White Roses

Chapter One: Normalcy

Eric dropped his hammer on the platform and walked over to me before pulling out band-aids from his baggy jeans. He ruffled my hair before slapping a band-aid on the corner of my eye brow.

“You actually carry those around?” I asked him as my pale hand got engulfed by a large rough black one. He easily towered over me, not because he was a junior, but because he stood at nearly six foot one. 

He nodded as he said, “Of course, after the first few days of working with you I thought it’d be smart.” 

Well gee, that’s encouraging. 

I looked over his shoulder to look at the set. “Mr. Whiteman still hasn’t gotten us nail guns?” 

“No,” he answered as he pulled my chin up slightly to study my face. “Damn girl, that is going to be one nasty black eye. Who were you fighting now?” 

“A couple of white guys pretending to be black...” 

Eric’s mouth twitched in a smile, but he shook his head to get rid of it before he said, “Matty, be serious.” 

“I am though!” 

He turned my face to the other side. “Looks like they only hit one side of your face. That’s lucky.” 

I heard a burst of giggling in the theatre. I looked over his shoulder again to see a group of girls that always joined set crew for a few days to see the actors then they dissolved slowly over time when they realized it took actual work to be on crew. Hammers and paint brushes remained absent from their hands, but that could be because of the cell phones.  

“I wish that these girls would quit drooling over the actors and help us!” I said the last part extra loudly. 

A girl with bright red lipstick turned to glare at me, “We have so been helping, Scarface!” 

Can’t they come up with better pet names?    

“Name one thing you girls built by yourself and I’ll drop the subject.” I told her with a smirk. She opened her mouth as I rolled my eyes. 

I jumped a bit as I heard a noise behind me. I looked down at my black leather gloves. No wonder. I flipped them inside out before putting them back on. 

“Why do you do freaky things like that?” Zack, a freshmen like me, laughed out loud. He ran over from the storage room that held all the props and other important items. “Matty, relax, we’ll get it done.” He grabbed onto one of the buttons pinned to my jacket of an alien. This is what brought us together in the first place; aliens and comics. “You don’t have to be jealous just because they’re looking at your man.” 

“Shut up,” I told him, “or I’ll break your geeky glasses.” 

“You’re too short.” He told me, mimicking Eric’s hair ruffling. “Anyway, your little crush on Cooper is cute.”

“Screw you, I don’t do the cute thing.” I told him with a sneer. 

“Relax,” Zack said, slipping his arm around me, “with that scar of yours, cute just won’t be your thing anyway. By the way, what happened to your face? Did you beat up the football team again? Well, on the Brightside the black eye will be more noticeable than your scars for a few days.”

Unconsciously, I touched the right side of my face and felt the familiar jagged marks that blinded my right eye. 

Eric shoved Zack. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing something? Like cutting some wood in the shop for the set?” I could hear the take a hint tone in his voice. Zack rolled his eyes and got up to leave, but stopped.