2. Roll The Bones
by Rush
Rosalie twisted her hair up into the normal messy bun as she walked out the door, not bothering to look in the mirror. Her black shirt worn and a bit torn, she had made it four years ago just before graduating High School. The man she had painted was what she had envisioned a writer to be centuries ago. A big golden had collapsed on his head, looking as if it was made of jelly but, at the same time, surprisingly solid. A white feather in his hand and socks squeezing his calves all the way up to the ballooning pants.
The shirt was also unbuttoned, a bit at the top, making him look ruffled. On display was a big tattoo which gave the impression of being wrapped around his torso. The skull with an eyebrow ring and a bright red mohawk stood out against the soft colors he was dressed in. Down from the writers ears snaked the cords of an iPod, disappearing into the pocket of his pants.
Rosalie pulled her own black, faux leather jacket closer around herself, trying to swallow away the nerves. Her fingers were gripping the edge of the sketchbook she had tucked under her arm, it had been three days since the presentation and she was still obsessing over her shaking hands, wavering voice and nervous laughter. What were they thinking? What had she said?
Since joining the university all those years ago, Rosalie had made exactly one friend. She spent most of her time in her own apartment or in the local park - reading, painting and listening to music. Alice was a computer nerd, spending her time with her online friends and gaming. She was a funky woman and had pretty much the same impression of the world as Rose did. Nevertheless, Alice was more comfortable with people, she loved the attention because it created a chance for her to spread her opinions like dandelion seeds in the wind.
When they had first met, it was Alice who had initiated their friendship, something which made Rosalie eternally grateful. She had been a bit surprised about feeling tall - Rosalie was usually perceived as short, only reaching 5'3. However, she had realized that she had several inches on her new small friend. Where Alice had short dark hair, big blue eyes made up with eyeliner and mascara, Rosalie's own hair was long, blond and never styled - always tied up in a simple bun with a few tendrils always falling down around her face throughout the day - and she never learned the tricks of makeup.
Rosalie lived fairly close to the campus and therefore, she made it there in just above five minutes. In her ears was her salvation, music soothing her nerves.
She didn't see him as she walked through the door, pulling the headphones out of her ears and putting them in her pocket with the iPod. The voice rang out from her right just as she passed, "Art student?" It was soft, smooth and belonged to a perfectly shaped mouth. As she glanced at him, one eyebrow automatically raised, she briefly noted that he had an interestingly beautiful face. She wanted him carrying a bucket of water over reddish stones with grass poking up between them. She wanted him to be a stable boy, working at a beautiful ranch. She wanted him to wear old, ragged pants with garters over a Led Zeppelin t-shirt… or maybe Rush.
Rosalie held up the sketchbook, paint staining the pale skin of her hand and arm where the jacked pulled back a bit. "No, I'm a physicist."
The young man snorted behind her and Rosalie kept moving, not giving the interaction any more thought as she turned the corner, spotting Alice and not meeting the eyes of any of the other students. It would be a long class.