peculiar winds

"Bug off, Emily!"

I got up at around 7:30 -- my eyes stung; likely because of all the crying the night before. All I recognized that morning was the ominous grey sky outside my window, the loud hum of the radiator, and the uniform jumper that Jensen never took back yesterday evening, tossed over a chair -- I planned to bring it back to him before school.

Other than that, I had to get ready. I threw my white polo on, tucked it into a grey skirt, and pulled my own jumper over my head (Along with that, I wore a pair of tights, as the air still felt frosty.) Walking into the bathroom, I took a quick glare at myself in the mirror. "God, your face is puffy," I thought to myself, tucking strands of hair behind my ear. After a bit of staring, I forgot about it, and proceeded to brush my teeth.

--

I heard Jensen's light knocks on the door. His mum's car was my transportation, as he only lived two doors down from me, and my mum usually had a bit of work to get done in the morning.

"Elizabeth!" Mum's voice muffled up the stairs. I quickly brushed out the tangles in my hair, fetched my backpack, along with Jensen's jumper, and ran down to the lounge.

"Liz, grab your lunch!" Mum was in the kitchen, sweeping the floor. As I walked in the kitchen to grab the brown paper bag she left for me, she stopped me.

"Liz... I heard your conversation with Jensen outside, yesterday." -- she rested her broom against the counter. -- "I never got to talk to you about it, you went straight to bed after coming back in!"

"Sorry about that. But, I've got to go." I was becoming fidgety.

"Wait, I just want you to know, that I understand you now." She gave me a faint smile, and a kiss atop my head. "I hope today is better!"

"Ms. O'Brian, is Elizabeth their?" Jensen's knocks were heavier this time.

I flashed a toothy grin, and squinted my eyes back at my mum. "Thank you, I appreciate it. But I've got to go now; bye!" I waved goodbye, twisted the doorknob, and opened the door to see Jensen, lightly tapping his feet on the ground. He looked up at me quickly.

"I've got your jumper." I said, offering it to him as we started walking towards the car.

"Oh, thank you!" -- He pulled it over his head, and swiftly pulled his hands through the sleeves. -- "Jesus, the weather's still awful." He said, tightly enfolding his arms.

"At least there's no wind! I'd die." My coughs were condensing in the bleak air, and becoming puffs of smoke.

"Did you catch a cold?" Jensen chuckled.

"Probably" I scratched my head. We got to the car, and the door-handle felt like frost beneath my fingertips, as I latched onto it, and pulled it open.

"Good morning, Liz!" Jensen's mum had a thermos of coffee in her left hand. She took a quick sip. George and Oliver were in the car as well, with George in the front, and Oliver on the very left, waiting for us to fill in the spaces beside him.

"Good morning!" I responded, sitting down, and resting my backpack at my feet. The irony in my words weren't obvious. But, it was most, definitely not a good morning, and I was preparing myself for the worst that day. With the mess I had suffered through the day before, I nearly forgot about Emily, and the lot of classmates who she had been influencing.

"Did you hear about what Elizabeth did!?"

"Yeah, what a twit!"

"So, Lizzy, what did you pinch?"

"No! Liz! Don't steal my backpack!"

"Miss! Elizabeth tossed my bag out the window!"

The words played on-and-on again, like a broken record, endlessly jumping back-and-forth. They lingered indefinitely in my mind, and swirled into my stomach -- I was wildly nervous. As I pondered on about how things would fall into place that day, the chuckles of classmates billowed in the back of my head -- like the background music of a film, in which the protagonist had her head rested against the cold, glass window, feeling the pulse of her heart beating in her ear. As she watched the blur of tall, brick buildings passing the car, she listened to the sound of the weather report whirring from the car radio, her best friend's lanky fingers tapping against the back of his phone, and her heart violently thumping in her chest.

--

I walked up the steps, with a heavy backpack, dangling off my left-shoulder. My eyes scanned the courtyard, and the groups of students scattered about. "Were they talking about me? Was Emily still spreading the word?" I let my head drop, and I watched my feet tap against the pavement. "Were they all looking at me?" My thoughts were soon impeded by brown, leather boots, and caramel hair. As soon as my head was up, my bag was heaved off my shoulder, and in Emily Doyle's hands.

"What the hell?" I tried reaching for the bag, but Emily had it slung on her finger, and suspended over her head. She chuckled. "What are you gonna do now?" She said pushing me back with her other hand. That's what I had told her yesterday after tossing her bag out the window -- what a nerve! I felt my heart beating out of my chest, as if it were gonna burst."What are you gonna do now, Lizzy?!" She repeated the phrase over-and-over again, and every single time it left her mouth, I felt my vexation flourish.

"Bug off, Emily!" I felt resentment in Jensen's words.

"Well she never gave mine back yesterday, did she?" a malicious grin developed on her freckled face.

"Did you really see me at your dad's shop, or are you just an idiot?" I was yelling, and everyone had their eyes fastened on us. As Jensen gandered behind him, a powerful gust of wind rushed through the school; not again!

"I didn't even know that your dad had a bloody shop. What does he own, a poundstretcher?" Words were carelessly falling out of my mouth, a lot like the paper spilling out of my bag.

"Well at least I've got a dad, right?" I heard the phrase echo in my mind... did she really just say that? As Jensen's cross arguments blurred in the background, I felt an uncanny sorrow billow through me. There was also an uncanny feeling of fury that must've struck something in my mind. So, I folded my hand into a fist, and swung it at Emily's face with no hesitation.

"Elizabeth!" Jensen yelled, guarding me with his arm.

"You're such a prat, Elizabeth!" Emily yelled, sitting on the floor, inspecting a nosebleed with her slender fingers. I was in a firey rage, that was inevitably blown out by a wildly cold gust of air, that blew at the trees and rattled the signs. Along with the excited yells of children looking for a bit of drama, there was nervous chatter.

"Oi, it's windy again."

"My papers!"

"Oh my god, I'll fall over!"

"Help! Tara's on the floor!"

"Wasn't it this windy yesterday?"

Not only were the kids becoming more concerned with the weather; their classwork was flying loose through the air -- they were desperately clinging onto trees and handrails, and running for the door. So did Jensen and I, when we heard a blood-curling scream across the yard...