Suddenly I regretted everything.
I regretted being born, waking up this morning and most of all, I regretted this once in a lifetime universal rebellion that made me attempt such a ridiculous idea like this. I also regretted my love of colors, although on a smaller scale. The shades in my hair were obviously identifiable in this small town.
How stupid was I.
I could hear them chatting pointlessly behind me. How long would it take until they realized the girl walking in front of them existed, until they realized I could hear them? Sweat tricked down my spine, urging me to remove the vest from my shoulders but fear of being discovered kept it intact.
The street began a slight incline around a soft curve the houses slowly gave way to a small park, one equip with a playground and, oh damn, a skate park.
A handful of other boys I had no recollection of were already there skating around at talking. But of course, with my luck, there was no one at the playground. No people to blend in with. This forced me to come up with a plan, and quick. I refused to walk past them twice so I entered the playground.
I stumbled a bit in my chucks with the messy, uneven mulch. Ok now I was in, now what? I couldn’t just walk aimlessly nor could I act like a child and run around screaming.
So I did what every ‘emo’ kid does when stuck in a playground. I sat on the swings and mused over my life. The group of boys walked past me, discussing preferred breast sizes and the such.
I snorted and kicked my foot into the loose ground cover. How ridiculous, here I was basically stalking boys that care for nothing more than boobs and skateboards.
I sat there for no more than five minutes when the subject suddenly took a turn.
“Ha! You should have seen Steph in eighth period!” joked the boy with the thick curls; I perked up and glanced over my shoulder warily. I didn’t want them to discover some random girl staring at them as they talked, so I put my hood up as well, at least that hid the turquoise in my hair.
“Shut up Mac,” said Steph lowly. I saw him give the boy a meaningful glance, a plead for silence, for his pride.
“What went on eighth?” asked the tall boy. The timbre of his voice was unlike any I’d ever heard, a mixture of deep and rough, yet light and playful.
The boy, Mac was his name, perched himself on a bench near the opening in the fence of the playground. He grinned smugly, “He was checking out the new girl, hell even talked to her.”
My face burnt red and my chest felt like it was being crushed slowly and painfully. My mind flew through the possibilities and the disbelief was written right there on my face. These feelings were almost worse than a Trigger being suppressed and I didn’t like it. Not one bit.
“You were?!” squeaked the younger boy. I turned my head away; getting caught like this would be the end of me.
“Mmm, not too bad. Though you can’t always see her face because of those bangs of hers. But she does got a pair on her,” concluded the tall boy and I could just imagine him expressing his thoughts with vulgar hand motions about my chest size.
I really wish I could have seen the expression on Steph’s face. But instead I clenched my fist around the rusted chains of the swings, my face red and blood pumping through my ears.
“I’d go for her,” added the younger boy. Mac laughed and made to tackle him.
“Sure you would, as long as it had a hole you’d fuck it!” teased Mac. I wanted to leave. This was all a mistake. I didn’t want to know these things. I squeezed my eyes shut and the contact in my left eye burned. A signal that I was running out of time. It was going to go transparent soon.
I used that as a catalyst to stand, but my legs felt foreign beneath me and threatened to betray me to gravity. I held onto the chain while I caught my breath, this was a mistake, they weren’t talking about me. There were plenty of girls in eighth period. It could have been any one of them, plus my boobs weren’t big, they were hardly there! My eye burned and my chest restricted. I’d have to walk within ten feet of them, but I had to get away. I had to.
“Well what’s her name?” asked Mac. I glanced him out of the corner of my eye. He glanced at me but didn’t really notice me. How it should be. Steph mumbled a bit as I came to the entrance to the fence. I felt the tension in my calves and my back was arched, ready to bold, ready to run. I couldn’t fight back a glance as Steph answered; his hands clenched on the rim of the board I assumed he was here to ride.
“Her name’s Albina.”
And then time stopped, or at least I thought it did.I froze. The breath hitched in my throat and my muscles refused to respond.
“Move damn it! Don’t stand here! Move!” my mind screamed at me. But I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the back of his beautiful red and brown hair. Slowly he turned, as did the gazes of all of his friends. I felt the burn that said my contact had given out. I was now, a very visible, awkward, tow toned eyed freak of a girl.
In a split second Steph’s face went from embarrassed to outrage. His pale eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened into a terse line. I jerked my eyes from them and I began walking away. Mac burst out laughing but the hot stare targeted at the back of my head kept me from thinking that anything in the world could be funny.
Mac stopped laughing and stared at his friends. “What?”
Steph gave him a glare worthy of global warming.
“Uh, Mac, that was her,” whispered the younger boy just loud enough that I, a full ten yards away from them could hear plainly.
Mac’s eye twitched before he fell of the bench snorting in laughter.
I refused to eat, which wasn’t too big of a deal. I could go for about four days without any real side affects. But tonight I was just too worn out.
Dorcus tried everything in her arsenal to try to get me to talk. She shouted, I whispered, she threatened, I ignored, she got infuriated, and I got depressed. Even the shifting in her chocolate brown eyes to that of a murky maroon couldn’t coax the words from my mouth. We hardly fought like this, her maroon eyes staring into my dichromatic, but it happened.
It was 10:30pm when I finally fell asleep. I’d turned out the light a full hour earlier but the darkness didn’t lead to sleep. The shadows took on strange shapes and forms and the floor boards squeaked when no one walked on them. My eyes were puffy and violent from crying.
“Shut up!” I screamed, “Shut up!”
Then the noise stopped and I fell asleep, or maybe I passed out. Either way I had no idea of knowing what lurked in the obscurity or even behind my own eyes, that would create such infuriating phantoms. I clutched my pillows and blankets, my blue eye felt heavy, but maybe that was just me being tired.