Moon Girl

Thirty Four - Blue

On Friday's time never seemed to have the same value as the rest of the week. Minutes felt like hours and classes felt like days. Krystal sat and drew in her notebook. It was full of little drawing. Mostly of her turning people into Tim Burton characters. The only person she never drew was Nancy.

How did school become some boring? Aren't they supposed to keep our attention for educational purposes?

"Krystal." Her attention snapped to the front of the class. "Can I have you do me a favor?" She nodded.

Of course, running errands. Whatever gets me out of this hell, sure.

The halls were quiet they normally were during class. Her footsteps echoed as she walked. To most people that would be eery, but she didn't mind the quiet.

Krystal walked into the class room, Blake stood at the front with a paper in his hands, nervousness painted on his features.
"What are you doing?" He asked her, shocked.
"Vacuuming." She squinted. His eyes raked down her and landed on the stack of papers in her arms.

Right, favoritism.

"What are you doing?" She countered.
"Nothing." Blake said quickly. Krystal raises her brow. The teacher finally acknowledged the other presence in the room.
"Krystal, great. Those are the papers I was waiting for." Mr. Tetra got up from his table on the side of the room and grabbed them from her.
"So what are you learning about Mr. T?" He smiled at her curiosity, but it wasn't what he thought.
"Well, we were studying poetry, so the students had to write their own poems and now share them with the class."
"Can I hear, just one?" Krystal gave him doe eyes. Just like Nancy's, no one could resist Krystal's doe eyes.
"Well, thats up to Blake but I don't mind." Krystal looked at him with the same doe eyes she gave Mr. Tetra. She even stuck out her bottom lip to give the full puppy dog face.

Look at those eyes. Have you ever seen eyes so- wait what did she just ask?! She wants to hear my poems? Kill me now! Never mind, I'm going to die of embarrassment anyways, might as well make her smile.

"Uh, yeah, sure, I guess." Blake stuttered. Krystal sank into the empty chair in the first row. She knew it was Blake's by the backpack. She swiveled in the chair with the attached desktop, throwing her legs up.
"Wow me, Hardy." She smiled at him, he glared at her, then looked down at his paper.

I'm going to vomit, but it's too late now, I already agreed.

Blake drew in a deep breath and started.

"Blue,
I like the color blue.
I like blue skies,
Her eyes,
And that shirt she wears somewhat often.
Most people like rainbows of color.
I used to be that way too.
I've found myself more into blue as of late.
I could list you many things blue.
A plate.
A star.
The sky.
A car.
A book.
But none of those compare to my favorite blue,
Her eyes."

Blake swallows before he looks out at the class. They clap their hands wildly. Finally he was bold enough to look at Krystal. She had a dream like smile plastered on her face, glassy eyes.
"Consider me wowed." She told him, got out of his seat and left. Blake stood frozen, watching the door. Watery euphoria filled his body.
"And your second one?" Mr. Tetra brought him back to earth.
"Uh, right." He cleared his throat and flipped the pages in his hands, holding it tight before he spoke again.

"I always thought that you became an angel when you died. Never once did it occur to me that you can become an angel because someone else died. You lose them physically, but you still hold on. They take you to heaven with them. God sees your sadness and makes you an angel. I know, I've met one, held one, and I even love one. I've felt her wings and caught a glimpse of her halo. It is no surprise, once you see them, with a gold halo and white wings, you'll fall in love too."

Krystal waited outside the classroom door for Blake. Tapping her toes on the ground, the door swung open. Clumps of students filed through. Blake wiggle through the door and Krystal jumped into stride with him.
"You wrote a poem about me!" He nearly jumped through the roof.
"God! You scared me." She giggled. "Yeah, he said to write about things that mattered to us."
"We're you ever going to tell me?"
"Probably not."
"Why not?" She pouted. "It's about me."
"You write in your diary about me but I don't ask to read it."

Damn, he got me. Thank the lord he doesn't ask to see that. I would die a thousand times over.

"Fair enough."
"Exactly."

Oh thank god she's giving up! If she read that second poem I'd die a thousand deaths. That would be less painful honestly.

"So, I think we should watch some movies this weekend. I feel like we're always doing something." Krystal nodded in agreement.

🌙  🌙  🌙  🌙  🌙  🌙

Krystal sat on her grandmothers couch like she'd been doing most Friday nights and looked up at the ceiling. There was no fan, just a textured wall. They talked about everything like they normally did, Krystal didn't speak about Blake much.
"You never brought Blake over again, did you two break up?"
"We were never dating Oma, he's just my best friend." Oma snickered.
"Very well."
"Why are you laughing?" Krystal pulled herself to sit up right and look at her grandmother.
"You know as well as I, that is not the case."
"Oma, you met him once." She shook her head. Krystal smirked remembering Nancy used to do the same thing. "Besides, it's different now. Things have changed."
"We all change daily. You weren't the same person you were yesterday and you won't be the same person tomorrow you are today."
"We barley knew each other then." Krystal scoffed. Her grandmother gave her a stern look.
"How much do you know about playing guitar?"
"Uh, not much?" She crinkled her brows together.
"And yet you love it. You love the sounds it makes."
"That's different." She tried to protest.
"Krystal, what I'm saying is, you don't need to something well to know how it makes you feel." Krystal sighed.
"I wished Nancy was here. She always knew how to fix everything." She whispered down to her lap.
"You could always write."
"Write?"
"You wrote letters to Nancy and Opa. Why not Blake?" She studied her grandmother.

Sometimes I miss the sisterly advice so much I forget about the wisdom my grandmother has.

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Krystal stood in front of the mirror and took her makeup off from the day. Her hair was pulled back, giving a clear view of her face.

Blue. He said he likes the color blue. I have that blue and bleach washed flannel I wear all the time. But that's not a blue shirt. Winter wears a blue vintage Hollister shirt all the time. I think they have a class together too.

Sighing, she slipped the scrunchy from her hair. A blanket of black fell around her shoulders. The crescent moon scar seemed to fade away when she made eye contact with herself.

Blue eyes, he said. Does he like my blue eyes or just all blue eyes? Winter has brown I think. Is Oma right, is Blake really the person I'm supposed to be looking for? They say sometimes the person you want is right under your nose. Blake fits the bill. He's kind, understanding, funny, charming and my best friend. Blake makes school bearable, even when he wasn't at first. Lord knows I'm in love with him too. So now what? What do I do with all of this?

A text made her phone buzz on the edge of the counter and slide into the dry sink bowl. It was from the only person she talked to, Blake. He was asking if she wanted to hang out Saturday, a movie day at his house on the big screen. Nerves filled her stomach in the form of butterflies.

Does he know when people think about him or something? But now what do I do? If I act weird he will know something is up. I am now so aware of these feelings, but it's Blake. They've been slowly growing forever. I think anyone who knows Blake Hardy like I do would be a foul not to fall for him. So let's start out slow like I did before, let's start with a letter.

After replying with, 'where else would I be?', Krystal entered her room and found a stray notebook. In her bubbly handwriting she began to write Blake a letter. After the first few words, everything else seemed to spill on the page.