There Is No Comfort Zone

Alice- Friends

Alice felt bad for crying so much in class. She couldn't help it, but nevertheless it still made her feel embarrassed, like the time her mother had given her only daughter a haircut blindfolded. Alice had worn a bag over her head for months until her curls finally grew out again. (She never trusted her mom around her hair OR a pair of safety scissors again. Because those daggers were clearly mislabeled. There was no way they could be considered "safe".)

Still, Alice wasn't very proud of herself. Mrs. Roni never got onto her for the never-ending sob fest, but that didn't calm the raven-haired girl's nerves in the slightest. She was scared.

The entire class only felt pity for Alice. They didn't understand what she was going through, and they didn't seem to want to help her through it. All they really wanted was to not upset her by being gentle, like they were handling a delicate little flower.

There were always the whispers in her mind, making her wonder if they really cared for her or just wanted her to go away.

Did they like her?

Who even knew her name except the teacher?

She would indeed receive the answers to her questions later on, around the same time she gained more control over herself.

It was nearing Thanksgiving, and the entire class was creating clay sculpted cornucopias for their families. It seemed harmless enough, and Alice had been pretty excited. It wasn't until Mrs. Roni accidentally slipped up, saying, "I'm sure all of your mommies and daddies will love this!"

Too late the twenty-something teacher caught her mistake, flinching when she noticed the well of tears pricking in Alice's bombshell blue eyes.

The black haired girl couldn't help but wonder what her parents were doing. She knew they were looking down upon her, guiding her. Were they happy nowadays? She hoped so.

Alice was also quite positive that her parents would have loved her quaint little clay cornucopia. They loved anything she spent time making them, no matter the quality. They could tell how much it meaned to her, and they couldn't have been happier.

With all that in mind, it didn't change the fact that she missed them a lot. She always would. There wouldn't be a way to replace the void inside her. Time would help her heal, but she would never stop loving her parents.

A pair of arms surrounded her in a hug. While most of the class shifted in their seats uncomfortably, one person had tried to make Alice feel better: Milyah Crossbook.

"Alice, it's okay to cry," smiled the sweet brunette, her green eyes shining with empathy, not sympathy. Like she was to show she was trying to learn what Alice was going through. There was no "conceal your emotions for the sake of everyone around her" strings attached. Alice had been allowed to feel pain, and perhaps share the burden.

Someone had finally figured out what Alice needed.

That's when it all made sense. Alice didn't need the entire class to like her or pity her: all she needed was one, genuine friend. And it seemed that, with a little bit of effort, it was possible for her to have one.

Of course, it wasn't bad to have the class like her, right?

Aunt Minda had said that when Alice had gotten home from school.

They sat alongside each other at the extremely large table Aunt Minda necessary for her extravagant dinner parties. Maids and cooks rushed around them, Alice being able to name every one of them and their personal lives. They were quite interesting.

Their cook Paul pushed two steaks in front of the niece and aunt duo with flare, making the young raven-haired girl grin widely. (Paul was hoping to impress his hopefully-girlfriend by buying a boat.) She thanked him as Margaret (The girl Paul wanted to impress, and she also was an AMAZING songwriter who Alice had high hopes for) placed down the drinks: Luwak Coffee with extra whipped cream for Aunt Minda, and Earl Grey Tea for Alice. They expressed quick words of gratitude to the staff before Aunt Minda continued to talk.

"A few extra people who like you can be pretty useful. My business experience has taught me that much. Plus it'd be fun for you to be able to talk to a couple of other classmates of yours. I'm not saying you have to be best friends, but I think you'd enjoy hanging out with a little more company." Aunt Minda's voice was odd: it was steeled and businesslike but also kind and caring. The combination could be considered disturbing, although Alice saw it differently. In her eyes, it was calming. "You know, Thanksgiving is coming up quite soon. You'll be on a vacation, so why don't you invite your friends over then?"

As excited as that made her, Alice had spotted the flaw immediately. "But we'll be in New York, right? You have that big, con- confer- conferen-" That uttering was hard for the black haired girl. She couldn't remember what it was exactly or how it was pronounced. Ugh, fancy words were so confusing.

"Conference?" Minda supplied, already beginning to cut into her well done steak while the mouthwatering smell filled the air.

Alice nodded and joy flooded her face from a simple ten letters. "Conference to be at. I don't think I can have my class over when we won't even be here."

Her aunt only shrugged.

It was Minda's way of responded as the gears were secretly clicking around in her head. People wanted an answer as quickly as possible (she always told that to Alice) so while you come up with one, distract their focus. Even a simple shrug could be efficient.

"Well then," she began, standing up to not only make her point, but to put up her empty plate in the sink, (when Aunt Minda was hungry, she could eat an entire house in less than a minute) "why don't you just invite them to New York City with us?"

With that, she dissapeared somewhere along her walk to the kitchen, probably getting a call for her work. Alice still had no idea what that lady really did.

Alice was left (relatively) alone, as no one spoke to her while she was in deep thought. Her small fingers drummed upon the wooden table.

Her classmates joining her in New York? Normally, she just followed around her aunt like a lost puppy. It was fun, but there were some times when Alice really would be all on her own. She didn't like being alone. Plus...

"My school people at New York? Seems like it's going to be so much fun!"