"Bittersweet Sunshine"
Chapter 2 {Tris' POV}
-o-o-o-
With every step the sand shifts. With every motion forward there is some backward and down, just like walking in fresh fallen snow.
Yet unlike the crystalline blanket bequeathed by the winter time, the fine grains underfoot give me warmth from the sun rays. Like their sky-bound benefactor, the grains are yellow, as if the sunshine itself is trapped inside the crystals of silicone and oxygen.
At the shoreline, waves roll in white tips, spreading themselves like fine lace over the beach as they crash in their soft way. There is nothing noisy about them, but they have sound. Perhaps to me it is more like the music of my childhood summers so long ago with the people I loved and lost.
If I close my eyes I can hear my mother calling me back to the sand dunes for a packed lunch, my father rustling his newspaper, perched on a deckchair. In my closed hand would be a red bucket and spade, an excited grin kidnapping my lips.
In those days, summer vacation was a well-spent phenomenon; I looked forward to the days filled with sunshine and snow-cones, riding my bike along the sidewalk without a care in the world, playing in the treehouse until dusk.
I trudge my way along the beach, away from the cafe I have spent four hours inside of, working a gruelling shift in the unbearable heat. With tourists coming in for vacations and the locals enjoying the sun and the freedom, there was more than enough business to keep me occupied throughout the shift.
I can feel the tiredness inside of me like a tapeworm. Everything seems to be dragging at a slow pace, all submerged in hazy fuzz through my blurred vision. I feel the energy leak out of me like a faulty faucet, bleeding me of my spirit.
Sleep is not an option; confined to the four walls of my old treehouse in this blistering heat would be impossible to bear. Relaxing in the shade is my best chance of resting up, allowing my body to recharge and reboot. And I know just the place.
As I continue in the direction of the parking lot, I pass families picnicking in the sunshine, little kids building sandcastles and playing soccer or running into the surf. A group of familiar local girls are sunbathing too, smoothing suntan lotion over long and tanned limbs, sunshades pulled low over their eyes.
I push my own sunshades further up my nose, protecting my drooping eyes from the ball of fire grazing the azure skies.
Rather than embracing the heat head-on and working on a tan, I am burying myself in frequent shifts, pouncing on the opportunity to make a little more money, like a predator devouring its prey.
I glide along the sand like a slinking panther, my bare feet sinking into the soft mounds, eager to get away, to curl back into myself in the silence and solitude of the woods. Introverted by nature, I have always preferred my own uncomplicated company, as opposed to surrounding myself with the complexity of other people, just for the sake of it.
Reaching the hot concrete of the crowded parking lot, I slip into my sneakers, tying up the laces quickly, the sun beating down mercilessly onto my back as I crouch low to the floor.
Though a little out-dated, my black canvas sneakers are reliable enough; seeing them perched on the shelf, it was hard to imagine what could possibly go wrong with a pair like that. The soles are thick and the stitching perfect, just the right balance between practical and vintage-couture.
I tighten my high ponytail and wander away from the coastline, leaving behind the sounds of laughter and splashing waves, watching as another crowd of cars pulls into the lot - it certainly is busy this time of year.
I take the short cut through town, the streets littered with tourists, darting in and out of cafes, souvenir businesses, and the candy store, popular with the children these days. I pass the greengrocers' small store, the windows laden with apples and oranges, and the butchers with his bloody lumps of meat on display and naked chickens strung up for all to see.
A posse of kids on bikes swerve past in a skid of gravel, yelling incoherently to one another as they dodge the people walking the streets and taking photographs with portable cameras.
I duck down a side street, following the cobbled pathway as it begins to incline, accommodating the higher plain of the forest at the foot of the steep trail, buildings enclosing me from either side.
As I ascend the steep hill, the cobblestones beneath my feet morphs into a wider walkway where the soil is soft yet rocky in fleeting footsteps. Leading up to a peak in the wooded area bordering the oceanside town.
I step into the cluster of trees, sighing gratefully for the measly shelter it provides from the blistering heat, the shade giving me a dizzy spell of relief. Here, the forest path is wide and civilised.
Up to a certain point, the council even used taxes to lay wood chips and place garbage bins along the route. The trees are so separated by this swathe they have cut that I still need my sunshades. The brilliant rays are hardly dappled but shine brightly from above.
However, as I continue down the designated pathway, I know that it will change soon - the noble efforts of the council will dwindle to a close half way into the forest, and nature will reassert itself. Soon enough, the tree roots cross over the path, gnarled and uneven; as beautiful as any fairytale illustration.
I push my sunshades up onto my head, admiring the colours with unshielded eyes, the canopy above providing stable shade and protection. I have a map of this place carefully constructed in my mind. My sneakers have trodden these paths so frequently that they leave permanent imprints. I cannot tire of the greenery, of these very trees.
Finally reaching my destination, breaking through the tough alliance of shrubbery, I elbow my way into the small clearing. Despite this being a place that I visit often, I find myself entrapped by the view, as if it is like I have discovered it for the very first time.
The river that curls seductively along the ground is a slice of mellow harmony amid the fragrant leaves. It flows like time, always pressing onward, always toward destiny. One day these waters will enter the great ocean, each drop a vital part of the mighty aquatic world. The waters surface is livened by brief crescents of fish arching against the cool water as they swim.
My eyes travel downstream, admiring the small waterfall, rocky in stature yet smooth in the waters descent. Crashing against the slow current, desperate to join the team of droplets, joining the river almost nonchalantly.
It is a ribbon of living turquoise, boldly flowing amid the green of the forest. No matter the chatter of the trees it is steady, welcoming, refreshing. On quiet days it can be heard to whisper its wisdom, on the stormiest of days it is lost to all but those who listen. Even on the rainiest of days, it can be heard beneath the splashes, a sacred melody. Always present, always moving.
Finding a good spot beside the flowing crystal waters, I sit with my legs outstretched on the warm and sun-scorched July bed of grass. Leaning back on my toothpick arms, attached to long and slim fingers, sliding into the blades of grass, tickling and scratching the sensitive skin of my palms.
I pluck a vibrant dandelion from the earth, twirling the stem between my fingers, lying back with a relaxed sigh. There is only so much work and public interaction that I can take before needing to hear the river crash in my ears and feeling a bed of grass on my back, placing feather kisses to the bare skin of my arms and legs.
The air is sweet, the weather is fine, there are birds in the sky and a divine silence. Surrounded by the best of elements, I allow myself to perfect the art of emptying my head, focusing on the steady beating of my heart.
I am alone, truly and fantastically alone. Even my memories are not able to burden my mind in this state of simple tranquility.
Not two minutes after my eyes drift close, my whole body falling under the heavy hand of relaxation, the awkward clearing of a throat nearby startles me back to reality.
I sit up sharply, my eyes falling upon the offender. A familiar-looking boy examines me from a few metres away, a stack of books under his arm and a pair of black-framed glasses perched on the end of his nose. His flaxen hair is tousled from the warm breeze, and his celery green eyes dart to his feet nervously. I recognise him from school, perhaps noticing him in a brief passing once or twice.
"S-sorry," he stutters, awkwardly. "I didn't mean to startle you.. I didn't think anybody else even knew about this place."
"Ditto..." I mutter, leaning back on my hands, angling an eyebrow.
"I was just looking for a quiet place to read," he tells me, shifting the array of books tucked under his left arm. "I can leave, if you'd rather be alone-"
"Don't leave on my account.. it's a free country. Do what you like. Besides, it's not like there is any other place in town to get a minutes peace, right." I interrupt, dryly, attempting to crack a joke to ease his nerves.
He chuckles politely, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "I'm Will, by the way. I think I recognise you from around school, though I am certain we don't share any classes.."
"That's right, I don't get set into the high ability classes," I shrug. "I'm going to take a wild guess and say academia is your strong suit."
"I suppose," he smiles, bashfully, adjusting his glasses. "Sorry.. I didn't actually get your name."
"That's because I didn't tell you it," I watch him flush scarlet and take pity. "It's Tris." I add, softening.
"Well, it's nice to meet you Tris. Are you sure you don't want me to go? You were here first, after all."
"Don't sweat it," I wave him off, my curiosity spiked as I scan my eyes over his reading material. "What you got there?"
Hesitantly, he wanders a little closer and lowers himself down beside me, setting down the books. "A loot from the local library.. Dickens, Shelley, Stevenson-"
"Alice in Wonderland.. Carroll, huh?" I smile, amused at his choice. "I had you pegged as more of a Lord of the Flies kind of guy."
"It's a great read, I like Carroll's writing style." He shrugs, shyly handing me the hardback copy.
"Me too, I'd say it's pretty similar to Neil Gaiman, you know the guy who wrote Coraline? Using children as the protagonists to create a different view point.."
"You know your authors," he praises, appreciatively. "If you like Gaiman's work, you should check out-"
Before he can finish his sentence, the sound of female-pitched giggling becomes audible from across the bank. A group of girls, it would seem. All chatting with high-pitched enthusiasm, accompanied by routine uproars of genuine laughter.
I exchange an irritated glance with Will, who seems just as exasperated - his plans for a quiet couple of hours of reading seem to be extending more and more out of his reach. I am not pleased either; after escaping the social torture of school for the summer, more involuntary forms of socialising is not what I had in mind.
Right on cue, a trio of teenage girls emerge from the shrubbery, clutching a range of picnic items, smiling with pearly white teeth and painted lips. I recognise them immediately.
Christina Kravitz has the loudest voice no matter the room she finds herself in. Her conversations are always buoyant and intended to be heard by everybody with working ears. She is of Italian descent, a spicy Latina shining through in the way she holds herself, speaks and acts.
Unlike most of the pretty girls at school, as well as being beautiful - with slender limbs, big brown eyes and to-die-for curves - she is the kind of the girl that will speak to anyone with undeniable kindness and respect. A girl with a brash personality, but a seemingly empathetic heart.
Marlene is quieter than her friends, reserved in nature, but every bit as confident. She walks with an unwavering dominance, leaving girls and boys alike staring after her with wonder and awe.
Shauna is the school's social queen bee - friends with almost everybody, head of every school organisation, cheerleader and the student body president. She uses this popularity to aid others, to make our school a 'better place'. At least, for those not submerged in the shadows of the outside.
A perfect trio of girls - beautiful, smart, confident. If I wasn't so intent on being a social pariah, perhaps I would also find it incredibly hard not to befriend them.
"Great," Will mutters to himself, looking down at his stack of books. "So much for a peaceful afternoon."
I study his face briefly, not buying the hostility; his cheeks are flushed to a rosy shade, and his fingers twitch nervously. I look away - it's none of my business.
"Maybe they won't even notice us." I suggest in vain, watching dully as they glance around the clearing until they spot us. I release a sharp breath between my teeth.
"Hey, Will." Shauna calls over, grinning as she waves with her spare hand, the other clutching a checkered picnic blanket.
"Er, hey.. funny seeing you here." Will manages to squeak back, giving an awkward gesture with his hand in return.
"You know them." I state, resting on my hands, a smirk pulling at my lips; judging by his reaction, knowing them is an understatement.
"Uh-huh," he confirms, wringing his hands together anxiously. "I helped Shauna with her student body president campaigns - y'know, designed posters and badges, gave her advice."
"Why didn't you run yourself?" I wonder aloud.
I didn't attend the campaign speeches myself; politics has never been of interest to me. Especially high school-based politics. Nothing could sound worse.
I watch in horror as the three girls confer quietly before turning in our direction, manoeuvring over a fallen tree to cross the river to reach our side of the bank. I consider rushing to my feet and bolting, but my butt seems to be planted firmly to the ground, completely perplexed as to how I even let myself get to this point.
"Ha," he snorts, amused by my question. "Me? Are you serious? Have you ever seen the way I am treated in that place? Enjoying education is a sure fire way to become a social outcast."
I curl my fingers into my palm, digging my nails in firmly. Being unfamiliar with Will, I had no idea that people had it out for him. He's right - straying from the 'norms' is a guaranteed way to never sit at the popular table. To go under fire from the jocks and the other overprivileged assholes that assume their status among their classmates means that they can say and do what they like. It just isn't fair.
The tale that "bullies pick on the weak" is a all bullshit - it is those who pick on others that are the weak. People like Will should not have to take the crap thrown at them. His obvious suffering with an anxiety disorder does not help the situation.
At school, people generally leave me alone. No mean comments, no rude looks, no bullies setting up booby traps in my locker or stealing my gym clothes while in the showers. It must be so hard for him.
"Hey guys," Christina's chirpy tone pulls me from my spell of anger, and I watch as she flops down on the grass, casually. "You don't mind if we join you, right? We come bearing snacks."
"Not at all." Will agrees, hurriedly, a bashful smile on his lips as he moves his books aside to make room.
"You sure we aren't crashing a date?" Shauna adds, cheekily, laying out her blanket before sitting, crossing her slender legs.
"W-what? No! I mean, I just got here and found Tris, and we got talking. Not a date." He flounders, running a hand through his dishevelled hair.
"It's Tris, then," Christina states, boldly, turning her head to set her chocolate eyes on me. "I don't think we have ever met before. I'm Christina - aspiring fashion designer, business woman and makeup extraordinaire."
"Subtle, Chris," Marlene laughs, also turning to face me with a keen smile. "I'm Marlene, and this here is Shauna. Though I'm sure you already know that. Our infamous student body president."
"Hey now. Student body president today, president of the United States tomorrow." Shauna amends, elbowing the blonde gently in the ribs.
I offer a smile in acknowledgment and bite down on my fingernail. They are already bitten down considerably, and I continue to nibble anxiously, like a starving rabbit. My anxiety levels are skyrocketing; sitting here with a group of people who casually converse and laugh under the sunshine seems too alien, way too unnatural. I don't belong with a group, I am much better alone. A lone wolf, not a pack animal.
My fight or flight instincts are kicking in, and every part of my body is screaming at me to get away from this uncomfortable situation.
I clench my spare hand onto a tight fist, my fingernails digging into the soft skin, but I don't even feel it. The only thing I am really aware of is the erratic beating of my heart against the cage of my chest. It is not until I open up my fist and uncurl my fingers that I discover the blood on my palms, due to the wounds my nails have inflicted.
"Hey, Tris," Shauna rests her hand on my arm, a gentle touch but I flinch away, instinctively. "Are you ok? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Yeah, of course," I lie, dredging up a fake and over rehearsed smile. "Just tired.. working a four hour shift in this heat is no fun."
"Okay," she concedes. If she sees through my act she doesn't call me out on it. "Want some food? My mom overpacked - we have cake, cookies, soda, candy.."
I turn down the food but accept a can of cold lemonade. With butterflies in my stomach and my head buzzing with negative possibilities, I wouldn't be able to stomach a thing.
I take sips of the fizzy drink to calm my nerves. I don't want to keep biting my nails or my lip, so I gnaw the inside of my cheek. It hasn't healed from a few days ago, and the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.
The fact that the girls seem so friendly and welcoming only worsens the cloud hanging over my head, dark and filled to the brim of rain - being around nice people is so much harder. I can never tell what is genuine; things always look one way but are truly another.
Trusting that there are still good people is much harder than believing that everybody around me are cruel and heartless. Acceptance doesn't come easily.
Beside me, Will seems at ease; watching an oblivious Christina with an adoring gaze, he looks more relaxed, less nervous than he did before.
I now understand why. He leans back on his slim arms, completely love-sick. Though his enthusiasm for her story on a pop concert she attended is rather overdrawn, she welcomes the attention and his gaze goes straight over her head.
For a moment, I allow my mind to wander, to imagine a future where I am friends with these people. We would go to the movies and share buckets of buttered popcorn, crowd around a table at the cafe with milkshakes and spend the warm evenings at the beach. I would enjoy their company, enough to forget about the trauma and the darkness filling my veins.
It is a stretch of the imagination, but a heavy sense of longing sits at the pit of my stomach - why couldn't that life be mine? What is stopping me?
That could be me, soaking up the sun with people that I could consider real friends - an alien concept, the idea of having friends. People to confide in, to comfort me, to spend time with.
My eyes flicker around the group of people, all smiling and joking and chatting, and a small spark of hope lights inside my chest. A small spark, but a spark none the less.
Just as Will let's out a loud laugh, tilting his head back, another noise catches all of our attention and his chortle ceases into silence. We exchange curious glances, intrigued by the noises that grow louder by the seconds that pass.
I turn to the right, the others following suit, just as a group of boys crash through the bushes into the clearing. We watch as they push and shove playfully, jeering and teasing, and then, as if in slow motion, one of the trio falls back, arms flailing, landing in the crystal blue waters of the lake with a resounding splash.
As laughter and squeals of surprise fills the clearing, from the bank a pair of electric blue eyes dart up to meet my own.
As soon as he meets my gaze, I am drawn to his eyes. The icy blueness generates a feeling of drowning in the frozen waters of unreadable emotions. They are a whirlpool of every shade of blue, swirling together to create a work of art upon a face.
I bite down on my lower lip, an uneasy feeling washing over me - something tells me that everything is about to change.
-o-o-o-
AN:
Here is chapter 2, a much more lively chapter with character communication and introductions. I really hope you guys enjoyed, I worked super hard on this and had a ton of fun with the casual and natural introductions. Coincidence is a fine thing!
I wanted to thank everyone for the support on my first chapter, it's insane! I'm glad you are all excited for this story; I certainly am!
Also, my updating schedule will be every week, if not more. If I am busier, I will aim for a new chapter every Thursday. But I've had a little more time on my hands which is why there is a second chapter so soon. The next chapter will be out on Thursday so stay tuned :)
Let me know what you think!
- GuiltyMind :)