twisted beautiful things

i. storm

TWO DAYS EARLIER

i. storm

'i will love you till the end of time

i would wait a million years

promise to remember that you're mine?

baby can you see through the tears?'

(lana del rey)

...

kennedy

"We are going to burn." Amir mutters.

"I don't sunburn," I sigh contentedly, laying face down on the picnic blanket, my head pillowed by my warm arms. The sun is blazing, but the breeze is sweet and cool, washing over my back where my shirt rode up and exposed my dark skin.

"Lucky for you," Novella's voice is muffled as she is laying next to me, her face squished into the blanket with her arms tucked by her sides. I can already see a bit of pink rising to the delicate surface of her underarms.

"Nova, come into the shade." I hear Jules say, but Atticus interrupts from somewhere near, lying face-up with his arms behind his head.

"Shh!" He mutters, "I am sleeping."

I hear rustling as Novella sits up and shuffles to Julian, but I just close my eyes and enjoy the whisper of an August breeze wash over my body. Above us, hanging from our tree, is a golden wind chime, singing a brass melody, almost like the twinkle of a star, the brush of a fairy's wings.

This is our spot. This is where we meet, at least once a day. It's our study spot, our hang out spot, our little bubble hundreds of feet away from the University.

Hundreds of feet away from the cameras.

Today, the day before the start of the semester, we were meant to catch up and spill about our summers.

I gather that we are all tired, however, by the way Novella's eyes keep fluttering closed with her back to Julian's chest, and his head drooping onto her shoulder. He's propped up against the willow tree, his fingers plucking at the damp grass as his eyes stare at nothing. Amir is laying with his head propped on his bulky backpack, an arm thrown across his forehead to block out the sun, and Atticus is on my left, laying on his back.

"Favorite AP Lit or Lang novel, go." I ask lazily, the breeze carrying the question in the air.

Amir groans. "Can we wait a minute before we go back to being intellectual, pretentious students please?"

"Amir, we're always intellectual and pretentious." Novella yawns. "At least, that's what everyone says about SBU kids."

"Mine is Gatsby," I mumble, trying to spur on the conversation. At this point, I really don't care what they talk about, as long as they talk. I have missed their voices so much over the summer. Of course we kept in contact over the summer, but it wasn't the same because we all tend to be more reserved over the phone.

"Wuthering Heights," Amir says immediately.

I laugh. "Ew."

"To Kill a Mockingbird," Is Atticus's answer, to which everyone snickers. He was, of course, named after Atticus Finch by his oh-so educated parents.

"Dorian Gray" Novella says, stirring a little against Julian's chest.

"Lord of the Flies?" Julian's question comes out more like a question and he shrugs. "Dunno. The Stranger, maybe? One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest-"