Rosewater (Frerard)

Chapter five - Hi, I'm that kid nobody likes

Chapter five - Hi, I'm that kid nobody likes

Rose's point of view

A/N: Bonjour, mes chéries! *Whooshes past you in a blur*

In about a day, I will be in France, skiing down a black run at fifty miles an hour. Wish me luck and pray I won't die.

Love you, my darlings.

---------------------------------------------------

I sat at the table, coffee clutched in my hands, as dad spilled everything.

My parents had been criminals, murderers, revolutionists. Papa had broken the border between black and white. And dad had led a whole army to destroy the American government. Uncle Mikey shot the president. Uncle Ray helped.

It was a lot to take in.

Dad looked pretty drained, but I was glad he'd managed to finally explain some shit to me. It was good to know some of the story. What he'd left out though, was why I was fucking grey. I'd tried to pry that out of him, but he'd refused, saying he was too upset. Dad had always hated talking about the past.

We all went back to bed, but I didn't fall asleep for another hour; everything I'd just learned was twisting and jumping around in my head, bouncing off the edges of my mind. I was almost the same age as dad and papa had been when they took down the government. And what had I done? Nothing, really. I'd been through half of school. Just about survived. I'd made half a friend who wasn't really a friend... more my art teacher.

And that was it. That was my life.

It was slighting, what I'd achieved compared to them, and kind of depressing. I fell asleep with a pathetic kind of ache in my chest and the determined intention of finally doing something tomorrow.

----

After overhearing dad and papa talking about naked art while making coffee the next morning, I left early, mildly traumatised. I regretted this decision the moment I got to school.

Lucille, Sammi and Geordie were loitering at the front gate, Lucille perched on top of the gate, her ridiculously short skirt riding up even further up her legs. Geordie was giggling shrilly, the caked-on makeup on her orange face creasing as her mouth contorted, and Sammi was twirling her brittle red hair around her finger.

I'd lived in Britain since I was a baby, but I had never grown to understand the frivolous, tedious, life consuming disease that is fashion. It had become a trend for girls to tan their faces a disturbing shade of orange, and to backcomb and sea-spray and hairspray their hair until it was a hideous lump of perfumed frizz atop their head.

I despised fashion.

Completely coincidentally, the kids at school who followed it tended to be complete and utter bitches to me. Sammi and Geordie were my worst enemies. I had none too much against Lucille, however... she was much more the sidekick than the main offender. Her worst fault was probably just hanging out with the popular crowd.

"I'm getting so sick of boys," Geordie drawled. "They're such users."

"Ugh, like, same," Sammi sighed. "I'm thinking of going, like, boy vegan. You know, wait until I can date a more mature man."

"Totally," Geordie said. "It's always the young ones that are all over mature girls like us," she complains, rolling her eyes.

I edged up to them quietly, hoping to pass by unnoticed, but of course, Sammi caught sight of me and tugged at her friends' arms to get their attention. She whispered something in Geordie's ear then glanced at me, and Geordie tried to stifle a laugh.