Thread:ThoseWhoWanderAreNotLost/@comment-37225849-20190108221625/@comment-37225849-20190109032724

Part 3/3

Gasping, I clench the doorway to the gym in fear of a tardy. And then the ‘start of class’ bell rings, greeting me with a joyful purple instead of the gray streaks of the ‘end of class’ bell. I scurry into the girls locker room, my emerald eyes searching the room.

I stare in confusion, looking at the group of girls huddled on the opposite side of the room to my locker. Then I see.

Adrianna James wrote “FREEEEEEEEEEK” in red lipgloss on my locker.

And I know why.

CHAPTER TWO I run into a bathroom stall, sobbing. How could this happen to me? I have never told anyone about my colors! Not once! And it’s not like I like them!

Exasperated and filled with a sinking feeling filling my stomach, I run out and do the unthinkable. I punch Adrianna straight across the cheek. I leave the locker room, satisfied with the large red mark I’ve left on her left cheek. My knuckles are pink with her blush. I laugh.

And then I realize the magnitude of what I’ve done.

I sit in the principal’s office, dissatisfied with my first visit to his office. I expected glitz. Glamor. And this is what I get?

Mr. Angus, the vice principal, walks into his office.

“Well, well, what do we got here?” His thick southern accent evokes strange salmon circles in the air. “You punched another student?”

He looks down at my record. I glare.

“You do realize this is now in your permanent record, right?”

I glare more.

“Answer me now.” His voice, grower sterner every second, seems to falter as he glances at the record again.

“Juniper Parks. You have a reputation for not making the smartest choices, don’t you?” He seems to tease me. His voice flutters.

My eyes grow colder.

“Adrianna James. She’s a problem. I would deal with her before dealing with me.” My response, seemingly witty in my head, comes out sounding like something a stuck-up piece of crap like Adrianna and her posse would say.

“We will consider your punishment in due time. For now, know you are on my watch list.” I look away from Mr. Angus’ face.

I stand up. We shake hands. I storm out.

CHAPTER THREE As soon as I get home, my mother calls me over.

We may have been close when I was young. But we sure aren’t anymore.

Her voice fills the air, still periwinkle and bright.

“What did you do this time?” Her questioning makes me turn red. I don’t want to answer, and I don’t feel the need to. I walk straight past her and into my room.

“Juniper!” She yells from the kitchen, turning her voice into a darker midnight blue. “WHAT?” I scream, slamming my bedroom door behind me. Not bothering to listen to her reply, I jam my earbuds into my ears and turn my Billy Joel playlist on. The colors that appear with each note soothe me. For once I feel calm. No worries. I hope.

I take this time to be carefree. At school I have problems. At home I have problems. But here, I’m free.

I close my eyes and let the colors encompass my mind. I drift off. I fly through my thoughts, spreading my wings and observing each color and shape. Why sound has color to me, I don’t know. Neither do I know why letters have personality and meaning. Someday I hope I will find out. For now, I only enjoy it when I get to choose what I listen to. When my mind is blank.

At school, my brain gets crowded with color, and I try to focus on schoolwork, but I can’t. Choir is my safe place, where the advanced singing voices of me and my peers work together to create the best artwork in my head. Not at all like english, where the words create a tangled mess in my head and give me a headache.

I stare up at the stars through my window. I wonder what it’s like to be a star. To float through space with nothing to do, nowhere to be. It must be great.

I become a star too, drifting off to sleep.

I wake up with a heavy crash. I rub my eyes and look around. The bright flash of dawn shines through my window. Mornings are so angelic. I don’t understand why people hate them so much. I get up, off the floor.

My head hurts from crying silent tears. My throat hurts from keeping the screaming hate trying to get up my throat inside.

If I’m going to clear my head, I better take a nice walk towards the park.

It’s a Saturday. A day of peace and quiet. A day for resting. I put my Doc Martens on and a beanie, and I walk straight out into the open world, phone in my pocket, and heart ready to soar.

I beam as I notice how bright the sun is glowing above me. What a beautiful sight, at least for someone in need of healing like me. I take a deep breath, adoring the smell of the fresh pinewood trees decorating the streets around me.

I should’ve taken Twinkles I think, imagining her tiny, rosy paw prints. She is getting a little old, though.

My family’s been getting through a lot. Since my dad died when I was 8, my mom has been constantly been getting more and more depressed. She’s threatened me with suicide multiple times, blaming my unruly behavior for her deep, convulsing sadness. If I only I had treated her better yesterday….

I take in the light pastel colors that decorate the clean morning air. This is something I can tolerate, something I’ve learned to love. Not at all like school, at least