From the Ashes

"Aleithea?" I whisper lowly as I recognize Allie from underneath a head of pink hair. I'm shocked, to say in the least. Her electric blue eyes look sideways as her brow lowers.

"Yeah?" she mutters, her icy gaze returning to me. Without taking my eyes off of her and her drastic new look, I leave the jewelry case and move to stand in front of her.

"What the hell did you do to your hair?" I say incredulously as I reach to twist a spiky lock between my fingers. She swats at my hand in annoyance.

"Dyed it, obviously."

"But why?" She gives me a scowl, and I can't help but notice a glimmer of disappointment in her eyes. She might've been expecting a different reaction from me. But frankly, I was surprised. Not really in a good way. I mean, it looked pretty good, I guess, but it didn’t seem like Allie. It wasn't Aleithea.

"Because I wanted a change? Honestly, you're acting like I shaved my head bald. Geez. I thought you were into this kind of look," she mutters the last part under her breath. Her blue eyes are now downcast, and the pink spiky hair falls about her face to hide her knit brow as she purses her lips in agitation.

"It's not you." Her head snaps up, and frustration sets her glacial eyes ablaze.

"You don’t even know me. It’s just a dye job," she hisses. I return the frosty look she's giving me before turning to leave. I pause to look back over my shoulder at her.

"Labels aren't important, Allie. I thought you knew that more than anyone, and I admired you for it."
With my piece said, I start to walk out of the store, choosing to pick up some new lip rings later.

"You're one to talk, emo boy," she spits after me. I stop in my tracks before turning on my heel.

"Emo isn't always a label," I say darkly, catching her look squarely, "And you don't know the first thing about me, either." Her eye contact wavers with discomfort before flickering away from me.

Great. Not Allie, too.

[Allie's POV]

Shocked, I watch Roman stalk out of the store. My stomach twists with the thought that I had just offended him by calling him emo. Who knew he'd be so weird about a simple change in appearance? But what he had said to me, about how he had been impressed by the way I stood out against labels, stuck with me. His words played again in my mind as I stood dumbfounded in the middle of the store. I guess he didn’t understand that I just did it for kicks, not to jump in some stupid label crap. Sore subject?
"Was that Roman Spade I saw you talking with?" Kaitlin gasps in delight as she returns to my side. She gives me a questioning look as she inspects my facial expression further. "Allie?"
"Yeah, it was.”
"So... What did you guys talk about?"
"My hair."
"Oh. Of course. Why do you look so shocked?"
"I dunno... He kinda flipped out about it." I looked down at the shirts in my hands, and I suddenly didn't care whether I bought any of them or not. Kaitlin pesters me for details as I put the shirts back. I murmur the gist of our conversation about my hair and labels as we exit the store. Kaitlin gives me a sympathetic look as we cross the parking lot to her mustang.
"You shouldn't worry that much about what he said to you," Kait reassures me as she starts the engine, "So he’s confused on your motives, and you called him emo. Nothing serious." I nod in agreement as we pull out of the mall parking lot.
The sky is a gradient of rich pinks and oranges by the time Kait drops me off at my house, and I walk to the door as she roars out of my driveway. I settle onto my bed with piles of papers and notebooks to study for the first round of finals tomorrow.

****

After an entire period of ignoring Kait's subtle whining and pleading for my answers on the English final during first period, the economics final during second, and the French final during third, I am relieved to sink into my seat in the back of my fourth period study hall, my only Kait-less class. I love her to death, but she can be quite annoying in her persistence to cheat.

I sigh deeply as I pull out my physics notebook. Today has turned out to be one of those dreary days, where I didn't feel like putting any effort whatsoever into anything, and I constantly felt like I was tired. Not very convenient when I have finals to study for. The thought of ripping the notebook in half down its binding and laying my face on the desk is extremely tantalizing, but my brain keeps nagging me about the importance of studying. Just a few more days. My best efforts will pay off, and I can sleep for 48 hours straight if I want to once school is out. I can't crap out now.

The late bell rings as I began to focus on the definitions of static and kinetic friction, and I picture my brain giving me a sympathetic pat. As difficult as it was, once I really put my mind to it, I'm pretty good at buckling down. And I kind of pride myself on that.

The study hall monitor calls off her daily lines of "who has a pass to go elsewhere," and "who wants to go to the library." I enjoy the fact that most kids in this class take the opportunity to screw off in the library, which leaves this room nearly unpopulated, and completely silent. Better for studying. Or reading.

...Or sleeping.

I look up from my notes as a guy sits down at the desk in front of me, and swivels my way.

"Nice hair," the blonde says. I snort in thanks as I rake my hand once through the bright pink tresses and wrinkle my nose.

"What?" he croons with a smile. "You don't like it?"

"It's... bright," I tell him with a laugh as I shrug. His light brown eyes get squinty when his mouth stretches into a smile, but not in a bad way. I know his name is Sage, and I know he is one of Roman's really good friends. I don't know much else about him, other than that he lives with foster parents.

"It's drastic. I think it's cool," Sage chuckles.

"Well thanks," I grin, twisting the end of a straight lock. He flashes me another smile before his skinny frame twists back around. I return to my work, pausing to glance up at Sage's back. He's lean, an average-height string bean. The muscles on his back had nothin' on Roman's, and the same went for his lean-but-on-the-skinny-side arms.

As I return my attention back to my physics, Sage twists back around.

"Oh, and you stole my partner," he jokes, his eyes two smiling slits.

"Roman?" I snort, my brows shooting up. "Oh please, take him," I smirk with a wave of my hand.
"Yep," Sage says, "It would've worked out perfectly, since both our families are away all summer together." The smile on my face falls slowly as I blink at him.

"What?" I ask, my brow lowering in concern. "He's not going to be around this summer?" Sage shakes his head no with a shrug.

"Almost every summer his Mom and my parents vacation upstate in the mountains at the camp they both own," he says apologetically. I sit back in my seat, thoroughly surprised.

"Holy shit, he's going to ditch on our project. I'm going to end up doing the entire thing alone," I surmise in agitation. Sage shrugs.

"You'll have to take it up with him." I nod as I concentrate on composing myself.

"Thanks Sage. I will." He turns back in his chair and lays his head down to get some shut eye like usual.

I end up fuming for the remainder of the study hall, and I snap my physics notebook shut in annoyance before glaring at the face of the clock above the door. After the rest of the class trickles in from being sent back from the library, the bell finally rings, and I am the first one out the door.

Deciding to be late for chorus, I head in the opposite direction of the choir room and toward the wing of the school that Roman's locker is located. Spotting him from across the crowded hall, I make a beeline for him, my anger overshadowing the uneasy guilt in my stomach.

"You're not going to be available this summer to work on our project?" I send the accusation up at him the moment I stop right beside him against the wall of lockers. His initial reaction is surprise, but it quickly melts away. His face is a blank slate when he looks down at me with hard, smoky eyes.

"I will be away, but we'll figure out how to work together," he says. I scowl up at him, my gut and my heart twisting in anger at the thought of being ditched.

"Do not think for a second that I am going to pull your weight," I snap, hating how thin my voice sounds when I raise it above the loud din of the busy hallway. Roman just stares down at me, both his expression and his gaze unwavering.

"Not for a second." Hurt anger burns at my chest at the frost in his tone. The usual, flirtatious Roman is gone. Now he sports an air of stone-cold disregard. I guess he’s still a little sore about the confusion at the mall… The notion of apologizing for everything floats briefly across my thoughts, but my pride gets the better of me. I return his look, a fire behind my eyes.

"Make sure," I spit, my voice dropping to a threatening level. I turn and leave with the last word. I hate what I've turned this tentative friendship into, but I'm irrational when I'm upset, and I could give two shits about anything I say or do. I'd regret it later, but right now, I focus on burying all negative feelings and stalking off to chorus as the late bell rings.