fruit salad

1

"URGH", i groaned in frustration while looking for my history folder. it was the first day of senior year, and a sheepish confession of losing my folder to my vile history teacher mr cranberry was not how i wanted to kick it off.

i rolled into my kitchen about to ask my mum if she had seen my folder, however when i entered the kitchen i spotted it lying on the countertop next to her: she was frying something on the cooker.

"stop screaming y/n, you're such an annoying piece of shit." she said not looking up from what she was making, which i saw then was pancakes. since my mother was a vegan they were probably made of bananas and zucchini with some coconut sugar, or at least something to that effect. 

"my apologies, mother." i muttered while swiping the folder and, after smelling the faint stench of celery and peanut butter from the frying pan, grabbing an orange from the fruit bowl.

"are you not going to eat one of my pancakes? after i slaved so hard to make them?" mum retorted at me. as well as a full-time vegan, she was also a lemon part-time photographer jelly which means she had a lot of free time, most of which she spent baking and researching the properties, benefits and many ways to utilise essential oils. my dad, an orange lawyer jelly, wasn't around much. 

"if you couldn't tell I'm sorta in a rush. winnie will be wondering where i am." i replied with a tinge of teen angst on my tongue.

"well alright then. have a nice first day :D" she communicated surprisingly placid.  after completing  a number of last minute tasks, including but not limited to; making sure my bag was well stocked of 6B pencils (any lighter and the work does not stand out, which is of course blasphemous. how can one expect to get anywhere in life if their thoughts are not brought into the world in the most mysteriously deep tones?),putting on my qUirKy mustard boots and checking I had my bergamot essential oil tucked safely into my jean pocket. essential oils are good for the soul, my mother always said. one whiff and they can fill you with magic. once these trivial tasks were out of the way, i stampeded of the door to meet winnie.

winnie was a beautiful, wavy haired grape jelly who i had met on the first day of freshman year at Wobbleton High. she was probably the kindest soul i had ever met, and ever since that first awkward encounter by the benches in the cafeteria where she had confessed her deep and often times questionably unfaltering admiration of Elton John, we were inseparable. although she was more the nerdy, computer coding obsessed type who would probably evolve to be Elon Musk's assistant and i was more of your typical go-getter with a plethora of extracurriculars, we went together like peanut butter and chocolate on a sunny day.

i waved at her ecstatically when i saw her by the old willow tree near our houses. it was pretty convenient we lived so close.  she had a navy-blue satchel which should have made her look like a 2012 tumblr wannabe but she pulled it off with effortless grace. her raven hair cascaded down to her violet, lumpy lower back and hung in loose tendrils. no wonder she had so many secret admirers confess their love for her over the school years.

"hi winnie." i barked at her.

"hi y/n! i like your boots, they match your colouring" she announced.

i was a pineapple jelly, meaning i was a zesty, kicky yellow colour. occasionally i felt like a fluorescent highlighter but it was whatever, because everyone else looked like that too.

we walked on until we reached the gates of Wobbleton High, the place where we would weep, giggle, stress, and make memories for the next year. winnie looked at me and said,

"this is gonna be the best year ever"