Whoo! My first little oneshot for Obviously Insane's iPod challenge. Though, admittedly, I do not have an iPod. :P Lmao, Windows Media Player's shuffle ALL THE WAYYY! Anyway, this one's about Amber, and I very much enjoyed writing it. I ADORE her character, mainly thanks to my girl, for whom this was written, of course. :) I hope you all enjoy it! Nine more to go, whoooo! I'm excited!

"The Song of Purple Summer" - Spring Awakening

and all shall fade,
the flowers of spring,
the world and all the sorrows,
at the heart of everything,

but still it stays,
the butterfly sings,
and opens purple summer,
with a flutter of its wings.

It was a glorious change from the usual. The day was calm and serene, even inviting, and Amber von Tussle was more than delighted to quietly excuse herself from her home while her mother was out, presumably 'working.' In any case, the sun was low on the horizon, and the air held a certain, faint, yet still unfamiliar, chill for an early summer sunset in Baltimore, Maryland. Amber was clearly not complaining, of course, because as soon as she stepped outside into the fading sunlight, she felt a particular and notable twinge of pleasure.

The light poured onto her skin, offering a grand amount of reassurance as she ventured out the front steps of her home. In all honesty, she had no reason to be outside. She had no place to be, no one to meet, and no rehearsals to attend. In fact, it was a lone Friday evening in late June: the first in a long time that she had nothing to do. No one had invited her out. No one had asked her to do something with them the next day, or even on Sunday. She had been left to her own doings, whatever they happened to be.

Miss Teenage Hairspray was over, and, essentially, so was she. Yet, somehow, that felt all right. Her stomach was no longer turning. Her eyebrows were not longer furrowed in confusion and offense. Her eyes no longer burned with those 'tears,' however authentic they may or may not be. Although, her shoulders held themselves significantly lower than usual, yet the sense of being overthrown did not come along with the simple gesture. It was a silent form of relief - relief in the form of a huge weight being taken off her slender shoulders.

Suddenly, she was just Amber, and… that felt okay. It was different and unexpected, but strangely okay with her. Though she, in all probability, had few to no friends now, though her mother had since been fired, taken into custody for questioning, and then released in a fit of rage, and though she felt as though a large part of her life had been ripped from her perfectly manicured fingernails, she felt okay. She felt calm and relaxed and somewhat guaranteed; though, of what, she was entirely uncertain.

All that she knew at this very moment was, that she wanted to get out of the house. There was no sense in sitting there, pretending she cared that her phone would ring, or that there would be a knock on her door, when, in actuality, she was, more or less, okay with it.

Of course, not even she could shake the obvious, sharp edge of emptiness that clung effortlessly to her heart. She could not dare say that she was not affected by the loss of a select few people.

Tammy Smith, her best friend since childhood, had not spoken to her for days. Shelley Ambrose, her obvious choice of a sparring partner, had not even bothered to provoke or ridicule her, and Amber quickly became aware of the pleasant balance that the redhead offered in her life. She finally understood, though would probably never admit it aloud. Link Larkin, her ex-beau and unfortunate, ( though, now, again, ex ) official arm candy - well, Amber couldn't say that she could miss something so unnecessary. She was thankful to have him gone. At last, she was finally free from that suffocating front.

Despite it all, though, Amber still felt all right and okay and even a little decent, at times. It was most unlike herself, yet, at the same time, it felt sort of right, almost as though she was finally being given the opportunity to just be Amber.

She wasn't going to lie: of course she was going to miss being the Queen B, the Queen of Patterson Park High School, and the Queen, well - in all technicalities, Princess, of Baltimore, but that was all … okay. She couldn't explain just why, couldn't, for some odd reason, place her finger on the reason or even any single explanation, but she just could not call it a loss, because she didn't feel as though it was one. She felt light and unhindered for one of the first times in her life, and calling that a 'loss' of any persuasion would truly be tragic.

Though a complete change in character was out of the question, she knew that she could still be Amber von Tussle: respected and renowned. Titles or no titles; they could never take away her dignity.

There were different paths to take, and more tactful ways of going about getting her way. Though, one thing was for certain: lapsing into an precise, carbon copy of her mother was simply unthinkable. Amber had class, style, and, on most days, enough discretion to get her by; she knew how to work others with something that her mother never candidly possessed.

Amber had intellect. It was rusty, virtually unused, and highly unexplored, because her mother had never allowed her to, but it was still there. Her head wasn't empty, contrary to the remarks of others.

The art of successful manipulation didn't come to those without the brain power to back it up. Amber knew what she was doing. She knew how to get where and what she wanted.

Perhaps that was why this was okay, why everything was okay. She had just been stripped of everything that she had ever known, and yet she was surprisingly all right with it.

Because she knew that she could get it back. Because she knew that she could rebuild her temporarily disrupted foundation.

Tucking her hands at the small of her back, Amber paused suddenly. Her house was now five blocks away, give or take, and the sun hung so low on the horizon now that it was just barely peeking out from behind it with its array of colors. Allowing her teeth to lightly graze her bottom lip, she stared over at an abandoned lot where a chorus of fireflies were beginning to circle around one another.

Abruptly torn by the decision of either returning home or continuing onward, Amber von Tussle gradually turned her head back to the path ahead, her back toward her home, and willed her feet to continue down the uninhabited sidewalk, making certain that she enjoyed the faint, yet almost tranquil clicking sound of her heels against the pavement and the solitary and melodic chirps of a few nearby crickets as she walked on.

the earth will wave with corn,
the grey-fly choir will mourn,
and mares will neigh
with stallions that they mate,
foals they've borne,

and all shall know the wonder
of purple summer...

And yet, I wait.
the swallow brings
a song to hard to follow,
that no one else can sing.

the fences sway,
the porches swing,
the sky begins to thunder,
crickets wander, murmuring.

and all shall know the wonder:
I will sing the song of purple summer.