Page 49 of Paint the Town, Dove
“I won’t make any friends,” I pouted.
“You’ve got to be open minded, Dove.” He called me that often now. Like it was our own secret, a hidden treasure in the cove of our little world. I liked it.
I liked him.
“You never know what life has in store.” He said it with so much confidence that I almost believed it. For the first time in eons, I grounded my roots in healthy soil.
Ryden was the sun that kept me in bloom.
So I chose to believe that he was right.
I chose to trust him.
And when I walked into class that day, taking my seat in the back away from all the people I knew I’d hate, in walked a rainbow.
In walked Emory Maria Williams.
***
“Hi,” she smiled. She had big brown eyes, freckles all over her face.
I was cautious. Curious, but cautious.
“Hello?” she repeated, sitting next to me.
“There are plenty of chairs.”
“I want this one.”
“Whatever.” I don’t know why I was rude. I don’t know why she put up with it.
She stared at me all of class. I couldn’t focus on a thing our teacher was saying.
“Want to be partners?” she asked, eyes bright.
I zoned out the whole time, playing with the guitar pick Ryden got me. “Partners?”
“Yeah,” she tucked her feet under her chair. “Me and you.”
“Who are you?”
She extended a hand, bangles clanging together like cymbals. “I’m Emory.”
I shook it wearily. “Vi – Scar,” I cleared my throat. “I’m Scarlett Blake.”
The skin around her eyes crinkled when she smiled. “Do you always introduce yourself as your full name?”
I frowned, confused. “Should I not have?”
“It’s not customary,” she said, then shrugged. “I like your hair.”
“Customary,” I repeated the word like it was honey on my tongue. “Customary.”
She yanked my chair closer to her. Strong thing, even with little arms.
I noticed, then.
I froze.
