Anna
"Anna? Anna are you ok?" I shake myself back to the present at the sound of my mother's voice.
"What, uh, I-I'm fine." I reply before noticing I haven't said or eaten anything in a while. "I just need to go to the bathroom." I quickly add, getting up from the table. I close the bathroom door behind me; focusing on not thinking about Elsa. It's no use; no matter how hard I glare at the grain of the wooden wall, thoughts of Elsa always prevail. Ok. What can I do here? If I just keep feeling sorry for Elsa, nothing will change. Then again, how can I help? I have no idea how someone can just stop hearing a specific sound. I groan inwardly. I need some advice.
Since he's the school's only Theory of Knowledge* teacher as well as our English teacher, Mr. Howards' classes are well known for going off on multiple tangents. He'll spend many a class talking about the faults in our society and how governments counteract those faults instead of lecturing us on A Midsummer Night's Dream or some poem, which no one is necessarily complaining about. Besides teaching us about life, the Jamaican-descendant English teacher is also one of the friendliest people I know, keeping in line, I suppose, with his islander roots. I knock at his door and open it slowly after confirming he doesn't look that busy at the moment.
"Oh hi Anna!" the tall, dark-skinned man says, friendly as always. "What's up?"
"Hi Mr. Howards, I was just hoping you could help me with something. Are you free?"
"Sure, shoot!" he enthuses.
"So, I was reading this book the other day and one of the characters like really loves painting, but when the story cuts to the present, when she's around 18, she can't see the colours in paintings anymore." He looks at me intrigued but seems to have bought the lie. "Do you have any idea how this could happen?" I conclude.
"Well I'm no expert in psychology, but maybe your character suffered some kind of trauma related to painting and..." he laughs. "I have no idea after that, sorry." I nod enthusiastically despite his insecurities on the subject, my mind already going to work on what this could mean about Elsa. Another question pops into my mind.
"So, might she associate painting with that trauma so that the brain ignores colours as a defence mechanism?" Mr. Howards sighs thoughtfully at the question.
"Well as I said, I'm no expert; but that might have something to do with it. I can't imagine something happening due to one single traumatic experience, although I know as much about psychology as a dog about Shakespeare."
"Maybe he should attend one of your classes, I'm sure he'd learn something." I say with a grin.
"Yeah about the meaning of life maybe. Your class seems to have a great affinity for getting me side-tracked. However I've received no complaints as of yet." I laugh with him until he asks, "So what is this book, it sounds quite interesting." Oops. I hurriedly rack my brain for some excuse for not knowing the book.
"Oh I just read the synopses so I can't quite remember," is the best I can come up with under pressure although as pathetic as it is, he drops the subject with a nod and an
"Oh, what a shame I thought I might read that." Leaving the room at the sound of the bell, I head over to Drama, the best class of the day, week, year, and so on. I honestly don't want to think about the state my nerves would be in if I didn't have Drama lessons to relax. The mix of games and acting is just right to relax and have fun but also learn. And if anyone knows what good it does to your public speaking skills and your confidence it's me. I go through the door into the large, high ceilinged class room with painted-dark walls most commonly known as the black box and join the circle of students in the centre of the room.
Elsa
Tick-tock
Tick-tock
"Remember, Elsa,"
Tick-tock
"Exactly as the sheet indicates"
Tick-tock
"At the exact speed of the metronome."
Tick-tock
"Exactly as the composer intended."
I wake with a start and sit up in a flash. My room. My bed. Not the piano room. Not with her. I notice myself panting, notice the cold sweat wetting my skin and soaking through my pyjamas. At least I've gotten better at handling the dreams. I used to wake up screaming loud enough for Dad to wake up as well and come charging into the room for fear a burglar had come in. Not that we lived in a particularly dangerous area but you never know I guess… And on that comforting though I check the time. I groan at the hands of the small clock on my bedside table. 5AM is too early a morning for anyone.
Realizing sleep is less than likely, I get up and head to the bathroom for my morning shower. No sleep, no dreams I think as I turn on the water and wait a few seconds, undressing while the water slowly heats up. The felling of hot water washing the sweat from my skin and the tension from my muscles makes me sigh. Even this much time after, her curse still haunts me.
Turning off the water I get out of the shower and go prepare my school bag for the day. Looking at the empty slot that marks first break, I'm reminded of the first time I met Anna. It's not by chance that I've been having lunch with Olaf on the roof; even though running away isn't the bravest thing to do it's the most sparing on my feelings. The redhead probably thinks I'm some kind of freak ever since my breakdown. I still can't believe that I told her that and just started crying. Thank god for Olaf though. My singular friend (or sista' from another mista' as he calls it) is the best one I could ever ask for, also doubling as my living, breathing, sworn-to-secrecy diary, with the Love-Expert DLC fully installed as well as the Water-proof Shoulder perk levelled up to max. While I always let him know that the relationship should be mutual and that I'd consider it a very personal offence if he used anyone else as a diary/tear mop (jokingly, of course), he remains as cheerful as always. I've known Olaf for the better part of my life. Our mothers were friends so whenever they wanted to have a chinwag, we usually ended up playing together, despite me being Olaf's elder by 3 years. This age difference however, only contributed to our friendship as Olaf (who could be surprisingly mature) and I would often spend evenings alone while his mother went out; our friendship made me the perfect baby-sitter.
During first break
"So Elsa, when are you gonna grow the lady-balls to talk to this bird again?" Olaf says. A slight sternness in his tone. I look up, surprized at the colourful language, and take a second to reply.
"I told you, I don't want to put neither Anna nor myself through another awkward meeting ever again since- "
"She might hate you, she might think you're a freak, she might reject you if your poor crushing heart can't contain itself and you declare your ever-lasting love, and god forbid she might actually want to help." The shorter boy says with a faux-horrified expression.
"Woah," I say, raising my hands placatingly, "I never anything about crushing on her, which I assure you I am not. I mean she's cute," I concede, "but I don't see anything happening between us." I finish, hoping it'll be enough to make him back down. As per usual, it isn't.
"Uh-huh, why don't we talk about this in a couple of months?" He asks with a grin. "I mean, from what I saw, this girl's perfect for you Elsa. Hyper enough to get off your ass but can still enjoy some quiet time, likes similar video-games and anime – she has very good taste if I do say so myself. She's also funny, cute enough for you to admit it which says more than just something. I could go on but that glare is frightening me." I look away for a moment, ignoring his fantasies.
"How do you know so much about her anyway?" I ask, genuinely curious but slightly worried.
"Oh I talked to her." He says nonchalantly. My head turns to face him lightning fast.
"You did what?" I say incredulous, before trying to calm myself and thinking about whether I want to know the answer to my next question. "What did you say to her?"
"I said you were sorry for dumping here there – which you were," he adds when he sees me about to interrupt, "and we just talked for a while until I invited her here at, well right about now." He says, checking his watch.
"You did WHAT?" I repeat myself with a louder tone. I have to get out of here before she comes. Luckily break just started so I might be able to run before she gets here. "I can't believe you did this." I say, still broiling with anger. "I'm going, see you whenever." I had just enough time to reach the door before it swung open violently, almost hitting me square on the forehead. Jerking back by reflex, I lose my balance and end up falling square on my ass instead, creating a dull pain on my coxis.
"Staaaaaiiiirs…" I hear a distinctly Anna-sounding voice moan. I open my eyes to see the girl in question flopped down on the floor, blazing hair spread over the floor. "Why are there so many staaaiiirs?..." she continues. I shoot Olaf a death stare as he gives up trying to hide his already obvious laugh. The girl finally looks up at me and seems to forget all fatigue instantly. "You! She suddenly says in a none-too-friendly tone. "Where the hell have you been?" she asks. "I've been looking I've been looking everywhere for you! In the music room, the courtyard, the gym, even the frikin' bathroom and you've been up here?" She looks at Olaf, her tone brightening. "Oh, so she's why you wanted me to come here!" Olaf nods since he can't really do anything else right now. Now might be a good time to say something.
"Hey Anna, how've you been?" I say. She looks at me with a smile that stops just short of her eyes.
"Oh you know, I've been alright," She says. "Working hard, studying, worrying about you!" My eyes drop to the ground in guilt under her intense stare. "But," she says, finally relenting, "I might be willing to forgive you if you stop avoiding me." I consider my options. I mean, famous last words but what's the worst that could happen?
A/N: Hey guys, hope you enjoyed the chapter.
Actually a lot of things happened between this and the last chapter. I was reading some writing tricks by my favorite author, Patrick Ness ( . /books/writing/writing-tips/6/) when I realized I had absolutely no idea where I wanted this story to go. I spent a couple of days thinking about this and I have a plan for the first arc and a few ideas for the second although those are still quite hazy. After that, I set to writing, which meant suddenly remembering I had a massive drama project to complete from before the mock exams was badly timed. But I finished that in time and managed to complete the chapter. The next day I would proof read it and upload it. At this point I really think some greater power was working against me since that the day I became sick for, I shit you not, the first time in over 2 years. So what a great time to be incapable to function as a human being! Anyways I've slept it off and while bored, in bed, with a slightly sore throat and a glass of ribena, I thought I'd finally give you guys your chapter.
See you next time
- Max
*Theory of knowledge is a part of the IB (International Baccalaureate) course, which is like a different teaching program I'm currently being subjected to. The subject deals with understanding society and how people think/learn. I'm only taking it next year so I might be slightly wrong but I think that's the gist of it.