FADED VIRIDITY

CHAPTER TWO

I started grade 8 that year with much zest. I start with the year 2010, grade 8, because this is where the tale of two classmates became lifelong friends. I awoke on my first day of school that year. I recall smiling to myself because I was entirely proud of all the stationary I attained during the course of the holidays. It was a rather sun beaming Wednesday, and I couldn't wait to sit in my class, meet my friends and walk down the school hallways. It was quarter past 7 when I heard the hooter of my transport- a family friend, Noah, had arrived to escort me to school. I always thought Noah came from a family of giants because of his size and height. He was three years older than me. He had the kindness of a care bear, and his harsh exterior covered up his marshmallow center well. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to my very first crush. 

Being the good girl that I was, of course, meant that my keenness did not exist if it was not directed at a person who shared my gender. Thus, if someone asked me if I treasured somebody, my response was always no. My lips did not tell lies as long as my glance remained averted. I was this, and this is what my life consisted of. I was the unassuming girl who concealed a multitude of feelings under the loveliest of smiles. Basically, I was the kind of person who was always too good to explore their emotions, too good to put themselves above others, and too good to express their ideas. When I entered my school's massive gates on the first day of eighth grade, I experienced a rush of excitement similar to that experienced by a hungry lioness approaching its prey. While it was obvious that few people shared my enthusiasm for school, I didn't particularly care to explain how much joy my friends brought me or how I felt as though I belonged at Hogwarts, the school for witchcraft and wizardry, whenever I marched down the dim hallways with a crowd of people. 

Perhaps it was my principal, Mr. Glayds Buckman's vehemence, which made me think of Dumbledore. That morning, I hurried to class and sat down next to Jade, who was that year's best buddy. Of that year, I say, since I awarded a friend the title of best friend, which changed with the seasons. When Jade arrived in 2008, we grew close. They claimed she resembled me exactly. the same build, light brown eyes, and everything. But unlike the jungle I carried, her hair was as soft as silk. She was the serious, more caustic side of me; whereas, I was the effervescent, overly eager one. She became very important to me as our friendship progressed, so I gave her all of my attention. But in every relationship, one person shows more concern than the other. 

Regrettably, I belonged to the first group. Regardless, I was happy. In front of her, I noticed what was standing before me, the form teacher of grade 8. Mr Styn was an, for lack of a better term, errorless freak. He asserted his authority over all of his 'subjects', fancied only those students that produced stupendous results and had no time for ludicrous behavior. He was as tall as a pine tree, and as thin as a lath. He possessed the energy of a horse and he seemed to never take a breath for air. Not one of my favorites, I must admit. For the better half of my life, I always thought he was in a well-structured cult. I mean, what was he doing with all that extra time if he rushed through everything he was meant to do? His favorite student was, of course, the brightest in the class, Amelia. Not my favorite teacher, nor my favorite classmate. A perfect relationship made in hell, I daresay. Like all teachers, his admiration for Amelia extended to her best friend, Sofia. Since grade 2, when Sofia and Amelia became the best of friends, their existence irked me. Sofia had the world revolving around her, and Amelia was her sunflower. The fact that Sofia was the sun of our class, did not bother me. My day, unlike the rest of our class, did not start when she walked in, nor did it end when she walked out. Her detest for me, due to this, did not alter the fact that I needed oxygen to live and not the approval of two egotistical girls. I had no courage to stand up to them, but I did not have the trait of submission either.

It took forever to get to break since both that lesson and the ones that followed it were tedious. We excitedly went to the back of the class taking out our resources for our non-academic experiment. Amelia rushed to take out the tea bags, an essential ingredient, and a cup that she had brought. Hannah pulled cotton buds out of her bag and gave one to each of us. At the same time, Katy ran back carrying a stack of pristine white typing paper. That was in her file, which was at the back of the class. She placed it in the middle of the circle we had created on the table. I supplied the second crucial component along with a cup of freshly squeezed lemon juice and the matches.7Each of us took a cotton bud, dipped it in the lemon juice cup, and moved forward to write our names on a piece of paper. After that was accomplished, we used a match to create a "burnt effect" by tracing the lemon markings from the bottom of the sheet with fire. We went a little too far with the "burned effect" and burned the entire page as well as the next three pages in a row within a span of ten uninterrupted minutes. As a result, our class stormed with smoke and chaos and panic. As experiment one was finished, we moved quickly to procedure two, this time with particular care. This one was the "teabag extravaganza," as we termed it. But before we could start, the attention of our yells attracted Mr Styn. 

"What's happening here?" He severely enquired. Everyone should be outside during break, the teacher said. Hannah answered firmly, 

"We were only getting our things." Hannah was the group's spokesperson. She was as soft and fair as a snowfall and had large, dark brown eyes. Her thick, wavy, black hair was as dark. After catching a peek of the teabag Amelia was desperately attempting to block from his view, he queried bewilderedly, "Teabag? Naturally, we persuaded him that he was dreaming, and no more inquiries were raised. On that day, hysteria broke out from everyone, and we knew it would be an experience we would never forget. 

The question "why this incident" must now be on your mind. That was done to highlight the portrayal of genuine innocence. Indeed, it's possible that everyone in the room was harboring some level of jealousy, hostility, conceit, or even love. Yet while we were together, our smartphones didn't entertain us. We were just being ourselves; there was no sex, no boys, and Dom Toretto wasn't driving his 1970 Dodge Charger. I included this memory to draw your attention to a mental picture I had that particular day, an image that had innocence at its core and demonstrated how important even seemingly insignificant details can be.