"Can I move now?" asked Guinevere.

"Guinevere…" Bo whined.

She hated that name. Well, not hate, but rather a mild dislike for the ratio of red to green in the letters of the word. She often thought of herself as a floating entity without identity or appearance. Not purposefully, but when she was in the world for hours, or in her own world for that matter, she seemed to forget that she was a) human and b) not invisible. It wasn't a mechanism of her self-esteem either, because she was really quite beautiful. So beautiful, in fact that at the moment, she was posing in her garden while her best friend converted her beauty to paper with a brush and oil paints.

"Seriously, Bo, can I move now?" She whined back.

"If you want a headless version of yourself" He replied without looking up from his canvas.

She thought that would be a great thing to have, actually. It would freak out her maids. Her mother would have it removed from the wall, undoubtedly, but the look on Margret's face would be priceless.

"Stupid question, of course you would, but I'm finishing this no matter what." He continued almost immediately.

As he continued to move his brush over the page, she allowed herself to return to a frequent channel of thought. He really knew her well. No one else would even consider suggesting that the "proper young lady" would like a decapitated representation of herself. She didn't have any other friends, besides Bo, though. She had more enemies actually. They didn't know they were her enemies, though, so she didn't know if that counted. These enemies consisted of all the young men that she constantly being bombarded with. That may sound wonderful for some girls, but Guinevere honestly found it stressful and stupid. She just wasn't interested. She just found that part of human nature alien. Of course she recognized that companionship was a human need (she would go crazy without Bo, but that might just be because of the vast amounts of idiocy that surrounded her).

She just knew that being here with Bo, she was happy, and that was all she really aspired to in life. Of course, if that's what she was going to prioritize, she couldn't stay in this house in Halifax. It was a beautiful house- a mansion. She had a feather bed and a large room with maids to clean up her belongings and parents who would buy her almost anything as long as it wasn't anything the ordinary rich girl shouldn't have. Unfortunately, "rich" and "girl" didn't seem to apply to her nature.

So, she felt quite bad that her life was being used on someone who couldn't seem to appreciate or want it. She felt as if she was a different person that belonged in a different time, as if this life was irrelevant, as if there was some greater calling for her to follow. If only she was educated, she might be able to figure out just what she wanted. Right now she only had a list of things that made her happy tucked under her mattress. That list is what she decided she would worship.

Singing

Darkness

Beauty

Thinking

Bo

She would build her life around these things, and leave the laid out life. She didn't understand why it was that society seemed to give you a pre-determined life path depending on your wealth and your location. If everyone is a different person, how did they expect everyone to be happy? Oh wait, that isn't the focus of society. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She would have thought it obvious that happiness should be the focus, so either she is alone in thinking such, or to the rest of the world, money is happiness.

"Hey, Vere, would you mind stopping being so angry? It messing up my work." Bo laughed.

She hadn't realized she had creased her eyebrows. Letting herself relax, she let go of her thoughts, and let her eyes wander around the garden. It seemed like it would rain that night. The sky was getting darker, and there seemed to be more wind picking up over the bay in the distance. The lilac bushes were slightly swaying, and she watched as some flower petals fell to the ground. Her gaze shifted to Bo. He had curly dark hair, and large, almost bulging grey eyes. He was skinny and around the same height as Guinevere, if not a bit taller (but that was just because of his leather boots, which he liked to wear to make him feel superior- it didn't work.

She really felt bad for him, because so many of the kids at his school hated him for being her friend. He had told her that they were jealous of him. This made her feel extremely uncomfortable. They really had no right to be jealous. She wasn't a very nice person, and if any of them knew that, they might leave Bo alone. She tried to get him to spread rumors of her being disgusting and awful and downright despicable, but Bo wouldn't.

How nice of him, she thought sarcastically. He shouldn't have to deal with that. I would have worked for both of them, what with her having less possible "guests" or her mother to "introduce" her to. But, oh no, Bo couldn't let her reputation be ruined, because he was just that loyal. Sometimes, if she wondered if he was a different kind of loyal, but he couldn't be, he liked Roderick.

She had heard all about Roderick. The handsome classmate who sat two rows down and 1 seat over. On more than one occasion, Bo had refused to take her to see his house, but that didn't mean she couldn't go on her own. She snuck down to the harbor one night and spied on him. He really was handsome, she had to admit. She came back and told Bo that she officially approved his choice. He was, of course furious, but their argument ended in giggles.

"Hey a moment ago I was telling you not to be as cross."

"Yes. And?"

"You're too happy now"

"You want me to be less happy."

"Yes, please."

"You, my friend, are a wonderful person"

"I know. I try. Now, if you could, look mildly pensive and serene"

"Wow. I don't know if I can pull that off. That's a pretty big demand." She said sarcastically.

"You can do it Guinevere! I believe in you!" He replied with the same fake enthusiasm.

They both smiled and he continued to paint while Guinevere continued to think.

A while later, he declared it finished, and Guinevere walked around to look at the painting. Bo really was talented. It was incredibly realistic. Her brown hair was messily spiraled on top of her head (her favorite way to wear it- mainly because it made her feel less like a lady), and her eyes, grey like Bo's, were looking up at the sky out of her rather round face.

She was captured standing in front of what she deemed as "her tree", holding a bucket of water while birds gathered around her feet.

"Bo… why are there birds at my feet?"

"That's the first thing you say? No 'oh thank you my most handsome and talented friend?'" He said with fake hurt taking over his expression.

"We all know you are handsome and talented, I didn't think it needed saying." She replied. "Now what's with the princess image?"

"Well, you know, you're like an animal whisperer, so I thought it made sense." He explained.

Guinevere laughed, though she supposed it was true. She loved the birds, and they seemed to love her. She could almost seem to predict every one of their actions, which she never really had thought about as something strange for fear of seeming like she wanted to be special or different.

That was the thing about Guinevere. She hated when other people tried hard to be special or get attention for themselves, so she forbid herself from even doing it in her own mind. Every time something strange happened to her or she had a lurking feeling that something about her was unique, she wouldn't share it, often times not even with herself. She supposed this was a disservice to her imagination, never allowing herself to daydream about selfish things, but she had created a guilt impossible to ignore whenever she did.

She never shared this with anyone, because they would only say "well of course you're special Guinevere, don't be so hard on yourself" and that was awkward and untrue. So she avoided it and kept her thoughts to herself.

So now she didn't know what to say to Bo.

"Seriously though, it's weird. You're so full of mysteries, Vere."

She couldn't help but smile at that. She supposed everyone wanted to be special. That's what love is. It's a guaranty that you will always be able to tell yourself that your existence is not one of routine until you die. Most people are ants in a pre-determined life, but at least they can trick themselves into feeling like they are worth something.

Guinevere knew this. She also knew that from her experience, she probably wouldn't fall in love. Maybe all her rules were just a way of unconsciously preparing herself for a world in which she would could not even trick herself into being special for any reason.

She had decided a while back that everyone's worst fear is not being special. So Guinevere was training herself to face her fears. The only thing was that talking to other people, is that all they want is to be normal. Uniqueness is like a crime. She didn't understand if this was simply them trying to fit in to not get beat up, or a real wish to be just like everyone else.

People confused her. Heck, she confused herself. And she didn't know what to do about it.

"Bo, do you want to be special" She blurted out before she could realize what she was doing. She guessed that what happens when you have a friend. You constantly want to share things for some kind of validation. Again, she thought humans were so confusing.

"Um… are you inviting me to join you on some mission to save the earth? Or are we having a heart to heart talk here?" He joked.

"Ahhh, forget it." She tried it laugh it off, but Bo looked at her with concern. No, no don't do that Bo, she thought, but it was nice to have his attention, and oh god this conflict is so stupid.

"Yes. I do, I guess. I want to know I'm different than other people." He said after a while. "Why, do you?"

"I guess I'm the same." She replied, thankful for an easy way out of the conversation "Come on let's go!" And just like that she sprinted off and jumped the fence of the garden before Bo had even stood up. He laughed quietly to himself and ran after her.

He was faster than her, even when she wasn't wearing a dress, so he easily could have caught up to her, but he didn't want to. He enjoyed seeing the white fabric fly behind her as she attempted to sprint in front of him. As they ran he realized they were heading towards the hill. He probably could have guessed it though. Whenever Guinevere felt alone or conflicted she sought the view of the hill to help her forget everything. Or to think about it until she came to a conclusion she was happy with. That was the thing about Guinevere. She never tried to escape anything by using ignorance as an excuse. Bo quite liked living in a clouded vision, only seeing what was important to see. But Guinevere liked to know why. Why she felt a certain way, why humans acted the way they did, why she believed something. She thought a lot. Sometimes her insight scared him, and made him feel like he wasn't good enough. But he was the best of his class. So it wasn't that he wasn't smart. Or was it? School measured a lot of things, but he thought it very likely that actual intelligence wasn't among them.

Guinevere would have a theory about that. She had theories about everything. But she was feeling off right now, so he wouldn't ask her. He would just spend the afternoon with her, and hope it helped. She didn't know that he knew what the hill meant for her, but she probably would want it that way. She didn't really like exposing her weaknesses, so she would play it off as fine. But being her friend for 12 years, Bo could tell.

He wondered what it was this time. That was sort of out of character for her to brush off a question like that. But from experience, he knew she would work it out herself. She hated it when people made a big deal of her, so he wouldn't ask. He wished she would share what hurt her with him, but that was just how she was.

Guinevere slowed down when she got to the base of the hill and collapsed dramatically against the white wooden base of the clock tower. They both decided they didn't like the addition of the clock tower to their hill, because the whole point of the hill was to forget about time and the unimportant details of life and focus on what matters. Or on nothing at all, in Bo's case.

She laughed and smiled at Bo, who held out his hand to help her up, though he was feeling tired too. Both of them automatically took off their sandals in order to feel the grass on their feet. They then started walking up the hill, backwards as was custom. Or their custom at least. One day Guinevere had decided that the view was too good to turn your back on at any point when you had the opportunity to drink in the scene.

It was a grey day, but under certain conditions, these days were some of Guinevere's favorites. On top of that hill, you can see the entire sky, and when it stretches out black and grey with clouds rolling past you overhead, it seems powerful and in control. Even better is when there are certain patches of sun that allow the land and water below to catch the yellow light while the sky is dark. Today was one of those days and Guinevere couldn't stop herself taking in a sharp breath and staring.

As they walked up the hill, she let the feeling of warm wind wash over her and felt it was perfect. Language is imperfect, however, so perfect could never really be portrayed through those even letters. Instead, she vowed to commit the feeling to memory forever, more things on heaven and earth.

When they got to the top she simply stood there letting all of her senses drink in everything. She cursed her eyes for not being able to capture everything at once. The town buildings were lit up against the dark sky allowing one to see every little detail and shadow created, and the seagulls flew in between them silently coasting on the strong gusts of wind on their way down to the harbor. The crests on the waves of the channel caught the light of the sun, creating the illusion of a million crystals floating on the black surface towards the open ocean.

For some reason, it made her feel small and vulnerable, but in control and powerful at the same time. She marveled at this new sensation, but did not dwell on it.

Bo stood beside her and wondered what she was thinking. She wouldn't tear her eyes away from the view. It was a beautiful view, he had to admit, but she had this look on her face like she was frightened and happy at the same time, which scared him. Her eyes were full of something that looked like shock and fear, but her face was relaxed. He turned his gaze to the water below. Who could know the thoughts of Guinevere Birmingham.

They stood side by side for a time. Neither said anything, and neither wanted to. They both preferred silence to talking, which is one of the factors that drew them together, they thought. To Guinevere, talking always seemed to make a moment less real, more two dimensional, like all experience was being pushed to the front. She didn't know what it was at the front of, but she knew that she liked the depth that thought brought her much better.

Bo was happy to oblige, never one for conversation himself. In each other's company, they could be themselves while being part of an "us". Bo was the only person that was true with, so she supposed that was a good definition of friendship. This meant she didn't have any other friends then, not including birds, cats and horses (with whom she split everything). She realized this definition was probably not accurate, because most friendships she had observed are built on obligation and falsehoods. This bond was more profound than friendship, then, but Guinevere never really got around to trying to classify it, because really, what was the point. She liked being alone with him. He liked being alone with her. So that's what they did.

Guinevere decided when the sky was increasingly dark that enough of her memory had been filled with awe for the future reference. She wished she could have a longer attention span, but one of the flaws of humanity, or her at least, was the inability to appreciate beauty. Logic easily can, but it is hard to convert logic into reality, so she found herself asking Bo if he was ready to go back.

"Sure. I guess your mother will be angry, it's getting really dark." He said while waiting for Guinevere to put her sandals back on. " Going through the window, I gather?"

She hadn't thought about that. She forgot to tell anyone where she as going, which alwas made her mother scold her (which was useless, really, she never remembered, and even if she did, telling her mother that she was going to stand on a hill until dark would make much sense to a woman fixated on practical reality.

"Yeah, I guess I have to" She replied, sighing. She secretly loved climbing through her window though. It made her feel like a real adventurer, and she loved adventures. She often wished she could have one, and would then tell herself she could if only she had the courage to leave all she was familiar with. Except for Bo. Maybe he's come with her.

She decided to ask him as they returned home. As the sky turned black, some of the clouds cleared, and the stars slowly faded into view. Bo tilted his head backwards while walking to look at them, and Guinevere followed.

"A million years ago, someone could have been taking the first steps of an adventure and looking at these same stars" She remarked. "I want to have my own adventure"

"Can I come?" Asked Bo, without looking from the stars. He would love to be a part of that and stay with Guinevere forever. Never mind Roderick, he would get over him. He never really had a chance anyways. Besides, friendship or whatever this was is more important than any lust.

Guinevere smiled to herself. She was hoping he would want to come. They spent the rest of the walk home making up outrageous quests for them to accomplish on their imaginary adventure. They both hoped it wasn't so imaginary though.

Bo parted ways with Guinevere at the back gate of her garden. He lived two streets over, in a house even grander than hers, as he was the son of a member of the government or something of the like. It was top secret, according to Bo, and they didn't end up talking about their fathers much in any case. Guinevere's father was a captain of a semi-important ship, so was often gone, as he had been for the past year and she didn't like to bring it up.

She wished him luck in school and with Roderick, and he wished her luck with getting off without punishment. And with that she jumped over the gate and landed not so softly on the other side. They giggled at her clumsiness, and then said their goodbyes.

Guinevere tried to be as quiet as possible in getting to her window. She loved this part. She could pretend to hide in the shadows and dart out in order to get behind the next tree. Once she got to the wall of the house, she was positively grinning at the excitement of individuality and new identity. She crept along the wall so that if one looked out the window, one would not see her directly below. Once she got to the willow tree, she quickly left the safety of shadow to get to the base of the trunk, and then proceeded to climb up onto the first branch, which was low to the ground. From there she slowly and quietly wound her way through the branches, and took the leap onto the roof of her house. Here, she was lucky enough to land softly. She quietly raced across the roof until she reached the left side of the house.

Her room had a skylight, which was incredibly useful for a number of reasons. The first obviously being that she could drop from the roof right onto her bed if she remembered to leave the window open prior to her leaving. The second was that she could lift herself up to the roof at night to stargaze without anyone knowing. She also would get up early to watch the sunrise across the bay from her perch. On regular nights as well, the moonlight and later, sunlight poured through the window onto her figure, which she found comforting in a way.

Now she sat on the roof and removed her sandals once again, so as to prevent suspicion if mud tracks were found on her sheets. She set them beside her and squatted beside the window. Hesitating, she wished no one was waiting for her. She finally took the handle and slowly opened the stained window outwards until it was fully ajar. She listened for any sign of movement inside. Hearing nothing, she picked up her sandals and dropped her legs into the hole, and used her arms (which were rather strong, to be honest) to lower herself down until her feet hit the soft material of the linens. Standing on the bed, she reached up to grasp the handle and pull the window closed once more.

She then sat down cross legged on her bed and took a moment to just relax. She smiled after a few seconds and flopped onto her back, silently laughing. She decided she might as well just sleep in her dress, as she was fairly tired and comfortable at the moment. However, she knew that the maids would find it weird if for some reason they decided to come into her room uninvited (she hated that). She reluctantly got up and padded across the wooden floor to her wardrobe, where she found her grey sleeping pants and white loose shirt. They were actually Bo's, because they were boy's clothes, but the maids eventually accepted this "bold wardrobe malfunction" because Guinevere simply wouldn't listen to anything that related to what was "proper". She wore dresses on most days to make her mother happy, but when she knew she would only be seeing Bo, or no one at all, she would avoid dresses like the plague.

Climbing into bed, she started thinking about the types of adventures she and Bo had talked about on the way home. All of them had begun with them developing entirely new identities. Guinevere thought she might like a new identity. She supposed there was nothing stopping her if she could disguise herself well enough that no one would recognize her. She could even go to school if she disguised herself as a boy. School was always a distant idea to Guinevere, because she was female for starters, but also because of what Bo had told her they thought of her there. She never wanted to get anywhere near those boys, but it might be fun to meet them as a completely different person.

She would also be able to get a real education. As it was, she had to teach herself everything of import. That included philosophy and psychology for Guinevere. Science and math didn't concern her. They were irrelevant. Everything Bo told her about his philosophy lessons made her extremely jealous, though. The idea of attending one made her tense with anticipation.

She stopped herself for a second. This was just another one of those times when she let herself go on about what could, not what would, she had thought of this plot many times before. There was a different feeling about the proposition this time, though. Was she serious about this? No of course not. But would she actually be brave enough to disguise herself and break all rules? Knowing herself, she would. Rules wouldn't stop her, and even so, she would just ensure she wasn't caught.

A half serious plan began to formulate in her head. Bo could lend her clothes, and one of his father's wigs, and could introduce her as a second cousin whose parents were visiting for a while. People would assume she was rich, because she was with Bo, so she would just be let into school a visitor. She could even go tomorrow. Get up at dawn and make her way to Bo's house, climb through his window and tell him the plan, and hope he would agree.

She forgot she was joking after a while of speculating, and somewhere along the way, the idea became solid, and not a joke. Quite pleased with herself, Guinevere stared at the stars above her through the window and the last thing she thought before she fell asleep was that her adventure would start under the stars as others in the past. It was familiar, this feeling, and she felt somehow the connection was important, but she fell asleep before she could think about it.