It had been a busy week. But on the plus side, at least his exams were over and done with. On the not-so-great side, he now had no schoolwork to occupy him. A lot of his classmates…former classmates, would consider this a good thing, but for Truman, he felt a bit saddened more than anything. Being a high school student meant that he had opportunities to learn about the world, from geography to physics, and even literature. Now, he had to move out into that world and become his own person. He had asked his mother if he could take a year off to travel for a bit, but she was against the idea. She told him that he'd be better off going to college, getting a degree and finding a well-paying job, before proceeding to list off every recent aircraft and boat accident.
It was a shame, but his mother knew best, right? Even so, he couldn't help but gaze longingly at his map, tracing borders of countries lightly with his finger. He spotted Seahaven, just off the coast of the USA. He idly dragged his finger along until it reached a certain spot. Fiji. That's where Lauren…wait, it was Sylvia, wasn't it? Either way, that's where she was headed, apparently. He wondered how she was doing over there. He hadn't been able to give much thought to her abrupt departure due to his exams, but now that he was really thinking about it, it was sort of odd. Who takes off right before earning their high school diploma?
He paused his pondering to adjust the angle of the blinds, wiping at the sweat that had gathered on his forehead and neck when the pile of newspapers he was supposed to be looking through caught his eye. His mother had piled them all together to help with his job-hunting. Giving a soft sigh, he tugged at the cord to swivel the blinds to angle the sunlight in another direction before snatching the first newspaper off the top of the pile.
He sat on his bed, flicking through the pages of the newspaper in search of the advertisements section. Upon finding it, he quickly skimmed through the page, audibly groaning when reaching the bottom. He rolled up the newspaper and threw it into the cardboard box he had put in his room for this reason. He reached over to take the next newspaper. A few seconds of flicking, a couple more seconds of scanning, before there was a thump as the newspaper landed in the box. Another newspaper. More flicking. More scanning. Another thump. A few newspapers later, Truman fell backwards on his bed with a sigh. His hands were even damper with sweat, and he felt too lazy to get up and get that glass of water he craved.
He lay there for a moment, screwing his eyes shut as he felt the sun burn his skin. He rolled over, hand stretching out to feel for the rough texture of the next newspaper on the pile when they fell on something smooth. He opened his eyes a crack to see a travel magazine underneath his hand. How did that get there?
He slid it off the top of the pile and held it up to read the cover. Twelve injured after flight to Fiji crashes - the words were in a bold yellow, taking up a small section on the right of the cover. He felt his mouth go dry as his stomach began to turn. He deliberately inhaled, exhaling as he opened the magazine to flip through the pages. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, if he was completely honest. He had already made several plans for a potential trip around the world, so he had already stopped researching different countries for a while now. He wasn't particularly keen to read the article about the plane crash either. The less he knew, the better. But on the other hand… He glanced at the cover to find the page number before skipping to the article and skimming through it. The casualties include four women in their mid-thirties, five men in their mid-twenties and mid-thirties, an elderly couple and a young child. Despite the thought of the injured people weighing down on him, he breathed a sigh of relief. At least Sylvia was safe.
He was still rapidly flicking through the pages when a shade of strawberry red caught his eye. He stopped and began the pages back, checking each of them carefully. Next page. Next page. Next page. Ah, there it was. There was an advertisement for jewelry, and the model it featured sported the mesmerising hair colour. It reminded him of Sylvia. Hmm…what if… He covered the model's face. The resemblance was uncanny. He studied it for a moment. Riiipppp! He hoped his mother wouldn't mind a page missing.
He slapped the magazine shut and thrust it back towards the pile of newspapers. Raising up a hand to block out the model's face, he examined the hair and felt his lips tug upwards. Certainly not noteworthy yet, but…if he added more - maybe replace the eyes, find a new mouth - it would become a work of art.
AN: Hi there! Thanks for reading this...thing... I hope you enjoyed it! This is actually a school assignment, so reviews would be great, if you have the time. I'll take anything. Constructive criticism, flames, bring it on. Thanks again!