Ok, here's Part 2 of Chapter 2 for y'all! J
RACE
I look down at the new number added in my contacts. The girl – Curly, for now, I guess- looks down at it too. I see her mouth moving, but I can't hear her. "Huh?"
"Uh, I was just asking what name we should put the contact under." She scratches behind her ear. I notice she has a dusting of freckles on her skin. It almost looks like someone dusted her with cinnamon powder. I haven't seen many dark-skinned people with freckles before, so this is new. I mean, I haven't seen many people that look like her, for one. I mean, she has skin that's a really nice tan color, basically the curly version of a pixie cut, and freckles everywhere. And she's not that bad looking either…
Shut up, Race, I think to myself as I scratch at the nicotine patch on my forearm. Just stop. Looking back down at the cell phone, I click the name section.
Curly reaches for the phone. "Maybe I'll just write my first initial. How does that sound?" I nod. Sounds like a good idea.
I hand her the phone, and I peer over her shoulder as she pokes at the keyboard. Once she does that, she hands it back to me. Over her number is the letter C.
"Thanks, love," I say as I shut off my phone. She looks down, and I see a shade of pink coloring her cheeks.
I smirk. "I made you blush again."
Curly elbows me and she blushes even harder. "No you didn't!" I start laughing, which in turn makes her laugh. She has a nice laugh, too.
After our laughing fit is over, I stand up. "You may want to change. Breakfast just started, and I don't think we want to miss the good stuff."
She stands up. "Yeah, that sounds like a plan."
I show her to the bathroom so she can change, and she closes the door, I begin to change myself. It only takes about a minute. I don't shower because I save that for the nighttime. Most people think I'm crazy for doing that, but then again, who am I to care what other people think?
I yawn and stretch my arms. I wince. I really need to stretch.
When Curly walks out of the bathroom, she stops in her tracks and her jaw practically drops to the floor. If I have to tell the truth, her face is priceless.
"What are you doing Race? Are you possessed?" She runs over to me. I'm in the middle of the floor doing a full splits.
"No, I'm not possessed, kid," I reply calmly as I shift over to a split on the other side. She blinks in confusion, and I laugh. "It's called flexibility, Curly. It's what you need if you're a dancer."
She blinks again as I move into a pike and touch my toes without any problem. "You're a dancer?"
I pop up from my pike and stretch my neck. "Yep. 'S the only thing that keeps me sane, really."
I wait for Curly to laugh at me, like a lot of people did when I told them that I dance. Instead, I hear a "Cool! It's probably not half as epic, but I play violin."
I turn to her. "That's really cool too. You should play for me sometime. I'm sure you're great."
"Thanks," she replies as she smiles shyly at the ground.
I check the time. "Holy cannoli, we should probably head to the mess hall around now if we want to eat a good breakfast."
She nods. " 'Mkay." She gestures to her bags that are in the corner of my room. "Would you mind if I stopped by later to pick these up?"
"Sure you can, Curly," I reply. I walk over to the door and open it. "Ready?"
The girl nods, then walks out the door. A rogue sunbeam hits her face as she moves, accentuating her freckles even more. I can't get the image of cinnamon out of my head.
Then it hits me.
Cinnamon.
I briefly itch my patch, then I follow the girl – Cinnamon - out the door.
