colorblind (Wattys2015)

four: wild horses

"It turns out it's not okay to drink sulfur," I said to Cecily, who was standing inside my apartment.

After throwing up what I was pretty sure was about half my body weight, I'd had no choice but to cancel Canvas with her. (She'd given me her phone number at Thea.) Three days had passed until I felt comfortable enough to leave the toilet for extended periods of time. I still felt ill. It was now Wednesday, and she had texted me this morning to say she was coming over, and where did I live?

My parents were in their bedroom, reading, and Bri had agreed to go down for a rest in her room. It was just me and Cecily in the tiny apartment.

"I've had that tea a thousand times before and nothing nearly this bad," she mused now.

I managed a wan smile. "My digestive system is pathetic. Once I went to an Indian place, ordered curry off the kid's menu, and had diarrhea for two weeks. Two weeks!"

Cecily made a face but laughed anyway.

"You may have a disgusting sense of humor, but you also have a lovely home," she said appreciatively.

I looked around at the worn-out couch, peeling paint, rusty fridge, and snorted. "You can't be serious."

"Deadly. Much better than that awful snake. What was it made of again? Onyx, or something?" Cecily flopped onto the couch beside me. She wore a white dress today that slipped off her shoulder, revealing the crook of her collarbone. Her sapphire necklace gleamed, blue against the white. It fell all the way to her ankles, but somehow it made her look undressed, and her hair was left loose. I thought she looked more beautiful than I had ever seen her.

"Obsidian," I corrected, smiling slightly. The exact color of her hair.

She yawned, too largely to be real. "You are a horrible bore, Paul Wolfe. What have you been doing while you've been sick?"

"Watching Disney movies with my little sister," I said glumly.

Cecily laughed. "You talk as if something you know has died! Like a beloved pet!"

"Yeah, my pride," I said, smiling faintly. Sometimes I did not quite understand the way that she talked. "I'm officially grounded. Seventeen years old, and grounded."

"You're seventeen?"

"Is that a surprise to you?" I said. "How old are you?"

Cecily looked away. "I am not quite sure."

From the emotion behind her eyes, I decided that I shouldn't press the issue.

"Have you ever seen a Disney movie before?" I asked instead. "Of course you have, that's a dumb question."

Cecily blinked blue wetness away. She reminded me of a horse that was being trained to carry a rider with a saddle, tamed and- and broken.

"I'm more of a Nicholas Sparks girl, myself," she told me. "His books are horrendous, but the movies always make me cry. Isn't that terribly silly?"

"Not at all," I said truthfully. Cecily had redefined silly for me. Every brutally innocent word that escaped her lips would seem foolish coming from anyone else. Not from her. "Do you want to watch one with me? I can't seem to get up."

Cecily turned to me, true delight transforming her face. She was like a Greek statue, lovely and frozen. "Would you really?"

I nodded. "Do you have a favorite?"

She pulled out my least favorite movie of all time from our DVD shelf. My mom had probably watched it. I cursed my mother silently.

"I draw the line at Ryan Gosling," I said, in the sternest voice I could muster.