Wednesday, December 3rd (Day and Night)
The girl cheerfully walked along the hallways, her hands holding tightly onto her backpack straps. It was an exciting day for Enya, as it was her first day at her new school. She was shy, yes, but her eagerness and blissful nature overshadowed it. She was a happy little girl, with her bubbly little smile and her small face, walking as if she had won the lottery. The thought of meeting new people and making friends was what was fueling Enya's excitement engine. She had spent all night practicing her smile in the mirror, and when her mother told her to go to sleep, she practiced talking with other people by making up conversations with herself.
This school would be different, and Enya would make many new friends this time. She would walk into the classroom, and sunshine and rainbows would flutter out of the room. Then, loads of girls would ask her for her name, and then she would talk with them after lunch, and then they would spend the night at each other's houses, and then they would—...
She caught herself drooling as she opened her homeroom door, a weird smell emanating from the carpeted floor and old, tacky wallpaper. It was the type of smell you would find in the locker room (the boys' locker room, obviously); it smelled of Axe Body Spray trying to mask the true scent of sweaty socks and piss-stained underwear. Enya tried to hide her disgust with that same bubbly smile of hers, but a wave of hot, humid air hit her face as soon as she stepped in. It was disgusting, truly, truly disgusting. She stepped outside for a moment to mentally prepare herself for the boy stench, and went back in (it did not help).
There were already several people—no teacher—in the classroom, and that excitement and chirpy attitude that Enya had was slowly fading into awkward anxiety. They didn't really notice her as she walked by, and she didn't really have anything to say, though she had a plentiful amount of small talk last night. But it was more like an internal monologue than small talk, since you need two people to have a conversation.
She sat down—she had been given a seating chart for her homeroom specifically; the teacher seemed rather strict—and lay on her desk, her chin resting on her folded arms. There weren't many people in this portion of the classroom; everyone else was either in the middle or the front. It was strange. At her old school (not to be a Phoebe from The Magic School Bus), most of the kids, especially the boys, sat in the back because it was harder for the teacher to detect them. Of course, this was flawed information because the teacher would often look at the back of the classroom, looking for any mischief that would obviously happen in the back; they knew some kids better than they knew themselves. But this school seemed different. Was it that everyone was a diligent, studious child from a wealthy family? No, no, they'd just go to private school. The real reason was probably that the boy stink was perhaps worse in the back than it was in the front, but Enya could not smell the difference, though maybe it was because since this classroom smelled so bad that it actually destroyed her sense of smell. It was a scary thought for Enya, but it quickly faded away when she noticed the girl next to her.
Enya's eyes studied the girl, noticing that there were minor cuts all over her hands. She thought for a moment, a small lightbulb lighting up over her head as if she were a cartoon character in a children's TV show.
Maybe I'll ask if she's alright and then…
"Yeah, I just cut myself making dinner, that's all."
"Hu!? You cook too!?"
"Yeah, I cook all types of food."
"Let's be beeeeeeeeesssssst friends!"
"Alright with you!"
Yes, that's definitely how the conversation would go.
Enya straightened her back and smiled warmly at the girl, and then asked about the small cuts on her hands, waiting patiently for an answer.
The girl, her head resting on the palm of her hand, glanced over at Enya's direction, her eyes cold. Anyone else would've felt a chill running down their spine, but not Enya; it was probably because she was a huge airhead who couldn't read the room. The girl narrowed her eyes at the pipsqueak next to her.
"None of your business."
Then she pushed an ear plug into the ear facing Enya and faced forward, her eyes closed and her chin again resting on the palm of her hand. Enya awkwardly smiled, her mind still processing what happened.
"Oh…"
However, she still made her advances despite the girl killing the conversation with a serrated knife. "My name is Enya, what's yours?"
The girl glanced back at her, her fingers clenched, but she didn't respond.
"I just transferred to this school, you see…and I couldn't help but notice that you're here all by yourself. If you're alone and don't have anyone to talk to, I can…!"
The girl narrowed her eyes, her hands curling in a tight fist. She slowly turned her head and got up, her hands resting at her sides.
"...What. Did. You. Say…?"
"Oh, I was wondering if—..."
Another female voice entered the conversation as the girl's fist drew ever so close to Enya's face.
"Hey!" Another lady walked up to Enya, a finger cast on her right hand. "Enya, right? I was wondering if you wanna get some drinks from the vending machine…"
Enya turned her body and beamed brightly at the young lady, oblivious to the girl's fist. "I'd love too—..."
The girl spoke, sitting back down as she pushed back in the earbud that had fallen out.
"Hey…so you got a cast for that finger…I thought I told you to stay out of my fucking sight…"
The young lady lowered her head a little.
"Sorry, Renee."
"So why are you still here?"
The young lady moved at once, nervously chuckling as she grabbed Enya's hands. "Come on, let's go get those drinks!"
"Oh, okay!"
***
Tim held his arms together as he walked along the dirt path across Brasilia Street; it was cold outside. He looked up at the starry night sky, streaks of clouds slightly blocking the moonlight from illuminating the streets. The neighborhood was a different place under the sparkly black sky; the houses looked like nightclubs, the streets looked more ominous, and the friendly trees that accompanied Tim during his walk to school were now cold; their branches were claws about to grab him. However, even with this cold, uninviting atmosphere that Tim found himself walking through, he had never felt any better.
The day had been a bust, a dissatisfactory, disappointing bust. He had slept through most of it since he really had nothing else to do. He grew tired of the television—nothing good on it—and he was sick of his room. Although it was still better than dealing with Joquin and his bastard friends, he found that that rush he had upon committing to ditching school was long gone, disappeared. That temporary feeling of pride and satisfaction dried up faster than it was created.
He had made sure to close the door quietly when he left the house. Didn't want his mother to worry. He didn't know why, but he just had the sudden urge to go out for a walk. He couldn't sleep, didn't feel like doing any work, so why not walk out? Of course, that was a very stupid idea for a child to walk out in the middle of the night, but Tim knew the risks, he came prepared with a alarm his mother gave him a couple months ago; pull the trigger and it would set off an pitched screech so loud that it would be heard across the neighborhood. He wasn't walking far though, just walking across the street to the small playground.
He smiled—a small, but genuine smile—for the first time since school started. It had been ages since he had been at this playground, maybe when he was five or six. He had it all to himself too, since it was so late. The memory of his mother pushing him on the swings brought a sense of peace within him. She hid her sorrow better back then, presenting herself in a way that made Tim look up to her. It worked; Tim did look up to her, but the facade grew weaker and weaker over the years.
He ignored the thought though. He stood on the swing and tilted himself back and forth, trying to go as high as he could. He had forgotten just how much he enjoyed this run-down area. Higher and higher he went. Then he remembered, he'd always jump as high as he could, trying to impress Mom. It rarely impressed her, worried her more, but he still always tried it despite the stern scolding.
Let's see…
He'd go for it. Higher, a little faster, and off he went.
"Ouch!" His foot slipped, and he fell butt first on the woodchips. He laughed though, rubbing the chips off his pants and sweater.
I really am too old for this. Ha!
He wondered if he should try it again, see if he could land it this time. No, it was better not to, might break the swing this time; it was pretty old with rusty bolts and chains.
He sat on a truck tire dug halfway into the ground, wiping his nose with his sweater. He thought he could taste that weird coppery taste, but it was just snot. It was cold. Everything aside from his face felt warm though, probably because of his clothes or because of all the effort he put into swinging. He rested his hands against his face, enjoying the moment of bliss for a while.
He had been a little nervous venturing off into the night alone, but now he was starting to appreciate it more. There wasn't anyone to bother him, and it was almost…more beautiful, more intriguing than when the sun was out. The stars, the moon, and the cool atmosphere, Tim enjoyed marveling at it all.
Then something caught his eye. There was a figure sitting on the slides, a girl, maybe around his age. She curiously studied him for a while, then pointed at the divot he made in the woodchips.
"What were you doing?"
"Oh…" Tim looked away. "I was just messing around."
The girl remained silent, perhaps for a moment of thought, and then pushed herself down the straight slide, landing straight on her feet in a rather graceful way. Tim got a better look at her as she stepped in his direction. She was a very…pretty girl. She had short, dark brown hair that ended at her neck, but it was a little wavy and puffy, so it really ended at her chin. Her eyes were large, very large, like the eyes of a porcelain doll, almost glowing bright brown, but that could've been Tim's imagination. Her lips were thin, but cracked, very cracked with a thin strand of red at the corner of her upper lip. Her skin was…pale, ghastly pale. Her skin was just white or grey under the moonlight, and Tim couldn't find a strand of pink or red in this girl's skin. It was just a very strange white and grey. She wasn't wearing a lot either, despite the cold weather, just some shorts and a red long-sleeved shirt and a pair of dirty white sneakers with mismatched ankle socks.
"Aren't you cold?" Tim asked.
"Yes."
"Shouldn't you wear something warmer?"
"Should I?"
"If you want. I haven't seen you around here before…you just move here?"
"Yes, across right over there."
The girl pointed at a house across Turf Avenue.
"Kay, goodbye."
"Oh…see you."
She walked past him, her eyes staring off at the ground as a cool mist escaped her nose. He opened his mouth to say something to her, but he suddenly tasted blood. Another nosebleed, and just in time.
For a moment, the girl turned around and saw Tim wipe his nose with his sweatshirt. She exhaled, breathing the air in through her nose.
***
It was a nice feeling, sitting next to someone while skipping class. It was the type of feeling that brought a certain rush—adrenaline—coursing through Enya's veins. She admired the young lady as she sat next to her, placing an unopened Sprite on the old metal bench. The young lady was timid looking, unbeknownst to Enya, who saw the young lady as a shining ray of happiness and hope, with eyes that faced down at her feet and a breath that kept itself trembling. Still, the young lady found her composure and opened the Sprite.
"Geez…what the hell were you doing?" the young lady sighed, taking a moment to sip her pop.
"What do you mean?"
The young lady gawked at Enya as if she were an idiot, a big happy idiot.
"That thing with Renee, that's what I mean."
"The girl?"
"YES!"
There was a silence that Enya didn't see, but she felt it. It was that same feeling she always had when she was at her old school, a sense of loneliness despite being around another person. She knew that she was a little slow—airheaded—but she couldn't change that about herself; that was just something she was born with. People would often be frustrated with her; they'd yell, mock, or insult her. She had grown used to it it though. Crying on the matter didn't do anything, and neither did smiling through it. She thought that just transferring school was the right way to go, to have a fresh start, but maybe she was…wrong…
It hurt. It really did hurt.
The young lady must've seen Enya's pain, because she awkwardly rubbed her neck, frowning a little. "Sorry…I didn't mean to yell at you."
Enya smiled, though it was a little forced. "It's alright."
The young lady took another sip out of her Sprite and set the half-filled can aside.
"There's just some people you don't wanna anger, Renee is one of them," the young lady sighed.
"I really don't think I did anything wrong. I was just saying that I was there for her…if she wanted it."
"That's the way you may see it, but you really pissed her off with whatever you said."
"Maybe I caught her in a bad mood?"
The young lady studied Enya closely to see if her head was still intact, but kept her composure this time.
"You poor thing," the young lady sighed, patting Enya's head. "You really can't see danger when it's right in front of you. You're hopeless."
Enya bit the inside of her cheek. Really, that girl, Renee, didn't seem that bad. From what Enya saw, she was just another pretty girl, just with longer, dark brown hair, with some red streaks, and was about a foot and a half taller than her and most of the other girls in the class.
"Just what type of girl is Renee?" Enya asked.
The young lady lifted her hand, showing off the caste on her finger. Her eyes drifted off a little as she sipped her drink.
"...Bad, that's all you need to know."
The red dots in Enya's mind finally connected.
"Did she…?"
The young lady nodded her head.
"That's horrible! Surely she should've been punished by the teachers!"
"Ha…that's a thought." The young lady smiled, wrapping an arm around Enya. "Look, you—we—got lucky. So just take what you learned today and just avoid people like her."
RIIIIIINNNGGGG!
Enya jumped a little as the fifteen-minute bell for break rang. She gave the young lady a bubbly smile and realized that he had left her backpack in the classroom.
"Mind if you go with me to get my bag?" Enya asked. She was about to say a name, but shortly realized that she had never asked. "...Uhhhhhhhh—..."
"Susie, my name's Susie."
"Oh! Hello, my name is Enya!"
"Yeah, I got that."
Enya giggled, her face turning beet red. She made a friend. She did it, she really did it. She made a friend, she made a friend!
She wasn't a very confident girl when it came to it. She was eccentric and had a bubbly personality, but unfortunately, that didn't mean you immediately got people who liked you and had the same interests as you. She remembered those times when she'd always eat lunch with her homeroom teacher; it was probably the only place she felt…seen and comfortable; her homeroom teacher was always nice to her, always listened to her, and cheered her on, something her classmates never really did.
"What an idiot!"
"What a weirdo…"
"That girl is so dumb!"
It hurt hearing those words, but Enya didn't want to make it known. It'd only be harder to make friends if she reacted in a way that made the atmosphere tense or awkward, so she just went along with it. She smiled through every comment and joke at her expense.
They approached the door to their homeroom, and Enya found herself too scared to open it. What if she was still in there? Waiting for her, waiting to yell and scream at her, or worse…
"You think she's in there?" Enya shuttered.
"If she were, you'd already been punched."
"Is she ussually violent?"
"There isn't a single person in our class that hasn't met her fist."
Enya chuckled a little to ease her anxiety, then placed her hands on the door handle. She pushed down and pulled open the door. There wasn't anyone inside, just her bag sitting on her desk—...
That wasn't there before!
She looked over at Susie, then walked to reclaim her school bag.
***
Renee looked at the time; the hands had barely moved since the last time she checked on them (thirty seconds ago). She pressed against the earplug on the right side of her head. The music was quiet, so nobody would be able to hear her tunes, but loud enough that it drowned out her homeroom teacher's boring lecture.
That stupid girl…that stupid girl…
She couldn't shake off the irritation that blockhead of a human shoveled on her. It was gnawing away at what little patience she had left, making her blood boil. It was no use; she was gone. Never came back from that soda trip.
Stupid, stupid bitch…
Who'd she think she was, just to stroll into the classroom and point out something so obvious, so annoying? A toddler could've realized that Renee was sitting all by her lonesome, yet this stupid, stupid bitch just had to point it out to the whole world. Renee should've just punched her, knocked her teeth in, kicked her gut. Teach that dumb fuck a lesson, some manners. Really…just who did she think she was?
Arrogant bitch…
It was too late to knock her block off though; she had already hesitated, and that gave her enough time to escape. It was that other girl, the one with the caste. Renee remembered her clearly, broke a finger for trying to get in the way of letting off some steam. She hated people who tried to act like heroes. They think that they're all that, that they're above the world, and they're so kind and gracious for lending a hand to a little runt. Arrogant, arrogant assholes they were. They all deserved to die.
Even as the class went on, Renee couldn't shake off her rising levels of irritation and frustration. For whatever reason, that thing that that girl said really, really got under her sick. Those words: You're…alone…don't have anyone to talk to. They dug into her muscles and danced around in her artery veins, they laughed and jumped around, they shouted and ran all over her body. It itched. It really itched. It really, really itched. It was pissing Renee off, and she scratched her arms and neck as she rested her forehead on her forearms.
RIIIIIINNNGGGG!
She raised her head; that was the bell for break. She grabbed her bag and got up early, ignoring the teacher's last-minute instructions; it was all blah, blah, blah anyway. Still…she wanted to let off a little steam. She watched the teacher hurry out of the classroom—off to fill his fat ass, maybe—and scouted the classroom. She felt that dumbass's bag below her feet. Send a small message, make her know that she screwed up. She didn't feel like doing it herself though; it was below her, but not for some of the other kids in this stupid class. A smile crept its way on her face as she approached a group of boys, three of them.
There was a black kid, scrawny and easy to punch; a skinny red head that could snap like a twig; and some fatso that everyone thought was stronger than he really was—a stupid kid with a sloppy punch. Renee towered over them as she stepped over the black kid.
"Tim didn't show up," said the redhead.
"That fucking wimp," the black kid said. "Gotta teach him a lesson—..."
There was a pause as Renee waited for a response to her presence. There was an expression on the redhead's face that made Renee feel a little better. She always enjoyed seeing loud, obnoxious people like him shit their pants. The fatso also seemed quite scared, but not as scared as the redhead; maybe it was because he was too stupid to be as afraid as the other one. The black kid turned around after seeing a gesture from the redhead, and Renee noticed his shoulders tense up as she looked down at his face.
"What do you want, bitc—..." the black kid paused. It had just come out of him, that insult. He didn't mean to say it; it just came out. BAM! Like that. "Renee…" He prepared himself to be hit, but it didn't happen.
"I want you to trash that kid's bag, now."
"Oh…that's all?"
"Were you expecting something else?"
The black kid's legs stiffened, and his heart, in that moment, was the only moving part of his body. He was practically a stone statue.
"No…! No…"
"Then why are you still standing here, fucking wimp?"
The black kid moved first, then the redhead and the fatso, but Renee grabbed the fatso by the back of his neck and slammed his face into a nearby desk. The fatso cried quietly as Renee lifted his head off the desk, his face stained with a nosebleed.
"Next time you speak like that to me…," Renee grinned, pushing the fatso aside. She pointed a finger at him. "That'll be you."
"Ah! Ah! I'm so sorry, Renee! Forgive me!"
Renee's smile faded away, and she stepped over the crying fat kid as she headed towards the door. There wasn't a need to warn them what would happen if they told a teacher; they were smart enough to understand their situation.
She felt her muscles relax a little, along with the itch, as she walked down the hallway. Still, slamming that kid's head on that desk and making that good-for-nothing trash that girl's bag didn't leave her satisfied. In times like these, it was best just to let it go. She didn't feel like going any further for now, and it was pointless getting angry at an idiot for being an idiot; they can't help it. So, she ignored the irritation, turning up the volume on her music while she stepped through the halls.
***
"Thomas? Are you there?"
"..."
"Please, I'm begging you. Answer me!"
She focused, pushing herself harder. She wouldn't lose another one; she was so sure about this one.
Silence, nothing but silence.
She grew angry now; she dropped her fingers off her temple and balled up her fists, slamming them into the wall.
"Damn it!" she cried out, pulling her fist out of the hole in the wall. She pulled at her hair and flailed her legs and feet, slamming them into nearby chairs and walls. She dug her nails into the walls, scratching off the wallpaper before throwing herself on a couch.
She rubbed her eyes, wiping away her tears as she sobbed. Dead, he had to have been dead. It was frustrating and disappointing; she really thought that he was the one, but if he were, he would've been stronger, much stronger.
Pathetic! Completely pathetic! So stupid, stupid, stupid! Why was I so stupid?!
She buried her face in her hands, curling her knees into her chest.
"Answer me, please! Where are you? Please, please, please…say—think something! Something damn it!"
Nothing, absolutely nothing.
But there was one thing that she knew very well: the pain. The pain was growing, and it was devouring her. She clenched her body; it wouldn't stop until she acted. Now that Thomas was gone, she'd have to do it herself.