Rainbow Eyes

Aurora

I sighed, standing against the pier with my sketchbook. The pages were worn and silver with pencil marks, and some stuck out. I rummaged in the pocket of my hoody for my old iPod nano, and sat at the edge of the pier, turning on Vanilla Twilight by Owl City and opening to an empty page in my sketchbook. It was on the back of a sketch of Rephaim, my best friend. I began to outline slowly, losing myself in the song and drawing. An hour later, I was finished. The silvery pencil caught the outline of the waves perfectly, but it lacked color. Too bad I used up all my chalk pastels. Maybe I would sneak some at work tomorrow. A dark, bluish-green color was perfect for the rough waves…

My worthless, five-year old Nokia buzzed distortedly. It was a piece of junk, more than broken, and I only used it when Rephaim called or texted to warn me about something. His text said:

where are u?

I replied: at the pier, why?

He replied: come back now. Chaley is taking attendance for dinner.

I jumped up and shoved my sketchbook into my canvas bag, turning off my iPod and placing it in my pocket gently. I ran toward the orphanage, scared that I wouldn’t make it on time.

Whenever we were late, Mistress Chaley beat us. I snuck toward the gray building and disappeared in through the back door. I ran up to our room and shoved the bag in my closet, and took off my shoes and jacket. Dashing down the creaky stairs, I jumped to a leap beside Rephaim.

"Just in time, Aurora,” he hissed, nudging me.

“I’m sorry,” I shrugged.

He rolled his eyes. He knew me too well. We’d known each other ever since I’d been taken away from my real mom at the age of three. He became my roommate at the orphanage, and we always got into the same foster home and then sent back to the orphanage together. We’ve never been separated, something rare since most siblings get separated in the midst of foster care. He was my best friend, almost like a brother to me. He was three months and eight days older than me, with shaggy black hair, tan skin, brown eyes, and an average height at about 5’11”. His pastime was soccer, which I sometimes played with him. And poetry. He didn’t write girly love sonnets of course, but he wrote deep, dark poems that expressed his feelings so well that it was disturbing sometimes.

My passion was art. My job was a muralist, and I was currently painting a forest/love scene in a room for my current boss, who wanted it done in time for his wife’s birthday. Now, I don’t know why he wanted a room painted for her or what they’re going to do in it, but as long as I get paid, I don’t care. The family had a son who was about my age and who I was supposed to meet the next day at my new school. He wasn’t home while I worked there because he was at some soccer camp or something the entire winter break. In California, where we lived, it wasn’t cold or snowy during winter, maybe a little chilly. The most you needed was a hoody. Anyway, I was an artist. Art was my passion. When nobody needed a muralist, I spent my hard-earned money on canvases and paint supplies and sol my paintings outside art galleried. I got a pretty decent, if not higher, price for them. I was especially good at drawing people. Except myself. I had long, wavy, fine black hair that was 2’9” to be precise, and I was average height, about 5’6”. I had tan skin, and had an ok body. I wasn’t fat or sickly-skinny, just good and weighed exactly 102 lbs.

“Shhh! She’s coming!” a tiny freckled boy at the end of the line hissed and we all stopped fidgeting and stood up straighter. Ms. Chaley walked down the line of children, her heels tapping against the floor as she menacingly whacked a rolling pin against her hands.

She stopped in front of a young girl named Carissa, and her lips curled into a sickly smile. She poked Carissa in the stomach with her rolling pin. “Well, well, well. This eating never stops, does it? You’re a fat little idiot, and I doubt anyone will ever want you. Spit it out!”

“What?” Carissa’s eyes grew round, and I felt a sick churning in my stomach as to what Ms. Chaley was about to do. I’d been through it many times myself. The sad thing was, Carissa wasn’t fat at all. Maybe a bit of a muffin top, but she was fine the way she was.

“You head me! Spit it out!” Ms. Chaley’s eyes flamed, and she thrust the rolling pin down Carissa’s throat. “Vomit!” she screamed. Carissa doubled over, and I closed my eyes and cringed as she followed her only choice, puking all over the floor. Would this verbal and physical abuse ever end?

She continued down the line, knocking a little boy’s glasses to the floor, and kicking another boy in the stomach. Finally she came to me. “Well, if it isn’t Aurora. I could’ve sworn I didn’t see you before I got a call and had to be disturbed from my assembly.”

“She was here,” Rephaim defended quickly. Too quickly.

“Nobody asked you!” she screamed and struck him across the face with the back of her hand.

Then she jabbed her rolling pin into my stomach with every word she said. ‘I’m. Watching. You. Aurora.” With one final hit, she turned and exited the room, leaving my stomach and heart hurting. I doubted a new school tomorrow would make everything better.