Violet pulled back from the window and the not so interesting view of the rude stoned boy. She didn't let the fact he flipped her the bird bother her. Considering he jumped out a window, it wasn't hard to guess he was 24 cents short of a quarter. She left him to his perceived daydreaming, completely unaware of the lifelong enemy she had made with just one look.
She was dressed for the joke of a school her parents were making her attend. Westerfield. Home of the blazers. She felt a shudder of longing for her old school in New York. Sure, she was considered a loner, but it never bothered her. She reveled in the feeling of independence, the ability to look or feel any way she damned please, do what she wanted when she felt like it. For all her parents semi cloying ways, she had plenty of freedom and had definitely spread her non existent social butterfly wings in most of the underground scenes of Manhattan. Even if she wasn't well liked, at least she was somewhat respected for her inability to give a shit. A new school, new life. She knew her parents were grateful she had put up a minimal fuss in leaving, though they hadn't said a thankful word since she dropped her stuff in the airy, gothic hallway of the house. Violet had honestly made peace with leavening, under the naive impression that her parents were finally pushing through this awkward emotional bullshit and getting their lives back on track. Though she was an anarchist at heart, and totally against parental infringement, she was sick of sleeping to the soundtrack of her mother's tears. They were living in this fragile bubble in New York, this period of stasis that everyone knew had to give, yet everyone was content in ignoring. When her parents had approached her about leaving, there was a sense of determination around her parents that really had her believing cohabitating with them could be somewhat pleasant again. Unfortunately, it was a weak willed sentiment. In the week the Harmon family had moved in, her mother had checked out, usually high on xanax to cope with her husbands touch. Ben Harmon's large ego had taken an obvious dive, and he was usually trolling the streets searching for job openings. Most mornings Violet found Vivan in bed, staring at the macabre picture of Blue Baby, as she had dubbed him. Ben Harmon had taken a picture of Blue Baby, the second he had been delivered, ready to be treated to the angry, strong squalls of a healthy baby boy. Instead of cries and flying fists, silence greeted him when he met Blue Baby for the first umbilical cord had choked him, and his body was discoloured, a blue blob. Of course, Ben tried to get rid of the picture, but a heartbroken Vivian refused to lose the last link to her lost treasure. Shaking thoughts Blue Baby aside, Violet donned her bowl hat and jogged downstairs to make herself a bowl of cereal. She had gotten used to the kitchen, empty but for the unpacked boxes lying in corners. She thought as she ate, making plans for exploring more of Los Angeles that night.
Walking briskly, Violet sang along to Black hole sun, taking little lefts and rights that would let her explore the neighborhood on the way to school. It was a suburban purgatory. The sun was brightly shining on her back, giving everyone and everything a halo. She already missed the crisp fall that would have greeted her as she left the townhouse in New York. It had rained heavily the night before, and large, muddy puddles were seen near the sides of the road. She hummed and skipped over puddles, seeing the school two blocks ahead. A convertible suddenly swerved, hit a large puddle of water, and lightly spraying her with mud and dirty street water. She didnt catch the perpetrators, just the backs of a blond head and long, dark hair. She was pissed but couldn't bring herself to care that much. She wasn't sure of it was on purpose or just her customary shitty luck at work. Either way, no permanent harm was done, and she had dealt with far worse when she first came to New York City in middle school. She would easily wash the mud out of her hair and clean up her shirt, but most importantly, she wasn't going to lose her shit. No. Fucking. Way.