Patchwork

Hi! It came to my mind that this beginning might look like a love story! Whoops.... Just so ya know, it's not a love story. Well. Mostly not a love story. But anyways, this is categorized as a sci-fi fantasy. But one tag I didn't add was that there is also an adventure element! Sorry about the mix-up.

Lyra woke up, groaning at the single shaft of sunlight that had stubbornly and faithfully worked its way into her unlit bedroom. Every morning, without fail, it woke her up, poking itself through the gap in the patchwork curtains that obscured the basement's single window.

Long ago, the window had been a door, used to enter the basement from outside the small house, but Lyra had replaced it with an old stained glass window she had found at the town dump.

She spent a lot of time there, these days. It was more fun than hanging out at the mall, where looking at guys was practically mandatory, or the park, where little kids swamped the playgrounds and soccer fields. The junkyard was a place where she could be herself.

Lyra rolled out of bed and onto the floor, landing on the pile of plushies she's kicked off the bed that night. She closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep, but couldn't. She opened her eyes once more and sat up, silently apologizing to the handful of stuffed chibis beneath her. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she stumbled to the bathroom, where she immediately cranked the water, stripped, and jumped in.

After her shower, Lyra felt more awake, and quickly jerked on some jean shorts, grabbing some thigh-high striped socks and a Kagamine Rin T-shirt. She yanked on her glasses.

Lyra stumbled into the kitchen, where she was met by her tired mother. "Honey, you're going to be late- honestly-" With this statement, Lyra found herself wolfing down a small bowl of oatmeal while tying a pair of Doctor Who-themed Hi-Tops. Within twenty minutes, she was out the door, heading for Tri-Valley High School- also known as the place where Lyra sat for seven hours, doodling chibis and trying her best to think of the subject and not her latest anime ships.

She'd missed the bus. No problem- she missed it almost every day. Lyra broke into a jog, her backpack bouncing on her spine, golden hair streaming unbraided behind her.

She reached the school five minutes after the bus did- not the best time ever, but she would still be on time for her class if she sprinted.

She burst in the door to Art just as the bell rang.

"Ah, Miss Lyra," the teacher chirped. At about three centuries old (at least, that's how she looked to Lyra), Miss Chandler was the oldest teacher on the campus by far- but one of the most interesting. Reminiscent of a small bird without a beak, Miss C flitted through the classroom, spry despite her great age.

"Hey, Miss C," Lyra called back. Art was the only period Lyra truly enjoyed, for she was a bit of an artist.

"Today," Miss Chandler said as Lyra sat at her usual desk in the back, "we will be drawing someone running! Make them leap of the page!" Here, Miss Chandler gave a small jump as though to demonstrate.

"How much you wanna bet she's on drugs?" Snickered a new student. Lyra snarled softly.

He turned around.

He was so, so, incredibly hot.