Everlasting Light

c h a p t e r 3

" You are so gonna win Staghorn of the Year,  Colly," Lila grinned as she yanked the side door of the shining jeep of black metal, shimmering with prowess and elegance, parked outside the little red bricked cottage. I could almost smell the posh from inside an equally graceful swan silver jeep. Cream leather stroked the innards of the vehicle and the door on my other side is shut violently.

I roll down the glittering window of glass and reach a hand out, breathing the crisp fresh air of spring. Sweet little cottages spread neatly over the canvas of this world, lush green filling the empty space.

" What does she mean by Staghorn?" I say to myself.

" Stags are pretty, horns are not, horns are Faeries. Faeries are evil. That pretty much sums up you. Staghorn." Yelled Lila, her face popping out of a tinted black window.

I stick my hands out of the window, revelling at the feel of the wind rippling through my loose braids and setting them free, a tangle of terrible brown grudge. 

Colette growls from beside me, and her mother, Patra, she insist I call her, sitting in the front seat makes a sound of disaproval, smiling faintly at something on her kitty-black and white phone.

" She did call you pretty." I stated, and Colette looked puzzled. 

" I can't believe she did. So I'm not going to."

Stubborn.

" Shut the window sweetheart, and say bye to your friend," A deeper male voice says from inside the black car, Colette's dad, Keith,"  I'll be back at three for a dance love." 

He must be addressing Patra as she yells, using my open window as an advantage," Yeah okay sure, remember Staghorns."

Befuddled, Lila shoots me a look, and so does Colette, I half-shrug, not sure what to make out of it.

The family exchange quick goodbyes and the black car sets off to Lila's primary, as Colette's house was only a twenty-five minute walk to Silverleaf she didn't take bus or train, preferring car and walk.

Patra laughed and twisted around in her seat to smile at us. Bright gold beach waves paused at her shoulders, eyes a silver promise, skin a summery gold tan, stuffed into blue denim and a pretty lilac long-sleeved shirt.

" So how are you doing Amara? I must say you look ravishing in that dashing uniform of yours?"

The orange fish, also known as Colette twisted her flipper-hands around, more rubber than scales but fine. It'll do.

" Mu-um.  What book are you dying in now?" I could feel the roll of eyes behind the fish costume.

" Oh it's absolutely glistening with delight darling, you should really take it on sometime-" Her eyes filled with a silver excitement, Colette shoving her fins on her waist, trying to look all grown up. Impossible to achieve, dressed as a giant orange baboon.

A smile weedled it's way onto my face. She would have loved this. She would have wanted this with Mum. Wanted this for me as well. 

But all I got was overprotection, rules any human would itch to break.

" Hurry up and drive already Mum, you're gonna ruin our dramatic enterance. We so top the idiots that go in with jeans and t-shirts. Who are they trying to be?"

" Britany Sheldon?" I quipped.

We had started to move, little ice-cream cake red-bricked houses merging into the endless blue hope of the sky and the green glitter of love.

" Who's Brittany freaky Sheldon?" 

" A boring person with nothing to them." A melodic voice said from the front.

" A-Hush Mum, I'm asking Amara." The orange slightly demented horror-film looking fish turned to me.

" Well she is right." I smirked, letting Patra giggle at victory, breathing in the rush of air and gazing into the blurs of colour, deeply. Trying to forget. 

Just for a moment. 

And I almost make it.

 - - -

I glared at the grease dripping onto my fingers, and squeezed the squishy, crunch-less pastry of half-baked taste. The grease dripped down onto the freezing solid metal table. I rested a hand on the cold bench made of the same sort of steel, cold digging into my skin and embedding itself there.

A red angry glow stood midway in the sky, the sky a bloodbath of colours slowly getting lighter as the rage went through the sky. Bright burning red fading to a scream of dried blood, orange of the impact of death, and the sunny yellow, the aftermath. 

The sky told its own story, day and night if only someone would be willing to listen. 

Today was. Terrible. I quickly clambered off the bench, realising I had to pull myself together. She wouldn't want this. Not even if I was her murderer. 

The cold waves of depression slashed at my heart, glimmering black waves promising pain. Promising everything I deserved. A life of guilt and suffering, a slow death of blood, guts and eyes.

But I know in my heart she wouldn't want it for me. She was the light. And I was the dark. She would forgive, love. I would depress, kill.

I rolled in the mud and dust of disgust at what I had done. I am a monster, a coward and a lie. 

I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself to think over my day. I had done it. Tried to live. Been a coward, lying under the pretense she wouldn't want me to carry the pain. She wouldn't, because she was the light, the happiness, love.  But I deserved it. I deserved this so much, and it is the only thing that is not a lie.

It is all my fault. Oh and that the Sky Never Lies. I tilted my head up, taking in the bleed of the sun, and the clouds, a deep pinky-red colour. The Sky seemed to sympathise.

- - -

I stopped uncertainly at the door of my class, a dark wood door with the words 10K scratched deep into the wood. I hovered an uncertain finger over the words and traced them gently. Taking a glance around, I sighed at the pupils rushing around in the 'jeans and hoodie' outfit. 

The Britany Sheldon Outfit.

The coridoors were whirlpools of dark wood, walls full of bright green athletic posters and sunny yellow mental health helplines. 

A small dark haired girl stand solitary in these happenings, gazing down at the bottle-green floor and the hundreds of blue lockers stuck to the walls, then at the doors to classrooms and the green staircase leading down to the ground floor. Her eyes were a green hinting gold, shimmering and glowing in the pale drawn features of her face. Greasy brown hair was tied with a grubby brown material.

She wore a long sleeved brown shirt and some trousers.

I blinked twice and she raised her eyes towards me, thin brown eyebrows going up. Grinning sheepishly, I grabbed the cold bronze handle of 10K's door.