We Are the Sand

We Are the Sand Chapter One

Chapter the First: Intro

Stasis is what you got, like a rickshaw getting pulled around by another rickshaw.

Roxas pressed his nose against the cool, clear glass of the massive window. It was flanked on both sides by glossy black marble walls veined with grey that reflected the glow of the midday sun. The lanky blond's warm breath came out in a thick head of steam, leaving a dense fog on the transparent silicon-based material. The oversized faded yellow-orange game console controller above the window beckoned to him, inviting the wheaten-haired young man to venture inside its all-too-tempting walls and away from his friends. It also made him realise what he could be doing instead of working on another school project. Really, could their teacher not come up with something better? Did she truly lack imagination? Most likely yes, as was true of most people in the profession, but that is hardly the point.

Hayner pinched the narrow bridge of his freckled pug nose. The merchant would most assuredly scold the teens for this, and quite soundly. Not to mention the unsightly smudge that the blond's (woefully shiny; seriously, if Roxas were a girl, the spiky-haired brunet would suggest he powder it) nose would surely leave on the otherwise-clean windowpane. He really did not have time for that nonsense. Not many would, at that.

"No, Roxas, we can't go in there right now. We have a project to do for school, remember?" Due the very next day, at that. They really needed to time these things better, he told himself, resisting the urge to slam the palm of his hand into his boyish face. Procrastination, whilst something at which the group excelled, was not something to encourage. "And it does not involve you adding to your 'Avatar: The Last Airbender' DVD collection." Though he could certainly use some more Magic cards, seeing as how the Friday Night Magic event would be in a few days. Not that he would ever admit to playing such a game. As far as his friends knew, he was too cool for such things. It was scarcely an image he wished to discourage.

Stupid school. Stupid project. And stupid procrastination getting the better of him, as usual. Also, stupid too-cool-for-school attitude getting in the way of things, though he would hardly admit that, even to himself.

Reluctantly, Roxas pried his face away from the terrible allure of the display window of the gaming supply store. His female friend, Ollette, seemed taken with a brightly-coloured life-sized ( or so the boy assumed, having never seen one of these creatures in real life) statue of a cougar painted with a mosaic pattern of pink, purple, yellow, green, and blue in various blindingly vivid shades. A catamount, the town seemed to insist on calling them. This one was called "Cattitude," if the plaque on the side was any indication. Right. Because unnaturally coloured statues of moose on every corner was not kitschy enough. At least cougars were elegant beasts, unlike the ungainly and oversized deer relative. So there was that, at least.

A few cars whizzed by on their way to nowhere in particular, and an elderly woman gave him a quizzical look, which he ignored. He took in her vaguely shabby clothing, clearly well-worn for several years, and determined that she was a local, most likely on her way to do some errands or something.

The passing of a few well-dressed people from indeterminate locations reminded the group of young teens that it was, in fact, tourist season in Bennington. Foliage season, to be precise. The chill in the crisp air confirmed this, though Hayner stubbornly wore his ankle-length green camo shorts, sleeveless black skull t-shirt, and grey vest as always. Ollette, too, wore khaki capris and a bright orange floral blouse far better suited for the summer. Most of the people who passed them on the street wore far more sensible clothing, not that the teens really paid much attention to such things as this. They never did. Why start now?