121Andy watched from inside Starbucks as Rose stood outside with her arms wrapped around herself, gazing down the street. A shiver wracked her body, and she took another sip of her hot chocolate. So maybe it was effecting Rose more then anyone else. That was no reason for *them* to come, was it? No, of course it wasn't. Andrew undoubtedly knew about it already, but she had better tell him anyways. They could afford no setbacks this early on in the game, and whatever surprises there were would be better of if they came sooner, so that they could work around them.
The doorbells jingled, and Rose glided through with that unconscious grace that Andy was so envious of. Rose was thin, and almost frighteningly pale. Her skin refused to blush, or even flush. It was this dead white that looked so intense against the winter season of her frigid green eyes and her startling red lips. Yes it was only spring, so it was hard to focus on Rose for any extended period of time. Your eyes tended to slide right away from her blank pastels of expression. She hardly ever smiled, and when she did, her white teeth flashed menacingly. Andy was beginning to think that maybe Rose didn't care to be bothered with anyone or anything. Rose's eyes swept the building, and then landed on Andy, who thumped her hand on the table.
"Andreas! Over here!" she hollered, effectively bringing a scowl to the other girl's face.
"You're too loud," Rose muttered, sitting down on the other side of the booth.
Andy shrugged and pushed a hot cocoa over to Rose's side of the table. "You look like you need it," she explained to Rose's hostile stare.
Rose didn't move much, but continued to stare warily at the steaming mug of cocoa as if it might bite her. Her half-lidded green eyes narrowed even more, and she cautiously reached out and picked the mug up. Slowly, as if she didn't want to spill it, she brought it to her lips and sipped. Andy watched this all with extreme amusement. Rose was a dork.
"You're a dork, Rose," she said affectionately.
The girl stiffened. "Well then I'll leave you-"
Andy chucked a wadded up napkin at the girl. "This is the Magical Napkin, and it says you stay, because I was being utterly affectionate in my words. You can't contradict the Magical Napkin, Andreas!"
Rose glared at her, and eased back into the bench. "Whatever. Did you know that I got dared to do something today?"
Andy was instantly interested. She leaned forwards across the table and scrunched up her nose. Rose looked at her disbelievingly, shook her head slightly, and cleared her throat. "Um," she said distinctly.
Exasperate, Andy thumped the table again. "Rose! What were you dared to do?"
"Join cheerleading," Rose muttered before nearly drowning herself in her hot chocolate.
Andy was speechless. Andy was amazed. Andy was horrified. Andy was very, very shocked. Andy was also very amused over this prospect. A tremble went through her body. "Now who dared you to do this?"
Rose gave Andy a level look. "Jacob Whitmore, Tom Castin, Seth Rata, and Avril Valentine."
The tremble went through Andy again, this time so noticeable that Rose gave her a curious look. Andy tightened up her muscles so that Rose wouldn't see her laughing. "Rose, the guys just want to see you in a short skirt and tight top. You're always wearing the uniform, which is really kind of shapeless."
"Speaking of uniforms, why didn't you wear yours the day I met you?"
"I didn't have it, and now I'm suspended. Don't change the subject. Rose, these guys will hound you until you at least show them something. Make it a point to go to a popular pool or something."
"No."
"Then join cheerleading."
"No!" Rose snapped, taking another swig of her drink.
Andy grinned and went in for the winning remark. "I'll bet you can't even do it. You're right, Rose. You're nowhere near as flexible as they are, never mind the fact that becoming a cheerleader would be the ultimate revenge," Andy said nonchalantly, sipping her cocoa daintily.
Rose froze, and set down her cup gently. "Did you just say that I'm not as good as those ditzy bimbos?"
THAT NIGHT:
"She's doing WHAT?"
"You heard me."
"No!"
"Yeah, she is! Won't that be great, Andrew, seeing her jump around in that uniform?"
"Yeah, but other guys will too! I FORBID IT!"
"I really don't think you have a say in the matter, m' dear."
"She's doing WHAT?" the first voice repeated in shock.
There was a thump.
"I think Summer just fainted on us," the second voice said with a gleeful laugh.
"She's doing WHAT?" the first voice repeated hopelessly.
"You're doing WHAT?" Rose's mother asked in shock.
Rose looked at her in irritation. She dropped the dishes gracelessly into the sink and snapped the damp towel at her mother. "Why is that everyone's reaction? Jesus Christ, you'd think that I was becoming a Satanist or something! And I've met some nice Satanists before! I'm just joining the stupid thing because of a dare Mother. The ultimate revenge, you know?"
Her mother dropped to her knees and buried her face in the towel. "What's happened to you, Julian? You used to be this cruel, uncaring, bitchy teenager that never even spoke! What happened to you?"
Rose scowled and spun. Stomping out of the kitchen, she considered her mother's words. She had changed. Why? Because of Andy. The cure? Andy's death.
The fair girl marched into the living room and took the phone from her father, hung up, and then turned it back on. Ignoring her father's enraged roaring, she dialed Andy's number and waited in irritation as it dialed. The annoying "beep" assailed her ears, and she hung up. Stupid girl was busy! Stupid, stupid, stupid! Speaking of stupid...
She barged into April's floral, pink room and nearly gagged as the wave of perfume rolled out onto her. April was on her floor doing her nails (well, it looked like she was trying really hard. She had spilled the bottle over the newspaper she was using, and the paint was all over her toes.) She was also shrieking "She's doing WHAT?" into the phone repeatedly.
Rose drew a deep breath. "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"
April gaped at her. "You're doing WHAT?"
Rose shrieked in rage and flung one of April's stuffed animals at her. "I am so sick of people knowing what I'm doing and answering like that! What's wrong with you people? And why the hell do you have a private line? AND WHY IS YOUR ROOM PINK?"
April's mouth popped open, and an unintelligible rush of words poured out. Rose sat down on the ground and stared at April, who made a highly strange face and pushed herself back against her bed. "Guys," she muttered, "Rose is in attack mode and is sitting on my floor staring at me. I don't know what to do!"
Rose kept staring at April. It was a trick she had learned in a dream. In her dream they were playing a game called "Old Janx Spirit", which she had read about in Douglas Adams' "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy". Strangely enough, in this dream she had learned to not have to blink. It was highly effective for scaring the living daylights out of people.
April's eyes began to blink double time on Rose's behalf. "Guys," she said desperately. "Help!"
Rose was in the pre-attack stage when the wind suddenly slammed against the side of the house, rattling April's windows. April shrieked in surprise, and Rose leaped to her feet and began edging towards the door. The wind clattered against April's windows again, making the girl gibber in terror. Rose looked contemptuously at the cowering beauty and crossed to the window. Well if April was scared, she'd have to show her up. Of course. It was a Rose type thing to do. Throwing open the shades, she scanned the dark expanse of grass and trees. She was about to turn and yell at April for being terrified over nothing, when something caught her eye.
Something was shining in the tree. The one something became two, and then became something that looked a lot like a pair of eyes. They were a brilliant, brilliant green. The eyes seemed to plunge into her head, into her mind, down into her heart, and then into her soul, where it sent roots into the walls of her spirit. Something white gleamed in the night, and then it suddenly leaped forwards and threw itself against the window.
Startled, Rose screamed and stumbled backwards. She tripped over April and landed hard on her tailbone. The girl looked up to yell at April for tripping her, when she saw April's expression. The girl stared in astonishment, and then began to speak tremblingly into the phone.
"Yeah, we're okay, but Rose is, uh, back to normal. I mean, not normal exactly, since it's only one season, but-"
"April, you're getting really-" Rose began, but then was cut off by the window shattering and the beast tackling her to the ground.
April screamed and ran out the door. Rose heard her dialing 911, hanging up, and then shrieking to her mother that something had attacked Rose, and that they needed to hurry. Time slowed down to a snail's pace for Rose. The beast was gorgeous. She wanted time to look at it. Its green eyes glowed in its silver muzzle. Coarse silver/white fur glistened and prickled under April's cheery lighting. Its teeth gleamed, and she found herself wondering how much it would take to get her teeth that white.
Then those teeth where biting into her shoulder, and its claws were raking across her chest. It felt like something was being ripped from her, and that something else was being replaced. Something plunged into her chest, and she felt her life beginning to end. Desperate now and more than a little angry, she reached up with all of her force, and something happened.
She wasn't sure what it was, but it was like the entire room suddenly got a lot colder. White flakes began to fall from the air above the beast. It withdrew from Rose, who was beginning to see nothing but black, and looked up at the flakes. Rose suddenly smiled. The flakes all began to glow gold. The beast now looked like a white Christmas tree, she thought distantly. Tiny beams of light burst from the flakes that had landed on the beast, and it howled in pain, although she couldn't hear it. Then suddenly it was gone.
Rose lay there quietly for a while, and then sat up. She reached to her shoulder. There was no blood. Upon inspecting the skin, she discovered five black slashes. Interesting. Her hand went to her chest. There was no hole, although there was a strange lump in the center of her chest. Feeling it through her shirt, it felt like a perfectly smooth oval. She peeked down into her shirt and smiled. It was a dark red that almost looked black. Like blood. Blood made into a jewel.
"How pretty," she mumbled, before bringing herself to her feet.
Rose felt strange. Misplaced. Like there was something different about her. Something turned over in her heart, and Rose stumbled on her way to the door. Her hands were shaking, and were so weak that they couldn't grasp the doorknob. Whatever was wrong with her was beginning to hurt deep inside of her. She breathed in deeply, and then choked. Coughing, she slid down to the floor on her knees and hugged her stomach. Coughs racked her entire body, and a feeling that might best be described as her head splitting in two tore through her mind. Opening her mouth to scream, Rose suddenly thought of something.
If something really was wrong with her, something really and truly wrong that couldn't be explained, she'd be shipped off to some scientific facility. What good would that do anyone? Rose focused her mind on her heartbeat and began calming it down. Her breathing became normal again. The headache dropped away to a dull, painless throb her chest. The strange feeling did not leave her body, but she was beginning to feel like maybe she could stand.
So she stood shakily and turned the doorknob. Rose lurched unsteadily out into the hallway and stood there with her hands on her knees for a few seconds. Once she was sure that she could continue on without giving anything away, she walked cautiously down the stairs.
As was her habit, she paused before descending the last step and walking into full view of the living room. There were no voices at all. This was curious, since her family had an odd obsession with spending every waking moment talking. Some people, she suddenly knew, needed reassurance that they were real. Some people talked to make sure that someone was there with them, and that they mattered to someone else in the world. Some people talked just because they had joy and wanted to share it.
In Rose's point of view, reality was in the eye of the beholder. Reality for normal people was that trees were brown. Their leaves are green. The sky is blue. The ocean is wet. Humans are wonderful creatures. But what about for those that couldn't see? Would their reality be different from hers and anyone else's? They would undoubtedly see things differently from the way others did. And what about those creatures that saw things in different colors? And those who are colorblind? Is this still reality? Or is it simply a different one? And if it's a different one, is it possible that two realities can be the exact same thing?
Rose used to be able to tell what was real and what was not. That, however, was no longer the case. She heard the voices of the dead cry out from their graves at night. She felt the whispers of wind touch her mind and speak to her. She smelt the scent of flowers days before April even came to her house. Rose had no right to dictate what reality was to anyone.
She also knew that there was no real reason for her to talk. If reality was relative, then how could she possibly matter to anyone? She operated in a reality of her own making, and the only ones allowed in were those that could not be seen. Were they real? She didn't know, and wasn't afraid to admit it. Maybe what was simply air in one reality was a human in another. And maybe she could see past those divides. She had no need to talk. If it was important, she'd be heard.
That was all.
There was nothing else to her story.
She stepped out into the living room light.
April leaped up and sprinted to Rose to fling her arms around the other girl. "Rose! I was so worried about you! What happened to that robber? Are you okay? Did he do anything to you! God, don't ever scare me like that ever again!"
Rose shrugged out of the embrace. "I'm all right, aren't I?" Without saying anything more, she sat down on the couch and glanced up at her parents through her bangs. "Yes?"
Claire gripped the arms of her chair. "Rose," she said, and then stopped, trying to start over. "Something happened up there, am I right? Please, tell me what happened," Claire said softly, struggling to contain tears.
Rose didn't even move. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she said tonelessly.
"Try me, please," she whispered.
Now Rose looked up, presenting her mother with the full results of the break-in upstairs. Her green eyes had leaped back to life and now glowed hauntingly against her dusky eyelashes. Her pale pink lips had been painted back over with the crimson of her namesake. Her skin seemed whiter, but she still seemed different somehow.
"A giant silver beast burst through the window, Mother. April ran. He attacked me. He ripped open my shoulder and plunged his claws through my chest. Something was taken from me, and something was given to me. It was killed by an impromptu snowfall in April's room. The flakes burst into flames and he was destroyed. I stood up and inspected myself. I was healed. There are five scars on my shoulder. There is a large, black, star shaped scar on my chest where the wound was. In the middle of this scar is a blood red oval. I got a headache and almost fainted again. Then I came downstairs."
Her entire report was delivered colorlessly, without any shade of emotion. April studied Rose covertly, and shivered. The girl was sitting there perfectly still on the couch, lank blonde hair shadowing her face. A cruel tilt was lent to her half-smile, and the glow in her eyes was malevolent. There was a sudden movement by the fire, drawing April's attention immediately. Rose's father drew himself up from a slouch and buried his face in his hands. "Oh God, Claire! Why now? Why now, out of all the times?"
Rose knew she should have been interested, but couldn't bring herself about to caring. She felt hollow. It took too much energy to do anything, let alone care about something. She pulled herself back to her feet.
"I'm going to bed," she said in a monotone. "April can sleep on the trundle bed in my room if she's afraid he'll come back. School's tomorrow. I have to present a speech. And try out for cheerleading."
With this said, Rose forced herself to walk out of the living room and up at least half of the stairs. She couldn't make it much past that, and collapsed. There was an odd roaring in her ears, and then she heard a low chuckle. Rose's eyes opened just enough to see black Vans, and then let them close. If he was a robber, she had nothing to give. Not anymore, and the truth of it rang in her empty space. Arms went under her knees and neck, and she was lifted up.
"I don't normally do these things for people, you know. Like you, I don't care much for others. My dear Rose, you really shouldn't have to deal with him, if you know who I mean. This, however, is the least I can do for the scare earlier. Your father is giving himself quite the mental beating, you know. Your family has a plethora of unshared secrets, pet," the stranger murmured in a soothing, deep voice.
This struck a cord within her. She was no one's pet! Rose struggled to open her eyes and was terrified to learn that she could not. His laugh rumbled through her mind.
"You can't escape now, pet. I will undoubtedly be seeing you some other time. For now, farewell," he whispered, brushing his cool lips across her own.
Then the roar in her ears was gone, and Rose was suddenly sitting up, clutching the sheets to her chest. The room was pitch black, and it suddenly scared her. Things could come to you in the dark. Things like whoever that man was. Who was he? What made him think that he had the right to simply kiss her like that? Or to call her pet? But the kiss!
To Rose's deep shame, she discovered that she wasn't sorry about the kiss at all.
THE NEXT MORNING
April yawned as she rolled out of bed. She opened the window binds sleepily, and then opened her eyes wide to let the sunlight in. Like every morning, the greenness of spring leaped joyfully at her through the window, and she was instantly alive with energy. Trying not to whoop out loud, she raced to the shower and threw herself into the cold water. Bubbling happily to herself about the glorious morning time, she bounced to the dresser and threw her BRAND NEW AWESOMELY CUTE school uniform on. Forgetting where she was, she whooped, slapped herself, muttered angrily about hands in general, and swooped downstairs.
Where she stopped dead.
Rose was sitting on the hardwood floor, leaning against the wall. Her head was bowed, beautiful blonde hair hiding her face. She was dressed in nothing but a gray spaghetti strap and black pajama shorts. April inched closer and then let out a horrified shriek. In Rose's hand was a knife, which had blood along the blade. April let out a sob and ran to the girl, dropping down beside her. She gripped Rose's hands and bowed her head.
"Why, you moron? Why? Everything's ruined now! You can't die! It's not supposed to be like this!"
Rose raised her head enough so that April could see clearly into her blank green eyes, which were still glowing. "I'm not dead, you numbskull."
April stared at her and then slapped her with all of her might. "Don't you dare do that ever again! You terrified me!"
The blonde girl rubbed her face, and then glanced down at her wrist. "I think I'm dead, or something like it," she said finally.
"What?"
Rose presented her wrists. April was horrified to see several deep gashes across the veins, all of which were just that: gashes. There was no blood, no scab, and no scar. Only canyons in her wrists. "What did you do?" she breathed, taking Rose's wrists and turning them slowly to different angles.
"Last night. The beast stole my essence. My heart. My soul. Whatever you want to call it. I can't die, April. I cut my wrists five different times last night, and none of them bled."
"But what about the blood on the knife?" April asked, now completely lost. What kind of person was Rose anyway?
Rose gave her a strange look. "It's not blood. It's a special knife I bought from a thrift store to scare my parents. It's fake blood."
"Oh," April said softly, and then stiffened. "What would you have done if you had been wrong about your soul? What would you have done then?"
"Bled to death. I've always heard that it's rather pleasant. No one here would miss me anyways. Oh, I need to get ready," Rose said, glancing at the clock. "Eat breakfast. I'm not hungry, so we can leave right when I get downstairs. Assuming you're done with breakfast, of course," she said with a cold glare at the suddenly sheepish girl.
April opened her mouth to make a joke about her inability to eat quickly, but Rose was already gone. She sighed, stood, and wandered into the kitchen, thinking about what had brought her to the Andreas household.
The story really wasn't all that interesting. She was just a foreign exchange student from Canada, and the Andreas' were her first pick. It was mostly because they had a daughter around her age, so she had been looking forward to having someone like a sister. But then Andrew had found her. And with him came Summer. Together, the three of them found Andy. Then the four looked for the fifth, but couldn't find her. That was when April came to meet Rose Andreas. It was in her expression. It was in her stance. It was in the way she never spoke. Winter was woven into her like April never could have believed.
Why did everything that was good turn into a job?
She poured herself a bowl of cereal, and followed it up with skim milk. April pushed her spoon into the traditional American breakfast and scooped up some of the Frosted Flakes. Thinking and taking her time, she ate the spoonful. This process was repeated, while April sat oblivious to anything but the warm feeling of the clearly family kitchen and the warm sunlight streaming through the windows. Rose's baby brother's pictures littered everything: they hung from the refrigerator, they were suspended from the walls by tape and sticky tack, and were peeking out from any other space left available. Peter's briefcase had been left open, and now there were more of Daniel's pictures, and a paper in a stretched, flat handwriting. The heading at the top was Rose's. Knowing it was none of her business, she grabbed up the paper and brought it around to where she could see it.
It was a poem. A simple poem, written by Rose. She focused in on it, and then smiled. How aptly written, and how much like Rose to say something like that.
"Talent:
A deep rooted thing
Writhing and spinning with untamed power
Power to create
The power to be a god-
If only for a while
It is forever
Like the Jesus of the devout
And Laws of Science for reason
A curtain drops and the Talented are stunned
Shocked
immobile, motionless
As our days spiral down
Into a black and white catchall
Filled with used ideas and broken minds
But then a pure note rings out
A smile lights the day
Inspiration dances
untouchable-
Color illuminates your third eye
Words drip from your fingers like diamonds
Music rises from a soul
And our talent lives again."
April kind of grinned, and gently laid the poem back down in the briefcase. So Rose was an aspiring poet. How incredibly unlike her, but in a way, it couldn't be more characteristic of the girl. Footsteps sounded behind her, and April suddenly realized with a jolt of panic that she had only eaten a few bites of her breakfast. Desperate, she crammed another spoonful into her mouth right as Rose's iron hand went around her upper arm and yanked her out of the chair.
"We're going to be late," Rose snarled, dragging April out into the garage, where she tossed her a helmet. "Put it on," she ordered, strapping her own on. "I usually have time to walk to school, but today we have to take the bike," Rose said waspishly.
"The bike-?"
"Yeah, the bike," Rose repeated with a scowl, uncovering a sleek, black Harley Davidson.
April's mouth dropped open. "Oh god no," she moaned.
For the first time, April saw Rose smile, and it wasn't pretty. Rose snickered wickedly and motioned for April to hop on the back. She did so tremblingly and more than a little reluctantly. Rose flashed that white, feral grin and leaped off into the morning.
Andy was at her desk in first period when Rose strode into the classroom and slammed her books down on her desk. Every conversation paused for a second, and then started back up. Rose tore something out of her binder and handed it to the startled teacher without blinking.
"Here," she muttered.
The teacher and student stared at each other for a while, until the teacher flinched violently. "Of course," she said, recovering quickly. "Let me take that from you."
"I'm giving it to you," she ground out before slapping the paper down onto the teacher's desk and marching back to her desk and deflating.
Andy smiled. "Hey Rose! How are ya doin? You look kinda down. Is there something wrong?"
Rose started, and then sat up and stared hard at Andy. "You're probably in on the whole Andrew-Summer-April coalition thing too, aren't you," she stated, rather then asked.
The brown haired girl shrugged and drew another line on her paper. "I don't know. Not really. I don't like Summer that much, and I despise April. Andrew's kind of weird and even scary at times. I'm like an outsider compared to them, and so I don't like to hang out in their little group much. I was hoping-but you know how those things go most of the time."
Rose looked down, recalling brief images of that day, and nodded. "Yeah. I do know how those things go."
"I thought you might," Andy said quietly, turning back to her paper.
The blonde sat silently for a moment and then stood. Aware that all eyes were on her, she crossed the small expanse of carpet to Andy's desk and sat down in the desk in front if it. Not saying anything, she watched Andy draw another line on what she now knew to be a picture of a very well drawn cat-girl.
"What's it called?" she asked suddenly.
Andy twitched, and then looked up with a grin. "It's called anime! Bwahahahahahaha!"
Rose looked at her somewhat worriedly and backed away. Maybe making friends would come some other day. Preferably when she wasn't laughing like that. She glanced quickly over at Andy (who was still laughing hysterically) and focused on her paper. Yes. Definitely sometime when she was not playing the part of the mad scientist.
NOTES: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I know it's been a while, and I hope this was worth the wait. Thanks to L-chan for giving me the poem! And here's a special note for Devil Cat (ah ha! I spelled your name wrong! *evil laughter*): NOW GO READ GODFORSAKEN! I WANT MORE REVIEWS! AND TAKE IT SERIOUSLY, PLEASE! *begs*
MOVING ON! Um. Wait. Well. I suppose that's it. *scratches head* Yeah, that's it. *walks away with hands in pockets, muttering unintelligibly to self*
WARNING: THE WEARING OF THIS COSTUME DOES NOT ENABLE YOU TO FLY.