Hercules's alarm clock was his father, Zeus, whose favorite morning activity was bashing into his son's bedroom to wake him up and exercise with him. He was feeling operatic today, and clambered up the stairs singing a selection from Faust, tapping his feet as they hit the ground.
As he crashed into his son's bedroom he boomed, "What's the menu for today, sonny?" and clapped his enormous hands right in front of Hercules's face. Herc winced at the sound vibrations that assailed his eardrum and shrugged, rolling over and trying to go back to sleep. But his father would give him no piece of mind. "Come on, boy, up, up!" he roared in a low bass voice, jogging down the stairs. Herc pulled on some running clothes and slapped his face to wake himself up, scowling at the sight of the stove clock as he jogged by the kitchen. His mother wasn't up yet and it was still dark outside, but his father was already in the front yard doing stretches. Herc joined him for five minutes before they set off down the lane. They ran an hour every morning, thirty minutes to the edge of town near the entrance of the national park trail, and thirty minutes back. Sometimes they ran for forty minutes, twenty to and twenty back, which gave them twenty minutes for strength training before Herc got ready for school.
His dad's knees had been acting up lately, so Herc was certain that today was going to be a forty-minute run by the river that flowed near their house. As his father announced that his knees were giving him a barney, Herc nodded, grinning in satisfaction at his deduction skills. "Beautiful day," his father sighed as they ran, sucking in a breath of spring air. "Watch your allergies, dad," Herc warned, but his father waved him off, sneezing loudly a few moments later. "Its the honeysuckle," he muttered, jogging up right near the edge of the river and admiring the view. Herc was running beside his father with his head to the ground when he noticed little spots of red dotting the ground before him. "Dad," he muttered, stopping, but his father continued running, oblivious. By the time Zeus realized his son was not beside him, Hercules had already discarded his shoes, descended the riverbank, and waded towards its center, peering through the water in puzzlement.
"Hercules, this isn't a sight seeing trip!" his father bellowed over the edge of the bank, but Herc ignored him, scanning the water more carefully. Something caught his eyes at the side of the bridge ahead and he gasped, sloshing towards it as his father jogged towards him, skidding down the bank and stopping at his side. "You halted our run because of a dead cat?" the old man snapped, setting his hands on his hips, but Herc shook his head, poking the cat with a stick. Its head fell away from its body, which was now nothing more than a hollow case of ribs and skin. Flies crawled inside the animal's dead eyes as Herc peered into them with a wrinkled nose. "Something slashed this thing's neck," he muttered, "and ate its insides."
His father shrugged at his side, climbing the riverbank in disinterest. "We've got bobcats," he sighed, "Now we've wasted five minutes looking at a dead animal." With that he charged off across the bridge, beckoning for Herc to follow him. The boy took one more look at the cat before saluting it and sprinkling a little bit of dirt over it. The flies buzzed away as the soil fell over the cat's face, and Herc stepped back, climbing up the bank and wiping his feet on the grass before returning his shoes over them. Then, he built up a jog and rejoined his father for the remainder of the run.
...
Sally woke up with the indentation of her pencil on her cheek and gasped at the clock on the side of her desk. She had a moment to brush her hair and tie it back in a tight high ponytail, and then she slipped on her patched corduroy skirt and a yellowing lacy blouse. Sounds of a whining animal entered her ears and she glanced at her bed, where the little puppy she had saved was stretching. It tried scratching at its neck, but Sally picked it up and cradled it, stopping it from messing with the bandage. Then, she hoisted it around her shoulder and hurried downstairs, slinging her backpack over her other shoulder and slipping on her black Mary Jane's. She grabbed a pop tart from the cupboard in the kitchen and charged into her father's laboratory, going for the sink. After bathing the puppy's wound she put fresh yarrow on its graft and covered it with clean bandages. She'd given it a kiss goodbye and was just leading it back up to her bedroom when her father wheeled in from the back yard and pointed to it with his forefinger. "That animal is not staying here!" he snapped and Sally's shoulders sagged. She stared down at the puppy, which shook its neck in frustration, trying to indirectly itch its healing wound.
With pursed lips Sally ran to her bedroom and hunted around for cardboard. Then, she fashioned a cone for the puppy's head and tried setting it around it. The animal winced in pain when Sally tried to wrap the cone around its neck, so the girl threw the makeshift cone to the side of the room, thinking of what she could do instead. "I shall take you to the vet's down the street," Sally whispered, kissing the puppy on the nose. She slipped the dog into her school bag and hurried back down the stairs, calling 'bye' to her father before she left. Then, she was off down the lane, towards the bus stop. The old 7:30 double decker chugged towards the stop and heaved before it as its wheels settled and its door opened. Sally hopped on and sat at the front of the bus, which was empty except for a muttering hobo. "To the train?" the driver asked, and Sally nodded, letting the puppy cuddle against her stomach as she looked out the window. Soon the train station lay before her and she exited the bus, running towards the ticket booth with her backpack held against her so that the puppy would not jump out. Sally purchased her ticket and walked towards the platform, looking around her to see what people were getting on the trains.
There were business people with suits and briefcases, and teachers and blue-collar workers. There were students, too, a few of whom Sally recognized. One girl, whose name was Snow White, had a sheet of music held in front of her, and she was reading over it. A blood red hair band pulled her bobbed hair back, and her dark locks curled perfectly under her ears, like a night cloud. She was the palest girl Sally knew beside herself. The girl's honey colored eyes rose from the page she was reading and met Sally's, growing wide with horror. They quickly returned to the page they were scanning before, except this time they seemed a lot more interested in the sheet before them. Sally stared at Snow, watching as beads of sweat formed on her pale forehead. She wiped them off as she distributed the page back to her backpack, hugging herself in discomfort. The sound of grinding wheels accompanied the oncoming train, heading towards the station, and Sally peered down the tracks to see how far away it was. The train pulled in front of them and everyone boarded it. Sally stood, giving up her seat to anyone who wanted it. Snow White made sure she got on a different train car to Sally, and Sally's shoulders sagged.
Often Sally imagined running into one of her fellow students and sending their books flying. Then she could pick them up and hand them to the student, who would take them and thank her with reluctance. Sally would compliment them and they would beam and shrug with pride. Then they would compliment Sally and she would have a new friend. But high school didn't work that way. Sally didn't dare knock anyone's books down for fear of black lash. She'd gotten a few interesting nicknames already due to the scars on her face, and she preferred not adding to the list. The only person who was nice to her was Jack Skellington. On the first day of school she had tripped and he'd picked her up. He was a very tall and thin boy, with dyed white hair and deep dark rings under his eyes. He'd told her he was severely anemic. "If I get a paper cut I'm dead meat!" he'd announced, grinning with brilliant white teeth. Then he'd ridden off on his skateboard along with a few other boys, one of whom looked more like a man in his late twenties than a student. Come to think of it, Sally wasn't sure that that one was a student.
The train stopped in the city center and Sally stepped off, hurrying towards the veterinarian hospital at the end of Main Street. When she peeked inside she saw that the place was quite busy, over run with sick kittens and birds and dogs and everything. Some had the same gashes in their necks as Sally's little pup had, and she felt the dog shiver in her backpack as a nurse stepped towards them. "What can I do for you?" he asked, and Sally extracted the puppy from inside her backpack, handing it to the nurse. "It wandered over to my house with a gash in its neck. My father stitched a terrier skin graft on her and we put yarrow over her wound to help it heal. She'll need fresh bandages in an hour," she added. The nurse stared at her with pursed lips but nodded, calling for the doctor to come over and look at the animal. Then, the man thanked Sally and told her to go to school. Sally ran from the clinic and hopped on a bus that lead to her high school, twiddling her thumbs and wiping away tears that were escaping from her eyes. She glanced back at the clinic with longing as it disappeared behind her, wishing the puppy were her own.
To her dismay, she found she was late for school when she got there. She hopped off the bus and trudged towards the building with reluctance, pushing through its front double doors and wandering towards her homeroom looking at her feet. Her first class was math, and she apologized for being late and sat at the back, listening with rapt attention as the teacher explained trigonometric identities. Sally was in the eleventh grade math class, calculus, because it was her best subject. She could not wait to do calculus 2 next year. She heard that there were dual credit college courses she could sign down for after that. A girl named Naminé, who was in tenth grade, sat three seats ahead of her to her right, and she was doodling. Naminé was very smart and talented, but she was very quiet, like Sally.
The blond girl was drawing a boy named Hercules, who sat a few seats ahead of her and was answering a question posed by the teacher. Hercules was a senior, and one of the handsomest boys in the school. Though he was a decent student his first priority was athletics. He participated and excelled in nearly every competitive team the school had to offer, and thus held a perennial position on the list of most popular children of the century. Sally's second class was English. She shared this class with children her own age. In an effort to force socialization amongst the students the teacher had formed the desks into groups for the new month. Sally hunted around for her seat and found with dismay that she was sitting across from Peter Pan. He did not like her much.
As the last bell rang, he stormed into the classroom with uncharacteristic rings under his eyes, rubbing at them in anger. He sat down at his desk with a scowl, glaring at Sally and folding his arms in front of him. Then, as she smoothed her red corduroy dress out in front of her, he wrinkled his nose and pointed to her shirt. "What is that?" he asked, and Sally looked down and gasped. Blood from the puppy's cut had gotten on the base of her shirt, along with some of the pus from its wound. As she felt her face go red, Sally realized she could not conceal her blush with her hair tied back. Instead, she jumped up and ran for the bathroom, excusing herself as she left. Sally charged forward with her hands covered over the spot of blood on her shirt, whimpering as she went inside the girl's bathroom at the end of the hall. She tried desperately to rub it off with water, but the stain would not come out. "Oh no!" she whispered, freezing as a toilet flushed behind her.
A girl in a long yellow dress and loafers traipsed out from one of the toilets and washed her hands, humming and peering at herself in the mirror. A few strands of hair fell in the middle of her face as she went for the hand drier, and she blew them away, humming. Sally tried to stay inconspicuous, but the girl behind her glanced at her with curiosity as she stood at the sink. There was silence, and the girl pursed her lips, drying the remainder of the damp on her hands with her skirt as she walked towards Sally, who cowered in the corner. The girl glanced down at Sally's shirt, and slung her backpack around so that she could rummage inside it. Then, she brought out a small clear bottle with a smile. Sally stared at her before reaching out and taking the bottle, reading its front with confusion. "Ammonia?" she murmured, and the girl nodded. "It's great for taking out stains, is your shirt cotton?" asked the girl. Sally nodded and the girl beamed. "Then it should be fine," then, her eyes widened and she rummaged in her bag again, pulling out a pair of lab gloves. "Wear these," she muttered as Sally slipped the gloves on, "ammonia's dangerous."
Sally washed the stain out of her shirt with the ammonia as the strange girl watched. Then Sally washed the ammonia out of the cloth and ran it under the air dryer before pulling it back over her head in satisfaction. The girl clapped and held out her hands for the gloves and ammonia, and Sally placed the supplies in her hands. "Where did you get ammonia?" Sally asked as the girl returned her things to her backpack. The girl laughed. "I do experiments at home," she sighed, patting her backpack, "I steal the supplies from the science lab." Then, her eyes widened and her lips pursed. "I've said too much," she muttered, going for the door, but Sally stopped her. "My father is a scientist too!" Sally breathed in excitement, smiling. "He stitched an allogeneic skin graft onto a little terrier that wandered by our house just yesterday!" she added in excitement, but the yellow dressed girl's smile disappeared. She scratched her head and sucked in a deep breath. "So he's a vet?" she asked. Sally giggled and shook her head. "No, he's a scientist. Usually he kills the animals that come by our house, but I was able to save this one," she added, touching her heart, "I wish I could have kept her," and the yellow dressed girl stared at her before nodding, waving goodbye, and leaving the bathroom. Sally glanced after her for a brief moment before returning to her classroom.
Peter Pan glared at her through the lesson, and when one of his classmates asked what was wrong, he told them that his dog had disappeared. "She ran off while we were walking home last night," Peter sighed, rubbing his face. "Aw!" lamented a girl named Selphie, setting her hands on her chin. "What's her name? We can look for her!" she added, sitting up straighter and smiling. Peter Pan brightened and began to describe the dog, making Sally's stomach turn the more she heard. Peter noticed her discomfort with narrowed eyes, and when he was finished describing his animal, he asked her what was wrong. Sally shrugged and bent her head over. Her palms were sweating very hard. She folded them over one another and let her ponytail fall in front of her face. "I'd hate if my dog came to any harm," Peter muttered, clenching his hands into fists. "Tink is my best friend," added Peter, and the girls at the table all sighed at the cuteness.
Sally was telling herself in her mind not to tell Peter what happened to his dog under any circumstances, but her heart was singing to her. She touched her chest, wondering what she would do. But Peter's eyes on her face made her nervous, and she glanced up at him and smiled. "I found your puppy," said Sally in a gentle voice. "She had a gash on her neck, so I took her to the vet's."
Peter stared at her in disgust, folding his arms in front of him and scowling. "There better not be anything wrong with her," he hissed. Sally shook her head, leaning forward in eagerness and explaining, "we gave her a terrier skin graft and set it with yarrow to stop the bleeding."
"You WHAT?" Peter roared, jumping out of his seat and advancing on Sally, who cowered. The teacher whipped around from the board and walked towards them, readjusting her glasses and staring down at the students. "What is going on?" she hissed, looking from Peter to Sally in anger. "You two have been whispering for the last twenty minutes of work time, and I've had enough. What is this outburst?" shouted the teacher, and Peter pointed at Sally, enraged. "She stitched up my dog!" he hissed, waggling his forefinger in Sally's face. Then he turned to her, shouting, "Tink isn't one of your stupid science experiments, Sally! She's a dog with feelings and a heartbeat!"
Sally tried to talk, but the whole class was staring at her and her breath caught in her throat. So she covered her trembling hands over her ears and closed her eyes, trying to lock out the looks of revulsion the class was giving her. The teacher shook her head and gave up, telling everyone to look to the blackboard, because she was handing out their new books for the quarter. "This marking period, we will be reading Frankenstein," she announced in excitement, and there was a burst of laughter from the whole room and a round of applause. "I didn't know we were reading biographies," Peter Pan snuck in, and there was more laughter from the area around his table. Sally bent her head low as her copy was set in front of her, and she picked it up and skimmed through it in curiosity. "Sally's already interested," added Peter, but the teacher pursed her lips and pointed outside the classroom door. Peter scowled and stood, shoving his hands in his pockets and trudging outside, slamming the door behind him, and the teacher glanced back at Sally before shaking her head and continuing the lesson.
At the end of class, Sally set her things into her book bag with slow strokes until every last student was gone. The teacher stared at her with discomfort as she set her things away and walked towards the door. "Sally," she called at the last moment, and Sally turned from the door to look at her. The teacher removed her glasses and smiled at Sally, tilting her head to the side. "When I was young I was discovering the world I inhabited, myself," explained the teacher, folding her hands together, "but I did it through my writing. Perhaps you should join the science club if you're interested in animals."
As Sally stared at her the teacher's smile faded and she shrugged, returning to her desk with a frown. Sally watched as she began grading papers, and left the room, looking at her feet as they cleared the carpeted hall and walked onto tiled floor that led to the cafeteria.
...
"Lovely day," Jane sighed, sucking in a deep breath as she and Naminé made their way out to the trees that lined the edge of the school. On summer days the girls would travel deep into the forest and up the mountain. They would call out their names at the top and then trudge back down. If they were really adventurous they would go down the other side of the mountain to the coast and stay the night in the abandoned shack on the pier. The next day they would wake up and start up the mountain again, have a picnic at its top, and descend back down through the forest and home.
"I've heard there are an unnatural number of dead animals lying about these days," Jane sang, hoisting her lunchbox over her shoulder and climbing into a tree. She sat down on one of the boughs and rested her back against the trunk; taking out the deli sandwich her mother had bought her as a treat. Naminé scowled as she attempted to climb the tree, whining when she got a scuff of dirt on her white dress. Eventually she made it to Jane's side and huffed as she sat down, pulling out a Pyrex container of smoked salmon and raspberries. Jane watched in fascination as Naminé ate. The girl switched between bites of salmon, brown cheese, and flatbread. "Yes, we love this country as it rises forth," Jane started singing with passion, inciting a ribbing from Naminé. "Shut up," the girl complained, digging into her salmon with excessive savagery. Jane laughed and dangled her legs over the edge of the tree, feeling the breath of summer wafting towards her from over the mountain.
"Isn't it Friday?" she asked, and Naminé nodded. "Do you want to hike to the beach this weekend?" she chirped. Naminé set her flatbread down and groaned, bending her head over. "I don't want to go!" she growled, but Jane folded her hands in front of her in defiance. "Don't you want to visit the beach?"
Naminé stared at her with narrowed eyes, pondering it. Then she shrugged. "If it's warm, we'll go," muttered the blond girl, getting a clap from her friend, who settled back into her own food in excitement. Twigs snapped below them and they looked down in curiosity just as bits of pinecones were thrown up at them. There was laughing as the two girls picked the pinecone bits out of their hair and food. Then, a boy called up to them, "Hey pretty ladies!"
Laughter erupted from the young man beside him, and the two grinned at each other. "Who's there?" Naminé asked Jane in fear. "The jerk patrol," responded Jane, and Naminé groaned with displeasure.
"You two having sex up there?" Vanitas asked, and his friend Jim laughed again, though this time less sincerely. Jane and Naminé glanced at each other, before packing up their things and getting ready to make an escape. But Vanitas was already climbing up the tree, blocking their exit. He sat down beside them and smiled at them, pinching Naminé on the nose and flicking Jane's forehead. "It's the tree people," he mocked, grinning wide. "Yes, but you're the ape," responded Jane. Vanitas stared at her before his face contorted with anger. "You making fun of my color?" he growled, and Jane's defiance faded, and she stuttered, "No, I was just responding to your insult, with, a better one," she tried, adjusting her skirt and clinging to her backpack in fright. Vanitas looked from one girl to the other, before grinning and pushing Naminé back. The girl screamed as she fell backwards, but Vanitas caught her legs just before they slipped down from the tree.
The blond girl hung suspended by her feet in midair. "Everything is upside down!" Naminé wailed as Jane screeched for Vanitas to stop, but the boy grinned and peered down at Naminé with narrowed eyes. "I can see everything from here," he chuckled, and Jane gasped, trying to wrestle her friend from his grip. "Hey!" shouted Vanitas in return, holding his right hand up. "You try anything and she drops," he hissed. Jane's eyes went big, and she tried climbing down the tree, but Vanitas blocked her path. Jim stood on the forest floor with his hands in his pockets, looking up at Vanitas in discomfort. "Dude, lets quit it and go," he muttered, messing with his ponytail, but Vanitas laughed at him. "Getting cold feet?" he sighed. Then, he narrowed his eyes and shouted, "TRUST", letting go of Naminé and letting her fall. She screamed, but before she could hit the ground, Jim yelped in fright and caught her, blushing. "You asshole!" Jane roared, kicking Vanitas out of the tree. He did a backflip and landed neatly on the ground beside Jim, who glared at him as he stood Naminé upright. "That wasn't cool, man!" Jim snapped, shoving his hands in his pockets. He muttered an apology to Naminé, who folded her hair behind her ear and shrugged, and then he turned back to Vanitas with a scowl.
"Hey, I'm welcoming you into the fold," snapped Vanitas in reply, stepping towards Jim with outstretched arms. When the boy ignored him, Vanitas turned to Naminé and blew in her face, startling her and making her fall against the trunk of the tree with a yelp. Then he bent over her and mussed her hair up, chuckling as Jim cried loud objections behind him. Jane slipped out from the tree and pushed her way in front of Naminé, shielding her and digging a scalpel out of her backpack. Vanitas held his hands up in mock surrender, his eyes widening as he laughed. "Did you steal that from the science room?" He snorted, to which Jane nodded, adding, "I used it to dissect a cat. And if you move any closer I'll stick it down your throat." Naminé glanced up at her in horror, but Vanitas smiled, grinning at the challenge. He was getting ready to jump at Jane when a familiar voice whistled behind them.
The whole group turned their heads, trying to locate the sound, and their eyes fell on the purple dressed girl standing at the edge of the forest line. She clapped her hands and set them on her hips, rolling her eyes as she stepped towards Vanitas. "Great show, snarky," she drawled, pushing past Jim and backing Vanitas away from Jane and Naminé. "Though from what I hear about these two, you'd probably catch their interest when your heart stops beating," she added, wrinkling her nose at Jane's scalpel. "What is that supposed to mean?" Jane spat, getting worked up. The purple dressed girl broke out in laughter, setting her hands on her belly and leaning over in fits of giggles. "Aren't stuffed apes your thing, Jane?" she elaborated, making Jane gasp. "All animals interest me!" barked Jane, shoving her scalpel in her backpack and standing up tall. The purple dressed girl held her hands up and shrugged, rolling her eyes again. "Hey, maybe you're the one who's been messing with the cats," she muttered. Then she pointed at Jim, indicating Vanitas with her eyes. "What are you doing hanging around with this loser?" asked the girl, making Jim shrug. She stared at him for a moment before holding her hand out for him to shake. "Megara," she introduced as Jim shook her hand with reluctance. "My friends call me Meg. At least they would if I had any friends," she added, making Vanitas snort.
Jim stared from Vanitas to Meg in discomfort, shuffling his feet as Vanitas glanced at him with raised brows. Then, Vanitas chuckled and grinned at Meg, stretching his arms up over his head so that his shirt rose over his stomach. As Jane and Naminé craned their necks to get a better look, Meg narrowed her eyes at him and folded her hands in front of her. "You want to explore with me?" asked Vanitas with a sly grin, and Meg snorted. "Yeah, I'm feeling adventurous," she muttered, walking ahead of him. He glanced back at Jim and beckoned for him to come along, but Meg caught him, shouting, "I'm not a hot potato, asshole!" and Vanitas howled with laughter. As he charged ahead, Jane called "watch out! I've heard this guy mutilates animals," and Naminé nodded with her, adding, "that's where serial killers start."
Meg chuckled with an open mouth, turning and waving back to Naminé and Jane. "Thanks girls," she called after them, disappeared into the brush ahead, "I'll think about that when he and I are swapping spit." Then she was gone. Jim stole an awkward glance at Naminé, before scowling and heading back in the direction of school. "You can socialize with us," Jane tried, jumping up and holding her hand out for him to shake, but he wrinkled his nose and shook his head, muttering, "no thanks," as he headed out from the forest. Naminé and Jane stared after him until he disappeared around the side of the school building. Then they sat down in silence.
"Who was that girl?" Naminé asked in curiosity, making Jane scowl. "She's the 11th grade vamp," she muttered. "Proficient in excessive sexual conduct and home wrecking."
"She did help us escape from Vanitas!" chirped Naminé, resuming her salmon. Jane glanced at her and shrugged in reluctant agreement, before sighing and setting her food in her lap. "Now don't get me wrong, I'm for the struggle as much as any other girl, but," she explained, indicating with her left hand. Giving another long sigh, Jane messed with the piece of hair that always fell in her face, tucking it to the top of her head. But she abandoned elaborating on her previous statement, choosing instead to rummage through her bag and pull out her sketchbook. "I can't wait to sit by the beach," she sighed, tapping her pencil to her chin. "We shall have to bring picnic food. Think up your best premonitions."
"I don't think them up," Naminé cried, a touch offended. She finished her salmon and returned the empty Pyrex dish to her lunchbox, folding her hands in her lap and pouting. "I get gut feelings." To this Jane laughed and began chattering on about the science project she was working on, doodling a picture of a cat in her sketchpad. Naminé stared at her in discomfort, and a shiver ran through her spine as she looked around. "It's going to rain tonight," she murmured with a sigh, pointing around her. "That's why that curl of yours is giving you trouble," she added, pointing to the strand of hair that had fallen in Jane's face again. Jane rolled her eyes and pouted, pushing the strand to the top of her head once more. "We're going to the beach tomorrow rain or shine."
To this Naminé pursed her lips but did not complain, instead glancing above the trees. Big fluffy clouds filled the sky, rolling over the treetops in a lazy stream. As Jane drew, Naminé sat back and closed her eyes, taking out her own sketchbook and doodling in it. She began drifting off to sleep, but as she did, the sound of tapping on a soft surface clouded her thoughts and caused her to shake. When she opened her eyes, Jane was tapping her to see if she was all right. Naminé furrowed her brows and stared down at the page in front of her. She'd doodled a house in darkness, and Jane stared over it in curiosity. "You were mumbling while you drew," murmured Jane. "You may have even had your eyes closed. Impressive." Then she continued doodling cats in her books, labeling their body parts in between whistling "Goodbye Ladies" from The Music Man.
Naminé wrung her hands together and bit her lip, suddenly not feeling as keen on the beach trip as she had an hour ago. The sound of a ringing bell caught her ear and she jumped up, beckoning for Jane to join her. The two girls gathered their things and returned to the school, parting with each other for their last two classes of the day. Naminé's third class was art, and she sped towards it in excitement, meeting with Olette in the hallway. The two girls chattered about the current art project, a mixed media portrayal of their greatest dreams and fears. "I want to do mine in ink," Olette whispered, her eyes shining with thoughts of what her painting would turn out like. "I'm doing watercolor and pastel," Naminé sighed, touching her hand to her heart. "I love those mediums."
Out of the corner of her eye Olette noticed the photography class traipsing out the back door to take pictures outside. She waved to Pence before he disappeared around the side of the building with the rest of the kids then she went inside her own classroom.
Olette and Naminé sat at the same table and pulled out their art supplies, setting them in front of them with care. The teacher walked in with a Starbucks coffee in her hands and adjusted her thick-rimmed glasses as she set her own bag down. Then she clapped her hands and demanded the class's attention. "I want you all to write down on a sheet of paper what your greatest fears and dreams are," she announced, "Then write down your favorite medium and your least favorite medium."
Naminé bit her lip as the teacher announced this, knowing that there would be a catch, especially for the mediums. Naminé hated drawing with charcoal because it was messy, but it could be made soft. India ink could be mixed with water, but Naminé hated working with it even more, because all it made were lines. She preferred soft color. Olette on the other hand liked line work with ink. It was her specialty. She hated watercolor and pastels irritated her. Naminé decided to be honest, and wrote down ink and watercolor on her piece of paper. Then she thought about her greatest fears and dreams. She wrote 'becoming an artist' for dreams. But Naminé did not know what her greatest fear was. So she put down 'not becoming an artist'.
"What did you write?" Olette asked. Naminé shrugged and showed her her piece of paper. Olette nodded with a sigh, shrugging in agreement. Then she pushed her page in front of Naminé. She had written the same mediums down, but her dream was 'becoming a comic writer', and her greatest fear was 'getting boring'. The teacher poked around the student's tables, glancing at their lists to advise them on how to start. When she came to Olette and Naminé, she bit her lip and put her hands on her hips. "With abstract arts, feelings are represented. With representational arts, actions are depicted," murmured the teacher, letting her hands float through the air, caressing it with invisible strokes as she explained. "What we are attempting with this project is to create images of our dreams and fears, to make them tangible. The dream and fear are two distinct yet connective subjects, and you can decide which one lies in the forefront and which lies in the background." Then she held up a finger, adding, "but do not let them battle each other. They must interact to create a picture. You might discover something of yourself in the process."
"And you must utilize your favorite and least favorite mediums," the teacher added, inciting a groan from the classroom. Naminé chewed at her lower lip as she stared down at the page before her, thinking of a tangible way to represent her fears and dreams. She scribbled 'facing my fears with my art,' for her dream. Then, for her greatest fear, she wrote, 'the future'. The facing the fears with art would be simple. She could draw a picture of herself with her notepad, facing the future. But what would the future be? Naminé thought of the mansion she had seen while dreaming. A distinctly unpleasant feeling had accompanied that vision.
"Do you know what you're doing?" Olette whispered, and Naminé nodded, pulling out a bank sheet of paper and mapping out with blue pencil what she would draw next. "Where do you buy your ink?" inquired Naminé. Olette grinned and pulled out an extra bottle, sliding it to her and asking, "Where can I find cheap watercolors?" in return.