Quiet Boys.

Parker Reynolds was a peculiar child.
She pushed the kids who were bigger than her, and won.
She isn’t much of a girl.
Yet, she’s so pretty.
A very crooked pretty.

And she has many talents. She plays the piano, kind of like in the horror movies.
She has thin, long fingers. Perfect for playing the piano.
And she loves the sound, it’s rather haunting.
She’s not afraid of anything. Even things all girls should be afraid of, like failing. Or even rape.
She’s good at math. She thinks she wants to never grow up.
She’s not one of those who ever will anyways.

________

Hi. Hi is a decent greeting? Correct?
Anyways, oh, can I start?
I’m not interrupting, am I?
Pardon me, I’m a little off today.
So, I’ll start with the basic things you’ll need to know before I tell you my fairytale.
I’m seventeen. My birthday is in the spring. April twelfth. Spring is my favorite season because it’s muddy and I like squishing mud between my toes.
It was spring when it all started too.
So, I’m seventeen. Brown hair, kind of short. I guess I could look mousy. And grey eyes. I don’t care much for fashion. I wear boys clothes sometimes and I don’t mind.
I go to Francis James High School in Ohio. I like Ohio, at least we get all four seasons.
I think having all four seasons is important.
Also, I don’t want to say I’m in love, so I’ll just say something else.
Ivan Worth has my soul.

It was springtime. Sunny, and cold. I like when it’s like that very much. I was sixteen then. So was he. He’s two months older than me.
He doesn’t go to my school, but he was in the art class I took at the community recreation center.
I sat down next to him. Want to know why?
He was very, very shy. And his face was so innocent. I liked that.
His hair is brown, darker than mine. His eyes aren’t baby blue, or crystal blue.
I swear to God, they are robin’s eggshell blue.
And they have a little yellow in them too.
Not really gold even, I mean, really yellow. Sunny yellow.
There’s a pretty nice gap between his two front teeth. I liked all his flaws. All the tiny flaws I saw on his face.
Want to know what he was drawing?
An apple. It wasn’t just an apple though. It was really the core of an apple. An apple already eaten. It was in charcoal. I smiled at him, and he smiled back. Such a beautiful, coy smile.
I sound nuts, I mean. I didn’t even know him but I thought he was beautiful.
Well, I don’t like the generic “attractive” people. In fact, my type of boy, I wasn’t sure they existed until I saw Ivan. He had an ugly green and white stripped sweater. But, I liked it.
“My grandpa called, he wants his sweater back,” I said. First thing I said to him. I know it sounds rude. But guess what; so am I.
“Um, okay,” was all he said, laughing a little. His voice was soft, smooth, gentle. It was a rainy day. He was so shy that he didn’t know what to say. I like quiet boys. Quiet boys use pretty words. And brush skin with their fingertips.
I just snorted slightly, and covered my mouth, to suppress a laugh.
“The sweater isn’t that bad,” he told me.
“I actually like it,” I admitted, and smiled at him again. He smiled back, and continued on with his charcoal.
“Thanks, thank you,” he stuttered. I loved how he was so shy, and anxious. I pressed my lips together to stop a smile from coming to my mouth. I swung my legs under the table. Then I got up and got out what I had been working on.
It was paint, really, just paint. But it was paint splattered everywhere. Bright colors, neon colors. I smiled, and grabbed the purple. I was feeling purple that day.
“Like purple?” Ivan asked, moving his white paper out of the way of my wrath. I smiled.
“Purple is a symbol of royalty,” I said simply. He tilted his head, and looked like he was thinking.
“I like what you have so far. Keeping it simple is always nice,” I said with a raised eyebrow. I wondered how crazy he thought I was yet. If he thought I was, that was okay. I don’t change myself for anybody, even if he is a perfect boy.
He even had on brown corduroy pants, and converse. Be more perfect, I dare you.
“Thank you. I agree. Simple things are always nice. The simple pleasures are what counts, most of the time.”
“Indubitably,” I agreed, splashing more purple. He laughed, tugging at a loose string on his sweater. I saw that he was flushed, just slightly. I grew braver at this, and got the loose string myself.
“Thanks,” he said, this time completely red. I smiled.
“Can’t you say anything besides thanks?”
“Yes.”
“That’s better.”
“So, what’s your name?” He asked, looking from me to his drawing.
“Parker Reynolds. What’s your name?”
“Uh, Ivan Worth.” It sounded like a question.
“How old are you Ivan?” I asked, not caring if maybe I sounded a little like a stalker.
“Sixteen. Um, you?”
“Same. I just look kind of young. I’m short.”
“It’s okay, I’m tall.”
Oh my goodness, marry me you awkward, quirky, nervous boy.