If blue was a color of sadness, and red was a color of anger, did that mean than purple was a color of anger and sadness? Or did purple have it's own emotion, ignoring it's sire colors and striking out on it's own. Purple was the color of royalty. That didn't really have anything to do with anger or sadness, did it? Royalty could be sad, and angry, yes, but they had to hold it in, be dignified about their emotions. So was purple a color of dignity?
Dylan sighed, slashing the deep color across the blank canvas in an effort to create some kind of muse pop into her head. She still couldn't figure it out. Movement from her side took her attention and she saw Jacob. He was always early to his classes, giving Dylan a sort of alarm so she wouldn't be late after free period. She smiled to herself as she paused her ipod and took her ear buds out before starting to clean up her station. She considered the canvas that she had been using. Keep it or toss it? With a frown she picked it up and put it in her cubby, maybe she could figure out what to do with it later.
She waved at Jacob as she passed, her bag over her shoulder. The school was so quiet today. It had been quiet for a little over a week. That poor girl, found dead. One of her brothers friends. Dylan shook her head. She wasn't quite sure how to approach her brother about it. He seemed to still be in shock over the whole thing. He didn't want to talk about it, or take a day off. It was like he didn't believe anyone, like he was expecting her to come back. Or perhaps that was just how he wanted to deal with it. Dylan shrugged to herself as she made her way through the halls. She made a quick stop at her locker, throwing her math book inside and grabbing her science book.
A couple at the end of the hallway caught her attention, trying to 'hide' by the water fountains and make out. She grimaced, turning away. What was it an everyone trying to be in love all the time? It was sick. Dylan didn't need anyone, no. She had her paint, that was all she needed.
Cameron kicked the ball half-heartedly, looking at his watch as it bounced off of the net and rolled back towards him. He bent to pick it up and made his way across the field, watching his shoes sink into the grass as he went. He still wasn't sure how to feel about the past weeks events. He'd been in shock when he first heard, denial at the funeral and a few days afterwards, there was acceptance. Sierra was gone. So what did he do with these feelings? These tiny crush feelings? Were they real or were the heightened by the guilt he was feeling for not speaking up about them?
He stopped long enough to pick up his bag from the bench and then continued off of the field and back towards the main building. Should he tell someone? No, they would just think he was lame. He would put all of this guilt and sadness into soccer, there was a big game coming up. If the team won the word would get out and a college scout would come to the next game. That was the kind of push he needed. Not counseling. He snorted at himself as he stepped into the school. Even though it had been weeks, depression hung like a bad smell in the hallways. People were either moping around, or pretending to care. Most knew he had been friends with Sierra. As he passed they hushed, either whispering to each other and looking at him like he was a lost puppy. He wanted to last out at them, scream and yell, but he kept walking, making his way to his locker.
As he turned the corner he saw Andie, standing at her own locker. Someone who wasn't going to look at him like he needed a hug. Someone that he could count on. He leaned against the row of lockers, only partially paying attention to the lock as he spun the code. It clicked open and he pulled out a few books.
"You'd think they would all find something else to whisper about," Cameron said in a hushed tone. He placed his ball in his locker as he put the books he had pulled out in his bag. He then took his ball, holding it under his arm and closed his locker, facing Andie.
"Wanna invent an invisibility cloak and run away with me?" He asked, a small smile on his lips. It didn't reach his eyes. He knew he wouldn't leave his soccer, but it was a nice notion. To just pack up and leave, go somewhere where people didn't know that he had been close friends to a girl who had just been murdered.