Through Eyes of Ebony

        I sat in the noisy room that is Class 604 and found myself zoning. It wasn't because that particular course was boring, or that particular room was distracting - it just happened. To most, I appeared dull, even unaware, simply staring at something just over their shoulder or just past their head. Often, the victim of my gaze would remain naïve for a moment, reading or talking or walking like normal; then, they'd feel my eyes on them (as they always do - it's fascinating how people can do that) and turn to glance at me. Some of them would smile or even wave, but many of them would narrow their eyes and straighten their shoulders instead, trying to get back to what they were doing. If they were to look and meet my eyes again, however, they would see a sharp intelligence, staring intently not at them but past all normal view, processing and mentally cataloging the faraway things that I saw. Known simply as the eccentric girl who got her fix by staring at people, not many people did take that second look, instead pinning me as oblivious.

        Out of the handful of second-lookers that I knew, my favorite one approached the then transfixed me.

        "What are today's colors," she asked in a grandeur voice, sitting on my desk, "O Sightful One?"

        I blinked, grounding and bringing myself back to reality. My visitor was well accustomed to a moment's pause before I answered, and watched me with a wide grin. I shifted in my seat to turn and smile at her, leaning an elbow on the unoccupied edge of the desk. "Well, we've got quite a few red overlays. That's been happening a lot recently. I think the general populous of this school is pretty pissed, what with prom dates being rejected and all," I replied to her, gazing around the room as I spoke. My eyes came back to rest once more on my friend, and they must have sharpened for a moment, dark pupils Seeing the radiant light around her. "You're level-headed enough today. One part," I gestured to her, "matches your shirt. Good eye, Felicia."

        The color-coordinated Felicia beamed with pride. "I do? Awesome, maybe that'll give me good luck or something today! I'll finally manage to please Mrs. Raub," she said, flipping her wavy auburn hair for effect. I laughed and pushed her off my desk playfully.

        "You know you're really her favorite student."

        "Think so? Okay, I'll just need luck in getting a prom date then! It's this huge deal to everyone, but I'd rather go with a friend. Junior prom was more fun that way."

        "Okay, Felicia Marie Forrester, will you go to prom with me?" The sincerity in my voice must have surprised Felicia, making her double take. Although I had never thought about it before, I really didn't mind the idea of going to my senior prom with Felicia, and what she had said seemed like an invitation to me.

        "Remind me to teach you the art of rhetorics sometime," Felicia said, chuckling and ruffling my hair. "Shi, I love you, but I want a boy to go to prom with." She paused, and a look of curiosity arose in her light hazel eyes. "Speaking of which, you've never really had a boyfriend, have you?" I shook my head. "...A girlfriend?" Another shake. Felicia smiled at me, the colors around her flaring as she felt sympathy. I don't quite know why she felt that way about the subject, but I didn't question it.  "Can't say that I blame you, you have so much to handle anyways."

        "Exactly. A relationship could be too high maintenance for me. Besides, I have you and Steven, and that's all I really need," I stated matter-of-factly. My friend nodded, understanding my point. I opened my mouth again to say something, although I now forget what, when the bell cut me off. Thankfully, my next class was a study hall period, and also my last class of the day. Felicia didn't feel the relief I did and made a face.

        "Oh boy, off to Calc. Mr. Sanders really hates me, you know? And that I am sure of," she sighed, shaking her head at the end as she turned to leave the classroom, waving to me when she reached the door. I waved back, gathered my things, and left shortly after. Stepping into the crowded hallway, I was hit with what resembled the Aurora Borealis. While an everyday sight for me, it still managed to be stunning each time.

        By now, I'm sure you've realized all the mentions of dazzling, normally unseen lights that I've made. My eyesight is perfectly fine, and I promise you that I have no optic disorders. So, it's time for me to explain what exactly this is: the glow of an aura. Auras are the light of life that surround every living thing, and that light is derived from the soul flame. The flame's color depends on the personsality and morals of an organism, as does an aura. Everything has a basic, thin layer of off-white light in their aura; as the layers branch out from the body, they begin to show mood, thoughts, character, and so on. Along with these brilliantly colored lights comes a distinct life scent, too. Some are enticing, like Felicia's, while others can resemble the smell of sulfur. I assume people like Hitler and Stalin were those sulfur-scents. Maybe even Mr. Sanders.

        I don't know why I was chosen to be born with the ability of Sight. The fact that I can see, smell, read, and even influence auras still mystifies me, and of course everyone else who knows my secret. Only a handful of people do know about all of this. It's not exactly something one would want to go shouting out. Most people would probably end up trying to douse me with holy water or throw rosaries and crucifixes; luckily, Felicia only throws the occasional piece of fruit at me out of boredom (thank god she has yet to find a whole watermelon).

        In all of my short 18 years, I've only ever been able to see the first couple of layers of an aura. I have this strange feeling that there are many more layers than just three, but I have yet to see them. After my main layer, my aura is usually a pale indigo, making me the only indigo I've ever known. I've read from some sources that indigos are very spiritually inclined souls; sensitive and strong-willed. I can't say that I disagree with that statement given the fact, well, I have Sight. Of course I'm spiritually inclined.  But I digress.

        Standing in the bustling hall, I moved to a nearby window in hopes of both seeing the beautiful day and also avoiding being trampled. The cloudless sky was a deep shade of cobalt and had an air of serenity to it. Taking a deep breath, I embraced the warm sunlight on my olive skin before turning back to the tumult. A few students whom I knew from study hall passed by, and I gave them a small smile as I joined them in walking to our next class.

        As I moved away from the alluring landscape outside, I felt a sudden chill creep down my spine, raising the fine hair along the back of my neck. The unsettling ice that entered my veins disturbed me, and I glanced back over my shoulder as I moved away from the window. For a split second, I thought I saw a person standing there, watching me. With a blink, the figure was gone. I was never one to hallucinate or see tricks of the light, and while I was completely sure of that, I slipped into a self-deception that what I had just seen had indeed been an illusion.

        I quickened my pace to catch up to the group I was walking with, and as we passed the next window, another glacial breeze swept down my back. I no longer chanced looking back, for it was obvious that I had seen something. Not only that, but now, it was following me.