November 11 983
I feel like I'm in grade school all over again. Shucked into a corner and I'm forgotten. I suck on my fork and shove it into my beef. I sigh, flapping my lips together. I focus my eyes to the ceiling. The center of the Cafe bows into a peak, much like a chapel. Skylights poke into the dark, wooden room. The light bends and peaks around. I avoid the light. I shuck myself, as do my nerves, into a lowly lighten corner of the Cafe. The Cafe is pushed to the far end of the Team House but, I push myself into the deepest corner I can squeeze into. I wish I wasn't such a bundle of nerves. I wish I could join a conversation and introduce myself. If Oscar never scooped me up from the river, I would've always subsided to Oliver. I would've never reached out to Oscar. He would always be a world away, because I was too afraid to reach out to someone I've never seen. But, I still feel like its the same. I'm broken and psychotic enough to repeat the same thing for fifteen years. It's not Oscar has given me nothing. Its just my own fault for being so soft. I've never been around so many people, I'm nervous. If Oscar has taught me anything, its that I only lose control when I lose control of my emotions. I've lost every fight I've been in.My fights are all in my head. My arena is always the same. My loses are due to my emotions and my lack of ability to bottle them up. He taught me to bottle them, in a safe and healthy way. I don't feel like running away or crying. Even though sitting here empty makes me want to runaway. I've been in Genesis for but a day, and I already feel like a mistake. Maybe I'm not the mistake, but coming here was a mistake. People flow around me. They laugh, eat, and make relationships. I see their eyes, I see their lips, I can't make out their faces. They all blur and become one person that I could never talk to. A girl, maybe a bit older than me, walks past and says something loud. I hear it and its so loud, I doubt it was for me.
She taps my shoulder.
"Oh, sorry! I'll move," I murmur and begin to pick up my tray.
"No! You're fine!" she interjects.
"Oh," I whisper, bashful, and slide back down in my seat. She sits across from me, drums her fingers, and laughs. She cocks her head, furrows her brows, and then she nods her head. Her silky, black locks shake.
"You're Helena Vandenberg," she states. Then she grabs my hand and runs her fingertip over my bands, "Yep, you're the real deal," she confirms.
"Yeah," I stutter.
"Chris! Beckham! It is her! Get over here," she calls out.
One boy leans across the table, coming close to my face. Warm breath sprays in my direction. "Chris Orion," he says and shakes my hand. He laughs, warm and soft. He has gentle eyes, grey-blonde hair. It looks smooth and ashy.
"Beckham Landings," the other man says and simply waves me off.
"Raven Minerva," the woman who first approached me says, "I saw your application in the Main Office. I nearly died."
"Oh," I mouth,
She shoves a whole cookie into her mouth; she drools, "Helena, what's your magic?" She munches her snack with mouth full and crumbs dribbling from her lips,
"My magic? Oh, I guess, I am life," I say, my confidence perks up a bit.
"I see. If you are life, I believe that makes me death," Raven laughs.
"And you guys?" I ask, directing to Chris and Beckham.
Chris clears his throat, he clasps his palms together. They click a pocket of air, and squeeze. He opens them and inside is a magenta peony. He holds it toward me, it glows pink against my skin. I tap my fingertip to it. It disintegrates. I frown and lean back into the seat. "It's Subjective Reality. It's real to you, but not to any of us. It's your weakness, I guess. I went easy on you, I could make your greatest nightmare appear."
