Strange Minds Think Alike

Silver POV:
7 Years Ago
“Silver,” Nora called from behind a tall stack of boxes. I dont answer. Today was the day we left New York, it was also the last day of elementary school. I’d be moving to Pennsylvania because of Aunt Nora’s job. She was a writer, a really young writer; at only 24 she has an extremely popular series. Something like super-natural teenage love stories, those things are all the rave now. But she says she’s got writer’s block, so we’re moving somewhere new. Well, new for me at least. Its Nora’s hometown, which means it was also my parent’s hometown. My dead mother’s hometown.
Nora tells me that my mother died long ago. That when she was just a girl she ran away from home with her boyfriend and then had me. She didn’t want me though. I was a burden, an accident, I soiled her beautiful life, I ruined her everything and she tried to kill me. So in order to keep me safe, my dear father secretly sent me away to his sister, far away from any harm. My mother thought I was dead.
That’s all Nora told me about what happened. But I’ve always felt as if there was more to the story. Nora says my mom, though selfish, was not all bad a person. She just didn’t know how to love right. From the one picture I have of my parents I can see how beautiful they were. She passed on her raven, black hair to me, and her creamy white skin. Though I did not inherit her cold black eyes, instead I was blessed with my father’s; sharp, ice blue.
Aunt Nora says Damien was a wonderful man and was the most caring big brother she could ask for. She says over and over again how great a person he was, that he just tried to keep me safe. Then she would start to cry and left me confused, but she refused to explain any further. She declared me a child, an innocent, I wouldn’t understand and she didn’t want me to.
“Silver, we’re gonna be late hun’. C’mon, I got to get you to school,” she calls to me. She’s winding through the maze of boxes to get to me. In our small apartment the boxes consumed every room. All I had left was my small suitcase and the carry-on Nora told me to pack for the plane ride after school. All of the boxes would be shipped to us once we left, so I had to pack pretty heavy to survive our first few weeks in Pennsylvania.
She told me I didn’t have to go to school today, but I insisted, and finally convinced her. The only reason I wanted to go so badly was to say goodbye to my best friend, Haven.
We’ve been the best of friends since we met when we were just little kids. Her mom helped Aunt Nora out when we were younger. When Nora was only 18 and I was just getting into pre-school, she surely needed any help she could get. I still am not exactly sure what made her want to be my guardian at such a young age, she was just graduating. All I do know is she has the biggest heart I’ve ever known.
“Coming,” I say my voice just below a shout. I slip on my shoes and put my brush down, looking in the mirror once more.
I meet Nora at the front door and she hands me a Poptart. Strawberry, my favorite. “Let’s go, you can eat in the car,” she looks at her phone one more time then we get out the door, down the elevator, and hold our hands out for a taxi.
When we get to Jefferson Elementary I quickly jump out of the taxi, wave bye to Nora before getting to homeroom.
~***~
After school I wait outside for Nora with Haven. This was it. We’re leaving, in about two hours I’ll be on a plane far from everything I know.
I look at Haven as a taxi pulls up, with Nora in it. “Well this is goodbye then,” I say miserably. She looks through her curtain of blonde waves with her bright green eyes.
“I’m gona miss you so much,” she squeaks, and then pulls me into a hug. “Bye, I’ll keep in touch,” she says quietly. Haven was always really shy; I was the only person who stuck around to hear all the things she had to say, which was not always so meek. Her mother jumped from rich men to old heirs who were on the brink of death, so they left all their money behind for her. One husband left the penthouse Haven lives in now. Haven’s little sister, Holly, didn’t understand any of this. But Haven was a good big sister; she kept Holly going when their mom was busy hanging onto her youth at spas and clubs.
“Okay,” I say, and then I turn and get in the cab. I wave until I can’t see her anymore, from the distance and the tears.
~***~
Present Day
I wake up to the sound of my alarm clock, and when I look at the time I find out I’ve unconsciously pushed the snooze button a few too many times. “Shit,” I whisper, jumping out of bed. I was going to be so late. I had a major hangover, like legit, my head was pounding. I find the Tylenol on my nightstand and swallow the two red and blue pills down with a gulp of stale water. With the two pills sliding slowly down my throat I stand up and stretch, then stop. God, why am I so damn sore?
I rush to my little walk in closet find a suitable black skirt and pull on some old, ripped tights. I find my favorite black hoodie near the hamper, the one with hello kitty on it, then I lace up my old high tops. When I get to the bathroom I hear Lorraine downstairs already frying some eggs.
Running my fingers through my long, inky hair and put in a bow, I try to rub the sleep out of my eyes before I smear on some eyeliner, having no time whatsoever to do anything more. I grab my backpack and sprint down the stairs of the Pennsylvanian mansion, or whatever you want to call it. It’s a giant house on a farm that has no animals or crops in the country part of Pennsylvania. I stumble on the last step and run to the counter almost running into Frank, a butler. A sexy butler at that. He's young and fit, we usually only get the old, fat guys.
"Oh, sorry, didn’t see you there love," he says in my ear as he balances me out. Did I mention that he has a British accent? Yeah, sexy.
“Morning sweetie,” Lorraine says, as I walk into the kitchen. I turn and see that Frank is already down the hall and I swear I hear him laugh. Lorraine is serving me eggs on one of the millions of fancy plates in this house. And that’s not even counting the ones in the China hutch, which for some odd reason aren’t ever used. Lorraine is the house nanny, or maid, I’m still not sure. There’s staff running all over this house. But supposedly Nora grew up with Lorraine, so I’m guessing she’s a special case nanny/maid.
Nora’s family is a lot richer than I thought they would be when I first got here seven years ago. It’s like a whole other world from what living with Nora was like when I was a kid. Then, we lived in a small one bedroom apartment with a two-in-one kitchen-living room gig going on. We shopped at Wal-mart for just about everything, we were on the brink of poor back then, food stamps and everything. That’s another reason why Nora decided to move back in her parent’s house, which happens to be a mansion with maids and a kitchen staff. Why she didn't do it sooner beats me.
After scarfing down the eggs I kiss Lorraine on the cheek and run out the door. “Have a good day sweetie,” she calls after me, and I mumble a ‘goodbye’ as I get into the Deathcab. That is what I secretly call the car that takes me everywhere, because it takes me to Hell every morning, five times a week. Dennis is my very own driver. It’s not exactly a limo, but it might as well be. I mean I’m almost 18 and I haven’t even been behind the wheel, as much as I’d like to.
No one else at Sir Richard’s Prep School has towncars, just their expensive Mercedes’ and Audis’. So I make Dennis drop me off a half a block away from school so I don’t draw attention. God that damn car was so unnecessary, but does that change Lorraine’s mind? Nope. Nora was fine with me driving, but Lorraine's word was final.
Sir Richard’s Prep School may sound all fancy and classy but everyone there is just as skanky and asshole-y as any other high school. I mean honestly, no one here has any morals. All they care about is designer this and that and their daddy’s membership at the country club. Oh who gives a shit? Not me. Not the orphan girl, the one who’s mother was murdered by her father. I don’t even know how that shit got out. I sure as hell didn’t spill those beans. Somehow everyone just knows every flaw about everyone here. It’s just another reason why I hate it here so much, why I need to go back to New York. In the big city I could try and go on with my fucked up life in secret.
I miss Haven. As quiet as she is, she’d know how to handle things. She’s one of the strongest girls I knew. She’s the only one who knows about my darkest secret. The one about my mother and father and who they were and what they did. She believed me without me having to prove a thing. She believed me when I told her about my dreams of queens and knights and magic kingdoms. But that’s a story for later.
Dennis pulls up to the school and I unclick my seat belt and pull out of my thoughts. “Have a good day at school, miss. And try and cheer up, today is to be good, it’s Friday, in my country Friday’s are always good days, miss,” Dennis has a thick Russian accent (at least I think it’s Russian) and ends all of his sentences with miss and sometimes gives random advice. Both are sweet, but sometimes annoy the hell out of me, especially when he’s right. I smiled and got out of the Deathcab.
I inwardly glare at all the blondes and jocks I pass. Since, yes, it is Friday, everyone’s wearing their sports uniform, all decked out in yellow and blue, sporting that stupid Eagle. It's too bright and cheery for a hangover at six in the fucking morning. I spot Gerard leaning on the east stairway railing. He smiles when I get to him and I can’t help but smile back, despite my migraine, his grins are not only heart melting, but very contagious.
“Hello darlin’” he drawls out in a very fake, but very cute southern accent. He’s wearing his signature all black: black ripped jeans, black tee for some band we love, and black low-tops with bright pink laces. And his inky hair was extra sexy today if I may say so myself.
“Hey you,” I say, poking him in the side and he scoops me up in a hug. “Ugh, I do not want to be here today, biggest fucking headache ever,” I tell him, like I do just about every day. It's not like I'm an alcoholic or anything. Drinking is just something we do. I do more than him, but whatever. I do it more than I need to, I know that much is true. But hey, once you live in my shoes for a while, then you can tell me what to do. And that's besides the point anyways.
“Yeah, well, what are you doing this weekend? ‘Cause I was thinking we should go out, have some fun,” he declares in his deep, lovely voice. “Hmm, I don’t know, Gerard,” I say, “my schedule is quite full, with all my friends and my family and my various hobbies…” I joke. He knows I have absolutely nothing going on and we will hang out today and this weekend like we do all the others.
“Ha-ha,” Gerard says, punching me lightly in the arm. “I was thinking dinner? A movie, or you know whatever. Your call, what do you wanna do?” he asks.
“Not a movie, how about we just stay in tonight? I'm not feeling so hot today. We can go out Saturday night?” I ask sweetly, because I just am not in the mood to go out today. I absolutely adore Gerard's house. He’s eighteen, he has been for a while, and he lives all by his lonesome. His parents split when he was barely fifteen for their career or something, his older brother ditched him not long after, but Gerard holds up the fort quite well, I think. I go to Gerard's just about every day. He has this little cottage thing out by a café, open in the mornings, and a club open in the night. Oh and Sharp Shadows, the tattoo and piercing parlor that’s open just about all day and night. I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo soon. I already had my snakebites.
Now Gerard is a different case. He's got tattoos, everywhere. Like I swear they cover pretty much his entire body. There not the stupid punk-rocker skulls and shit like that though. Each tattoo he has, has meaning. There's the wilting rose that goes down his neck, symbolizing his mother's favorite flower and the fact that shes wilted away, gone. And "Stay Here" on his knuckles, from when he was suicidal, something he doesn’t really talk much about. An one of my favorites is the Japanese sun with a wite rose in the center. He has words and pictures all up and down his arms and chest and some days I just sit and look at them all. Now thinking about it, I think that's what I want to do tonight.
“Sure that’s cool, we can order takeout or something,” Gerard says, tugging at his lip ring. He had a lime-green barbell today. I’m pretty sure mine were rainbow, I couldn’t remember, this morning was still hazy for me.
The bell rings loudly and we part ways. I mosey on up to my locker. When I get to first period government, Mr. Toll has notes up on the board. Great, today will be note-taking day. It’s a good thing I’ve mastered the act of writing without paying attention. As Toll begins telling us something about politics in his ever so monotone voice, I slowly doze off into my thoughts.
Gerard isn’t my boyfriend if you were wondering. He just likes to flirt a lot. A lot, a lot. Especially with me. He was my first friend when I got to Pennsylvania. And he remains my only real friend. I mean I talk to some people, I’m not a complete loner, but these prep school -going, horse-back-riding bitches were really not worth my time. Well I had Jesse and Bronx, two on Gerard's friends who’ve been dating for two years now, and I’ve come to call them friends. And there was Amanda and Heather who were down-to-Earth and nice to talk to. We all hung out sometimes at the mall or something, but I usually just hung out with Gerard.
Before I knew it, school was over and there wasn’t a trace of any formulas, Shakespearean quotes, or political nonsense anywhere in my mind. Shocker. I found Gerard waiting at my locker and I smiled. He grinned back with that sexy Gerard-grin of his. He reached up to scratch at a barbell in his eyebrow and I saw a flash of color on his hand.
"Is that a new tattoo!?" I asked astonished. Why didn’t I hear of this eight hours ago?
"Oh, yeah! I almost forgot to tell you," he laughs. He puts his hand in mine and I gaze at his long, slender, now colored hand. It’s a skull, and a heart. Mixed together in some sort of oxymoron of death and love. And it is beautiful.
"I love it! I cant wait to get my own ink," I tell him. And I cant. Maybe this weekend I'll get something. Now I'm all excited. Hangover long-forgotten, I turn to Gerard and smile.
“Shall we?” he asks, taking my arm in his. My heart swelled. So yeah okay I had a slight crush on my best friend. Okay, okay, more than slight and small put together, my crush was pretty huge. So what? We strolled out of there like we were too cool for school. Is it just me or did today just go from pretty shitty to amazing? I guess Dennis was right.