Grey Majesty

Blue Eyes

Thursdays are pretty grey. This is just kind of a given at this point. The sky is cloudy, but not to the point where you notice it's cloudy, but to the point where you notice it isn't sunny. It drags your whole day down, the lack of sun. And Thursdays are always that grey. A dreadful disgusting grey that drags down happiness.

"Erin!"

I don't bother turning my head away from the clouds and back to the classroom. It's not much better, a matte grey box with some uncomfortably fluorescent lights. The blinding light seems to suck all the energy out of the room, but it could also be the fact that it's 7:54 on a Thursday morning, no one likes homeroom, and the coffee shop downstairs is closed.

"Hey June."

A girl with piercing green eyes and a spray of freckles across her nose plops down on my desk.

"It's getting colder, like 50 degrees, so I can finally wear sweaters! It's a nice day, huh?"

"Yeah," I say, my voice dragging in my throat, having not spoken for a while.

"Shame the cafe is closed, I wanted some hot chocolate!" I laugh a bit at her comment. But not really laugh, it's more of a laboured nose exhale. The comment is sweet enough though that I turn and give her my full attention. She looks at me and smiles, the skin on the outside of her eyes crinkling a bit.

June is cute. She's on the short side, about 5'3", and she loves oversized sweaters paired with waist high skirts. A year round hot cocoa drinker and a certified computer junkie, she's any dork's dream, and knows how to work it.

"Hi Tom!" she says, waving to one of her comp sci friends as if on cue. He gives a shy wave back, June clearly oblivious to the blush around his ears.

"Also, are you having a party this Friday? Jessica was chatting about how she was totally going to get invited, but I know you low-key hate her, so I'm sure that was a rumor." I sometimes forget June isn't one dimensional. Her petty side often doesn't come up, and always surprises me when it does. June also does all the talking for our friendship, which I certainly don't mind.

"It's one of my dad's masquerade balls. Company anniversary or whatever."

"Oh ew. Can I come over to your house to get ready? You have a waaaay better room," she asks batting eyelashes, knowing I'm going to say yes. It's pretty much a guarantee she's going, as her dad has been a loyal member of my father's company for years.

"Sure," I say, turning my attention back to the monochrome cityscape out the window.

"Okay cool! Oh, and by the way, have you heard about -" but the bell rings, and June's words are lost. It was probably her usual gossip anyways from her clique of friends. Despite June and I having been best friends for over 13 years, I prefer to be alone, and June is a social person. I don't want to hold her back. June hops off of my desk and rushes over to them, black skirt of our uniform flapping against her tan legs.

I return my attention to the bleak clouds as the advisor rattles off unimportant dates of various things I don't care about. This Thursday in particular is putting me in a bad mood. June reminded me of the corporate ball tomorrow. Corporate balls are usually exhausting and emotionally taxing. Hours of greeting my father's colleagues and him attempting to set me up with various sons of his business partners, all of which have less personality than my left shoe. Hopefully this one will be more interesting; a masquerade ball has never happened before.

The bell rings again, and I absentmindedly stand and make my way towards the door. My dark grey backpack sits uncomfortably between my shoulder blades, but it doesn't bother me to the point where I care enough to fix it. I walk out the door and into the sea of other high schoolers. White button downs, black skirts and black ties all stream in various directions, lost to the hustle and bustle of the first bell. Kind giggles and chatter flow down halls, people enjoying their day before Friday. There's a squeal of dresshoes and a shuffling sound that echoes down the grey walls.