Violet Hour

Four

He was afraid that they wouldn’t have any class in common. That was until 2nd period.

The students were seated at least a good two feet away from each other with their blank canvases placed neatly on their easels. Each student had a box of assorted brushes, a paint set and a case full of pencils of different sizes, markers, pens and erasers. Hiccup sat comfortably on his stool, carefully rolling his weathered sweater up to his elbows for convenience. Today the art teacher just decided to let them start the semester with the students finding their own pace, and slowly easing into their own art styles. Then after a few weeks they would tackle the lesson proper so that each student would be able to compare his masterpiece at the end of the year with full mastery of techniques to the one he painted at the start of the year.

Hiccup only ever found true solace within the walls of art class; partly because there weren’t many kids who took it, and also because he can use up the time to redirect all of his emotions- frustrations towards school, loneliness at home and the being out of place among his group of friends- onto the blank canvas. He always took the seat closes to the window because he liked to look out the window and stare at the sky. He’d take note of its colors every day. Most days it looked like the sunlight was barely wedging itself in between small gaps of clouds. But on special days he’d notice that it was clearer than usual. Only a few patches of grey were blotted onto the contrasting blue hue. Faint sunlight crept onto the school grounds, seeping into trees and being reflected off from passing cars. Hiccup liked to look at how the light illuminated each surface, each crevice, and each body. He took note of its fragility and tried to capture it into his art. But it only happened on special days.

But little did he know that today was a special day too.

 ~ ~ ~

Her arm went through the wrong hole. Again. The red head groaned as she pushed her jersey shirt down and hastily pulled her outrageously tangled mess of curls into a desperate ponytail. It was too loose on her body but she liked how it fits. This way, she can move more and kick more ass on the field. Rummaging through her gym bag, the red head pulled out a pair of socks. After hurrying through the 5-minute change, she hurried down the halls, bumping into a few students without even giving them so much as a glance. She was already late-not like she cared, but coach can be such a pain to latecomers. One time she had to run 20 laps around the football field and it had to be a sunny day. Hurried footsteps echoed throughout the quieting hallway as students cleared out for the next period.

She cursed Pre-calc for this. If only that blasted teacher hadn’t given that bloody test on equations. Her mind was spinning in never ending circles and she ended up beating herself to death trying to solve the questions. It was the first week of school for goodness sake! And he had to give a bloody test.

Her fiery hair bounced up and down as she sped through in her cleated shoes. As she turned round a corner she bumped-no, hit- a girl who was so tiny she would have not noticed her in the first place. The blonde staggered back from the impact and appeared to be dazed. Guess she wasn’t the only one so focused on getting to class. Ignoring the books on the floor, the athlete muttered a quick ‘sorry’ and ran past the still confused blonde.

Shit I’m late, was her only thought when she saw the other girls lined up doing their warm ups. Coach Aster stood in front of them, his hand never leaving his beloved whistle. He strutted – yes, strutted as he scrutinized the exercises. The coach was wearing a white shirt with the school crest printed on it and red jersey shorts. Talk about school spirit. He had a towel resting around his shoulders and a cap to shield himself from the burning heat. Once she put her bag down on one of the benches, many heads turned toward her, including Aster. I’m dead meat. And did she mention that Aster used to be in the military? Yeah.