Sun and Windows and Marvellous Things!
Rated Teen for Implied Content and Language
The wind whispered in her ears, the sunlight glinting in her hair. She took a breath. If she closed her eyes, she would see the sun was blessing her on her triumphs, victories that she had, and the wind was her constant companion, eager to hear her tales and her amazing exploits, especially in math!
She grinned at the thought, pausing, absorbing the light, one more second, before swinging off the window perch. This high school student always had a taste for adventure, and wasn't afraid of anything! She would battle any foes, and woo any men, if she was, she smirked, inclined to.
She didn't save damsels in distresses though. Or dames. She, well, can't. Insert a shrug of her shoulders. Besides, the wind whispered from the open window. It was promising her things, it sounded so dulcet, so soft.
So what the trees outside thrashed?
"Hey giiirl! Is that you?"
She perked, toward her corporeal, really, truly, nice friend. "Melody!" she squealed, cupping her friend's hands, forgetting another time when she did that, somewhere dark and stale, and- "When did you come back from Vancouver? I hear the weather's beautiful there, and there are flowers, and grass. Did you eat a lot of food? What did you eat? Did you gain 10 000 pounds in weight, did you work out? How was the band? Did you kick their butts? Did you," she winked,"meet a cute ~guuuy~?" here, she scooted closer. Raised an eyebrow.
Her friend was between sputtering and laughing,"Piffch, really hun? Really? You ask me not 20 questions, but 2000 questions?" crimson filled her friend's cheeks. She knew the colour well. Sometimes, she became nauseous, other times, she remembered her sister's red irises.
She traced her friend-in-band's mouth "Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks?" she gave a dramatic gasp, hands to her mouth, awed. Announced it to the world. She added in the suggestive eyebrows, just in case.
Her friend raised her hands, calling on a god, perhaps? "Really, really? Yer bringing Shakespeare in this?" There was a pleased look to her face. Best not to tell her that these were the words of a distraught lover before poisoning themselves. Ah, Romeo and Juliet. A bell shrilled.
"Well, only the best for my dear vir-"
The bell rang. Melody her-friend-still-not-getting-laid looked relieved and sad. She had that effect on people." Well, if you really wanna know," Melody wagged a finger," we will have to meet for lunch later," a wink, oooh, sassy. Students began cluttering the hallways. "Anyway, I gotta go, talk to you later!"
She put a hand on her hip"Yeah, you talk to me alll about him, mkay?" with a wink and a blowing kiss, she smiled, watching her friend, so embarrassed over something so natural.
After all, wasn't it natural to have impulses? It was, r-right?
She skimmed those thoughts, focused on what she had to do. Right. She had a spare. A spare didn't mean she could loiter around, no siree, that was so boooring. As president of Youth in Philantrophy –which, she is proud of, thank you very much- there were lots of stuff to do! Sure, it didn't get all the popularity, and the name was pretty silly, but this girl could care less about that!
It was nice helping people, seeing the need in their eyes, the desperation, and it hurt, hurt, when no one recognized you, saw you as the same, instead, making you them. Being able to squash that, letting them know that they aren't alone, that there is no they, just a we, helped.
The wind reached her ears. Who is it really helping? The window rattled, the frame, the frame…
Nevermind that! She had to help plan for the Soup Kitchen forms, getting the parental permissions, and they were collecting books for a burned down school.
The wind's words resonated in her ears.
Well, this president of Youth in Philantrophy had enough of windows! Geez, she'd get sunburn, or sun cancer (she researched, intent on wanting, becoming human. Humans couldn't help her, they looked at her weird with her questions and NOT UNDERSTANDING, so she had all the inanimate to help her. The question was, could she get skin cancer?) at this rate! Stuffy libraries -Couldshegetskincancer?- were the best place for math homework! A lot of her friends were shocked, with her exuberant personality, how she could take math so seriously because it was the epitome of booooredom and stupiiidity. Shocked expressions were guaranteed when she told people she was taking university math, oh and, she was on golden honour roll to boot. Teehee. (Twirl your hair, shuffle your feet, good, you look innocent, cute, everyone will like you, no one will hate youleaveyoulovemelovemenot).
Psychology, well, not too many people seemed surprised about that one. When this golden –like her hair, like the rose she pretendsheneeded- honour roll student wanted something, she could be nice to anyone. She could tease them just right, jab at their flaws and strengths, and not have to reveal much about herself. Not give any substance in conversation. A good distraction, like a lemon hard candy that you really wanna try, even though you took it from someone and it was important to them, and then it's gone, dissolved.
It can rot you.
That's-that's why she liked talking to her sister. This pretender didn't have to, well, fabricate her life (she's had enough fabrication, thank you very much). Not the important bits. She didn't have to explain how she found literature repulsive, how they played with their characters, and set it up to see, hmmm, what broke this one, hmmm, how is this humiliating after being given five seconds to really FEEL it, and exploit them. Drama wasn't her thing, she was too busy –repentingforherMISTA- and, art, well (here, she gives a lilting smile she learns give a gentle appearance to her face, she learned it, in a book. How to read body language, how to exhibit it, how to mask crippling loneliness because really, she's happy, and she doesn't know if smiling can increase endorphins for her, but this is a self-fulfilling prophecy, so she's human, right?) that's her sister's field. Down the staircase she goes.
Her sister's field to stand up for her beliefs, why she thinks the NDP is a great party –this mathematician likes Stephen Harper best-, lining it with facts, and bulletin points, tell you random facts about dolphins, and how the British hacked into a terrorist website and replaced the recipe to make a bomb with cupcakes, cupcakes! And, the best part about that cupcake story is that she can tell you the name of the terrorist group, what the Brits were up to, and even more, if people would just listen!
Round the corner. Pause.
It was… also her sister's fields to paint purple, blues, yellows, reds, but most prominently, purple, and somehow, it works, when, really, those colours are ridiculous, but they work and she wished she realized this before how well they could mix, and how sad Ib looks, but, but!
But- Ib gazed more and more at her with that look reserved when she painted with those stupid colours, that look like they could work, but really, it's impossible. Right?
Her footsteps echo in the hallway. Clunk, clunk, squeak, and she is on the floor, her bag crumpled.
Ib's pointed looks, the paintings, the-does, Ib know? Of-of course she doesn't! With her quiet look, and nose-in-the-book or hands-busy-painting syndrome, she seems passive, yeah, but this possessor out of all of them knows better. They told her about how she braved a Lady in Blue for a dying plant, showed the ant his picture, and she saw how the brunette prepared herself, before punching a man –that helped her, gave her candy- twice. See, she hurt him, but, it was for the better, and he finally came to and she was so happy and-
Has she looked happy since?
The-girl-not-grieving ripped open her zipper, looking for her pencils, homework, and, and-
Trembled. There's a picture Ib has put in her backpack. An elegant happy birthday. Nothing more, nothing less. But, if she looks hard, she sees three roses. She crumples it.
It was their fault. They shouldn't have come here with their fears, and wishes, and-
Humanity. How dare they taunt her! It wasn't her fault that they were the ones who entered her world, it wasn't her fault that they trusted her, that they-
Tears pricked at her eyes. Fat droplets land on her bag.
She bawled harder.
What if they were...
Paint?
AN: Hello! It feels strange to impulsively post something. As it is, I am working on four fanfics right now, and have no intention on posting them until they are complete. With me though, they become full blown novels. Anyway, I have edited this twice, however, due to the fact it is quite early in the morning, and I need my sleep, there are problem some things I missed doing. Chances are, I will revise this when I get up sometime.
Don't know why I posted it, but I did feel for Mary, and wondered what it would be like for her to live in the real world, and to deal with all the mixed emotions she has. Mary was a wonderful villian, and you can't really blame her for what she did. In this, she is in high school, probably grade 11-12, and not so much dealing with regret, but guilt. A little bit of regret because maybe, maybe, there had been a loop hole she just missed.
I may continue it. We'll see. Impulsive fics get me nowhere usually. This is based on the Together Forever ending. Reviews are always appreciated. ^-^
Update: Revised it. More so what the wind says, and the ending bit. I am a lot happier with it now. :D