Through Purple Eyes

Through Purple Eyes Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Tate gasped as a spray of water splattered her face. She looked around. She was surrounded by little water fountains, spread out around her bed. They were very elaborate and beautiful. They had three tiers, all glass and, as she studied them closer, she realized they were hand made. Clear, perfect water swam from one stage to the next, before being swallowed into a hollow tube that went up the center. It spiraled up then was spat back out to restart the process.

She figured that it wouldn't do much good to get up because she had no idea where she would go. Where in the world made hand-crafted water fountains like these then spread them around a bed? Tate didn't know. She rolled over lazily and came face to face - or more face to leg with the boy with silver eyes.

"Hey," he said.

Tate was getting slightly annoyed by this guy. Did he always have to frighten her?

She sat up carefully in order to avoid the spewing water.

"You like them?" the boy asked, eyeing the fountains.

"Ya," Tate answered, "I've never seen any thing like them"

The boy nodded absent mindedly.

Tate wondered if they had fountains like these in museums. She had never been to one,afraid of being humiliated. While walking to school, people at least had a limited time to stare before she tread on. But in a museum, she would be like a flashing Vegas sign that portrayed in bold, neon letters: OVER HERE. COME STARE AT ME.  Tate shuddered.

"You OK?" the boy asked.

Tate had decided to  call him 'the boy', since he hadn't mentioned his name, and she didn't really feel like asking.

"Ya, just a little cold," she lied.

A look of -  was it concern? - crossed the boy's face.She couldn't tell because he spun around and stalked out of the room.

"Wait! Where are-" Tate didn't have time to finish her sentence before the boy slammed the door shut.

She slumped down with her head in her hands. Alone again.

She sat there for a while, her mind wandering from subject to subject, until the door began to open. She sat up straight and peered towards the door. The boy was carrying a sweater of some sort.

"What's that for?" Tate asked, pointing to the sweater.

"It's for you," the boy said in an unsure voice, "I mean, you said you were cold...right?"

She immediately tried wiped the confused expression off her face. She had forgotten that she was 'cold'.

"Oh, ya. Sorry."

He handed it to her. It was a vibrant purple, the same as her eyes. It had a thin zipper up the center and patterns flashed across the front, moving.

"Put it on," the boy said.

Tate obeyed. She pushed her arms through the too big holes and zipped it up.

"It's a little big..." She said nervously.

"Just wait," the boy said with a smirk smothered over his face.

Then the jacket moved.

It shifted around her body, like a dog circling it's bed, trying to get in just the right position.

"Wh-what's it doing?" she stuttered.

"It's fitting it's self to you," he said calmly, like this was what all sweaters did.

When it finally stopped squirming, it fit perfectly. The jacket even responded to her steady breathing, moving to fit the growing and shrinking of her stomach. The swirling shapes that covered the sweater swirled and twisted, linking and detaching themselves, like a mini dance routine.

"This is so cool!" Tate said trying to stop herself from squealing in amazment.

"Glad you like it."

 "If you don't mind me asking though, how does it keep you warm. I mean, it's so thin,"

"Mico-nanos. They adjust to your body heat."

Tate just stared at the jacket. Why would anyone give her anything? Besides Claire, no one had ever given her anything, not even to borrow. And all because of her eyes.