Pierre knew he was different. He was the oldest at an orphanage with one thing odd about him. He never spoke one word. Fear was twined in his eyes, for when he spoke, diamonds fell from his lips, when he yelled, Rubies clattered to the floor, and when he sang, the prettiest of moonstones fell in his palms. So why...
"... Isn't that... My shirt?" "Huh?! Then how did it end up in my locker?!" We both froze, my face turning red as I looked down at the baggy material. How could I not have noticed? And why did he have to walk in just now? Christian watched me, his face slightly red as he moved closer. I closed my eyes, waiting for t...