Randomly Writing Stuff

Till I Fly

(A/N): Back at it again with the plot bunnies

The buildings of the City Side fly past me and the wind rips through my hair. Propers either stare in curiosity or contempt at my behavior. After all, who expects to see a teenage Proper darting through the crowd on their way to work? I pay no attention to whatever reaction they have, however. Their opinions don't matter, because I feel free. The girls at school call me "Dirt," but I might as well be the wind.

I don't know now whether I'm a Proper or a Flier; is there even a name for someone who is in the middle of the two? My clothes strongly suggest Proper, from my pleated grey skirt to my skillfully ironed River Academy blazer and black and teal tie. On the other hand, my actions scream Flier. I run like I'm racing daylight and leap over the pedestrian guardrail into the open arms of the trees, rather than walking in a perfectly composed manner on the sidewalk.

Tearing through the woods with little regard to the branches narrowly missing my face, I think, I'm going to be so late. School starts at eight and, with a glance to the watch on my arm, I realize I have less than six minutes to be there. I know Mother always told me to simply wake up earlier to avoid looking so disgraceful and immature on the way to class, but no matter what I do I always end up late or nearly late. Not that I care much. Being late is the only excuse I have to run, otherwise I'd be strictly confined to marching oh-so-slowly on the walkways, or sitting up straight in a fancy car on the dark, unblemished City Side roads. It's just too boring, and I much prefer the wind against my face and the smell of the outdoors. I couldn't even walk and feel the wind; it's practically nonexistent in the urban areas of the city, what with the numerous buildings in the way. Any wind comes from the passing of cars.

So, moments like these are treasured. Moments like these are the parts of life that compel me to get out of bed in the morning and leave the mansion for school. When I run I allow myself to stop thinking and lift my head high, not for the sake of appearances or to maintain the high status of the Blackwater family name, but to soak in the sunlight that glimmers as it falls from the treetops and take in the texture of every leaf that brushes past. I disregard the school coming closer and lengthen my stride, clearing almost four feet with each step. The downside of running at this speed is reaching the guardrail faster, therefore having to stop and compose myself once I get over it and onto the dull gray pavement on the other side. Shortly after catching my breath, I stroll up the steps and to the school doors with a bounce in my step, the exhilaration from my run not quite faded.

Peering through the gaps between the other students surrounding me, I spot a hall monitor, a Proper by their pristine and unembellished uniform. Reflexively, I straighten out my slightly wrinkled blazer and yank my skirt lower in an attempt to meet the dress code. If I didn't keep the darn thing in check, it rode up and got me in trouble if it was noticed by a Proper hall monitor. The Fliers are more lenient, but they're a minority in terms of monitors. Luckily, this one hardly gives me passing glance before moving on into a side hall. One of the many, many side halls.

River Academy is the largest school in the state of Virginia, which is saying something since Virginia is huge. The school used to be much smaller, as was the state, almost a hundred years ago. According to my great grandmother, though, the foyer of River Academy has hardly changed in the last seventy years. Apparently, its white floors held just as clear a reflection as they do now, and the view from both the foyer and the three balconies visible in the entrance was nothing to scoff at. It's a beautiful place, though I wish I could enjoy the people as well.

Many of the Propers in Sparkling Heights look down on me, especially the girls. They have no qualms about calling me out for my "strange" behavior whenever possible. Among the challenges is ignoring their shoving shoulders as I push through down the hall. At the end, the crowd disperses and I find myself in the Fliers' paradise.

Here, the stairs spiral up all four levels and a single marble column stretches from the floor of the first level to the ceiling of the last. Propers tend not to take this staircase, for the Fliers are always running and jumping here. I find a few near the top, leaping from rail to rail and swinging to the bottom. The only way the stairs are used is to gain speed before leaping off. These stairs are a jungle gym, and it is the only place where I am more welcome than usual.

Every so often a Flier will greet me, and most of them are happy with the idea of a Proper bounding up and down the stairs like a Flier. No one judges me, despite my inability to perform the same feats the others do, such as flips and jumps from high places. Someday I will, though. Someday I'll be free of my constricting Proper life and be allowed to run until I fly.

(A/N): I wanna do something with this.

I really do. Honestly. But I may or may not have three other WIPs.

This is, for the most part, a word vomit... A lot of it just won't make sense because the details are still in here *pokes forehead*. That, and I didn't edit this whatsoever. If it intrigues you, though, let me know! 

LUV Y'ALL

Eerie out~