"There's something up with this place." Garfield exclaimed animatedly, waving his hands around his mane. While doing so, a girl looked up and gave him smile at the sight of his expression. "It's like everyone has some obsession with my hair!"
Iris glowed like Starfire, giggling into the sweaty noon air. Garfield liked that about her. She wasn't such a downer and acted better than his friends will ever be. It seemed almost sinful, but he couldn't care less, basking in the attention of his peers.
"Hey, you have really nice hair. I don't see the issue. You seem like the type who likes attention." Iris flicked a chunk of gold out of his eyesight. The strands split apart before bouncing back into place. She stared back at the hair of her own, flicking a hanging strand up until it rested flat on her head.
His smile subsided as he watched Iris greet a band of boys with a flirty smirk. He imagined a little snake crawling up next to his ear, burning them with words of how worthless and incompetent he was to others. When he recognized the voice as his own, Garfield smothered his worries under a crinkled blink.
"It's bad attention. The kind you get for the wrong reasons." He said, strolling back towards his worries again.
"No such thing as bad attention. You're just paranoid."
"Nuh-uh."
"Stop it. Thinking about things too much will stress you out and turn you into," She quieted down and gave Garfield a queasy stare. "One of them."
Iris cackled at her melodramatic appeal, not paying attention to how terrified her friend was beside her.
He glanced at the direction she pointed in. He let out a sigh of relief after seeing only a passive bookworm. "There is only one."
"Exactly." Her voice sprung up at the end, making her sound more and more like a sales associate eager for a raise. "How convenient."
Approaching the girl was like approaching a new nemesis. He didn't know what to expect from Iris and her. Her posture was straight as a stick and the hood of her eyelids fell heavy. Garfield's fingers barely resisted the urge to snap as his nose could pick up what his eyes cannot - her scent.
She smelled of musty wood and toxic ink. No, that must've been the book. Hovering over the book however was a gingerly dusting of floral and a cold emotion he used to feel everyday when he passed the common room for breakfast.
Unamusement.
"Rachel! How are you today?" Iris flicked the rim of her hoodie off the girl's head and gleamed. She clasped her hands together, gawking at the sight of flat ironed hair. "I love what you did with your hair."
Rachel remained hunched over, untouched with her pocket sized book. She lowered her head, obscuring the view of her face from her company.
Iris seemed persistent to gain Rachel's attention. She flicked a lock of hair away from Rachel's face but unlike with Garfield, Iris was more invading towards Rachel.
Garfield noted the latter's bluntly obvious discomfort and how eager Iris was to pounce all over her.
"Do you love what I did with mine? I tried emanating your style with your cute turtleneck dresses and ponchos." She said sickly, fingers stroking Rachel's cartilage and soon dipping behind her ear.
"They're called shawls." Rachel replied, adjusting the length of her scarf. Her fingers braced the edge of the book, hooking themselves into the page when she snapped it shut.
"Who cares? Wanna hang? I know this great place where the waiters served book quotes instead of napkins." Her words sounded rehearsed and used, like a dirty old tissue or a vandalized textbook.
Garfield liked to think of Iris as an abnormally pushy person. She was forward and basked in self approval. But Iris was usually nice and collected with herself. To Garfield, a pointed brow and tappy foot weren't especially calm things you see on a chill person.
Iris had a hip jutted out, exaggerating her curves as well as the textured belts she had on. Her goth chic didn't fly well with Rachel who wore many dark shades of grey but wasn't as chunky doing so.
On Garfield's left was a smokey eyed shapeshifter whose fashion frenzy left him on his knees. To his right was a tamer girl who seemed to care more about getting back to her story than shutting down Iris.
It was almost pathetic when an opponent couldn't care less about the attention you're giving them. In superhero talk, it was like a baddie stepping over you to beat up your friend instead.
Actually, that happened more than Garfield would like admit.
"I didn't like you as any stereotype so why bother with mine?"
Garfield had to admit, Iris had nerve of look up to magazine quizzes for inspiration of what she should look like. Perhaps that was why the kid with the southern accent spat in her face when she confronted him with her best impersonation of a pioneer. Her forwardness deemed her as wild, crazy and offensive.
She left the two hastily, more eager to get away from shame. Unfortunately, she forgot to drag her puppy follower along with her.
He had to admit, he wasn't the most forward person in the past couple of weeks. Heck, Iris usually did the talking which scored him all his 'friends'. Iris must've had a coffee today because she sped off faster then him to the phone when it was pizza night.
Garfield felt that illusion of his hand grabbing out for her. He denied the thought of fleeing. It didn't matter as Garfield felt intrigued at the sight of the bookworm.
"I'm Garfield."
"I assume you like lasagna." She gave a hoarse laugh, frowning at the sight of his unchanged smile.
"Only if it's vegetarian."
"Then I wouldn't call it lasagna." The girl held a sharp tongue that snapped but never sunk.
To him, it sounded like just another poke at his vegetarianism. It wasn't a big deal but a comeback wouldn't fessed up. Garfield couldn't find any words to shoot back at her.
It freaked him out when he felt a tingling sensation flooding through his body. A flood of warm, electrifying liquid guzzled down his throat, disguised as a gulp of saliva. It evaporated into a peachy mist, blinding him.
Was he high?
Did Iris sneak drugs into the coffee she gave him?
An inaudible squeak from his mouth smacked him back into the reality of the onyx haired girl beside him. Her heavy lashes covered her irises. Despite this, Garfield felt sure that her eyes would be pretty no matter what.
What was the matter with him?
This fuzzy feeling was too familiar to him. Garfield felt pathetic rushing into conclusions too quickly with his hopefully new friend. It was a sudden bite of excitement from making a new friend all by himself that got him flustered and confused. Yes, that must've been it.
He thought of himself as the type of guy to go heart-eyes for any girl at first. All his past crushes ended in failure because of his quick judgement.
She wasn't going to be another mark of his list. He didn't need anything but friends for now.
"So you wanna sit with my friends at lunch?"
"Bold if you to assume I don't have friends of my own to sit with." She erased his suave excuse to spend time with her by replacing hope for guilt.
Garfield must've insulted her or made her feel like an outcast. Panicked thoughts flew into his mind, pushing and ramming to occupy the small attention span of his.
"I'm so sorry!" Apologizing was the most logical thing to do. If she was upset, she'd accept it. If she wasn't, she might think he was funny or just really nice.
A cool breeze from the radiator beside her brushed the backs of his ears as she rose up from her seat. She got up prim and proper: Rachel was a natural lady. He could imagine her, all dressed up in cocktail gowns holding a tall glass of alcohol. But it the way her hands comfortably clasped around her book and the edge of her scarf screamed stone cold.
She was unmoved by him, Iris and the pushes of other students when she strutted back into the halls. Garfield would give anything to have that stoic confidence.
Something tickled his nose, causing him to erupt into a storm of sneezes. He sniffed back his tears from the sudden burst of sneezes.
Suddenly, Garfield's eyes zeroed in on a clean blue cue card with nine elegant digits written on it.
Garfield assumed she didn't even bother writing her name because she knew he'd remember her anyways.
I'm already contemplating how horrendous my word count will be after this. I hope I don't write over 100,000. Anyways, I hope you people enjoy the style I've chosen to write in.
-Catisa~Orsilla