3 | Raid
IRIS TUCKED HER HANDS into the pockets of her hooded jacket, and the wind whipped her hair before her eyes. She pulled her arms tightly together, meeting at her midriff, though the tucking of her arms so close to her chest failed to warm her. Tonight would be another cold night. She continued to lug her bags to her temporary home, hoping and praying with each step that the police had not found any trace of her or prevented her from entering.
It was cold windy nights like these that made Iris consider Payton's frequent offers of hospitality. But fear of endangering her first friend in Marston Springs always brought her back to her already rigid frame of mind. Iris observed her surroundings, one of the joys she found in walking to all of her destinations. She looked at the bulky suburban trees that lined the sidewalk; the burly roots, almost frighteningly worthy of power, bursting through the cement sidewalk – proving itself as leagues ahead of the tough confinement.
She admired the thick, regal trunk holding such delicate leaves in its spindly fingers until the wind intervened and pulled the two apart. The leaf floated down from the branch and landed delicately in front of Iris too quickly for her to avoid. Iris winced as her foot crushed one of the last of the orange leaves, upset that she tainted the beauty of its nature.
When Iris arrived at her apartment she treaded carefully, searching extensively for any traps, newly installed cameras or anybody patrolling that she didn't want to be seen by. She reached the door, still unlocked and pushed it open slowly. Although the police force in the town was hardly forceful and expecting a big operation for a small squatters situation, it had never hurt Iris to be a little more than careful.
Her stomach dropped at the sight of what met her back at the apartment. The food she had stored was no longer packed in the cupboard but the empty packets were scattered across the couch and surrounding floor. The dishes Iris had left in the sink were still there with an additional plate and cup. The window she had left open had been pushed wider and the thin drapes blew inwards in the wind.
Iris rushed to the cupboards, searching for the food she had left in there, and was slightly less surprised to find that it was no longer there.
Iris was hit again by the same feeling she had in class that morning; the despair, sadness and heavy-heartedness hit her all at once all over again. With everything that had happened to her in one day, she didn't know how much longer she could hold on. Her search was becoming passive; her body was tired and soul needed rejuvenating.
Iris, feeling more than washed out, moved towards her bed, forgetting all about unpacking clothes, cleaning the place and acts of the like. She kicked off her shoes and lay on the bed, curling up in the tightest ball, wrapping her arm around her head as her heart broke again. A stray tear rolled silently down her cheek, stopping at her lips. She wiped the tear away with a depressing sigh and closed her eyes softly.
She was tired of trying to think of a way to make things better. She was tired of trying not to cry. She was truly broken and done with her life.
By the next morning she was feeling no better about the situation. The new sunlight came with a dull headache and a soaked pillow. The same nightmare attacked her that night, but the force was not as strong. Iris seemed almost indifferent to everything now. She was numb, and it didn't bother her if it meant the loneliness would leave for a while. She fought the urge to remain in bed all day, and got up sluggishly. A shower and a new set of clothes didn't improve her mood so she set off to school, mainly for something to do with her day.
Things seemed awfully quiet at Marshall High. People seemed to move through the halls at a slower pace than usual and the typical rush of students seemed to have become jaded. Every one was minding their business as if they all knew a secret and didn't want to risk sharing it. Iris didn't mind at all - especially today when interacting with anyone in any way would have been a challenge in itself, let alone acting like she wanted to.
The day passed by as smoothly as it could have, and Iris had made it to lunch without bursting into tears. The fact that nothing had happened today was almost too good to be true.
As Iris made her way to the far right side of the quad, she looked out to the rest of the students collecting on the grass. It was neither cold or warm outside, but once in a while the sun would poke through the clouds, allowing a wave of warmth and a little bit more light. She placed her bag down on the floor and placed herself next to it slowly. She pulled a sandwich out from her bag that Payton had made for her and began to nibble on it. It really tasted good compared to the stale and preserved food she had been eating so regularly. So she savoured each bite as she watched people mill around in their friendship groups.
It was interesting just looking at people walking, talking and running around. There was such a diverse selection of people in Marston Springs that Iris felt like she fit into the mismatched jumble.
She nibbled on the sandwich some more, and continued to watch her surroundings. But soon all that surrounded her was the sight of the black and white letterman jacket she was so very familiar with.
She'd been seeing Joey around school the whole morning, and at every occurrence her stomach would dive and she would find herself staring at him. At this moment, the same thing happened.
She was intrigued by the way his dark hair always looked perfectly styled when he had probably not touched it at all. And his eyes were a like a cloudless sky; not dull but vibrant and full of life.
Joey looked back at Iris, sitting beneath the large chestnut tree. The girl with the white hair sat there, picking at her food slowly. Her cheeks were tinted pink and her eyes twinkled in the natural daylight.
She looked so calm and peaceful - happy to remain silent and passively watch as the world went by. It was as if she wasn't real; she was just a figment of his imagination. Yet he'd touched her. He was so close to even holding her hand.
Whichever way he looked at it, he was making advances. Advances that he wasn't sure he was allowed to make. He was feeling things. Strange sensations whenever he was near her. When their eyes would meet his fingers would buzz and sometimes even go numb. And at that moment the same thing happened. He graced her bright eyes from a distance and a shock passed through him. For a brief period he was frozen in place, gazing at her. Her eyes fluttered softly as she blinked. Joey couldn't help but simper. She sent a timid smile back before her eyes widened and she looked down again.
In wonder, he span around, looking for the unwelcome distraction. Joey was met with a dazzling grin from Cecelia. She was quick to wrap her arms around him and smack a kiss on his cheek.
"Found a place for us to sit yet, Joe?" She said, locking their arms together tightly.
"Y-Yeah," Joey stuttered. He took a glance back at the tree to find that Iris had switched her focus back to her sandwich. With a sigh he gave a more definite, "Yes, there's a bench with shade free over there."
"Oh, good," Cecelia sang as she pulled him over. "Can you believe Amber is wearing the same shoes as me today? I know she's my best friend, but I think I hate her."
"Really? Why do you hang out with her so much?" said Joey. He watched the grass crunch beneath his sneakers, uncomfortable with the mark he left on the ground. He tried to tread more lightly on the ground, causing the nature as little harm as possible - but it was still way past his satisfaction.
Her arm snapped to her hip which jutted out forcefully as she spoke matter-of-factly, "What do you mean by that? She's my friend; I'm supposed to hate her."
"I don't think that's how friendships work," Joey mumbled before sitting down on the selected bench and pulling out a brown paper bag with his lunch for the day. He knew what he was in for: the same old ham and cheese sandwich, with an apple and a bottle of water. He had never questioned it before but now he was not satisfied. He wasn't even too hungry.
Cecelia looked at her boyfriend as he gingerly poked at his lunch. His lovely dark hair dropped before his grey eyes and she gave his curls a once over again. A long time ago, she would have killed to touch his hair forever.
Yet now, she felt nothing.
He seemed like a child to her. At first his boyish charm was what drew her to him. He was renown at school for his sincere and genuine kindness. Everybody believed he was perfect and so did she. But as she got to know him, she discovered that the perfection he portrayed was a façade. He was just plain boring. All he was interested in was books and sports. He didn't even watch much television, and when he did it was a documentary or a football game. She was tired of being with him. But being seen with him made her life in high school easier. She had found herself in a tricky situation, where continuing to date him would mean she would be unhappy, but dumping him would cause the wrong kind of drama. Everybody loved him, so everybody loved her. If the school found out that she didn't love him, she'd be done for. So she glossed her lips, threw out a pout and smacked his lips with hers.
"So where are you taking me after school today?"