her school, and the girl smaller and…far more interesting. He was handsome, yes, but he hadn't changed much from what the boys looked like in her year. The girl? Had changed a lot. She was shaped a lot different. Curvy, and had those tits things that Emily's mother had, and that Emily realized nearly every boy lacked.

Her mother had been wrong. Girls weren't cocooned. Boys were. In those cooties. And it stunted their growth.

Emily couldn't help but pity the poor boys.

...

The first time Emily Fitch saw two girls kiss, she was eleven.

The park was always beautiful. She'd far outgrown the kiddie playground, or she liked to think, but secretly she knew she would never outgrow the swings that one day would be too big for her bum, or the slide that was barely two meters long, or the squeaky little dinky animals on springs or the spinning saucer. But she certainly hadn't outgrown the puddles that formed on the concrete paths during and after a rainstorm, or the benches, or the squirrels, nor the green grass or…well, she hadn't outgrown the park. She quite loved it, actually.

Mostly for the puddle jumping, but also for peace and quiet. Her mother didn't seem to mind letting her explore the park by herself (although oftentimes Katie was with her, along with a lot of their friends), but Emily could find a way to get away from them usually every time, and nothing pleased her more, at any age, than just wandering through the park and, in new rain boots, jumping in puddles.

Which was precisely what she was doing, stomping unceremoniously to the chagrin of her twin sister, who glared every time water splashed over her clogs and got them wet, to which Emily would only smile goofily and apologetically before jumping to the next puddle.

"Might as well jump in 'em too, Katie," Emily suggested finally, a cheeky grin splitting her face.

"No." Katie wrinkled her nose.

"Okay." Emily said with a shrug, and jumped again.

Emily didn't care if she was being immature, or whatever Katie was more than likely calling her in her head, not that Emily knew or anything…although it was basically written all over her older twin's face. But, filled with child-like glee, and she was, after all, still technically a child, she could find nothing to care about except leaping and landing and getting herself even more soaked than she already was, trying to make every splash more spectacular than the last, trying to make it go up past her knees and, on occasion for the larger puddles, past her waist. She was successful on both endeavors…on Katie. She herself didn't really receive the fruits of her labor, but Katie's face was more than enough to make up for it.

At school, Katie was in her prime, always. It was her natural habitat, to be surrounded and doted over and talked to and about, to be looked at and speculated about…Emily wasn't like that. They both knew it, but Katie liked to deny it, while Emily merely let her. But…outside, in the air and particularly in the rain, Emily felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be. She wasn't sure why, but she hardly ever loathed the rain…only once, when it was a horridly cold day and the rain was dreary, not cheery rain, the rain that came with black clouds, not light gray ones…a driving, torrential downpour as opposed to a mist or sprinkling, or even just plain raining.

Emily secretly hoped that everything in her life that was important would happen in the gray-cloud type of rain. She knew it was naïve to think about, but there were times when she frolicked happily through the rain that she could only hope her first kiss would be in the rain, that she'd get her first car on a rainy day, and it seemed fitting that her first heart break should occur on a day with black rain clouds.

It was preposterous because Emily knew the weather wasn't controlled by what was happening in her life, but a girl could dream, and dream she would, no matter what anyone said or what she constantly reminded herself to be reality…fantasy was so much better, anyway, and could be fully indulged in in the quiet solitude of the park on a rainy day.

"Emily, stop!" Katie growled, soaked through by a particularly large puddle that Emily jumped in and had sprayed her sister all the way up to her chest.

Emily shrugged apologetically and, without warning, took off sprinting, making her footfalls heavy as they fell into puddles, grinning gleefully at her own immaturity. Her socks where soaked through and more than likely filled with more mud than feet, and her sky blue tights were a murky green, her skirt clung to her as she ran and her t-shirt had random splatters about it that ran down as rain falling from the sky washed it…sort of. Her hair was a wet sopping, unkempt mop but she didn't care, Emily Fitch was free and wet and that was fine with her.

It was simple. A quick peck on the lips. Emily Fitch fell straight on her butt, catching herself off guard when she hit what felt like a physical wall in her running (but was nothing but air), feeling the wind knocked out of her as she tripped and somehow fell backwards, butt in a puddle and eyes searching quickly through the rain, finding what she's spotted, but the couple had moved, gotten up, both drenched, and walked away, hand in hand, until reaching a fork in the path, and, with another quickly show of affection, parted, one with her long black hair falling out of its ponytail, the other with her highlighted hair matted to her head.

"Emily, what the bloody hell?" Katie thundered.

"Huh?"

Katie finally reached Emily and yanked the younger girl up.

"What the hell?"

"Nothing," Emily said, eyes still on the spot where the two figures had parted.

It wasn't that it was weird to see…she'd just never seen it before. But it seemed natural. Sweet…it seemed like love.

The first time Emily Fitch realized she had a crush, she was fourteen.

It was common knowledge, through the telly and the movies and the advertisements and the books and her classmates and their older siblings and stories told and passed from generation to generation, that when someone really liked someone else, when a boy really liked a girl or vice versa, there were signs that let that person know that, in case they doubted what their head was telling them, which apparently many did, their heart and their bodily responses would help to convince them.

There were the usual suspects…butterflies in the stomach, heart jumping into their throat, foot ending up in their mouth as they tried to talk to the person they liked, heart rate increasing, face flushing whenever the person was mentioned, fidgeting when the person was around, mumbling a lot, staring…all good and dandy, but Emily didn't have any of them. So there.

But everyone else seemed to. Katie included, though Emily highly doubted that her sister actually felt half of what she said she did. Most of the time, Emily could only roll her eyes as Katie told their peers about how her current boyfriend made her giddy and mellow at the same time. Such a terrible contradiction, yet Emily seemed to be the only one who could discern that fact. Everyone else simply swooned and asked for more details, which Katie all too happily obliged.

They'd only talked perhaps ten times, less than half of them decent conversations in which they truly learned something about each other, but Emily couldn't help herself when she saw Naomi Campbell…she merely had to smile. But she didn't see Naomi a lot…the younger twin was often distracted or in her own head. Distracted by Katie or their friends or both, or thinking far too much about this or that, staring curiously at things as she would contemplate.

She wasn't much of a thinker by any stretch of the imagination…she was simply quiet. Her thoughts weren't complicated, weren't monumental and certainly weren't philosophical, and in fact were quite mundane and nothing special, quaint observations that she paid little attention to, like a child finding a stone, turning it over, and then moving on. She wasn't much of an observer, either, though she did have eyes and could see a lot of things…but other times, she felt like she was staring at an impossible puzzle. She would try and figure it out until frustration got the better of her and she gave up until a later time, if she even remembered.

When she did see Naomi, though, and they caught each other's eyes, they'd smile, politely, and Emily always took a few seconds longer than was necessary, or so she thought, to stop smiling. She wished that she and Naomi talked more, but Emily was hardly alone, her sister always at her side…and although it had been easing, they still stayed together, for the most part and definitely at school, much to both of their chagrins.

As it were, she knew she was being irrational to want Naomi to be her friend and not Katie's, but sometimes Emily felt she deserved to be a bit selfish. Katie had been branching out and being quite selfish herself, stealing Emily's clothes and such, leaving Emily with less of a wardrobe choice until, when Katie wasn't looking, she snuck into her clothes and dug some out. But not as many as Katie took, because Emily wasn't like her sister. Even though Katie took hers, she couldn't justify taking Katie's, and as such only half-heartedly fought her sister's growing personality.

School could be where she could escape her sister for a little while. They shared far fewer classes than when they were younger; something Emily was either eternally grateful for or slightly perturbed by, depending on her mood. Usually it didn't matter, though, as she had two classes with Naomi, where they'd had their more in-depth conversations, though they were never partnered for projects and didn't really speak outside of class, Naomi in her own circle of friends, Emily in Katie's shadow. But still, Emily settled for the smiles in the hall, however quick they were, Naomi usually breaking them and sometimes frowning to herself as she walked away. Emily paid it little mind, but sometimes as her mind wandered in class, it would drift of its own accord to the blonde girl. Sometimes questioning the small frown, sometimes contemplating her blonde hair, was it dyed, wasn't it? Did it really matter? The way she bit her lip when she was unsure or embarrassed, how she sneered when someone said something she didn't like, oftentimes while she was eavesdropping. It would entertain Emily and she'd often find herself grinning right in the middle of class.

Of course, she thought of other people too. Just things they did that amused her, or were interesting. One of Katie's friends always wrapped her gum around her finger when she was talking to Katie…and only when she was talking to Katie. Emily didn't feel like delving into why, it was simply interesting.

Emily sighed as she doodled on her open notebook, keeping herself occupied until class was dismissed and she walked out into the hall to find her sister. It was just an automatic reaction, really, once class was over, find Katie, feel inferior for a few minutes, go to a new class, rinse and repeat.

She found Katie holding her boyfriend's hand and talking obnoxiously loud to the few people around her, though she was speaking loud enough for half of Bristol to hear how sensational she was at hand jobs, reinforced by the boy on her arm, who nodded enthusiastically.

"Emily,"

Emily looked up at the teacher as he tsked her, loudly, before turning around and writing on the board, some rubbish about the book they were reading that no one had actually read. She could feel her cheeks redden slightly as her classmates whispered quietly amongst themselves, some eyes on her.

"That's enough," the teacher said sharply, not turning around this time.

Perhaps it was the way the dreariness of the day hung over them all, threatening to release a torrent of rain at any minute, yet, having not done so all day, losing much of its credibility, that made Emily stare. Had to be, because it was this weather that had the light perfect. That left the wall fairly open as kids hurried to their buses or parents who awaited them, the children not wanting to get rained on. Emily stood with her arms folded, by herself, thankfully, as Katie was off "Doing study group", which meant snogging her boyfriend, and possibly doing a bit more, in some empty stall or closet or other.

Emily, as it were, could only tilt her head and bite her lip, eyes softly taking in the person meters and meters away from her, reading the book that she seemed to be reading always after school, the one that was her absent father's.

Something about Naomi when she read that book was different than other times. Her gaze was different, lost, almost. Thinking, not really reading, simply processing, perhaps concentrating more on the former owner than the words on the page. Her brow was furrowed slightly, lips thinned and pursed just barely, and she was absorbed. Completely and totally immersed, despite not reading. Somewhere in that book, Naomi Campbell let her walls fall and was no one other than who she was…

She was vulnerable. A state Emily hadn't seen Naomi Campbell in…well, ever. Her blonde hair was a perfect hue in the odd light, her eyes just slightly bluer than the clouds and Emily Fitch could do absolutely nothing but watch, powerless, as Naomi processed.

Her bag, which said something quite witty on it that Emily could read from where she stood, was open, her books peeking out, as was typical when Naomi sat and read. She seemed completely unconcerned by the weather, perhaps not even aware of it, so focused she was on the book, yet her eyes weren't moving. Her teeth started working her bottom lip unconsciously, and a rush of warmth spread through Emily. It wasn't unwelcome, just odd, but pleasant, spreading through her as a sense of pride settled over her, gaze never faltering from the blonde girl. The heat rose within her again, and, swallowing, she finally tore her eyes from Naomi and looked down at her shoes. Thongs, she'd chosen to wear that day. Simple and good in rain, though they could get a bit dodgy, as they were cheap and had actually broken twice already, and were none too good at protecting wet toes from the cold. She wiggled her toes and looked back up.

Naomi wasn't looking at her book, she was looking out, and from the angle Emily stood, it looked as though she were surveying all of Bristol.

Emily folded her arms, watching the back of Naomi's head, as she turned away when she'd looked up from her book. Her eyes travelled down, taking in Naomi's rather baggy shirt that went all the way down to the wall, hiding her pants, but Emily knew she was wearing them. She'd seen them earlier.

As she watched, Emily felt a smile tugging at the edge of her lips, turning one side up into a half smile. She didn't have to see Naomi's face to see the pensive eyes, how they would look, how her nose would be crinkled as though she'd caught a whiff of something foul, eyebrows knitted, if only slightly, and mouth a thin line, perhaps squinting.

Naomi turned, and Emily's smile dropped as she saw the look on Naomi's face.

It was exact. Exactly what Emily had pictured, though with one eye squinting a bit more than another as her light source moved.

There were no butterflies, no heart palpitations… A rush of warmth and a realization that Emily Fitch was thinking perhaps a little too much…

"Bloody fuck," she whispered, the sound lost to the gentle breeze.

...

The first time Emily Fitch kissed a girl, she was fifteen.

Alcohol lowers inhibitions and raises bravery…though those two could be considered the same thing, it was considered general knowledge that consumption of alcohol could lead to many symptoms, including but not limited to word vomit that simply kept coming and coming no matter how much the drunk person thought to themselves "Shut up!", hitting on anything that moves, divulging secrets, texting horribly but with information that could be and would be sensitive and kept secret if the person wasn't drunk, walking horridly, being far louder than one was supposed to ever be, confusing facial expressions for amusement and finding amusement from it, being stupid, and, finally, kissing the one person, the person the drunk party had a crush on or was in love with or some rubbish.

Emily, even in her intoxicated state, knew that. Knew what trouble she could be getting herself into, but she figured in a party so big and with people she didn't know, even wasted, she couldn't be stupid enough to hook up with someone or anything, especially with Katie around, although she'd hardly seen her twin since they'd arrived.

Later, she would say it was the MDMA that had been going around the party, that mixed with alcohol was a lethal concoction that could make anyone do any number of stupid things, and that too was fairly well known. So it only made sense to blame the drugs that she didn't take, and to play up her drunkenness as she'd searched the party for someone to kiss. Because one girl had been on her mind far too much and all she really wanted to do was get monumentally fucked and get a good snog, to the point where she could pretend she was kissing who she wanted to without actually doing so.

That was really the only reason she'd agreed to the party anyway. A kiss. It was simple and if booze was involved than that was just a plus so there were no strings. Katie'd done it before, Emily figured she could easily do it as well. A quick snog or two or four and a lot of alcohol and Emily would be satisfied. Or so she told herself.

She didn't know where the urge came from. Maybe just to know what it was that everyone was on about. Because sure, she'd kissed a few boys, in cliché places like under the bleachers or during an innocent game of spin the bottle when she was younger, but she certainly didn't see sparks or fireworks and the earth certainly hadn't stood still, warm fuzzies hadn't popped out of all of her pores and really, the only thing the kisses had been were wet and sloppy.

The drunker she got, though, the more she forgot that minor fact, how unpleasant she'd found snogging in the first place, and the more determined she became, dancing with anyone, really, who cared to dance with her, taking whatever drink was offered to her, eventually stealing one of her suitor's full bottles and taking a long swig while swaying to the music and just reveling in the drunk.

As it were, she hadn't found any one person to snog with. There were plenty of fit and attractive people and she'd seen her sister with several of them, to which she crinkled her nose and refused to even entertain the thought of snogging those people. Not that she could keep track of them, though she tried valiantly, until eventually her drunken mind concluded that Katie had kissed every male at the party and that meant that Emily simply had no choice but to go for a girl.

The prospect was exciting. Emily had never kissed a girl, Katie had never kissed a girl. She could not only gain a new experience, she could actually have some form of tryst that her sister didn't. It was a thrilling thought, to say the least, though if she ever cared to admit it to herself, that thought was actually the entire reason she even went to the bloody party.

Still, the (she convinced herself) novel prospect made her smile and look around the party as it wound down. And then she'd found blonde hair. And gray eyes looking at her, and Emily Fitch sauntered over as well as one could saunter when completely bladdered, smiling the whole way.

Until she reached and hugged Naomi and shouted her name, slurring it slightly but rather unaware of it, and fell on the couch next to the blonde.

Until she (loudly) asked if Naomi knew what she did to Emily.

Until her lips were on Naomi's and fireworks, fuelled by alcohol, ricocheted in her stomach, bouncing excitedly and escaping, crackling into her limbs.

Until she pulled away and returned for another kiss…

Until she was pinned against a wall, someone shouting at her so loud that she could only wonder how the fireworks had turned from warm to hot as pain shot through her back when it hit the concrete wall.

And Katie was yelling at her, loudly, asking her questions and swearing, Emily answering as best she could and failing miserably as everything started to spin out of control…

One minute she was in bliss, the next she was ripped away from it and shouted at for kissing a girl…she'd kissed a girl.

Not just any girl, Naomi, at that.

"She kissed you, right Em?" Katie'd hissed, and Emily, hit so suddenly with the weight of what it was she'd just done…what her reaction meant (did it mean anything?) and how this…how she being…

Shaken, Emily lied.

She was still tipsy as she stared at her ceiling that morning, lying in bed and looking up, Katie fast asleep after walking them both home, as she was the more sober of the two.

She was conflicted. She had been drunk, it wasn't really that big of a deal if she was drunk, right? Because people did silly things when they were drunk that made for funny stories that people could laugh about later and joke over and poke fun at each other with…so hadn't Katie over reacted just a tad? Or had she? Was it an overreaction, or was the alcohol what gave Emily enough courage to admit to herself, sub-consciously or otherwise, that what she really wanted wasn't what Katie wanted, wasn't what she was expected to want and certainly not what most girls her age wanted?

It made her head hurt, an inevitable hang over well on its way, and Emily could do nothing but observe her room in silence.

...

And that's it. Thanks for stopping by, I do hope you enjoyed. Leave a review if you so please on your way out. Or don't, up to you. :)