Prologue
How many miles would you walk just to see me?
It's a simple enough question, I suppose.
How long would you wait just to be with me?
Only time will, tell, right?
Would you care if I left?
Of course I would care, idiot. I would care too much, if you ask me.
Do you even see me?
There's no one else worth seeing.
~Vaughn~
"I hate this," I mutter to myself as I wait in line to get on the boat. It's always crowded here; people shove and push, and I glare and grab my hat, muttering angrily under my breath.
Sighing, I check the time and the name of the island I'm supposed to be heading to. Just the name has me shudder inwardly, although on the outside I look as bored as ever.
Sunshine Islands? Blech.
Just the thought of how happy everyone must be there has me cringing, and I haven't even been there yet. I'm about to get on the boat when I'm bumped by a small person, who just rushes past me without even bothering to look back.
It irritates me, but of course I won't do anything about it. I just don't care enough to go make a big deal out of something as trivial as a mere bump anyways, although when I take a closer look at the person I'm surprised with what I see.
A small, delicate looking girl with long, shaggy brown hair and piercing blue eyes stands at the front of the boat, watching she sea with a distant look in her eyes. As if defiant to the weather, she wears brightly colored clothing; an orange vest over a yellow, sleeveless shirt and a pair of shorts that are complemented by red boots. The whole outfit is topped off with a red bandanna tied around her head; does this kid think she's some kind of pirate? How did someone that tiny even manage to bump me anyways?
Right as I think that, she looks over at me and I freeze for a second as if she heard my thoughts. Just as soon as I'm about to dismiss the idea, the little brat smirks at me before turning back to stare distantly at the water.
What the hell.
I'm actually kind of angry now but I won't let my face betray it. Calmly, I turn around to face the back of the boat as we take off, and I forget all about her as we set out to sea.
xxxXXXxxxXXXxxxXXXxxxXXX
It's not long before we're there. As soon as the boat docks, she's off, running towards the far side of the island while I walk off slowly, trying to figure out where I have to go next.
Luckily, I was given directions, and I walk throughout the town when I look up and see a sign. "Animal shop?" I mumble, before pushing the door open and walking inside.
I'm greeted by a homely looking woman with short blonde hair.
"Hello dear, I'm Mirabelle," she all but clucks at me, and it takes most of my willpower to not roll my eyes at the way she called me 'dear'.
"Vaughn," I say by way of introduction, sticking my hand out and hoping she won't hold onto it for too long. Luckily, she shakes it briskly then yells up the stairs, "JULIA! Come down, the animal trader is here!"
I find myself looking up the stairs at another girl, this one looking much older than the one who bumped me on the boat. She too, wears shorts and a shirt with a tank top underneath, but her color scheme appears to be blue, and her blonde hair (very much like her mom's, I notice) falls in wisps around her face, most of it tied back into a ponytail.
Somehow, I find it disturbing that the little blue-eyed girl from earlier is still somewhat on my mind, as I've just compared her to this new girl, but I shake the thought away as Mirabelle's daughter leans on the rail of the stairs and eyes me.
"Vaughn, right? Nice to meet you," she says, then straightens up and turns to her mom.
"Mom," she drawls, Mirabelle looks up at her daughter. "Yes dear?" the woman asks, and I slink into the corner, already preparing myself to ignore the two as best I can while I'm here on this island.
Neither one of them seem to care that I've quietly taken myself out of the scene as Julia says, "I'm gonna go see that new farm. I heard someone's come up here to fix it up and live on it." Mirabelle hesitates, but nods.
"Don't be rude now," she says, but Julia just grins at her mom before running down the stairs and out the door with a "thanks".
Mirabelle turns to me and I straighten up, hoping she'll tell me where to work and not try to start any conversations. I don't like talking; as much talking as I may do to myself, I hate it when I actually have to talk to other people.
It' s not like they ever really care, anyways.