Violets

Chapter One

Chapter One

        “Are you ready yet, Xar?” A sweet, familiar voice rang through the hallway outside my closed bedroom door. It was the voice of my mother, the most important woman in my life, wondering if I was prepared for the most exciting night of my life thus far: high school graduation. The funny thing was that I never viewed it as that until recently. For the longest time I had been so afraid to grow up and be on my own. Then, suddenly, I became fearless.

“Almost,” I hollered loudly enough for my mom to hear me in the kitchen, where I knew she was. I looked into the mirror on my vanity and checked my reflection. After eighteen years I had finally taught myself how to curl my hair, so my dark brown locks were in loose curls that fell down just past my chest. My hair was parted to the side, as it had been since seventh or eighth grade when I adopted the look. I wore a sleeveless, scoop neck skater dress with a plain black bodice and a pleated black and white striped skirt that hit a few inches above my knees. My jewelry consisted of a plain stud in my pierced nose, a simple silver ring, the infinity necklace my mom had bought me, and diamond stud earrings that were a gift from my grandmother. I had settled for plain black heels for shoes. My cap and gown were laid out on my bed, as well as my honors medal and white cord. Before I touched any of it, I made sure my makeup was satisfactory, and I actually was proud of the smoky eye and pink lipstick look I had managed to pull off. My purple eyes looked more intense than usual because of it.

Purple eyes are very rare. They’re a mutation that I was born with. I guess the fact that they’re a mutation doesn’t mean much, considering the fact that blue eyes are, too. It’s the numbers that matter. I was never sure how many other people were walking the earth with the same color eyes as me, but I knew that I’d never met a single one of them. That, along with the fact that my name is Xaria, is why people have always had such huge reactions whenever they met me. They would think I was wearing really cool contacts or that the lighting was playing tricks on them, and I always had to assure them that I was just born with violet eyes. Then they would be amazed and say how lucky I am and they’d tell me they’re jealous of my beautiful, unique eyes, blah, blah, blah. I’ve heard the same spiel so many times in the course of my lifetime that I’m honestly over it. Don’t get me wrong, I love my eyes. They’re my favorite color, so why wouldn’t I? It’s just the whole being different thing that I hate. I’ve never been all that outgoing, and I don’t like the extra attention. I think that’s part of the reason why high school graduation had become so huge for me. I’d finally get to go to college, where things would be better and I wouldn’t get harassed or teased for my differences, but people would just accept them and treat me like a real person. That was what I had in my head, anyways.

“Come out when you’re ready; I want to take pictures,” my mom yelled, and I came back to reality. Right. I needed to get myself together so I could go graduate. I turned to face my bed and I picked up my gown, black and red for my school colors. We were the red devils, and our school was the inferno, which gave every student a reason to call it hell. I knew I’d miss it later in life, but for the time being, I was so glad to be leaving hell. I chuckled to myself when I looked back into the mirror, now with everything on. The gown looked so big despite the fact that I had my measurements taken for it, and the 2014 tassel on the cap hung down in my face. I moved it over a little and decided I looked like a graduate and I was ready to be one.

“Hey there, high school graduate,” my dad greeted me as I came down the hall and entered the living room. He was a tall guy - 6’2” - while I was a measly 5’1”. I shared his dark hair, and my mom told me I got my bust from his side of the family too - his sisters and mother, of course. Other than that, I didn’t really look much like my dad. Mostly, I got my quiet personality from him. My mom, on the other hand, gave me the majority of my physical traits. The medium-thickness of my hair, the shape of my nose, and my short height all came from her. And then, somehow, my dad’s brown eyes and my mom’s blue eyes created my purple ones. How that worked, I wasn’t sure.