Indigo
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"Damn it!" I cursed while I scrub away the remaining paint lingering on my skin. Why does this had to stick like a motherfucker. The worst part is, I have to hurry because I'm late!
My hair is still a big mess and I almost look like a paintbrush but now's not the time to think about that and all I need to be worried about is that Mr. Stark might be ready to interrogate the hell out of me.
I stopped by the time I got to the door and just stood outside. With a nervous sigh, I stepped inside.
Everyone stopped what they're doing and stared at me. I almost wanted to say "yes, I'm a hella big paintbrush you losers" but I know better.
"Take your seat Miss Marlow. You're one of my brightest students in this class but don't ever think I'm a bias person to not send you to detention," Mr. Stark started --"4pm Indigo, detention at exactly 4pm." he finished as he started writing some certain words on the pink shaded sheet and handed it to ME.
I went further inside the room and went to Mr. Stark's table where his hand is outstretched towards me. I took the detention slip from his waiting hand and I sighed. There's no way to reason out why I came in late. Either way, I would still be sent to detention.
Good girl Indie. You heard him, you're one of his brightest students so just shut your pretty mouth or otherwise, you know what'll happen to your grades right? My subconscious reminded me.
I went to my seat which is second column; fifth row, almost dragging my bag because it's freakishly heavy at the moment because my things are kind of wet. Which reminds me that I should get home early so I could dry them all.
So my usual spot is almost at the back. Almost.
A girl seated behind me is Dana Muhabi. There's always this tiny raindrop-shaped bead placed in the middle of her forehead. She dresses a lot like "wooh isnt it a cold summer?" but pretty all in all. We barely talk but she sure do smiles to everyone. Pretty Indian to be honest.
She caught my gaze and smiled at me. I smiled back.
To my left, next to the window seated Brenda Laurente. A tall, skinny, black haired, gray eyed mime. She literally doesnt talk. People say it probably is because she's depressed and some idiots say it's actually because she had a short tongue. She always had her notepad with her where she could write her words when you try to talk to her. But she'll only write a word or two and that's it for her.
Sitting infront of me is the total exact opposite of Brenda because once you started talking to her, she will talk nonstop and your conversations will always end up on how the earth deserves better people to make the world a better place. Trina Carmen. Yes, a hippie. Not to mention her full name is actually Trinidad.
I sighed and slowly turn to my right. I almost gasped at the sight, I mean why is Reed freaking Fitsch sitting here? Of all the seats, of all those times why did he chose to sit here --right next to me when I probably look like a soaked chicken. On the scale of one to ten, I'm at 10.1 embarrassed at the moment.
Way to impress the man of your dreams Indigo. A virtual pat on your back you must receive. I sometimes hate my subconscious, really. And no, he isn't the man of my dreams, it's actually that guy on Divergent. Four?
You see, I have been crushing on this boy since 7th grade when we went to our annual summer camp and he went there too.
"Ouch!" I yelped when I felt someone stepped on my foot.
"God sorry I didnt see you. Are you alright?" he asked me, sincerely.
"No it's okay" I replied as I started crawling on the ground.
"Can I help you?" he inquired.
"It's alright, it's just... my glasses, I can't find them" I said while tapping the ground with my bare hands.
"I found it. Here" he said and I opened my hands and he handed me my glasses, everything is blurry without them, which totally sucks at any different level. I put my glasses back on and when I look up, I see a gorgeous boy standing in front of me with a grin on his handsome face. I wanted to ask him his name and what school did he go to but he interrupted me, "I'm really sorry but I'm in a hurry, I must go. I'm really, really sorry." He didnt even give me a chance to reply because before I opened my mouth, he was gone in a flash. The week after that encounter, it was first day of school and i was in 8th grade. That's when I saw him. With the clique. With The A-list.
I never tried to approach him and talk to him because I'm scared with the people around him since then.
Time went by and he wasnt the same boy I met a few years ago. Or is he still?
YOU ARE READING
The Art of Love
Short Story[Her] His eyes, everytime I look at them it feels like rainbow that appears up above the sky after a cruel thunderstorm. I hope he looks at me the same way he looks at her. [Him] Her eyes, shining like a diamond snowflake and as deep as the blue atl...
