Aaron and Blue

Chapter 1

It's the end of another day. Blue hops out of the bus, dust billowing out from under her sneakers. She hikes up her backpack and pauses for a moment as the bus pulls away, pulling her blonde curls into a messy bun. The heat reflects up from the road in waves. Blue winds her way home over dirt roads and between housing units. When she reaches the door of her house, she pulls open the screen door then unlocks the solid wood one, chips of peeling paint coming off on her shoulder as she pushes it open. The floor squeaks under her shoes and she makes her way down a dim hallway to her room.

The colored light spirals gently and Blue can feel peace wash over her. Bits of colored glass hang from the ceiling, magnifying and transforming the light streaming in from her window. She kicks off her shoes and sinks to the floor, feeling under her bed. The record player scrapes gently against the floor and its battered case shudders. Next, Blue carefully removes a vinyl, placing it on the player and lying back. Her tongue finds the cut in her lip. The taste of iron and the feel of bruised limbs against the hard floor gradually numbs her. Slowly, Blue lets the music wash her away.

Hours later, Blue is roused from her thoughts by the screen door's slam. She sits up, wiping at her lip with the back of her hand. Body aching, Blue wanders down the hall to where her dad waits.

His head raises when he sees her, machine grease staining his face and hands.

"Hi, Dad," Blue says.

"Hey," he responds. "Hold on," his eyes narrow, "come here."

Blue walks towards him, a sharp mix of anger and shame rising in her throat. His calloused hands pull her chin up so he can see her lip, and his frown deepens. Blue reaches up to hide her mouth, exposing the bruised knuckles of her hand.

"This needs to stop," her father growls.

Blue straightens herself defiantly. "I will not let them think that I'm weak."

Her father sighs. "It's not weak to refuse to fight." Blue begins to open her mouth. "No. Listen to me. You threw the first punch, didn't you?" Blue nods. "That's what I thought. Fighting doesn't prove anything other than that you are easy to provoke."

"And that I'm not scared of them," Blue interjects. Her father glares.

"End of discussion. Don't do it again."

Blue walks into school the next day, head still held high. Wildflowers that her dad says are just weeds are tangled in Blue's hair as it cascades down her back. Her arms are bare, showing her bruises like a badge of courage. Some of the freshmen stare at the strange girl, but most people are used to it, even if it has been most of the summer since she's seen them. Blue hears whispers trailing from huddled groups. "Look at her eyes. she looks like one of those dogs. What is wrong with them?" Blue turns to glare at them and they shrink back in fear though she is not much taller than any of them. Her eyes, the right one blue and the left one amber, flash a warning: step closer, talk louder, and you'll get hurt.

Blue slumps into her first class of the day, picking a desk as far from the others as possible. She is separated by an empty desk from the cluster, and they all know that it is better for them to keep it that way. Students chatter to each other excitedly, happy to see their friends after the break. Blue picks at her fingers, itching to be back in the woods near her house.

The door opens, and Blue keeps her head down, not wanting to attract trouble. The classroom falls silent as a tall, slim boy enters. Then the vicious whispers start. It is clear that he doesn't fit in. His clothes are all black and his curly hair flops in front of his black rimmed eyes. His skin is the warm copper of a new penny. He shuffles to a desk, trying to make his lanky frame as small and unnoticeable as possible. Blue's head jerks up as he takes the empty desk next to hers and her shoulders tense, ready for a fight. The boy looks at her and Blue is surprised to see that instead of anger or fear in his eyes, there is only a peaceful puddle of brown. She waits for the inevitable response of fear and confusion as she looks into his eyes,, but instead he simply looks at her then withdraws his gaze. Blue sits for the rest of class carefully avoiding contact with this unsettling boy. Her skin prickles with the presence of a stranger so near and it is a relief when the bell finally rings.

That night as Blue lays awake in bed deep into the night, she thinks about him. What was it that was so unsettling about him? She casts about in the darkness until she finds it. His eyes. No one looks that peaceful. There must be something about him hidden away. Blue knows that she wants to be the one to discover it.

Weeks pass and still nothing from the boy. Aaron. Blue knows his name now. He, much like her, has shown no interest in the others at school. When the popular girls tried to swoop in and snatch the new boy, making him into something other than his dark self, he resisted, meeting their flirty comments with blank stares. He sits quietly in class, answering only when he needs to, a headphone always in one ear, taking him to a world anywhere but the present. Blue learns to endure his presence, but does not try to become friends with him. If he wants to be friends, let him come to her. Their only unity is in the fact that they are both outcasts, not only from the popular ones, but from all levels of cliques in the school. They walk in their own solitary circles enveloped in a protective shell.