The fourth prompt from a series of writing prompts I'm working my way through.
Disclaimer goes here, no warnings. Hope you enjoy. :)
Insides
Eight-year-old Santana Lopez is sitting on her double bed next to her best friend Brittany. Her grape-flavoured bubblegum is too sweet but she keeps chewing it anyway, just because she enjoys the sharp cracking sound when she blows a bubble and it pops.
Brittany is staring intensely at the radio. Santana has asked her why she does that, but all Brittany says is that she's trying to see the sound. Santana prefers it when Brittany dances to the music instead of trying to see it. Brittany's dancing is nice to watch, it's extraordinarily graceful for a young girl who's still all sort of gangly legs and arms and tangled blonde hair.
Funnily enough, the only times Santana has really understood what her friend means about 'seeing sound' is when she dances for her. But whatever.
"Brit. Stop doing that," she says irritably.
Brittany turns her head and looks at her with big blue eyes. "Okay, San," she says meekly.
All the things she said, someone on the radio is singing. What a stupid song, Santana wants to say.
"There's that movie about cheerleading on now, I think," Santana says, reaching over for the remote.
"San?"
"Yeah?" Santana drops the remote into her lap.
"What's inside me?" Brittany has a long, lightly tanned arm stretched out, looking at it curiously.
"Uhm…" Santana is familiar with these sorts of questions. Brittany is curious, she loves being told things even if she forgets them like a goldfish instantly, and Santana loves telling her things. However, she isn't too well up on human anatomy. "Stuff."
"What kind of stuff?"
"Well, there's your stomach. And blood. And…and your ecoughagus," Santana tried.
"What about my heart?" Brittany places a hand in the middle of her chest, right on the logo that adorns her neon-pink singlet. "People always talk about hearts."
"Yeah, they do. Uh. It beats, and it keeps you alive."
"Can you keep things in your heart? Like, put them there?"
Now Santana is out of her depth. "I don't know! Geez, Brit, what a stupid question."
"People say you can keep things in your heart."
"Brit, they're talking about something else…oh, just shut up, let's watch the cheerleading movie, okay?"
"You're in my heart," Brittany says earnestly and solemnly. "I can feel you, you're there every time it does that thump-thump thing."
"Um. Thanks?" Santana looks at her. Brittany's hair is floating in messy whisps around her face, she must have forgotten to brush it again this morning. She looks wide-eyed and if Santana had known what ethereal meant she would have thought that Brittany looked ethereal, like a fairy that had forgotten to brush its hair and wore denim shorts with pink hearts drawn on them in fading permanent marker.
There's a moment of silence, and Santana's uncomfortable. She wants to watch the cheerleading movie.
But then Brittany's determined face changes into an impish smile and she starts to giggle and throws a pillow with quite astounding strength, and then it's all right.