The blinding brightness of the sun was burning my eyes. Older people told me that it's actual color was a yellowy-white color, but I've never seen it. They try to teach the colors to us in school and most of us aren't able to understand them. Its all just shades of darkness and lightness to us, and thats the way its been my whole life. I always find myself zoning out on random items. The colors never show, no matter how many times I blink. They don't show until I meet them.
A distant whistle blows, and I hear my classmates walking around me like usual.
"Daydreaming again, I see." My best friend, Ezra, stops and grabs me by the arm to pull me up from my laying down position. Usually he's laying beside me but today we were playing soccer, something that actually amuses him enough to join in.
"I wonder if anyone has ever met their person before they're an adult," I say more to myself than to him.
"Melina, you know that they say that's nearly impossible. Us highschoolers don't think straight and that impairs our judgement," he quotes, sounding like a textbook.
"Yeah, yeah. I know all about the book mumbo jumbo. I want to see it first hand Ez. Nothing can teach us like a first hand experience with it."
"Nothing like that is going to happen here. We're a highschool with not even 3000 kids. It's more likely to happen in some place like California. Did you know that people flock there because apparently there's so much color that when they meet their person they literally get high off of the beauty."
"Yeah, I guess you're right, like usual," I say with a defeated sigh. We lived in Noldon, North Carolina, which is lovely if you're a fan of the ocean. Years ago, they once called our town by the name of Jacksonville, but the government had an urge to suddenly modernize the names of our cities to keep up with the technological advances of our time. They kept the states the same as a homage to our forefathers, and diversified the cities. Our state capital, which was once Raleigh, is now called Chetra. Some names became ridiculous, and some too long to type out. The oldies that are around that remember when the cities were ancient sarcastically sent letters to the government thanking them for the change. They released them to the public, not realizing they were practically hate letters. My favorite in particular was one woman who lived in what was once known as Salem, Oregon, and in her letter she wrote, "Thank you for renaming my city! I was having a hard time spelling it before it was changed, and now it's as easy as writing my ABC's. -A Local Iufluodale Citizen." Most of the oldies hate the government for changing everything, but it's all I've ever known.
Ezra is still dragging me when I zone back into actual life. Seeing the world devoid of color makes everyone look the same. Some people's skin is a shade darker than others, and some people are almost the same color as paper. There are people with lighter shades of hair, and then there are darker shades. My own skin is a couple shades darker than paper, and my hair is one of the darkest shades in my school. Ezra's skin is slightly darker than your average person, and his hair is dark, but not as dark as my own. He's cute in a fair sense, but I could never see him as more than a brotherly type.
"Why are you staring at me like that? Have I got something on my face?"
Startled by the sudden communication, I teleport back into reality to see Ezra dabbing at his face while furrowing his brows at me. I laugh a little and bump him in the arm.
"You know damn well I was zoned out," I throw out playfully, as he bumps me back.
"Well at the rate you were checking me out I thought you were going to pounce on me," he throws back, causing me to fake gag uncontrollably.
"Hyland! May! Get with the rest of the class!" shouts our gym teacher from the front of the crowd in front of us. Ezra and I sigh in unison and walk a little faster to keep up. Luckily we have gym the last hour of the day, so it's a straight stretch home as soon as we dress out. Typically I escort him home, but today he's staying after for some club that I was so interested in that I forgot the name of it. When we catch up to the crowd, he joins a smaller congregation of boys and immerses himself into conversation with them. He does this quite often, and I know that he enjoys the company of his male counterparts since I am only a female and cannot relate to such manly issues as his. I don't have any female friends. They usually are repelled by my masculinity that I genuinely cannot control. I was raised by a single father and the only womanly influence was my Grams. My dad doesn't struggle to take care of us, and it's rather easy with only two people in the house. Ezra is usually stationed at my house, and has claimed one of our guest bedrooms as his own. He has his own wardrobe of clothes that he's left at my house over the 14 years we've been friends. I suspect that since it happens to be a Friday, he'll be over later tonight to spend the weekend with me again.
I make it to the gym and dress out with no further thoughts besides what I'm going to make my father for dinner. "See ya later Ez!" I shout to him as I leave the gym, and he waves viciously back with the grin I love so much. The 3 block walk home is always incredibly boring without him, and it passes by slowly. I make it to my slightly larger than normal house and see a familiar car parked in our driveway. A large grin breaks out across my face and I sprint inside, nearly knocking them over.
"Grams! Granps!" I yell, and lunge myself into a warm and comforting hug.
