Color's Light

Chapter 8

Song: Kill Em With Kindness by Selena Gomez (Nightcored by Nightcore Lab)

I'M SOOO SORRY! 

I said I'd update, but Wattpad was drunk or something and wouldn't let me hit publish. I even tried on other devices, but it just hated me! :( Did that happen to anybody else? I swear, this update has been ready since 12 pm Tuesday when I said it would be. 

':(       )':

This chapter is long though, to make up for Chapter 7.

Anyway, go on, go read.

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"Okay, so have them fill out their alphabet, and you work on those variable equations I gave you. Got it?" I verify, tucking a strand of hair that's escaped from my ponytail behind my ear and grabbing my coat.

Miko nods, a look of tortured resignation on his face. I snort. He hates math. I think he might have mild dyscalculia.

Miko wants to be an author. He doesn't think I know, but I've seen completed drafts for several different novels hidden in his room. How he manages to watch the twins and do those too, I do not know. But I'm really glad he has a dream, and even more so that he's working on it.

I squat and hug the twins, telling them to be nice to Miko, then hurry down the stairs and out the front doors of our apartment building. The elevator is lost cause, really; I don't think it's worked in over ten years.

I wiggle into my coat and head down the tree-lined street, glancing around at the reddening leaves. The swirls of autumn and the bright coats of people strolling along blend into a massive rainbow, and I enjoy the show. The colors surrounding me make me feel energized, and I almost skip along. My fingers twitch with the need to draw it all.

A flash of weird yellow catches my eye and I back up. A hideous yellow, broken skateboard pokes out of a trash can and move closer, wondering who thought it was a good idea to make the thing such a gross color.

"IKR?" Someone says behind me. I see a hand pointing at the skateboard. "That color makes me sad. Like, why is it even a thing?"

There are footsteps as the person walks closer to me. I don't bother turning.

"Seriously, that yellow should not exist."

By now, I've recognized the voice. "Hi, Kira."

A laugh sounds behind me, and Kira comes into view. She has short orange hair bedazzled by many pins, brown eyes, and a perpetual smile. Today she wears a purple crop top under overalls and huge copper earrings- interesting fashion choices, but she looks cute. She actually devotes time and energy to her wardrobe, whereas I just pull on something that suits the weather (a too-big green-and yellow zigzagged shirt and black leggings with a too-small white windbreaker- found at the dollar store- today).

We met on the day my family and I had moved into the apartment complex. Mom and Miko had taken the twins upstairs to put them down for a nap, leaving me to start lugging boxes up the stairs. The memory flashes through my mind, as clear as day.

I stare at the piles of boxes, hands on my hips. I'm strong enough, but this is going to take forever. Blowing out a breath and tucking my hair into a ponytail, then under a baseball cap to keep it out of my face, I pick up the two large boxes of the twins' clothes and waddle up the stairs.

On the second flight, an orange-and-blue blur speeds past, almost knocking me over. I was quick enough to grab the banister, but my boxes toppled down the steps to the landing, barfing baby and toddler clothes.