Indigo Rose.
Nobody knew who she was, nobody knew where she came from. Some were unsure if she was even a real person, or just a robot that was manufactured in a factory. She was strange, like the withering indigo roses that were int he garden in the outskirts of our little town in Texas. She moved like calm walter and looked like a clear sky. She talked like a desert, and acted like the wind. If she had a family, we do not know. If she even had a name, we do not know. But the one thing that we did know was that she wasn't like us. She was much more different.
Chapter One.
Orion's P.O.V.
"We are raised being taught that if you are willing to give away everything you have, then you are truly unselfish, and if you give away nothing and expect everything then you are just heartless and self centered. But what if you give everything and expect nothing? What does that make you? A contradictory of a person? Or just plain human? And now that I really think about it, and analyize it, what is 'human' really? What makes up a human? One that is average, normal and considered socially acceptable? And when did we - as typical "human beings" - reserve the right to define what 'normal', 'different', and 'human' actually are? When did we get, and why are we so, caught up in our specific needs to feed off of the pain of others in today's modern times?"
First period english class. It was already debate time, despite the fact that we had only been in school for two and half weeks. I stood at the podium feeling extremely awkward, yet managing to force out the words on the topic at hand. 'Pressures from today's Society and the World Around Us.' Why Mr. Taylor chose this topic? To hell if I know. The man was twisted and loved to see people squirm in their most un-godly states. I was almost ninety-nine point nine percent sure that he used to be in a Mental Institute, y'know, the home for people with the case of the crazies? He practically screamed psychopath. I was also almost one hundred percent sure that he had a slight fetish for under-age girls, and sometimes the occasional boy. But over-all, he was a great teacher, even if he did scare the living hell out of me.
I attempted to speak my last line of my side of the debate, but I was thankfully cut off by the sound of the bell notifying us that class was finally over. I practically ran out of the classroom and avoided all eye contact with the teachers and other students on the way to my locker.
Surpringly enough, I hadn't tripped over anybody's legs in the halls for the first time in my whole grade ten was a small tap on my shoulder that instantly sent a small rocket of terror in my body. I was scared easily, so people liked to use it against me. "Orion Kellar, you are under arrest for being excessively awkward and wearing a god awful X-Men t-shirt. Please, drop your books and step away from your locker." I rolled my eyes and reached around me, punching the person behind me in the gut. "Gray! You are such a fucking faggot!" I yelled quietly at the doubled over Gray was my best friend, who just so happened to be dating my other best friend, Miriam "Miri" St. Pierre. Gray and I had been inseparable since birth. Literally. We were born on the same day, in the same hospital, and our parents had been friends in high school, and we were the reason that they all reunited. Though Gray and I were polar opposites we managed to get along. He was your typical Texas 'hearththrob', and I was that nerdy, awkward kid that still had hold of his V-Card.
Gray stood up straight and glared at me. "I fucking hate you sometimes," he grumbled, punching me hard in the arm. It was moments like these where I was glad for his girlfriends impeccible timing. Gray quickly grabbed hold of his arm in pain as she hit him. "Play nice, boys. You're going to be the death of each other," she laughed hugging had to practically drag me Gray and I to gym class by the ear. She knew that I hated that class. It was the calss in which I would be pummled with dodgeballs by Gray's team, and Miriam would innocently fake yet another injury so she didn't have to join in on the 'sweat-fest'. Her words. Not mine.
Now, I will be the first to point out that our schools cafeteria was absolute shit. There was probably still pizza from last year being sold this year and labled as 'fresh'. Rule number one if you truly want to survive R.J Spiegle high school? Never, ever, ever eat at the cafeteria. Ever. Unless you wanted to have quick, and probably painful, death.
I sat at the little triangle table with Gray and Miri and watched Gray scarf down his massive club sandwhich, while his petite little girlfriend sat and peeled the bread off of her dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets before eating the meat. She passed the breaded parts to me and I ate them for her, knowing that she wouldn't let me live it down if I didn't. I will admit that the bread didn't exactly match well with the pasta that my mom had made me, but I didn't really care. This was basically how it was every single day. We sat at the same old blue triangle table and kept our distance from the troglodytes and Texas barbies.
Usualy, everybody would be laughing, and hugging and squealing over nose jobs and steroids, but, today the atosphere in the school was completely different. It wasn't normal. It was like the scales of R.J had been tampered with. People seemed to be more on edge, people looked like they had just seen a ghost. It was weird. Actually, it was weirder than weird.