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Part 1
The chair held her lithe body....but barely. It looked about to break under her weight. She was leaning forward, elbows on the desk, chin in her hands. There was a neutral expression on her face, and every now and again, a small twitch in the corner of her mouth occurred. This, the only sign that she was actually listening to what the man had to say. She was completely out of place. Her dark hair was colored like that of a raven's, with streaks of dark brown and blond slipping through. It was long, and went to her lower back. Her skin was deep and rich, colored by the sun. A light sprinkling of freckles dotted her cheekbones...a surprise for someone so dark- skinned. As were her eyes. They were a golden brown like never seen before. She certainly did not belong in a school such as this, a matter that often got her looks of contempt in the hallways. For she was surrounded by blond and red solid- colored haired girls with pale skin, and eyes just as pale. They took pride in their 'beauty' and looked down on her more...earthly appearance. She simply found it amusing. And when she was called on to answer a question she hadn't even heard, she relished in the looks she received from the other girls in the room.
" I think it symbolizes death." That got more stares than she thought possible, considering there were only seven other girls in the class. " Care to explain, Ms. Posa?" Brooklyn, their 'teacher' asked. She smiled. "Think of colors as associated with moods, or occurrences...or intentions. The delicate curve of the petals...the deep scarlet...the rose holds a simple beauty. Such as death does. Everything must die, everything must come to an end. But even knowing that, we try to live our lives as best as possible. We improve on our looks, bathe, powder and paint, all to look beautiful, even as we face death everyday of our lives. The rose symbolizes that beauty, it's shape, the beauty we wish to achieve...and the scarlet, the beauty we greet death in, simple and pure. Or...something." She mumbled at the end, shrugging. Brooklyn looked thoughtful, then went back to what he was saying, poking and prodding with her reasoning, filling it, then riddling it with holes. The whole time he spoke, she was elsewhere, watching the breeze tentatively play with the bushes outside the window. Bushes filled, of course, with red roses.
Part 2
At lunch, the girl sat in the shade beneath Japanese Cherry Blossoms, chewing with total abandon. Her mind appeared to be on something else, just as always, it seemed. This is how he saw her today. This is how he saw her yesterday, and he was pretty sure he would see her that way next week as well. But he dare not approach her, for no one ever did. It was an unestablished, unwritten rule. Because the girl was different, from anyone in the village, and not just in her appearance, but everything she said or did. Some of them had tried to figure out why, but no one had a theory that might have been even remotely possible. She was just different, that's all. Well, that wasn't all. In fact, that was only the tip of the ice burg. He wasn't different from anyone in the village, and yet...he was. He certainly didn't look different, because that would've got him shunned, just like the girl. No... he was different in the sense that he thought differently. His thought processes were extraordinarily different from those of his peers. He questioned things, thought things out, asked why, when, and how? Held different opinions than those others might think, and was always, constantly...thinking. That's right, thinking something that (and not literally speaking) people of his age had forgotten to due at some point. But not him...and certainly obviously, not the girl.
The other teenagers were starting to trickle in from their lunches. He tucked the book he was reading into his bag, and stood, joining up with his usual group of 'friends'. They were heading home for the rest of the lunch time they had. Students were not restrained to just the school grounds, a long as they made it back to class on time, no one complained. He spotted her then, in the middle of a conversation he was having with one of his 'friends'. Although, if you heard him tell it, they weren't really speaking about anything of any interest at all, so it wouldn't really have been qualified as a...conversation. Seeing her again got him seriously thinking: Why didn't she just approach the situation as he did? Why didn't she just think her thoughts...and not...well...speak them. It worked out extremely well in his favor. He got to be as liberal as he felt, as long as he kept it quiet, and still was accepted by everyone. He studied her a little closer. But then, in order to accomplish his feet, she would have to stay inside a lot more, dress down, dye her hair, and wear contacts. She'd also have to wear a more obsessive amount of powder than any of the other girls... and as he thought of this, he realized. He didn't want her to do any of that. Because if she did those things, he would be beside himself in disappointment. Which lead him to another discovery, he found her rather interesting. Hmm, perhaps using my tactics would be disastrous, after all. He thought, with a smile.
 Sardonic Excitement · Wed May 12, 2010 @ 02:30am · 0 Comments |
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