My Snow Girl
In the frozen oblivion, one notices everything. In my instance, it was a girl. The biggest blizzard of the decade and school did not close. I mean, could ya care a little less, superintendent? If only my life were more peaceful. I'm so close to it. So very, very, agonizingly close. I have average grades, I'm average in sports, and I have no girlfriend. How much more average can ya get? Well talking about this is simply depressing, ya know? 16 years of no girlfriend gets to ya. I seem like a fool who can't even do anything out of average. But then again, that is what I said I wanted. A normal, boring life. Yup, just me and normality… ah who am I kidding? No one would go for that. I pray now that something slightly extraordinary happens to me! I pause for a second, hoping for something, an eager grin appearing as I stare into the heavens. Nothing happens. I sigh, I wasn't religious to begin with. I decide to simply sigh and stare out the window. Ah, the snow, Lilliputian flakes of pure ice descend from the cloudy sky and a sense of glee burns into my frozen eyes.
Yet a figure is shadowed in the midst of my wintery paradise. It's a huddled silhouette amongst the flakes, molding the malleable white powder into shapes. Shapes beyond human capabilities. Oh my, the wondrous shapes. I gaze deeper into the silhouette. It is a girl, playing in the snow. Her clothes are outrageous. A plaid mini-skirt, thin hoodie, and knee-high socks, how oddly can a person dress? Especially in the frozen wasteland of snow. She constructs wondrous sculptures in the snow, so grand, I wonder if she is a sculptor or an art student of some kind. They were little snow people, each clad with warm apparel and donning facial expressions of glee. But the wind kicks up snow and destroys her sculptures, the smiles falling from their faces and collapsing back into snow. More snow kicks up and obscures my view. When the snow cleared, she was gone, and no marks were in the snow; it was if she had never existed. I blinked and rubbed my eyes. What had happened to the girl, why did she disappear, and why is there a teacher currently breathing down my neck? All these questions were unanswered.
"Do I bore you? Because, if this class is too beneath you to attend, then I will gladly give you a pass to the principal's office now," erupted my agitating Pre-Calculus teacher. He was one of the teachers who hated me the most. Again, for reasons unknown to the world, I responded, knowing fully well the consequence of the retort, laughter from the ignorant students arranged around my position.
The sharp ring of the bell signaled the flood of students existing the classroom. But the lingering thought of what I had seen outside was haunting my waking dreams. I sought to figure out who the girl was. I entered my next classroom and saw a familiar shade of purple. It was the girl from outside. Though her clothing was now weather-appropriate, I could see her purple hair, the only distinct factor about her person I could remember. Being no seating arrangements, I plopped down beside her, hoping to instigate a reaction and find out the nature of her personality. This affected her very little; I did not see any physical reaction other than a blink, perhaps coincidental. Emanating from her sitting figure was an aura that placed her in a cold, desolate snowstorm, far from the reaches of my grasp. But I dared to alarm her with my presence.
"Hey, how's it going?" I ask, keeping it plain and very simple.
She put her book down and looked up at my face, her unwavering eyes looking into mine. However, there appeared to be no pupils, just all purple. Her countenance remained indifferent, her stare a blank traverse through an arctic blizzard.
"Hey," she muttered softly. I could feel her cool breath on my face and she had not removed the lollipop from her mouth. I realized that the candy was something I had not previously noticed before. I took another quick glance at her figure. Instead of the poor choice in clothing, she wore the school uniform, knee-length skirt, collared shirt and school jacket. Around her neck was a pair of mufflers and she wore a pair of sneakers. She had a lollipop in her mouth and wore no make-up as it appeared. But her face was pale, as if she were a sickly child. Her hair was wavy, yet jagged, like icicles. Her shoulders were sloped, undisturbed, in perfect symmetry with each other and her hands were hidden in her sleeves.
Realizing I had spent too much time glancing, I felt the awkward chill and tried to muster up a conversation of some sort.
"So… you don' mind if I sit here, do you?"
"…"
"Ok, I'll just take that as you don't care… Would that be alright?"
"…"
"So that reading from last night was really long, wasn't it?"
"…"
"Am I not interesting enough to talk to?"
"…"
Oh boy, she was definitely an interesting character to talk to. I wonder what's inside that head of hers. I want to know what the reason behind her silence is, the reason behind her cold demeanor.