TITLE: Silent Perspective
AUTHOR: Jos Mous
Email: wotan_anubis@yahoo.com
DISCLAIMER: I’m not really sure if I own none of these characters, but at least I don’t own most of them.
RATING: PG-13
PAIRING: It’s a secret.
NOTE: As a sort of challenge to myself, I’ve written this in the second person POV. Other than that, the story has not real meaning, I guess.
Silent Perspective
If somebody would ever make a documentary or a TV-show about your school, you would never appear on screen. You wouldn’t even be Nameless Student #204, who walks around in the background. This is because nobody really knows you and only few even know your name. You are as close to invisible as you can get while still being visible. You sort of have this air around you, making people to leave you alone, or just not really register your presence. You don’t particularly mind. You don’t really know how to deal with people. Whenever someone talks to you, you smile and answer and talk politely, but that’s it. As soon as that other person is gone you simply fade back into anonymity. It’s something you can’t really help.
So, here you sit, in the cafeteria. People are chattering all around you. You pick up on most conversations, but none of them are really interesting. You see some guy enter, look around and leave again. He’s in and out in less than five seconds and you’re probably the only one who noticed him. Your attention sort of drifts over to one of the ‘main’ tables. The girls over there have some sort of argument. It sounds interesting. Tempers are getting pretty heated, anyway. That girl with the long blonde hair stands up and shouts furiously. Now other people start noticing it as well. That short girl with the bleached hair remains stoic. On the outside, that is. You know how it looks when people put up an indifferent facade while in reality they’re seething with rage or any other powerful emotion. You’ve done it often enough to know about it. The lanky blonde turns and storms out. The argument apparently over, all the small groups start talking with each other again. The short blonde looks around and sees that nobody is paying attention to her. That is, nobody really worth mentioning. She stands up and stalks out of the cafeteria. Having nothing better to do, and with your interest sparked, you get up and follow her. You walk behind her for a while until you see she enters the Novak. You move on, since the Novak is not your territory. Besides, classes are about to start again anyway.
After the school day is over, you leave the building. You’re in the middle of a large throng of students, but it’s not very crowded in your direct vicinity. Someone bumps into you. You hear a muttered apology. Turning, you see it is that lanky blonde again. She seems pretty upset about something. Making your way through the mass you follow her around for a bit. Nothing happens, though. She just jumps into her car and drives off. You shrug. That fight was probably nothing anyway. Teenagers often get angry at each other for no good reason. You turn again as you hear the pattering of high heels coming in your direction. It’s that short blonde again. She vaguely looks over to you, but you see that familiar glint in her eyes that means that she doesn’t really register your presence. She walks past you and to the back of the school building. You think nothing of it when a second girl also heads to the back of the building. It’s that brunette girl. The one who used to date that black guy. You try hard to come up with a name, but fail. You wait for several moments, knowing that whenever that bleach blonde and that brown-haired girl are close to each other, a violent fight is about to start. Nothing happens, though. Everything remains silent. It’s a little eerie, really. Maybe they killed each other or something. You walk over to the back of the building. Once there you do not find two corpses. Instead, you see two very startled girls. But you only see them after you see two kissing girls. You start to blush, horribly embarrassed. Your attempts to say anything end in an incoherent stutter. The blonde regains her composure first and glares at you. But that’s all she does, glaring. Then you realise that she doesn’t even know your name, and no dirty secrets she could blackmail you with. Not you have any. You smile friendly at her, nod briefly, turn around and walk away. You briefly wonder how long it will take for the two girls to forget you and start kissing again. As you look behind you once more, you get your answer.
Not very long.
The Kitten, the Bitch and the One with the Wardrobe
NOTE: I don’t know if this really becomes a series or not. But the idea for a ‘sequel’ popped into my head, so here it is. And damn, writing in second person is hard.
The cafeteria is noisy and crowded, as always. But your table is suspiciously empty, as always. You quietly eat the lunch you brought from home, looking round the room, trying to see if anything interesting is happening.
“Hey there.”
You look up. Sylvia, your only friend in the entire school, is smiling at you. You often wonder how the two of you became friends. God knows you didn’t a lot about it.
“Hey.” You greet.
Sylvia sits down and gets her lunch, wrapped up in aluminum foil, from her bag. You both eat in silence for a few moments.
“So how your day?” Sylvia asks between bites.
You shrug. “It was OK.” You say. Then you remember that it’s the polite thing to do to inquire at how the other person’s day was, so you do.
Sylvia beams. “You know that new girl that arrived here a couple of days ago?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“I’m not really certain, but I think she was sorta flirting with me during History.”
“Oh.”
“Oh? That’s all? Oh?”
“Does she know you’re a girl?” You ask.
Sylvia hesitates. “I’m not sure, really. I mean, I suppose, but… Oh damn.”
You try to smile reassuringly. But the truth is Sylvia is so androgynous that even you sometimes have trouble determining whether she’s a boy or a girl.
“Does she know your name?”
Sylvia’s face clouds even more. “I’m not entirely sure.” She sighs. “Jeez, thanks for ruining my day.” She says a little sharply.
“Sorry.” You say, and go back to studying the cafeteria. Your eyes rest on the cheerleading table. Over there, everything looks co calm and peaceful. It almost looks as if two of the main blondes did not have an incredible falling out just a couple of days ago.
Sylvia follows your gaze. “What’re you looking at them for?” She asks.
“It’s so quiet over there.” You say.
Sylvia looks at the table, not interested. “Yeah, I suppose it’s hard to come up with conversational topics when your brains consist out of one big vacuum.”
“Maybe.” You say.
“But…?” Sylvia prods, used to your usually rather short replies.
“The Bitch and the Kitten had a pretty major fight a few days ago.” You say, using the personal nicknames you and Sylvia thought up for the girls.
“Really?” Sylvia asks. “I missed it, what was it about?”
“I’m not sure.” You reply in all honesty. “But it may have something to do with the fact that I spotted the Bitch kissing some other girl.”
“Kissing who!?” Sylvia exclaims.
Her voice is loud enough for everyone to hear in the cafeteria, but nobody looks your way. Nobody is really interested in you. If they even know you exist to begin with.
“Some girl. That brunette reporter.”
“Samantha McPherson!!??” Sylvia shouts. Still, nobody notices you.
“If that’s her name, yeah.”
“The Samantha McPherson who likes to call her ‘Satan’ in the school newspaper?”
“How should I know? I don’t read that thing.”
Sylvia looks back at the popular table, her interest suddenly fully piqued.
“Wow.”
The two of you continue looking at the table, where nothing really happens. The Bitch polishes her nails. The Kitten tries to get some more food down. The One with the Wardrobe is lost in her own personal world. Everything seems normal over there. But it’s all artificial. You’ve studied people long enough to know when they’re faking it. And right now, those three are faking it. Except maybe the One with the Wardrobe. That’s one girl you never managed to figure out.
Then you look over at the less popular table. There, everybody is chattering happily. There is no sign whatsoever of any unrest. The only thing that could be considered slightly off is the brunette glancing over at the popular table from time to time.
School’s finally over and after the collective sigh of relief, the students prepare to go home. All kinds of people walk around you. Most of them going towards the exit. Some of them are heading for some after-school on-school activities. Samantha McPherson suddenly breezes past you. You couldn’t get a clear look at her, but you think her face looked kind of flushed and her stride was a little too determined. She looked like someone eager to go somewhere, but not wanting to show. You smile a little to yourself as you head for the exit.
“Was that Samantha?” You suddenly hear someone ask.
“Sylvia, hi. Yeah, that was her.”
“Great! Let’s follow her.” She says, getting a hold of your arm and dragging you away from the exit.
“Leave her alone will you?” You say.
“If it was just her, sure. But we’re talking the girl who slept with every sports team on the entire school here. I mean, if she suddenly went gay…”
“Maybe she always was.” You answer. “Either way, I don’t care.”
“Well, I do, so come on!”
You sigh. If Sylvia has made up her made about something…
She drags you all the way to the journalist-wannabes-HQ. The door’s open. Sylvia carefully peaks inside, then looks a little disappointed.
“She’s not here.”
“Who?”
“The Bitch.”
“Oh.” You say. “Let’s just go now.” You add, trying to free your arm.
“Yeah, sure.” Sylvia says, a little defeated.
You turn around and walk away with Sylvia slowly trailing behind. You turn a corner and start heading straight for the exit. Then, all of the sudden, you freeze. The school building is practically empty and sound travels pretty far. And right now the travelling sound is that of high heels. You stand still for a few moments, uncertain of what to do. Sylvia starts eyeing you suspiciously because of the delay. Then her eyes go wide.
“You hear something, don’t you?”
You don’t respond, silently cursing the fact that you often pick up on things other people don’t. Your silence proves to be enough evidence for Sylvia, since she grabs your arm and again drags you to the office of the school newspaper.
“I hear voices.” She whispers a little redundantly.
“We shouldn’t be eavesdropping.” You whisper back.
“So? Bush shouldn’t have been elected.”
You roll your eyes. “I wish you’d stopped using that as an excuse to do all kinds of things we’re not supposed to do.”
“Why? It works, doesn’t it? Now shush, I want to hear.”
Having nothing better to do and a little curious as well, you decide to eavesdrop as well. At first you hear nothing out of the ordinary. That is to say, you hear a few sounds one would associate with kissing. But since you already know the two occupants of the room have been kissing before, you don’t find it very special.
“What were you doing?” You hear someone ask. It’s the Bitch.
“Writing an article.” Samantha.
“About?”
“You, mostly.” It sounds a little sad.
“I wish you didn’t have to.”
“Me neither. But I suppose it’s necessary.”
“Yeah…”
“Shit.” Sylvia mutters. “Those hateful articles are all a cover-up. How long has this been going on?”
“Sylvia, shut up!” You hiss.
“Did you just hear something?” The Bitch asks.
You and Sylvia remain deadly quiet.
“Nah, I didn’t hear anything.”
“Hmm… I thought I heard someone talk.”
“Nicole, this isn’t a way to get off-topic, is it?”
The Bitch sighs. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just a little jumpy. You know, with Brooke knowing and all. I wonder how long it’ll take for the rest of the school to find out.”
“Brooke wouldn’t spread the news. She’s not like that.”
“No.” The Bitch says, laughing bitterly. “I’m like that.”
“You’re not. We both know that.”
“Really? I’m not so sure myself.”
“Aaargh.” Samantha cries frustrated. “I’m so not wanting to have this conversation right now.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t.” Samantha sighs. “Look, if you want we can drop the act at any time. I’ve finished our coming-out article months ago. Just say the word…”
“Coming-out article?” Sylvia whispers. “What’re they talking about?”
“Guess.”
“Oh… right.”
“I’m sorry.” The Bitch says. You suddenly wonder if that nickname is really still appropriate.
“It’s OK. I’ll wait.”
“God Sam, I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I love you, but…”
“I know.”
You tap Sylvia on the shoulder. “This is going way too far. We should go.”
Sylvia nods mutely. You see a few faint glimmers of unshed tears in her eyes.
“Let’s go.” She whispers.
The two of you quietly sneak away, without either Samantha or the Bitch knowing that their secret has been discovered by more than just one person.
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