Why is the Sky Sad?

“Of course I do,” Emma whispered, one hand floating above James’ shoulder, not sure where to fall. It hovered in the air for a second, and then with a quick sigh, it fell back to her side.

The silence that followed was like a bubble, one that enveloped them and one that simply refused to pop. James had no idea what he could say to this girl, the one that was so seemingly perfect. All words just seemed stupid coming from his mouth, his voice somehow ruining their power. He didn’t want to sound like a loser, so he didn’t say anything at all.

“How’s being home schooled? Any fun?”

James lifted his t-shirt clad shoulders to the lobes of his ears, shrugging. Honestly he had no opinion on the matter, knowing public school would’ve been way worse. True he missed Emma, but she was here now, sitting in his house, talking to him.

“School wasn’t as fun when you left. I missed you, we all did.”

James could tell it was a lie, something she said to make him feel better. He thought back to the fresh-faced kids with their shiny foreheads and big eyes; they probably forgot about him within a week. But he didn’t voice his thought, opting to shrug instead.

Not missing a beat, Emma smiled, opening her lips to talk again, “Want me to tell you about it?”

The question was stale, weighing down on their shoulders until James answered, “Of course.”

He didn’t care so much about the story, the years of public school he was fortunate enough to miss were the last thing he thought about each night. He just wanted to hear her speak, the voice of his angel whispering sweet nothings in his ear, like a perfect melody that’d lull him to sleep.

“Well…”
***
With a razor pressed firmly against his cheek, James stared at himself, unblinking, in the bathroom mirror.

It wasn’t helping, that much he could tell. His appearance hadn’t magically changed; he hadn’t suddenly become Brad Pitt or Johnny Depp. He was still James with black hair and a scrawny neck. Even as the scruff disappeared down the sink, his face becoming smooth and hair-free James looked the same. And it sucked.

He knew he had zero chance with Emma, she was gorgeous and he, well… wasn’t. She was smart and he had dropped out of school in third grade. She was normal, and he was special. Special. Not normal, stupid, idiotic, different.

With tear-stung eyes, James robotically wiped his face and placed the razor in the drawer beneath the marble counter. He wasn’t going to see Emma today. He could lie to himself; tell himself he’d go. But he knew as soon as soon as his brain caught up, he’d turn around and come back. It wasn’t worth it.

He’d just read… Again. With yet another soft sigh, James went to the bookshelf, his fingers tracing over the indented print of each novel. He knew he had already read most of them, every story had already been told. Every story but his, he thought sadly, thinking of Emma.

It had been years since he cursed his stupid mind, wished he had been somebody else with such a heavy want. He slid down to the floor, a heap of skin and bones that curled into itself. Silent tears fell from his eyes, sick with a hatred for himself. He could never do anything right, he was always blushing, always crying, always afraid.

Hours went by and he still didn’t move.

***

Richard MarKent watched the door and waited. He waited for his son to emerge, a gaping smile on his round face. He waited for his son to trail down the stairs, humming a tune, skipping with pleasure. He waited, a sick feeling growing in his stomach with each passing moment.

“Relax,” she whispered, her lips resting on his shoulders, “You’re so tense.”

Her lips moved up, sucking on his neck, trailing upward to his lips. They gently brushed together, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. He turned away, separating himself from her, the angel. There was a question in her eyes, as deep as the big ocean blue. He felt like he could fall into them, get lost forever, and all his worries would float away with the current. They were what he loved most about her. They were the only thing he loved about her.

“You better go, he might come looking for you soon.”

She nodded, though he could tell she didn’t want to. But he had all the power and she knew that. A slight frown touched her lips, hidden by her smile. Her dainty hand squeezed his thigh waiting for a reaction he didn’t give.

“Don’t worry, he’ll never know,” she whispered, her breath tickling his ear, “I’ll keep it a secret, I promise.”

With that she kissed his cheek and walked away, only glancing back once.

Richard sighed. He really hated red hair.