Different Normal

Chapter 1

Warning: violence, kind of long

This is my original work! Do not do anything to/with it without my express permission!!!

Normal. This is what most teens aim for. To fit in with the crowd, to feel acceptance, to feel happiness. But is there actually a 'norm?'

As I was about to find out, I learned that there is no such thing as a normal life. There was a broad range of differences that we called normal, and I soon found out that I defiantly was not part of it, nor would I ever again be.

My name is Amethyst Jackson. At first, I was about as normal as you could get. I had average grades, average athleticism. The only thing not normal about me was my looks. I was about 5'0, with long, wavy, silky, inky, midnight black hair that fell to my waist. I had lots of curves, or so I was told. But what made me different was my eyes. They were a vibrant purple, the color of the stone amethyst, with long, curly, thick eyelashes, surrounded by a circle of gold. Some said I was beautiful, but in reality I was cute. Because when you are no more than 5 feet, you don't look beautiful- you look slightly childish, which makes you look cute. And I hated it. At the beginning, people wanted me to be their friend, but after a while, I faded into the back round, just like I wanted to.

But when I turned thirteen, everything changed.

I was in class with my one and only friend, Bianca "Bee" Herondale. She had Black eyes, black hair, and a chestnut skin tone. At the moment, her tongue was sticking out slightly while focusing on her work for art class. She and I were completely different- she, an emo girl who was a book nerd. On the outside she was gorgeous, and could have been a normal gorgeous if it wasn't for all the black outfits, with a skull painted on her shirt, with many ear piercings, and even a nose ring. Also, don't forget the tattoos. She gave off a 'don't mess with me' kind of vibe, which is exactly what drew us together. We shouldn't be able to get along so well- me an art lover, her a book nerd. Me, all colors, sunshine; her, all darkness and shadows. Me, short; her, tall. But we fit together, somehow. Probably because we both didn't do the best with new people, we were both 'pretty' but downplayed it, and how we instantly grew close in preschool, being inseparable since then.

Bianca was doing masterful, delicate strokes of dark paint, forming a marvelous painting that no other in our class could beat. At least, nobody could make a black, grey, and white painting look good like her, with zero pattern. It is a mystery to the world how she does it. I finished my abstract painting of many bright shades just as the teacher called to clean up everything.

"That hurts my eyes. Seriously, how does anybody use that much color and not get a headache?" Bee playfully teased me as we cleaned our brushes.

"You only get a headache because you live in a world of black and white- the only color you have is your books and addiction to Starbucks." I teased back, bumping her leather-clad shoulder.

As we put our paintings on the drying rack, Bianca tensed, looking outside. As the curious person that I was, I looked outside too. There stood a woman, whose features made her look like she was from a fairytale. She had pointed ears, a delicate, ageless face, and eyes that were the unnatural color of early spring grass. Around her, the plants seemed to lean toward her. I tore my eyes away, shaking my head. Was Bee seeing what I was? When I turned back to my friend, she was gone, sitting in her assigned seat in the back of the class. She tilted her head at me, as if to say, 'What's wrong? Ya good, chica?' I knew she would use those exact words, I thought, walking back towards her, if I wasn't across the room. I knew that, because occasionally I'll stare into blank space and she'll say the same exact thing to me.