Across The Pier
Monday, August 21st.
Three days is not a lengthy amount of time - in fact, it's hardly anything at all. Three days, especially three wonderfully new and exciting days, go by unbelievably quickly; they're gone just as soon as you wake up on the fourth one.
But for Ezekiel and Wednesday, three days was all that it took, despite practically unanimous doubt from everyone else. But they didn't care. After all, it was good enough for Romeo and Juliet, wasn't it? And the two of them were barely past puberty.
However, Ezekiel and Wednesday's story didn't begin like Romeo and Juliet's, or any other story's, for that matter. It began with something small, something seemingly trivial, something not normally interlaced with happenings such as theirs.
Now, Ezekiel, Ezekiel Fenton, to be exact, was an unusual one, a thin, pale-skinned boy with eyes like a hurricane and hair that wisped across his fair face with an odd finesse. He was very much in his own little world; practically half of his life was spent in one somebody else had woven for him with lines of poetry and threads of literature. He was absorbed in himself most of the time, the rest of the world having long ago disappeared between the pages of his books. It wasn't that he was that pretentious, to shut everyone else out, not that at all, but simply that he preferred to read about other people's lives than to live his own.
Wednesday, however, a petite, grey-eyed little beast of a girl, couldn't be bothered with reading. As a matter of fact, it seemed like a waste of time to her, when she would much rather be on the tennis courts or golf course or hockey field. She hadn't had time for anything else, really, for as long as she could remember - but that's how she'd gotten so good. Practice makes perfect, she'd been told practically since birth. Winning was all her parents ever taught her - and it had slowly driven her insane over the years; the pressure from everyone around her leaving her with an irrepressible urge for rebellion, which is probably why she did all the crazy things she did.
So, it could be supposed, in some way, that Ezekiel and Wednesday were almost total opposites: one, a hermit-like introvert with too much time on his hands, and the other a socially, athletically, and parentally pressured exhibitionist looking for a way to escape.
But, oddly enough, two wrongs might just have made something right.
So, it was Monday. August 21st. Particularly, the day Ezekiel saw the Cheronettes pull into the driveway of the little summer home across the pier.
Well, in all honesty, he really only saw one of the Cheronettes: Wednesday, although he didn't know her name yet. All he knew, about this beautiful girl with the long, auburn hair and the wide grey eyes, was that he had to meet her.
Quickly, as soon as he saw the family had brought their bags inside the house, he ran from his front step where he'd been watching to his mother's room, snatched up a necklace that happened to be lying about, and raced across the pier, feet bare and pounding into the wobbly wood with every step.
As he neared the house, his breath shortened. God, he hoped this would work, because god, he just had to meet her.
Knocking on the door, Ezekiel took a deep breath and, necklace curled in his palm, tossed his long hair out of his eyes with a slight flip of the head. If he was going to make a first impression, he was going to do it right. And with this girl, he couldn't afford any mistakes.
The door swung open after a moment, revealing an unbelievably tall and rather herculean man who looked to be in his early fifties. He smiled down at Ezekiel, but it was a forced smile, one that conveyed more confusion and disdain for the small boy on his doorstep than anything.
"Can I help you?"
"I'm Ezekiel Fenton," He said, nervous. "I live across the pier?"
The man nodded, then reached his hand out to shake Ezekiel's. "Nice to meet you, young man. Name's Paul Cheronette. What can I do for you?"
Ezekiel quickly held out the diamond necklace in his palm. "Um, I think this might be yours. I was, um, walking on the pier and I saw it lying in your front yard..."
He showed no recognition of the object, but that was natural, seeing as how he'd be the last person Ezekiel would expect to recognize it. Not that any of them would recognize it, of course.
"I've never seen it," Paul said, shaking his head. "But of course I wouldn't have."
"Oh," Ezekiel replied, withdrawing his palm. "I guess there's nobody in the house that would?"
The man laughed loudly, and Ezekiel cringed. "No, no - there might be. Diana!" He called, leaning into the house.
Ezekiel smiled. Diana. So that was her name. It was pretty, though from what he'd seen of her it seemed a little odd. But it was nice; simple and pretty.
But then, to his rather badly concealed surprise, a blonde woman in an expensive looking pantsuit, obviously in her fifties as well, appeared at the door, and he was more than a little disappointed. This wasn't her.
"This is my wife: Diana," Paul said, and Ezekiel introduced himself. "He found a necklace in our yard, and has been kind enough to return it."
Ezekiel held out the necklace to the woman, but she shook her head. "That's not mine," She said, shrugging. "Sorry, Paul - maybe it's Wednesday's?"
Ezekiel's facial expression involuntarily formed one of surprise. Wednesday? Her name was Wednesday? The girl, the one he'd seen getting out of the car, with the dark hair and the large eyes, her name was Wednesday?
But Ezekiel hadn't much time to ponder this odd fact, because, the moment he was going to ask about her, there she was. Standing in front of him.
"Hi," She said, her grey eyes searching his. "What's going on, Mom? Who's this?"
Diana nudged her daughter slightly in reprimand. "This is Ezekiel, from across the pier. He has a necklace you might have dropped."
Wednesday didn't reply. She simply stared, in slight awe, at the beautiful boy who stood on her doorstep. He was almost impossibly lovely, with his dark eyes and fair skin and those copper locks. His eyes, though, were the best part. They looked as if they were somehow dangerous, containing an unhealthy amount of secrecy, but as if they were harmless, too, soft and hazy and somehow melodious. They were a tempest, those eyes, a thunderstorm of deadly beauty and restless lust.
Ezekiel and Wednesday simply stared, both completely enticed in the sight of one another, until the silence was broken.
"Wednesday?" Paul questioned, fairly confused by this stranger and his daughter's silent exchange. "Wednesday... the necklace? Is it yours?"
"What? Oh. No." Wednesday replied quickly, snapping back to reality. "No, I've never seen that necklace before in my life."
Paul nodded. "Well, then, young man, sorry about that, but it's not ours. I appreciate your asking, though," he said, watching as Ezekiel's eyes refused to tear away from his daughter's, and vice versa.
Both of Wednesday's parents seemed to be understandably confused at what had just unfolded, but neither one of them wanted to say anything to up the awkwardness.
"That's okay," Ezekiel said, still staring at Wednesday. Shit, she was gorgeous. He couldn't remember the last time he'd looked at a girl and had that thought, but there was no way he couldn't think that now. "I'll be seeing you, then?"
Diana nodded, eager to find a way out of the situation. "Of course," She said, lightly pushing her daughter behind her, and closing the door hurriedly.
Ezekiel stood for a couple moments, just staring at the place where Wednesday had been.
Slowly closing his palm around the necklace, he stepped backwards, eyes trained on the door, and slowly turned towards home, body leaving; but heart remaining right there on her doorstep.
But for Ezekiel and Wednesday, three days was all that it took, despite practically unanimous doubt from everyone else. But they didn't care. After all, it was good enough for Romeo and Juliet, wasn't it? And the two of them were barely past puberty.
However, Ezekiel and Wednesday's story didn't begin like Romeo and Juliet's, or any other story's, for that matter. It began with something small, something seemingly trivial, something not normally interlaced with happenings such as theirs.
Now, Ezekiel, Ezekiel Fenton, to be exact, was an unusual one, a thin, pale-skinned boy with eyes like a hurricane and hair that wisped across his fair face with an odd finesse. He was very much in his own little world; practically half of his life was spent in one somebody else had woven for him with lines of poetry and threads of literature. He was absorbed in himself most of the time, the rest of the world having long ago disappeared between the pages of his books. It wasn't that he was that pretentious, to shut everyone else out, not that at all, but simply that he preferred to read about other people's lives than to live his own.
Wednesday, however, a petite, grey-eyed little beast of a girl, couldn't be bothered with reading. As a matter of fact, it seemed like a waste of time to her, when she would much rather be on the tennis courts or golf course or hockey field. She hadn't had time for anything else, really, for as long as she could remember - but that's how she'd gotten so good. Practice makes perfect, she'd been told practically since birth. Winning was all her parents ever taught her - and it had slowly driven her insane over the years; the pressure from everyone around her leaving her with an irrepressible urge for rebellion, which is probably why she did all the crazy things she did.
So, it could be supposed, in some way, that Ezekiel and Wednesday were almost total opposites: one, a hermit-like introvert with too much time on his hands, and the other a socially, athletically, and parentally pressured exhibitionist looking for a way to escape.
But, oddly enough, two wrongs might just have made something right.
So, it was Monday. August 21st. Particularly, the day Ezekiel saw the Cheronettes pull into the driveway of the little summer home across the pier.
Well, in all honesty, he really only saw one of the Cheronettes: Wednesday, although he didn't know her name yet. All he knew, about this beautiful girl with the long, auburn hair and the wide grey eyes, was that he had to meet her.
Quickly, as soon as he saw the family had brought their bags inside the house, he ran from his front step where he'd been watching to his mother's room, snatched up a necklace that happened to be lying about, and raced across the pier, feet bare and pounding into the wobbly wood with every step.
As he neared the house, his breath shortened. God, he hoped this would work, because god, he just had to meet her.
Knocking on the door, Ezekiel took a deep breath and, necklace curled in his palm, tossed his long hair out of his eyes with a slight flip of the head. If he was going to make a first impression, he was going to do it right. And with this girl, he couldn't afford any mistakes.
The door swung open after a moment, revealing an unbelievably tall and rather herculean man who looked to be in his early fifties. He smiled down at Ezekiel, but it was a forced smile, one that conveyed more confusion and disdain for the small boy on his doorstep than anything.
"Can I help you?"
"I'm Ezekiel Fenton," He said, nervous. "I live across the pier?"
The man nodded, then reached his hand out to shake Ezekiel's. "Nice to meet you, young man. Name's Paul Cheronette. What can I do for you?"
Ezekiel quickly held out the diamond necklace in his palm. "Um, I think this might be yours. I was, um, walking on the pier and I saw it lying in your front yard..."
He showed no recognition of the object, but that was natural, seeing as how he'd be the last person Ezekiel would expect to recognize it. Not that any of them would recognize it, of course.
"I've never seen it," Paul said, shaking his head. "But of course I wouldn't have."
"Oh," Ezekiel replied, withdrawing his palm. "I guess there's nobody in the house that would?"
The man laughed loudly, and Ezekiel cringed. "No, no - there might be. Diana!" He called, leaning into the house.
Ezekiel smiled. Diana. So that was her name. It was pretty, though from what he'd seen of her it seemed a little odd. But it was nice; simple and pretty.
But then, to his rather badly concealed surprise, a blonde woman in an expensive looking pantsuit, obviously in her fifties as well, appeared at the door, and he was more than a little disappointed. This wasn't her.
"This is my wife: Diana," Paul said, and Ezekiel introduced himself. "He found a necklace in our yard, and has been kind enough to return it."
Ezekiel held out the necklace to the woman, but she shook her head. "That's not mine," She said, shrugging. "Sorry, Paul - maybe it's Wednesday's?"
Ezekiel's facial expression involuntarily formed one of surprise. Wednesday? Her name was Wednesday? The girl, the one he'd seen getting out of the car, with the dark hair and the large eyes, her name was Wednesday?
But Ezekiel hadn't much time to ponder this odd fact, because, the moment he was going to ask about her, there she was. Standing in front of him.
"Hi," She said, her grey eyes searching his. "What's going on, Mom? Who's this?"
Diana nudged her daughter slightly in reprimand. "This is Ezekiel, from across the pier. He has a necklace you might have dropped."
Wednesday didn't reply. She simply stared, in slight awe, at the beautiful boy who stood on her doorstep. He was almost impossibly lovely, with his dark eyes and fair skin and those copper locks. His eyes, though, were the best part. They looked as if they were somehow dangerous, containing an unhealthy amount of secrecy, but as if they were harmless, too, soft and hazy and somehow melodious. They were a tempest, those eyes, a thunderstorm of deadly beauty and restless lust.
Ezekiel and Wednesday simply stared, both completely enticed in the sight of one another, until the silence was broken.
"Wednesday?" Paul questioned, fairly confused by this stranger and his daughter's silent exchange. "Wednesday... the necklace? Is it yours?"
"What? Oh. No." Wednesday replied quickly, snapping back to reality. "No, I've never seen that necklace before in my life."
Paul nodded. "Well, then, young man, sorry about that, but it's not ours. I appreciate your asking, though," he said, watching as Ezekiel's eyes refused to tear away from his daughter's, and vice versa.
Both of Wednesday's parents seemed to be understandably confused at what had just unfolded, but neither one of them wanted to say anything to up the awkwardness.
"That's okay," Ezekiel said, still staring at Wednesday. Shit, she was gorgeous. He couldn't remember the last time he'd looked at a girl and had that thought, but there was no way he couldn't think that now. "I'll be seeing you, then?"
Diana nodded, eager to find a way out of the situation. "Of course," She said, lightly pushing her daughter behind her, and closing the door hurriedly.
Ezekiel stood for a couple moments, just staring at the place where Wednesday had been.
Slowly closing his palm around the necklace, he stepped backwards, eyes trained on the door, and slowly turned towards home, body leaving; but heart remaining right there on her doorstep.