Dark Side

Not Like Them

Serena's POV

 Breathe, I think. Just breathe. Relax. This is the part I hate--having to leave the Dark Side. Having to go back to that stark reality, having to face...people. I shudder slightly. Remind myself to breathe again. A thousand times, I think. I've survived this a thousand times.

It never gets any easier.

The first thing I notice is the noise. All around me. Talking, shouting, shuffling, rustling papers, jangling jewelry. Everywhere.

Then comes the smell. A sharp odor, disinfectant mixed with whatever the cafeteria is serving. After that comes feeling. Bodies bump mine without apology. The sudden weight of my backpack. I stumble. That one always throws me off.

Finally, I open my eyes. Glaring indusrtial lights. Gharish bright colors. Sickeningly sweet smiles. Disgusting amounts of makeup. Too many people in too little space. It makes me claustrophobic. I prefer the Dark Side. There it's wide open. Silent. Empty. Here there are too many bodies. Too many voices. Too many egotistical, shallow, people.

I hate the world. I hate school.

I am wrapped up in my thoughts and not watching where I am going. I don't see the gray-eyed girl until I bump into her. Her books tumble from her arms. Papers fly everywhere. She meets my eyes from under the hood of her jacket, and I glare at her. But then I see the tears she is holding back. I immediately feel guilty. She ducks her head, bending to pick up her books. I stand awkwardly. I don't know if she wants my help. As she bends forward, a piece of hair slips out of her hood. I stare at it. At first I don't believe my eyes.

Her hair is pure white.

She catches me staring. Before I can speak, she shoves her books in her bag and runs off. I have no idea what has just happened. I am about to move on, but something tells me to stop. Something is telling me to follow the girl. So I do.

 I find her in an empty classroom, sitting on the teacher's desk. Early-morning light shines through the large window. The sunlight from behind makes her hair seem to glow. Her face is cast in shadows. Her eyes stand out under her bangs, bright, gray, and clear. I have never seen eyes like that before. What do I say? I wonder. I am not used to talking.

"I'm...sorry?" I say. It sounds like a question. The girl shakes her head.

"S'fine," she says. Her voice is low. A whisper. Like she hates to talk. As if she hates the way she sounds. Not sure what to do, I study her. Her posture is defensive, tense. Shoulders hunched, head down, face hidden behind her long straight hair. Her ankles are crossed nervously. Her body is absolutely still, but her hands are flying, long fingers always moving. They tangle together, tug at her hair, curl into fists and then open just as quickly. They have a life of their own, or maybe she puts all her life in her hands. Becuase for some reason, she seems to hate the rest.

The seconds stretch into mintues.

Then a half hour.

I begin to wonder why she hasn't said anything. Normally people get weirded out and shoo me away. Not that I mind. Usually. But she still hasn't spoken or moved at all. I inch closer, curious. She sniffs. What...

She's crying.

She's crying! And I've been standing here staring at her. Normally this is the sort of situation I avoid. But something is holding me here. So I do the only logical thing. I hop up on the desk beside her and wrap my arms around her. She stiffens. Is she scared that I'm going to hurt her? I'm not like that. Maybe she's just scared that someone will see me with her. That must be it. No one wants to be seen with me. I can't blame them. I'm a freak.

I shift uncomfortably. The girl pulls away immediately. "I'm s-so sorry," she mutters. "You don't want to be seen with me. I'm a f-freak."

What?

I pull her back. Not a normal reaction, but I dont' care. "W-what are you doing?" she asks. "Normally they run away...normally they don't care about me."

"I'm not like them," I tell her. It's true, I'm not. And obviously she's not either. "I don't care what people think. I'm not leaving you." That's probably the most I've said in years, I think. She sniffs.

"Thank you," she says, still so soft that I can barely hear. We sit like that for a while, on the desk. Two freaks with nothing but each other. We both jump when the bell rings. Then we laugh. It feels so good to laugh again, with another person. On instinct, I stick out my hand.

"I'm Serena," I say. The girl smiles, brushing her white hair out of her eyes. She slips her hand in mine.

"Kira," she says. She leaves abruptly, grabbing her backpack on the way out. She pulls up her hood self-consciously. Watching her walk away, I realize that she is just as different as I am. She avoids contact, slipping between pressing bodies. She walks like she doesn't want to be seen. She's closed off from the world, but that's not all she is. I just saw another side of her.

Did I just find a friend?