Setting down the flimsily clear container of hair-gel I ran my hand through the neat spikes on my head. It felt good to have it on again after spending the last three days on a boat in the middle of the sea without it. Your hair just lies there doing nothing hanging limp and downy and slightly straw like, but with gel it can do stuff and look like something and if you just put on enough it is amazingly soft! Twirling one of the spikes around a finger to make it face the right way I turned side to side to see it fully.
Reaching under my shirt I pulled the necklace I was wearing out, the small X like charm that many mistook for a shrunken, resting just below the loose knot of my tie. Stepping back a few I looked at myself in the full length mirror of my 'new' wall to wall wardrobe, looking at my doppelganger in a mirror image of the mess of my room, un-made bed, brown moving boxes piled to head height with a few lying about tops open brown tape littering the ground. Blue trousers that trailed to the ground with the tips of my basically century old trainers showing, a white shirt with a barely uniform blue striped white loose knotted tie, and of course, the golden tanned mop of hair that stood on my head like straw moving with the wind against the confidents of the gel.
As it was now, I turned to the window, leaning on the sill and watching the early morning traffic that was going along the road. A boisterous bunch of school guys walking down the opposite pavement, led by a single girl who walked at least two meters in front of them, silver hair at least shoulder length quite a choppy looking style, guitar case in one hand a brown shoulder satchel in the left and a A2 sized art file the words Demon on it in silver with a shoulder strap over the left arm and a large gym bay on her back. The short skirt thigh high, and blouse loose over the non-existent chest but stopping an inch or two before the skirt. Knee high socks and a pair of pale blue slip on pumps and a plain silver ribbon tied round her neck a single charm hanging from group behind her was as different as the next, one with what seemed a moustache had a beanie hat on with badges around a patch of it, another had what had to be dyed candyfloss pink hair was carrying a brown plant pot in one arm with a wilting plant inside of it, and towards the back was one with silver and grey streaked hair half way down his back carrying absolutely nothing and with someone trailing along beside him with blue hair and bandages across his face X shaped with a stack of books tucked into his chest and a backpack on a shoulder strap satchel and a tote bag hanging from his hands.
As I was about to turn around there were jeers and wolf whistles from across the street and the crowd stopped and turned staring down the street. Pushing myself out of the window, a red blur was coming down my side of the street. It was a girl, red hair at least down to her behind, thigh high socks with a light blue rim a tinged pink though still white, white trainers with red laces, a pale blue pleated skirt and a matching pale blue tank top that was flat against her chest , and she was flat, like a washing board, with a ruby red ribbon wrapped around her throat like a choker covering it completely tied to the side elegantly into a bow. I watched as she cycled just past the fence of next door curving the bike to the right to avoid some dog shit. On a rack just above the back tyre was a small stack of books on top of a leather like black bag. "Whoa Angel, who's the pretty guy this month!" "Angel my lady! Your sure helping the guys get it back up aren't ya!" The girl turn to the crowd "Hey the fallen Angel has arrived!" The girl going red lifted her right hand and "Ow man! Who's contaminated the Angel!" The girl lowered her hand again and turned facing the house a small smile moving across it. She suddenly turned and peddled harder down the hill at the end of the path.
Slowly shutting the window I grabbed the bag from the end on my bed and the carry box from the under it. Opening the door I walked across the hall in two steps to my brothers room, opening the door only to see him coming out of the toilets at the other end of the hall, hair visible around the book he was holding but face hidden by it. "Going down stairs Sor?" There was a hum from behind the book, "Going to put the book down?" There was a grunt from him, "Can I read it?" There was a squeak from him and the book suddenly disappeared.
My younger brother, by three minutes, stared at me wide eyed, with his mouth open and the smell of spearmint escaping his mouth and a quite noticeable ring of dry toothpaste covering his tanned face. "NO!" His eyes were still wide, scanning over my face and, SLAP.
"SORA!" I ran down the stairs after him, skidding to a halt in the cluttered kitchen. Sora was clutching the book to his side and moms apron in the other, his impish face smiling around the side of her arm, that blasted book, tatty and worn book slipping from its covers.
He'd gotten it on the ferry ride to here. A blonde if you could call it that coloured cascade of hair and a knowing smile. We had been walking to the on board arcade when we 'met' her. All that happened was she handed my brother this book, smiled said she'd read it, and that she though it would be useful for him, and then she disappeared, Sora spent the entire two days he wasn't stuck in that book looking for her.
Sora stood away from mum and flicked through the book, "Page 92, the identification of a member of the non-living… number 23, glazed over eyes, number 31, slightly open mouth putrid smell emitting from, number 35, dry and open pores especially around lower eye tissue." He shut the book, "But you run much faster than one, it says if you slap one chances are that either you paralyse your hand or it may become confused, but not chase you." He crossed his arms and grinned happily.
I sighed, taking in a deep breath. "YOU TAKE THAT ALL BACK SORA!" And we started our morning ritual, a day just like any other.