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curls

Jude's hair was starting to curl, he'd almost forgotten it did. He pulled at one with his finger as watched as it stretched and coiled.

It was almost amusing, it was at least something to combat the crippling boredom that was provided by his bleak setting, but he supposed it would make his mother happy when she saw him, it made him look younger, his curls wild and unkempt as he ran down the city blocks.

He grabbed the door handle and saw the bandages poke out from his sleeve, it made him look like and overstuffed teddy bear. He pulled them down again before leaving, they felt like the only secret he was still allowed to keep.

The common room was painted grey, it seemed like a drab choice for a place that was supposed to make people happy, or at least competent. But perhaps the people forced to endure it weren't exactly trusted to make their own decisions.

He held the book his mother gave him, The Girl of Smoke. It wasn't his, underlined passages and yellowed pages, it was new, the spine tough and straight. He knew why he couldn't have his book, but he didn't want to think about it.

As far as he was concerned it didn't happen, his scars would heal, and everything would go back to as it was. These pages would yellow and his scars faded to white and everyone would forget to care.

His book was the only thing that felt real, he made the decision to turn the page, other people weren't making that choice for him. Life felt like dreaming, dreaming felt like everything else.

Just as he was about to sit down he felt a tap on his shoulder, a girl.

She was wearing a dress with buttons all down the front and she had long thin hair hanging loosely from her face. She wore lots of mascara, he couldn't tell what she was trying to compensate for, because she was quite pretty. But everyone compensates for something.

"Wanna come with me?"

She said it almost in a whisper, like she was letting him in on a secret. Jude liked secrets, and she seemed to be a whole bundle of them.

He followed her, his book squeezed tightly between his fingers. Her hips swayed when she walked, it had to have been on purpose, but Jude could never tell if it was his attention such elections were meant to attract. He thought it best not to notice, even though it was quite clear he already had.

"What's your name?"

"Stephanie, yours?"

"Jude."

There was a moment of silence, it was probably the the point he should have asked something else, anything else, but it felt like his missed his chance, even if only by a few moments.

They sat in front of a window, there weren't chairs, but they sat anyways.

She just stared out the window, Jude wondered why she needed his company for such an activity, or maybe she was just expecting him to be the one to make conversation. Either way he liked it, and looking out the windows a certain way made it feel like everyone else was trapped inside the bars, and he was the only one who was free.

***

They sat there the next day, watching as rain ran down in snaking paths. They couldn't remember who started keeping score, but Stephanie always seemed to place her finger on which ever was going to fall fastest, Jude's attempts proved less successful. He just seemed to be stuck in the same place before spiraling down recklessly, but by that time Stephanie had already reached the bottom.

Her hair was up today, pulled tightly into a scrunchie, it seemed strategic, but most things about her did.

"How long have you been here." he asked, unsure of exactly how far he was allowed to step, cause every word spoken to her felt like one to many.