Blooming Violet

September

September

September 26th

Dad,

Tell me, how did you meet mum? Was it magical? Were the heavens casting rays of fairy dust over her eyes as angels whispered sweet songs of love into your burning ears? Or, were you two drenched by the horrible London rain, and fate happened to drag your tired eyes into contact? Did you feel electricity burning from her skin to yours when you first touched her? Was your first kiss like fire beneath the rain?

I'm asking because...I met a boy today.

No, I'm not in love; we haven't even talked yet.

It all began this morning, with my face laying sideways on my ink-stained desk. I could see the smiles and hear the cheerful mutters of everybody in my form as they wrapped their coats around the backs of their chairs and gossiped. Some sat cross-legged on tables and others kneeled low on the floor, but everybody stayed close together: together, and away from me. As always. With a strand of my black hair creeping up my nostril, I decided to sit up and listen to the conversation of the group closest to my side. It was a good way to pass time, I thought.

"I know!" the girl to the left of me giggled. Her back was draped in a mane of dirty-blonde hair and her legs swung girlishly by the edge of the table, while, staring in awe of her dazzling, flirty grin, was a boy kneeled by her feet. Desperately, he stuttered, "Y-you know a new boy's coming to our form today?"

"Swear down?!" the girl shouted. Heads scattered around the room frantically turned to face the two.

"Um, y-yeah! He's with the head of the year now."

"Oh my God," another girl gasped. She was sat to the far left of the classroom, with her arms wrapped around her handbag. "Is he buff?"

"I-I dunno." the boy shrugged. "I aint gay."

"How does saying if he's good looking make you gay you dipshit?"

A new boy, I thought to myself with dim stars in my eyes. The last time a new person came, they spent most of their ICT lessons saving porn videos and images onto their computer, giving them really inconspicuous names like 'nothing.jpg' and 'dont-watch-me.mp4'. It really didn't take long before they were caught and expelled. They only stayed for 2 weeks.

Around me voices rose and topics changed from TV shows and the upcoming half term to fantasies of Harry Styles or Zayn Malik walking through the door and taking each girl to a concert, or something. I don't know. By then, I had buried my head deep within the depths of my arms and behind my curtain of hair: in warmth, hidden from the ramblings of those love-struck dreamers. Not that I'm not a love-struck dreamer like everybody else, of course, but I just have nobody to share my dreams with. Which is why I'm writing to you - I'm forcing you to listen to my stupid teenage experiences because your daughter's a stupid loner. Haha. Sorry to disappoint you when you're resting so happily.

Anyway, people talked. People joked. People giggled. A door swung open. Footsteps... of more than one person. Silence.

"You're all awfully quiet, Year 11. What, is it because I have a new person here for you all? Don't tell me you're shy."

That was probably our form tutor. My eyes were still hidden behind my cloak of hair, so I couldn't see a thing.

"N-nah sir, we aint shy."

"Good." My form tutor said. More silence followed before he spoke again. "Noah, you heard Jack. They 'aint' shy, so introduce yourself."

"Um..."