The first bit of my new story! yay!
This boy is Garrett.
He is a high school student, gets decent grades and is generally reckoned to be “a pretty good guy.” He doesn't vandalize or drink, and he isn't a gang member. His life is pretty boring.
This girl is new at Righten High School, arguably the best school in this desiccated bit of Oregon.
Nobody knows if she's nice or not. They only know that she's already top in every class she's taken, and she's only been here two days. They also know that she wears really weird clothes, especially for the beginning of September in the midst of this virtual desert. She always wears a scarf, even though it's still technically summer. And nobody dares to talk to her.
Nobody knows her name. She seems to have come to Oregon alone. She doesn't have a car; she doesn't seem to have parents, relatives, or adoptive parents to take care of her. She talks weird. She probably doesn't have a house. She probably spends all her money on clothes; they look really really expensive. She probably lives in someone's basement. Maybe the owners are on vacation, and she broke in. She's probably anorexic. That would explain why she doesn't eat the school lunches. She also probably can't pay for it. She doesn't even bring a lunch...
Basically, she's more attractive than the other girls, and they know it. Which is why they are trying to spread dirty rumors about her. Although it's not as if her attractiveness will do her any good when no male non-teacher dares to talk to her.
This brings us, in a roundabout way, back to Garrett. This is, after all, his story.
Garret bicycled to school again. He didn't have a car. He didn't use his mom's car either because she didn't trust him to use it. Good for her, in Garrett's opinion. He didn't trust him to use it, either. It wasn't that far to school, anyway. He rode into the parking lot and chained his bike to the bike rack so it wouldn't get stolen. Again.
He walked through the glass doors, the glass of which had run over the years so that everything seen through them was hugely, grossly distorted. Standing just behind them was the new girl. He had only heard her called “Miss Payne.” She did, indeed, wear strange clothes. His eyes seemed to be trying to tell his brain, “She's wearing a skirt and a tank top! These are normal clothes!” and weren't entirely successful. He tried to see what they looked like. It was hard.
She was wearing a floor-length, orange, yellow and red silk hoop skirt.
This would be strange enough without the flame-patterned, beaded brocade corsette bodice and stand-up gold collar. Her hair was up in thick, round amber curls on the back of her head. She had a small, gold-coloured flame-shaped... Tiara pinning down the front of her hair. When she started walking, he saw that she was wearing gold, slightly high-heeled shoes.
In a daze, he followed her soft, flame-coloured rustle to her locker. It was right next to his. He hardly noticed what he was getting out of his locker. He tried not to synchronize his movements with hers. He failed.
He finally realized that his throat hurt from the effort of not saying anything. His lungs hurt from the effort of not breathing. He let out his breath. This was a bad move, seeing as he would have to take another one soon.
He took the plunge.
“Hi.”
She whirled around in a silky circle of flames.
“Oh. Good day.”
Good day... How exactly do I reply to that?!
“Uh...”
She waited, seeming a little concerned. She waited for a minute before speaking.
“Are you all right?”
She waited for a further seventeen seconds.
“You're kind of not breathing.”
He took in a deep breath.
She must use perfume like a battering ram, he thought.
“Um...”
“Yes?”
Her voice was as silky as her skirt, sweet, and sounded like she was half-singing. He realized that against her voice, every other girl he knew sounded shrill and squeaky.
“Your little... crown, thing.”
He latched onto the topic like a limpet.
“It's very pretty.”
“Oh! You can see it?” She said, puzzled.
“Uh, why wouldn't I?” He said, in the face of the evidence.
“Well... It's like people are trying not to see my clothes.”
He tried not to take that the way most people would.
“Well, yes, I can see it. And your clothes are very pretty, too.”
She smiled a little and turned fully toward him. She gracefully took off the little crown and handed it to him.
He turned it over in his hands. The outside was smooth and shiny, but not shiny like metal is shiny, shiny like metallic paint is shiny.
“What's it made of?”
“Leather. It's hardened into that shape and painted.”
“Oh.”
He handed it back to her. She put it on again.
“I'm Garrett.”
“Hello, Garrett.”
“Uh... What's your name?”
“I am Eilisyiaminia Carlesia Anastasia Lillineia Fernariachia Seremonilia Kathaerinnia Elesebethania Carmellinia Desireesia Faria Jasmeinnia Haellimia Quiinerlia Beatrixia Nigellia Sarenia Payne.”
“Oh. I see.”
“I assume my parents preferred girls' names ending with 'ia'. My first name means Lover of the Sun.”
“Um... Nigellia?”
“It was my aunt's name. She always said it meant 'Oops we wanted a boy.'”
“Um.”
They walked in silence for a while.
“Um, this is my class.”
“Oh? Well, goodbye, Garrett. Oh, and-- you may call me Eiliyse.”