AN: Woah, man…. This is trippy af. I haven't been on my account in years, let alone been active. But yeah, I've had this one stewin' in my brain for quite some time. I'd like to dedicate this story to my cousin Amber, for reasons I can't tell you yet. I hope you enjoy! Don't worry, the romance will pick up next chapter, this was just a taste. Without further ado, A Puzzle Without a Picture!
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters and blahzee blahzee blah.
I read once that the sum is more beautiful than the whole of its parts. Although the sentiment has possibility in some cases, I believe that it is inherently wrong. This would mean that the act of creating something is not as lovely as the creation itself, which could even be considered an offense to the goddesses, if you believe in such things. The process by which one paints a masterpiece is grueling and tedious and backbreaking and that is what makes it beautiful. The finished product is one of shallow elegance but the hours of devoted work themselves show the true grit of the human soul.
My story is not one of a painting but of a puzzle - rather - a puzzle that had to be fixed. It has taken time everlasting to fix but I'll be damned if it wasn't worth it. On the surface there appears no trace of the blood, sweat, and tears that it took, yet that does not mean that they didn't exist. The innumerable struggles by which the puzzle was completed and the fact that they have all been overcome by the strength of the human spirit are exactly what make the puzzle beautiful.
I was only vaguely aware of the music that swelled like tidal wave around me. I knew only the counts of eight and the tightness of my chest. My heart beat unrelentingly as I attempted to keep time. I sucked in a breath as the tempo increased and my body took on a life apart from my mind. Whoever said that ballet wasn't a sport clearly had never taken a class, let alone four classes a week for 12 years as I had. I had suffered injury after injury from the toll that it took on my body, yet none of this could stop me from binding my knee and getting back onto the stage. I was born to perform, or so my parents said.
They noticed my love for the elegant at a very young age when I found both soccer and karate to be too violent and too rowdy. So, they enlisted me in a ballet class for little kids. I was instantly in love. I saw the ways in which my instructor gracefully dipped and pranced (much like a fairy in my six year old mind) and felt as if I had been blessed to just witness it. That night, I prayed to all three goddesses to give the courage, power, and wisdom to achieve greatness in what in my mind was the perfect art; graceful yet full of life. And although the goddesses did not answer my prayer right away, I've always believed that they did truly hear me that night and smiled down at my request.
But I was getting distracted. No time to reminisce on childhood dreams when attempting a gran jete or a triple fouette, all en pointe I might add. I knew the end of the piece was near, and if I could just stay on tempo… The allegro ended with a crashing bang, and to my relief I found myself perfectly still in my sous-sou, fifth position arms and all.
"Nice work ladies!" Crowed my dance instructor, Nabooru, "Much better than Wednesday! Medli, have you been working on your rond de jambe? It shows! That's all for today, go take it easy and enjoy the weekend." We bowed graciously toward her, as per class tradition, before scampering out of the practice room, gossiping about our plans for the weekend.
"Hey Zelly-Jelly, what'cha doin this weekend?" said a voice behind me. I turned around, looking playfully exasperated. Midna was probably the tallest person in our class, if not the whole dance studio itself. Towering at 6'2, she did not often find a boy with the confidence to pursue her. Not that it really bothered her, Midna wasn't all that into boys, not at all, actually, if you catch my drift.
"Probably Mr. Kaepora's physics paper…" I dropped my voice to just above a whisper, "probably Link." I smiled devilishly, and Midna could not help but a short yelp of laughter.
"Damn, Nohansen, someone's feelin' sultry!" she snickered as she sat down to take off her pointe shoes. I collapsed in the cheap plastic chair beside her and followed suit. I was, of course, referring to my boyfriend of nearly four years, Link Harkinian.
We had known each other much longer than that though. Link and I had been best friends since the sixth grade, when the class bully, Ganon, decided it would be fun to keep me prisoner in the sandbox play structure. The seemingly palace-sized structure was built in such a way that the top "chamber", if you will, had only one entrance and exit. Though I probably could have slipped through the sun-cooked metal bars, it was probably a good 20 foot drop. Ganon stood, oafish and brute, at the entrance during nearly the entirety of lunch, and refused to let me go unless I agreed to see some stupid movie with him. Noting my own self worth and recognizing how much of a pig he was, I naturally refused. And so, I sat in that tower, gazing out onto the rest of the playground, praying that someone would at least tell a teacher so I could enjoy my lunchtime. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a determined little boy peek out from the other end of the play structure. We made eye contact for a brief moment, and he put his finger to his lips signaling me to stay silent. I nodded in return. He slipped silently away, avoiding Ganon's protective cronies with ease. I saw him come to a halt beneath the platform on which Ganon was standing. I peered down at him through the playfully punctured polka dots, and he smiled up at me. It was not a smile that I shall soon forget. He grabbed a handful of sand, darted to the left from below Ganon, and shouted
"Why don't you pick on someone your own size, Ganon?". Ganon barely had time to turn to look down at his challenger before he reeled back against the other railing, stunned and hurt from the sand that had been hurled at him. Ganon rubbed his eyes frantically and screamed, though it was more like a roar. Seeing my opportunity, I jumped up and pushed past him, flying down the structure two stairs at a time. I landed in the sand, adrenaline racing through my blood, and was immediately seized by the hand. For a moment, I thought it was Ganon, and desperately tugged back. But then, I saw it to be the boy who had rescued me.
"Quick, this way, follow me!" he directed. I didn't hesitate. We ran around the cluster of the E buildings until we reached the open field and dove behind the large ventilation machine. There we collapsed, struggling to catch our breath. After a second, we glanced at each other, and immediately burst into a fit of laughter. I recognized the boy now. He was in my class, though I didn't know his name, since he had only arrived at our school a few months previous. Nevertheless, I addressed him like an old friend. It just felt right to do so.
"Goddesses! You're gonna get in so much trouble!" I said with a happy yet anxious look on my face. He shrugged.
"So I threw a little sand, big whoop. The third graders do it all the time. Besides, if I tell 'em that he was pestering you, they'll let me off easy," he remarked indifferently. I smiled down at my shoes. I admired his worry-free nature, something I knew would never be a quality of mine.
"I'm Zelda, by the way," I said warmly. I stuck out my hand and he shook it heartily.
The boy let out a short sarcastic laugh.
"Trust me, I know who you are," he exhorted. The smile on my face was quickly replaced with a half confused, half disgusted frown. Farore, I thought, stalkerish much? Quickly realizing his error, he shook his head and waved his hands frantically.
"No no no no no no no! Wh-what I mean to say is, like, you're always chosen to do speeches to represent our class and you have the highest grades and-" I put a hand on his shoulder reassuringly.
"Don't worry, I getcha." He slumped back against the machine, thoroughly embarrassed.
"What's your name?" I implored gently. The boy smiled, though his cheeks were still a burning scarlette.
"I'm Link," he said, "Link Harkinian".
"Well then, Link, I suppose I owe you for saving me back there," I joked, brushing the dirt off as I rose to my feet, "perhaps you'll let me buy you a cookie from the snack cart?" He clambered to his feet, shaking his head.
"I can't let a girl pay for me that's like… against the law!" he protested. I gasped in mock offence.
"Are you saying boys are better than girls? I am so telling on you!" I laughed, darting away. Catching my drift, he followed suit.
"Not if I catch you first!"
And so it was that we quickly became friends, sharing recesses and lunches together like two peas in a pod. Middle school came and went in a similar fashion, this time with more frog dissections and folded paper messages passed secretly back and forth in Algebra. We spent nearly afternoon at my house playing tennis on my Wii or riding bikes around my neighborhood until it was dark. We never went to Link's house. When I was younger, I couldn't understand why he never invited me over. But as we grew older, I came to grasp the levity of Link's home life.
His parents, if you could even call them that, were almost never home. They were disgusting junkies who wasted away every penny on another high. They didn't save a dime for Link's college. Link never told me about any physical abuse, but I'm smart enough to see that they have caused him too much grief for a child to bear. When we were 16, Link turned to the courts to become an emancipated minor, much to my encouragement. It was a long and awful process, many nights Link had to stay at my or is friends' house because his parents were so furious. He eventually won though, and was able to find work at the kindly old car mechanic's workshop. With this and a bit of money from my father, he was able to rent his own one room apartment and make due.
"Well, have fun with WHATEVER you do, kiddo! G'night!" called Midna as she slung her dance bag over her shoulder and headed out the door. I finished putting away my stuff, wished my dance instructor a cheerful goodnight, and dashed across the parking lot to my wonderful blue Hyundai Sonata, Lofty. The northern California night air was quite nippy, so I hopped inside and started up the heater. I sat for a few moments, enjoying the cozy warmth, when I realized my phone was ringing. I snatched it out of my bag, saw it to be my father, and answered.
"Hello, dad. What's up?"
"Zel, your mother and I have been invited last minute to join your aunt's dinner party in Sacramento. We'll be back in the morning. Can you handle the house by yourself tonight?"
"Dad," I smiled, fiddling with some loose strings on my steering wheel, "I'm almost 20…"
"Oh I know, it just never hurts to make sure. Well goodnight, we've already left, so just help yourself to some leftovers."
"Alrighty, goodnight. Love you."
"Love you too." I hung up the phone and smiled wickedly. No way in hell was I going home. I quickly called Link, hoping he would have his phone on him at work. His employer, Mr. Deku was such a sweet old man and often gave Link more than his share of pay. I waited with baited breath as the phone rang.
"Hey lovely, how was dance?" greeted Link drowsily. I smiled. He was always working such long shifts that it was hard to keep that boy awake.
"Same old. Got some good news though," I said in a low voice.
"Ah?" He yawned. "And wha's that?"
"My parents are gone for the night, down in Sacramento. Want me to come over after your shift?" I tried my best for a sultry voice on the last part. I heard him laugh on the other end.
"A' course, see you in 15?"
"See you in 15, bye love."
"Goodbye, love" I hung up and sank into my seat, simply drowning in my happy feelings. I was as giggly as a little kid. It wasn't often that I was able to sneak away a night like this. I put my car into drive and headed towards Link's apartment.
AN: So? We diggin'? I set it in Cali simply because I know the accents and the lingo. It's home for me, baby! I hope you guys like it! I promise it's going to get a lot more romantic and a lot more dramatic in time. Wouldn't be good literature without a good conflict!