Color - Plance AU

t h r e e

I sat alone at lunch, as usual, dutifully eating the prepackaged sandwich I had bought from the canteen. I absorbed the bright red of the tomatoes and the green of the lettuce and I desperately tried not to think about the boy that had given me this gift of colour. 

Deciding that the rumbling of my stomach was more important than the amazing display of light interpretation in front of me, I munched down on my food and was disappointed in myself when a thick blob of mayonnaise oozed out of the bread and onto my shirt. 

I sighed and put the sandwich down, wiping at my shirt with my fingers in futile hopes to get the cream stain off of the white. 

Like I said, it was futile. 

I rubbed harder, determined not to let this condiment get the better of me, and was only stopped by a laugh. My head shot up and my eyes latched onto pair staring at me, a startling blue. 

It's him! that voice cried. 

"You can't rub off a stain like that. Don't worry, just wash it and it'll be fine," Lance McClain told me, a smug smile resting on his face. 

I blinked slowly, my hand still gently rubbing my shirt. 

Lance laughed again and swung his leg over the bench, sitting opposite me. "So..." he said, letting the word stretch out. His voice was soothing, in a way. I felt myself being captivated. 

Suddenly a switch flicked inside me and I sat up, straightening my back and tilting my head in the most don't-care way I could imagine. "S-so what? Do you want something?" I snapped. My voice only quivered at the beginning. I don't think he noticed. I hope he didn't notice. 

Lance shrugged, giving a slight pout as he did so. "Just coming over to say hi. Are you okay? That Lotor guy came on pretty rough." 

I scowled. "And you care why? I don't even know you." 

For a moment, I thought I saw a flash of hurt cross over his soft features and I almost apologised, but then the cocky smirk came back. "You're right, I guess. Hey, if you're ever lonely, I sit in the music rooms with a few friends." 

I said nothing, not trusting my voice to not break, so Lance shrugged again and stood up. He wanted me to sit with him. Me?! Why? I'm the sad loner girl that doesn't get along with anyone. Why would he want to be friends with me? 

I forced myself not to look at him as he walked away. 

"I'm home!" I yelled, walking through the door and slamming it shut behind me. I was mildly surprised when there was no answer. Usually my mother would walk out of the kitchen, asking me how school was and offering me snacks. The smell of dinner would be floating through the air and there would be an assortment of different radios on, each one tuned into a different station. 

But the house was quiet. There was no familiar din, no homely smells, no parents waiting to greet me. 

I frowned, placing my laptop on the little table by the front door and cautiously making my way forwards. 

"Hello?" I called nervously. 

"Katie," a soft voice said, filled with sadness. 

The way my name was spoken made me rush into the kitchen to see my mother sitting at the table, her eyes red and her hands clasped in front of her. There was a box of tissues on the table, and dozens were scattered across the surface. I started to panic when the man standing across from her turned to address me. 

"You are Katie Holt?" he asked, a serious look on his face, matching his serious tone. 

My breath hitched. "I am. What's wrong?" 

The man's uniform was of a navy blue, and the words California Police Department stood out in gold embroidery. 

I stared at my mum. "Where's Matt? And Dad? Why's there a cop here?" My mother was silent. "What's going on?" 

The cop took a step towards me, a look on his face I could place, but I knew it wasn't good. "I'm so sorry. You brother and father...they were in a car accident a few hours ago." 

My face slackened. I felt my shoulders sag, my arms droop and my legs felt so weak I wasn't sure they would hold my weight much longer. 

"What?" I asked in a dull, dull voice. I looked at my mother, but she wasn't looking at me, or the cop. She simply stared into space, her eyes unfocused. I watched a single tear form in her left eye and fall, tracing a line down her cheek and dripping off her chin. It splashed onto the wooden surface. "The paramedics did all they could, but...they didn't make it. I'm sorry." I took a step back, shaking. "No. You're lying." 

The cop said nothing, just looked at me with a sad expression. 

"No!" I screamed. "It's not true! Tell me Mum! Tell me he's lying!" 

My mother didn't look up. She didn't even flinch. 

I glared at the cop. "Why are you telling me this? What kind of sick joke is this?" My whole body shook with rage and fury and anger. He didn't say anything. "You're LYING!" 

With that final shout, I fled the kitchen, running up the stairs and pushing open my door. I threw myself onto my bed, barely noticing that I could now see all the wonderful colours my parents had painted it. Burying my head into my pillow, I screamed. I screamed until my voice was hoarse, until the sun had disappeared, until my screams became sobs, became whimpers, became quiet, until I finally fell asleep.