Smaragdine: Pertaining to emerald-green in color

The first color Betty ever saw was green. It was a deep green, something she imagined the rainforest would look like if it were ever anything other than the monotonous gray and white she saw day to day.

She was six, and at that point, had heard adults talking about this strange colored world, one she did not know what they meant, not in any real way.

Betty may not have many memories from her young childhood. Most of the memories she holds she knows are faux, in such a way that it's her parents describing events to her that she has committed from memory. The 'memory' of Betty dancing in the streets after a big storm where nearly all the roads were flooded comes from a picture on her father's desk. She looks at it and sometimes thinks she does recall that time, but she's also not sure if she'd remember it if the photo wasn't there. Or, the time she found a stray cat and dragged it all the way back home despite it clawing at her arms because Betty just knew it needed a little TLC, she has a video of. She thinks maybe, if she tries hard enough, she can bring forth the thought of the scratches that marred her skin for weeks (and of course, she wore it proudly), but once again, she's sure the narrative has been tainted by her mother's hatred of that mangy animal or her father's sighs when she retells it.

There is only one memory that Betty knows is her own, unblemished and still perfect to this very day.

The day she saw that greenish hue, in the middle of Riverdale.

She knows it can't be fabricated because no one else around her saw that color. No one else in her family could have known why she was suddenly distracted at the supermarket, in the aisle near the check-out lines where there was a small assembly of toys.

Betty and Polly did not want for much. Betty could admit now that she was spoiled, so it was not as though her feet led her to the collection of dollar-store toys because she felt the need for one, it's because she saw the flicker of something else as her eyes scanned the aisles of food and wares. Like she was pulled on a string, Betty escaped her mother's grip and stumbled over to the wooden shelving units.

"What's that, Betty?" Polly asked, jumping after her.

Betty grabbed the toy off the shelf, staring at it with unbridled awe, her hands digging into the plush softness. She ran a finger over the fuzzy length, moving the fur and watching the colors shift if even a shade lighter as the color underneath was revealed.

And she was just about to ask, "Well, can't you see it?" because it was so obvious why Betty was enchanted and she couldn't understand why Polly wasn't shaking with joy either until she looked at Polly's dubious face. She picked up the toy, as though searching for the meaning of the universe.

That's when Betty understood. Polly did not see the color.

So, she told no one.

"Get away from that!" Alice snapped, grasping it out of Betty's hands and putting it high on a shelf, "You have much better toys at home. That would fall apart in a day. God, you give me such a headache, Elizabeth." She said, but Betty did not understand the amount of anger she was seeing from her mother right now. It didn't seem to match up. Other than she knew that Mother always had a headache. This was nothing new.

"But, mom, I-,"

"Elizabeth Cooper, not another word," Alice said in a tone that Betty knew meant 'shut up or else', "If you continue on like a spoiled child, we won't go to the library for another book."

Betty gasped out loud. This was about the most severe threat her mother could make to her at the tender age of six.

She had just finished reading the latest Nancy Drew, and of course, she was itching for the next one. She'd always been an early reader.

She pressed her lips together, eyes wide, trying to forget about that snake because it seemed to be spelling unknown trouble for her.

Still, though, as they finished paying and Alice led her daughters from the store, Betty was encouraged by a tiny whisper in her mind to take one last look. One final gaze or she may regret it.

It was like the forbidden fruit, something she'd never tasted before, and god...she wasn't sure she'd ever taste it again.

Betty spun her head around, trying to memorize the instant, never forget it.

She never did.

There was a time she was almost sure she imagined it. This secret, which she didn't tell anyone about in her youth; not even Archie or Kevin or Polly.

But how could she imagine something she'd previously never seen?

After it was all done, as she looked back on that moment, she should have realized that it was sort of telling that the green animal she saw was a snake.

XXX

Jordan Karan saw color before he earned his infamous moniker.

He saw color for the first time at the age of seven, he was dubbed 'Sweet Pea' by the only relative he'd ever enjoyed (his grandmother) at the age of eight.

When he was seven, he was let loose by his mother in the area of downtown Riverdale while she did...whatever she did back then. Drugs, probably, and even at the young age of seven, Jordan was aware that whatever she was doing was probably going to get her killed one day.

And so it did, but that's another story. It's also here or there.

At the age of seven, it wasn't obvious to most of the world that Jordan was from the other side of the tracks. He wasn't a Serpent and didn't have tattoos, nor a scowl on his face that told everyone that they'd better leave him the fuck alone. He hadn't been beaten to a pulp and pulled himself back together again, he hadn't done the Gauntlet, he hadn't learned the world would sooner run his ass over than make things easy.

At seven, Jordan was ignorant. Unblemished. Young, but not carefree.

Someone could have likely guessed where he came from by looking at his appearance. He probably wandered around town that day looking as he did most days of his youth; ratty t-shirt, shoes that were either too big or too small, dirt on his cheeks, and a gaunt hollowness that clung to him.

He remembered wandering around the downtown area, pressing his grimy fingers against the glass of stores, watching people eating more than he got in a week in a singular meal, being dazzled by the warm perfectly pressed clothes or the faces that looked well-bathed. He was chased away from most, people shaking their fists at him and treating him less than the stray dogs that sniffed in the trash cans.

His wandering took him first to the supermarket. He slipped in with a loud family of boys, slinking around the aisles, wondering what he could slip into his pocket.

He'd stolen his first item from a store at five, encouraged by his mother. Once again, another story. Yeah, she wasn't exactly what Jordan would call a fantastic role model. The point is, stealing was second nature.

You know the feeling when you're just so overwhelmed by choices that you can't make any choice at all? That's how Jordan felt, the world of food at his fingertips but nothing made its way into his fingers, having not been immediately ejected by an employee. It almost felt too easy, and Jordan was already a little superstitious. Something was telling weighing on him, like a weight on his chest, tying him here...though he wasn't sure why.

All he knew is that it made his fingers slippery and his stomach indecisive and he couldn't muster the energy to even pocket a bag of monotone Skittles.

Starved and dejected, he found himself in an aisle filled with toys.

Most days, this would not hold his fancy. Toys were hardly a thought when he was always hungry, always cold, and always tired. Plus, when things were better, the outdoors were his toys. He could make a better sword out of a stick than the rubber ones on the shelves, he had perfected tying twigs together for little horses to amaze Toni with, and he and Franklin just needed a pile of mud to stay occupied with for hours on end.

There was one that caught his eye. He was drawn to it, felt his feet pulling him toward the plush toys squished into their wire cages.

He reached on his tip-toes, grasping a long and fuzzy snake from its perch, holding it up and grinning.

Its gray face with the little tongue flickered out at him, as though in a greeting.

He knew all about the Serpents that frequented his family's trailer park. He had heard them talking, seen their leather-clad ranks, and on occasion, they'd notice him and flip him a bag of chips. They seemed to like kids.

He had no idea about how the people over here hated them. To Jordan, the Serpents were like Gods to him. They always seemed to have some money, they had a family that was unbreakable, and they seemed to make life better. Plus, they protected the community and kept evil people like the Ghoulies away.

To Jordan, there was no organization as brilliant or as awe-inspiring as the Southside Serpents. While a lot of little boys dreamed of becoming an astronaut or a knight or a cowboy, Jordan had set his goals much shorter long ago; join the Serpents.

It was the singular most important thing that he felt he had to look forward to later in life.

This snake called to him in ways he could not describe.

It was massive. At least six feet long, trailing on the ground. He bemoaned that it wasn't small enough to squish in his pocket, or it would be journeying home with him today. As he flipped the tag and realized it was nearly twenty bucks, he realized he'd never scourge enough for it. He was lucky to find a quarter on the sidewalk and had maybe three dollars total to his name.

By now, Jordan was beginning to feel the stares of others pressing down on him. If he wasn't kicked out yet, it would only be a matter of time. As it was, he saw a clerk whispering to a manager, staring at him.

Jordan slipped back out into the gray afternoon, his heart aching for the stuffed animal he could not take.

He looked at the clock tower, realizing he still had two more hours before his mom would be finding him if she would at all. He was no stranger to disappointment or the long walk home when she, rather inevitably, wouldn't show up for him again.

He wandered aimlessly for maybe an hour, retracing a lot of his steps from earlier in the day, but that was just as boring the first time around.

He slumped against a wall of one of the great sandy buildings, pulling his legs against his chest. He twirled a piece of grass around his finger, trying to decide if he should start walking now. At least at home, even if there wasn't food in his trailer, his friends were around. It was easier to not feel hungry when you were pretending you were pirates or space invaders.

"Oh my...where's your mother?"

Jordan looked upward to see a woman with glasses staring at him, face pinched with pity.

His mother had always told him to never take hand-outs from people who pitied him. It was the worst form of patheticness there was.

But he didn't have the energy to spit at her or make some biting remark.

"Dunno," He muttered, "Off."

The woman's face flickered, but Jordan could not read the emotions. Finally, she seemed to settle on a choice.

"Are you hungry?" She asked softly, kneeling down to his level. Jordan could only shrug. Of course, he was hungry, but he was about as ready to admit that openly as he was going to eat his shoe.

"You know, there's food in here," The woman said, pointing at the building he sat upon.

"I don't have any money," He said uneasily, "And most places don't want me there."

"It's the library," The woman said, offering her hand, "It's welcome to everyone. C'mon, there are some granola bars out for hungry kids." She said.

Jordan considered it. He stared at her, pleading for something he didn't understand. He waited for her to come to her senses, rescind her offer, and spit at him. Or to start laughing, tell him it was one big joke, tell him to get lost. She did none of this, only looked down at him with a warmth in her eyes he recognized. It was the sort of look his grandmother gave him whenever they visited, right before she'd pull him into a hug that seemed endless.

"Okay."

The air inside the library was cool. There were more books in here than Sweet Pea had ever seen in his life, and none of them were torn or ripped. He breathed in, wondering if this place truly was real.

"You've never seen a library?:" The woman sounded shocked, charting his expression.

"I...no…" He murmured, "I never get to read at school. Or home." He added. The only things with printed text in his trailer were Chinese take-out menus or unpaid pills.

"Do you like to read…?" She trailed off, frowning, "What's your name?"

"Jordan. Jordan Karan," Jordan said, shuffling his feet, "And yeah. When I get a chance."

"What sort of books do you like?" She asked, bringing him to a quiet area with a set of plushy armchairs that was far back in a corner, away from the view of others. He didn't know if it was for his benefit or the patrons.

"Lots, I guess," He said, unsure. He didn't get much of a choice of books at Southside Elementary, big surprise there, "Magic. Adventure. Battles. I was reading 'Lion, Witch, and the Wardrobe' but it's missing the last thirty pages."

The woman hummed, "Stay right there, Jordan," She instructed with a grin. Jordan, who had nothing better to do, stayed put.

He shifted on the large chairs, kneeling up on them as he peeked into the silent area. He saw only one old man with a fluffy white beard combing through the local newspaper, but other than that, the library seemed vacant.

Jordan was no good at telling time, but it seemed like not long at all before the woman was returning. In one hand, a plastic bag. In the other, a stack of books.

She set the food down first. It wasn't a granola bar, as she claimed, but a sandwich from Subway, along with a juice box.

"You seem like you could use something a little more. Had extras in the break-room," She said, setting it down in front of him.

He approached it like a feral cat, reaching his fingers out to touch the crinkled paper. The smells wafting from it were too tantalizing. Before he could use any good sense, he had torn into it, and ate it ravenously.

"Here are some books too. You're free to stay here reading as long as you like. And, you can bring books home. Check them out for free."

"For free?" Jordan parrotted back, staring at her with wide, shocked eyes.

"If you're around here often." She coughed, wincing, like she hadn't meant to say that, "Anyway, I brought some options you might like. I'll be right in that office there if you need me, okay?" She asked, pointing to a small doored room in his eyesight. Jordan nodded resolutely, committing it to memory.

She gave Jordan one last soft look before walking away.

Jordan leaped upon the pile of books. Among a newer-looking copy of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe were a few others he'd heard of; The Phantom Tollbooth, His Dark Materials, Harry Potter.

He'd seen the posters for Harry Potter movies near the movie theater. It was about kids his age, give or take.

He opened that one first.

He was fifty pages in when another worker wheeled a cart of books to put away near his couch hideout. This worker hardly looked his way, taking a stack of books in her arms and vanishing into the long stacks and shelves that reminded Jordan of forests around Riverdale.

He wouldn't even be that interested, for by this point he was incredibly immersed within the world of Harry Potter, except for something that glimmered out of the corner of his eye.

It wasn't a shiny white, a blinding white like the first snow looked like, but something starkly different than the usual shades he saw.

It was something that Jordan could not describe at all.

He stumbled over himself to get to the cart, pulling out a book. He stumbled back, staring with an open jaw at the cover, sure he was poisoned or near dying or on drugs to be seeing what he was seeing.

But honestly, Jordan wasn't even sure what he was seeing.

He went and knocked on the nice lady's door at once.

"Jordan! Everything alright?" She was just as kind as an hour ago.

Wordlessly, he thrust the book at her. She took the title, tilting her head.

"You like mysteries?" She asked, frowning.

"Maybe. I don't...know…" He said weakly, "But there's something. On the cover. What is it?" He asked, crowding her excitedly, heart thumping.

"What do you mean?"

"It's on the spine too," Jordan exclaimed, unsure how she couldn't see it (god, was she blind?), "And all on here!" He patted it with vigor, watching her concerned face.

The woman frowned again, "Nancy Drew and the Secret of The Golden Pavilion," She mumbled to herself, "Jordan, what do you see?"

"It's...I don't know," Jordan stumbled uselessly, "It's something different than white, black, and gray. It's...it's…"

"Color?"

The word paused Jordan.

He'd heard whispers of it, but 'color' wasn't taught in schools. The chances of someone on his side of town seeing in this fantastical sort of different way just wasn't realistic. Not to the people that frequented the South Side. The only thing he knew about that word was what Toni said, but Toni wasn't very reliable.

"It's probably gold," The woman continued, "Because it's right here...and here?" She asked, tapping the book spine as well as the petals of the illustrated pavilion."

"There are others, but that's the brightest," Jordan said. He was sure his eyes were playing tricks on him, making him see other things that weren't there, "And what is gold?"

"Gold is...gold is this," The woman said, tapping, "The color. A color. One of thousands." She said again.

Jordan took the book back.

"Do you see it?"

"I don't, no."

"Am I going crazy?"

The woman looked at him like her heart was breaking, "Has no one ever told you?" She asked, shaking her head, as though in horror.

"Told me what?"

"About soulmates."

Jordan, who knew almost nothing of this, only scowled.

The woman nodded to herself, as though something had been confirmed. She tried to take the book, but Jordan would not let her touch it. He held it close to his chest, his eyes trained solely on that splash of color, as though his entire life was tied to it. And, as he'd come to learn, it sort of was.

"Let's sit," The woman said, motioning to a wheely chair, "And talk."

"About color?" Jordan asked, his voice scarcely above a whisper, but dying to know more about this weird, tumping feeling in his chest whenever he looked at it.

"Yes, about color, among other very good things."