Mary bit her lip. She had always been bad at math. She was actually bad at most subjects in school, academics to be precise. She tried as hard as she could, but her brain just would not accept new information.
It was cold and grey outside, a type of weather that she'd always hated. It seemed to dull every colour inside and out, without any sort of exceptions. This left Mary in quite the bad mood already, although she tried her best to act cheerful. Math made it worse.
From her spot by the wall, in her desk covered in the drawings of previous bored students, she could hear the clock tick. Her blue eyes could been seen from across the room whenever she checked how much time was left in the treacherous class, a flash of cobalt blue every five minutes.
Mary's eyes were a nice blue. She'd always been aware of the fact, as people made comments on the intense colour quite often. Many of her friends were envious of the hue that always seemed to fade by a child's teenage years. But Mary didn't like blue that much. She found the colour made her feel uncomfortably guilty. When she used to tell this to her adoptive mother, her brother's real mother, she would say that Mary had probably just been a mischievous child and had stolen the colour from angels. While her mother used this explanation jokingly whenever Mary was messing with her older brother, this story only worsened Mary's mysterious guilt.
She looked at her green pen and sighed, her small chin resting on one small hand as she drew an eye, and coloured it in with the colour of grass. Mary liked green. It was her favourite. Her favourite colour used to be yellow, but at some point she'd outgrown it. How she yearned for green eyes like her friend Josie.
The friend in question flicked her in the head, and Mary, entirely distracted from the seventeen math questions that the teacher had assigned, jumped. Her eyes blinked several times, as if she was waking up, and then she turned to the right, pouting.
Josie, her bespectacled friend with quite short brown hair, laughed at her reaction that was similar to that of a bird. "Has a boy charmed his way into your scattered brain again, Mary?" Josie was quite close to Mary, leaning across the aisle and smiling cheekily, her glasses magnifying the shards of different greens in her irises.
The small blonde's eyes once again glassed over as she thought about the green. If only her own eyes were that colour. A colour with so many layers that it was impossible to paint. Her own eyes seemed dull. One shade of blue, as if someone had merely coloured them onto a blank orb.
She didn't notice her friend's lips stretch upward into an excited, joyous grin as she pointed a pen directly at Mary's nose, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Was I correct, Mary? You are utterly smitten!" She sang, poking her with the red correcting pen.
Mary once again blinked into reality, and, realizing exactly what was being celebrated, flushed a shade of red that could simply be described as rose. She squinted her eyes and flailed her arms at Josie, attempting to wipe away the thoughts. "I am not! Ew, ew, ew!" Mary protested, her chair releasing a screech as she pushed herself toward the wall.
Nineteen other pairs of eyes in the room fell upon her, some laughing and some showing obvious annoyance. Though after so many years, most people were used to Mary's child-like behaviour that could burst forth unexpectedly. Mary's cheeks turned a deeper shade of rose red, and she opened her mouth to apologize, but the students collectively sighed and returned to their work, deciding that it would be far better to just ignore her, rather than try to decipher her rambling apology.
She turned her eyes to Josie and glared, but, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't seem that menacing. "What is with you?"
Josie winked at her, and slide back into her seat. "My English teacher gives me romance books to study," she explained, twirling her pen before flipping to the answer key in her text book. "It's not my fault that you seem to be disgusted by the thought of a boy romancing you."
Instinctively, Mary's nose wrinkled. "What are you suggesting?"
"I'm not suggesting anything, but what are you suggesting?"
Mary again opened her mouth to protest, but soon saw the amount of fun her friend appeared to be having with her. She slammed her lips closed and fumed silently. "I liked you better when you couldn't speak English," she mumbled, finally starting her equations three quarters of the way through class.
She felt a hand pat her on the head gently. "Have fun doing your work."
As it dawned on the blonde girl exactly what her friend had done, she scowled, opened her textbook wide, and put it in between them as a makeshift barrier. Finally, Mary set to work on her assignment.
Josie had transferred to their high school at the beginning of their tenth grade, a measly four years ago. She could only speak Swiss, and her hair had been blonde, not brown, but soon she was fluent in English, and, at Mary's insistence, had dyed her hair a dark chocolate. Her name wasn't actually Josie, but after Mary had misheard her name on the very first day of school, Josie had somehow replaced Johanna.
Josie was also somewhat of a desperate romantic, and the subjects of her fantasies were often between Mary and a make-believe boy. Much to Mary's objections.
It took all of Mary's will-power to remain concentrated on her schoolwork, but she stubbornly insisted on keeping her eyes away from both the window next to her, and the inconvenient romantic beside her. Unfortunately, her green pen never did leave her sight.
Her efforts to stay focused throughout the last twenty minutes of class had proved helpful by Mary's standards, as, when the bell finally rang, a good six questions were done, and her paper was littered with brilliant green eyes.
I deserve a cookie, Mary thought, and, at the very thought, she grinned madly. Filled with a newfound burst of energy now that school was over and sweets had been promised, she shot up and threw her paper, textbook, and beloved pen into her bag, slinging it over one shoulder and striding triumphantly over to the door-
"Mary!"
Mary froze, and then pouted, realizing that something always got in the way of her awesome exits. A hand fell on her right shoulder, and those same green eyes looked back at her as she turned.
"Why are you running? I thought that you had no sense of urgency."
"Cookie," was her completely serious response to Josie's completely serious question.
Josie, messenger bag slung across one shoulder, looked up in thought. "Ah," she said, voice full of understanding, "I see. Do you actually have money today?"
Mary's cobalt blue eyes widened, and did not blink for as her brain made rapid calculations. "No," she eventually concluded.
Her friend's eyes shone with something between amusement and irritation as she patted the shorter girl on the head. "I'm going to a café now that school's over; I think that they have cookies there." Josie began to exit the room, but paused when Mary appeared to be frozen. "What is it?" She asked, glancing over her shoulder.
"I don't have any money!"
Josie gave her a wry grin, arching one dark eyebrow at her. "Then you will add on $1.75 to the money you already owe me. Now come on, starry-girl."
Mary followed Josie, her steps cheerful, but face forming a pout. "Starry?"
"It fits. You really are a desperate romantic."
"Me?"
A playful green eye winked at a dismayed blue one. "Exactly," she chuckled, as they walked out into the dull, damp November air.
The two girls, tall and short, took the bus to the café. Mary liked the bus. She preferred walking, but she would definitely rather take the bus than drive in silence with her brother. But it wasn't just her dislike of Garry that made her enjoy bus rides, it was most likely the collection of people to be seen riding with her.
As Mary sat on a firm black seat next to her friend, who was already taking the time to scribble down answers in a text book, she gazed out the window. The sky was grey. Everything seemed to be grey. Even the green of her pen and her friend's eyes had been dulled by the season. Seeing the fog forming on the glass windows, a sign of an early winter, Mary gave an audible sigh.
At least spring comes afterwards, was her only comforting thought when everything turned grey. Mary's fingers unconsciously played with the streak of green in her hair, and drew a childish flower in the condensation with her other hand.
"Mary, don't do that. You'll leave marks."
She turned and scowled at Josie. "It's not my fault that you're being boring," she complained.
The short haired girl, stuffing her books back into her dark blue bag, nodded her head toward the windows. "If I'm boring, then I guess our arrival really is a relief."
Mary tilted her head and blinked. "Arrival?" And yes, much to Mary's surprise, the bus had stopped in front of a small café without her noticing. "Wait, then why didn't we walk?" She exclaimed, scrambling to catch up with her friend, who was already approaching the open doors.
"I knew that you would want to browse the other stores on the way, and I really don't have the money to buy you a bunch of stuff today," replied Josie, nodding in thanks to the driver before stepping on to the sidewalk.
Mary, close behind, scowled. "Trickster!"
"Hypocrite."
"Hey!"
Laughter was Josie's only response to her protests. Josie knew very well how Mary detested being called a trickster, or any variation of the title. Mary pouted, but concluded that she should probably forgive her friend if she wanted to ever see her much needed cookie.
She followed her into the café, which was rather small and held a number of people, but Mary found that she could hardly call it crowded. In that moment, she decided that she liked the place.
The café was almost circular, the round tables set with chairs along the large, clean windows, giving a view of the busy street outside. At the counter was a long glass case, displaying the seemingly endless options of sweets. Upon seeing the sweets, Mary decided that she loved the place.
Josie, obviously fairly comfortable in the café, began to approach the counter. Mary tugged on her sleeve anxiously, never feeling shorter in her entire life. "Josie, you never told me the name of this place," she almost whined.
Her friend chuckled at her, and her green eyes held an emotion quite close to embarrassment. "Well, about that," she muttered sheepishly, biting her bottom lip. "I actually don't really know how to pronounce it. It's something in Japanese, I think. Shiwabuki some people call it."
The blonde girl's cobalt eyes lit up, and a smile quickly appeared on her face. "A mystery?" She exclaimed. Mary let go of Josie's sleeve and spun around excitedly, cutting off several other costumers' paths. "Perfect. I'm going to have my wedding here!"
Her taller friend gently pulled her back, like a puppy on a leash, and sent the others an apologetic look. "Mary, people," she said. Mary jumped and stood perfectly straight, not moving a muscle. Her eyes were wide, as if widening them could hide the blush spreading across her face.
The other people, though, didn't seem to mind Mary's antics. They gave wistful smiles, and then breezed by, as if reminded of youth. Mary, not liking to be reminded that she looked like a child, studiously ignored their looks.
Josie sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose behind her glasses. "Christ, you really are like a puppy."
"A puppy?" Her blonde friend blinked at the brunette.
"Nevermind," she replied, waving her hands around. "Let's get your cookie, Mary."
Mary brightened again.
The boy at the counter with curly black hair listened intently to Josie's surprisingly specific request, as Mary surveyed the pastries and drinks on the menu. "Mary," Josie said, turning slightly, "can you get us a table?"
The shorter girl nodded. "Yes ma'am!" She then strode off in determination.
She chose a round table by the window, which gave them the wonderful view of a busy street, and the buildings across from it. Luckily, the buildings were all fairly old, so one could almost properly call it "scenery."
She sat, and was soon joined by her friend, who was somehow carrying two filled cups, a long, narrow pale blue box, and a small white plate on which was, in all of its white chocolate chip glory, Mary's long-awaited cookie.
Josie carefully set the cookie and a mug in front of her, placing its twin and the box on the opposite side of the circular table. "I knew you would want a drink, so it's Earl Grey. Two sugars, milk, same as always," she explained as the other examined her beverage.
"I'm so happy that you can speak English, Josie," Mary chirped.
Josie sent her a peeved look.
Mary blinked, and sipped her tea.
Josie sighed, and lifted the lid from the mysterious blue box. "I knew you were wondering about these," she said.
Peering over the top, two cobalt blue eyes studied the sweets. They were like… hamburgers. "What are those?" She questioned.
"You don't know?" Josie seemed genuinely surprised. "But don't you know every dessert food?"
"I thought I did." Mary did so love her desserts.
The other girl sighed and carefully lifted a pastry between two fingers. It was pink. "Here, try this one. It's strawberry-lemon flavoured. Can't go wrong with this one."
Curiously, Mary held the delicate looking hamburger-dessert in her own hands, and then, with a small amount of hesitation in her movements but a large amount of excitement in her eyes, took a bite.
Josie sipped at her tea (black), and glanced out the window. "Hey, Mary," she began, picking a speckled orange pastry from the box absently, "there's this old art gallery across the street that I went to about a week ago. It's a very interesting artist. You might-" She was cut off by Mary's sounds of disapproval. Looking back at her friend, Josie found Mary slumped in her chair, tongue sticking out, and dessert tossed on to her plate.
"Mary?"
The blonde girl started shaking her head vigorously, gulping down tea desperately. "Wax! Wax! That is wax I tell you!" Her voice was rising quickly. "Josie, you trickster! Trickster!"
Josie frowned. "What on Earth are you talking about?"
"The hamburger! It tastes like I've eaten a crayon."
"How do you know what that tastes like?"
Mary paused in her hysterics, and thought for a second. "I think I ate a pink one when I was eight…"
Her friend, looking doubtful, broke a piece off of the pink sweet, and popped it into her mouth. "Well," she decided after a moment's thought, "it tastes normal to me. I guess you," she pointed an accusing finger at Mary, "don't like macarons. How unfortunate. You have my pity."
Like a bird, the accused head tilted. "Macaron? Isn't that a cookie?"
"Not quite," the prosecutor chuckled.
Suddenly, a phone buzzed. The two jumped.
"I think it's yours," said the girl with the green eyes.
"Mine?" Replied the girl with the blue eyes.
"Yes."
Mary dug her mobile phone out of her bag. The screen read "Gare-bear", along with a picture of a beaver. Sighing, she answered. "Yay, you found your phone!" She congratulated him.
Her brother sighed, somehow loudly enough for Josie to hear his exasperation, and chuckled. Luckily, Josie and Garry were on quite good terms.
"Mary, where are you? I told you, I have to start working later now that this exhibit is in town, and you forgot your key at home again."
"Oh, I'm at a mystery café with Josie eating hamburgers and cookies and tea."
There was a pause. "Hamburgers?"
Mary beamed. "Yeah," she exclaimed, making a wide hand gesture, "coloured ones! They taste like crayons, though." She muttered the last bit.
Josie leaned across the table and pulled the phone towards her, much to Mary's confusion. "She means macarons," she explained loudly.
A short burst of laughter could be heard from Garry's end of the call. "Of course, why didn't I figure? Thanks, Josie."
"Yup."
Frowning, Mary put the phone back to her own ear. "When are you leaving?"
"In about twenty minutes, so you'd better get back soon."
She turned toward her friend. "How long does it take to bus home?" She asked politely.
"About twenty-five minutes."
"Oh." She blinked four times, and then smiled brightly as she said to her brother, "On it, Gare-bear!" And then, she hung up.
While she may have told Garry that she would soon be home, Mary continued to sit at the round table beside the window. The green streak in her hair fell in front of her eyes, and for a moment, she wondered if she should start wearing green contact lenses. It would certainly solve some problems for her.
Her unwanted cobalt eyes gazed across the street, at the old buildings facing her. A name caught her eye. "Is that the art gallery?" She inquired.
Josie, sipping her tea absently and having already decided not to ask Mary when she was actually going to leave, glanced up. "Yes. I said so before, but you were too panicked to listen, obviously." Her green eyes sparkled behind her glasses. "What, are you interested now?"
Mary's small hand wrapped around her mug. "We got a brochure for the Guertena exhibit the other day." She began to break the remainders of her cookie into pieces, popping one of them into her mouth. "I might go."
"Well, I've already gone, but if you want company, call me at any time." The brunette stood suddenly, and tapped Mary on the head. "Now run along. Don't keep your elder waiting for you."
Mary jumped, and her eyes widened. "Yes ma'am!" She exclaimed, rising quickly and grabbing her bag. Bus stop, bus stop, bus stop… She paused. "Josie…" The bird-like girl began, biting her lip. "Where is the bus stop?"
"Right in front of the café, Mary."
"Right!" And with that, Mary set off at a determined pace, stubbornly forcing herself to keep up with the mission at hand.
As she stepped on to the sidewalk, the small blonde girl's cobalt eyes glanced at the old beige and burgundy building across the street. She did not stop walking, but the sight of the gallery remained in her vision.
If her memories served her well, then the Guertena exhibit from nine years prior was where her relationship with her adoptive brother went horribly wrong. It was true that they shared certain bonds, but in every conversation that they had, there was some sort of underlying tension that she didn't quite comprehend. She wondered if Garry understood the source of that bitterness. Perhaps it was a young jealousy over being replaced by another child that never dissipated, but, then again, Garry had been sixteen at the time. Was it really possible for a teenager at that age, especially one of Garry's strange maturity, to become so jealous of a child? Mary doubted that.
As she rode on the bus, with only four other strangers surrounding her, she studied her hands. Blue polish that had once coated her nails was now starting to chip. She decided to repaint them purple when she arrived at the apartment.
Far away, the bus was from the gallery, but its image was stuck in her mind. Mary's cobalt blue eyes turned up toward the ceiling. Guertena, huh? She thought. Maybe… Maybe it's time to pay a visit to this unfortunate man, Garry.
Mary glanced toward the sky outside of the window. Inside and out, it was grey.
A girl sat at a round table. It was a wooden table, although you couldn't tell, due to the white table cloth draped over it. A tea set was balanced on the top. It seemed as though the room was currently on a slight angle.
The chairs were not comfortable chairs. They too were made from wood, but they did not have cushions of any sort. One could wonder why it was that the girl sat there.
The girl had been drinking tea. A small cup rested in front of her, although half of its contents had disappeared, and the rest had gone quite cold.
She sat on the uncomfortable chair in an uncomfortable fashion, crossed legs pulled up to her chest, and chin resting on her knees, which were pressed against the edge of the round table. Reaching out a pale hand, the girl ignored the cold tea, and, carefully with two fingers only, picked a pink sweet from a white plate. It was stale, but sweet. Far too chewy.
The girl occasionally wondered why it was that she ate stale macarons with her cold tea, and sat curled up in a wooden chair, and remained in a slanted room with no walls, but hundreds of doors.
The girl also, apparently, forgot that this world was not a real world, nor anything like a real world.
But occasionally is not always, nor is it frequently, and she remained seated, watching, and waiting. She wondered when it would be that the non-existent walls of this world would be broken. But the girl had no reason to doubt herself. This girl had been around for far too long for that.
She sighed, placing the remainder of the pastry on the plate. She felt somewhat tired, but knew that there was plenty of work to be done.
She closed her dark eyes, and leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, her hair falling into her face. Despite being short, it hung limply as she tipped her head back.
The girl had white hair.
Author's Note that most of you will skip but I advise you not to because I do have some important things to say to you, if you do enjoy this story, that is.
It has been close to nine months since I uploaded chapter 1 of this story to . I am sorry, but I can't exactly promise that that won't happen again. This story is mainly a thing to think about or work on if I am having trouble coming up with creative ideas for my own work, meaning that it will not be updated frequently. I do hope, though, that at least the time it takes to write one of these in my desperate situations will be slightly balanced out by the quality of the chapters.
I do not usually have author's notes or even disclaimers, and you can trust that I will not be writing any more in the near future. I believe that it mainly gets in the way any feelings the beginning or ending of the chapter opens or ends with.
Just as an answer to any question I might receive about it, and to assure you that I do have the story planned out for this fan fic, I will now say that the next chapter will focus more on Garry rather than Mary.
That is all for now, thank you, readers.
