Elaine
He was hard to read. And so was I. It doesn't take a genius to categorize him. He was made and carved to turn eyes. An Elite, privileged boy through and through, but somehow roaming and existing in the midst of a common crowd that he stood out of like a sour thumb in.
As much as stereotyping is a delicate sin when you don't even know the person from up close. It is still an embodiment that comes from years of observation.
No matter how much a person denies, there's always a sprinkle of their appearance in their character which they are labeled for.
And he whispered trouble.
I kept up my pace fast as he tried his best to tag along with me and in spite made himself seem like he wasn't making an effort.
As soon as the class ended he came up to me, or more like was still in the process when I abruptly stood up and swiftly stride out of the class.
It was the same saga, they will send a new student with some manmade-up story about my life. They will try to confront me about it and express their remorse.
In synchronization, our failing musical choir bubble up. The whole class will erupt into a cute little fit of laughter that would horrifically impersonate a hoard of dying hyenas and expect me to break into pieces when all I aspire was to laugh at their face. Since I exactly don't have much of a thing going on to be cheerful about. So why not take what I can get?
When I won't do as they wish, they'd continue with their act of sweetness.
The worst rumor that graced my ears were of that I once wet my pants in an elocution trial because I was afraid of public speaking.
I rarely speak up, but it doesn't mean I am afraid of it. I don't even remember going for trials.
No matter how much I theorize my analogy, the blonde boy broke all of it.
He was not once seen with Tyler again and at lunch, he again waved at me, I walked out of the cafeteria since my lunch was with David and my money was never there to begin with.
Once home. Or at least the place that I call home I cement my legs by the doormat. Counting backward until the end.
I unlock the door with my keys, the warm scent of pies announced Diana's presence.
As I tiptoed my way around the living room and almost escaped to the safety of stairs I sensed a presence behind. My eyes shrunk close as I awkwardly winked in defeat.
"I see you there"
Rolling my eyes I faced her. A tall, dark, and curvy woman in her early forties wiped her hands with a napkin. She was so natural and sight even at this age. And for a fact, I know my hair appeared as if it got recently struck by the gentle lighting.
Nothing out of ordinary.
"Is there something I can do for you?" I offered, wiping the area around my lips with the back of my hand. I could feel the slither of oil, even my skin was in desperate need of attention.
But the best I could do for them was wash it.
"No. But I was asked to deliver a message. It's from Noah." I frowned. Why did he call her? Not me?
Does that kid finally realize that a forty-year-old woman was much more fun than a young ol me?
But contrary to that I got my answer next "Said he can't reach your phone and he'll drop by here tomorrow."
Though it was a relief, I was more confused by the second. But Diana continued and scraped away the last of my perplexed state.
"He also demanded that he needs a shoulder to cry on"
Now that sounded like him. And I think I exactly know what happened.
Once again I breathe in the warm mouth-watering aroma of delicious-looking pies and nodded as she resumes back. We were way past trying to have that bonding she always wanted. But still, I was doing my best to make her feel what she deserves.
How could I bond with her when even my own head would never agree with my ideas?
I was not crazy.
Neither was I normal.
I know. Most don't. Does that make me a prude?
It only makes me a girl who plays safe.
"I have to go somewhere and will be back by seven. Is that okay with you?" I took the courage to tell her, Waited for her soo she would oppose. Hands knotted behind my back I shifted on my feet. After a pause, she said "It's fine" surprised I blinked, but then- "Unless if its a job, then you can't"
Groaning I take a step ahead "It's a simple job of babysitting the child of a new neighbor few blocks away, it's my first day and I don't want to have a fight"
But my insides wanted her to fight me. Stop me. I don't want to do this. But yet I did. I was craving on the change, my mind kept counting on that imaginary land where I would be able to stop the voices in there and replace it with something to focus on.
Something to concentrate on other than that.
"I am your guardian and I have the right to stop you. You are not eighteen yet." Her voice was full of command but also uncertainty, having a persistently void of emotionally intellectual human under her care can do that.
Basically, it's called a teenage girl with mood swings.
"I am going" coldness. I hate the coldness that elopes with my words. Sometimes I wish I could hide it, conceal the displeasure. But like the sun cannot cover its brightness, one cannot bottle up what they are.
Her eyes show defeat "Elaine" she breaths "you have been through so much, I just want you to have a proper childhood"
I bite my lip hard. I know I need to open up. Talk about something. Anything.
It's fine even if it accounts for trigonometry, Mc Donalds, or even parallel universe.
Suffocated.
That's what I feel at times.
Similar to the tormented sensation you have when on the verge of crying, but you hold back causing an apathetic and cringe-worthy pain to erupt in your throat.
Except that it's the heart that hurts, But the mind aborts the idea of understanding the reason behind it. In the end, you realize you are hurting for no reason. But yet you do.
Depression. A word, so confusing yet so certain.
They say it's nice. Having someone to look after you. But what if you can't feel that love and care? What if you are too much scared of losing it that you don't want to feel it at all?
"I can take care of myself. Trust me" I assured her, watching the maroon curtains dance over the window to the song of a gentle breeze.
After another long pause, she said yes.
Only because she apprehends the fact that I am stubborn as an oil stain on her apron.
After changing into comfortable jeans and a navy blue shirt I tied my hair up into a high pony. The daring haircut transformation from waist length to shoulder length did prove to be fruitful, the hairs which once were hurricane to tame stayed in place.
I was nervous, fiddled with my fingers as I stood in front of a lady in a wheelchair. She was breathtaking.
"Oh sweetie, Thank you so much for accepting it though it was at the last minute." her voice was so smooth like a rhythmic flow of wind. When I opened mine it came out scratchy.
Good voice. I used to have them. Much livelier and soft than hers.
I don't want to sound dead so I smiled as a little three-year-old equally beautiful as her mother poked her tiny head from behind the chair.
"Ashley, say Hi to your new friend, she will play with you till I am back from my meeting with Doctor. You will stay good. You will right?" Mrs. Bryson says lovingly running her hand through the girl's curls. I chewed on my bottom lip, scarily envious.
"Will you play with me?" She asks, looking up at me with glassy doe eyes.
I get on my knees to match her height, professionally as an act to grab the trust of her mother "Of course I will, Barbie's were once my favorite too" I flicked her nose with my finger, and her grin widens at the mention of Barbie. A tingle spreads by my neck, her smile. Was I the reason behind it?
"Okay girls, I'll leave you two to it and I'll try my best to be back soon" Mrs.Bryson kisses Ashley on her cheek as the driver wheels her away to the car.
By seven we've played too much, more like she played, talked, screams, sang, blew her nose, a lot of time may I add, and laughed. The girl can carry more fun activities on her little shoulder than me in an entire year. And she does it So easily.
I smiled or nodded at what she said occasionally and also braided her doll's hair. We named her teddy's since she had requested the generous help of mine, her toys were now under the name of proxima, Andromeda, and cyanide and we ate lots of food. I willingly joined her in the last activity as I was scorchingly hungry.
In the middle of watching an animated movie, something called along how you should train a dragon, we hear the rustling of the door keys.
Mrs.Bryson had been strong about being late tonight, it'd take one hour more for her to get done with physiotherapy according to the schedule and she wasn't expecting anyone for tonight, or else she would have informed me.
Right?
I signed Ashley to keep quiet as I took hold of a woman's sharp high heels by the door. It's supposed to do the job of a weapon. And hell it looks far better than any other butcher knife they use in a movie.
I prepared myself for the worst. Heart beating and palms sweating. The doors crack and bursts open, in time I raise my golden weapon high on air.
Only to stop as I meet the eyes of another shocking pair of equally stunned ones.
His eyes surprisingly dilute from the initial jolt, they turn sharp as he tried to make sense of a girl at the door.
Similarly, I tried to find logic in the game of fate. As Alex White opens his mouth for the first time.
"What are you doing in my home?"
What was I doing?
Drugs. Robbery. The crime that I've consistently thought of committing, which includes hitting someone with a shoe heel- I found that out recently. I wish I was cool enough to say that, though most of them were embarrassing.
I did gawk for an answer.
***