Sins That Bind
I wake up to the chirping of the artificial birds and the warmth of the sun. Its warmth denies my wakefulness and soothes me deeper into a sleepful bliss. As I’m about to give into the embrace of sleep again, I feel a hand trace across my cheek. I wearily half open one eye to see her looking down at me.
Rachel gives a shy little grin as if she had just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Nonetheless, she doesn’t remove her hand. So I allow her to continue her little game. She traces the contours of my cheek down to my chin. I watch as she lets one finger dangle on my chin before playfully letting it drop and land on the top of my chest. I think of what thoughts could be behind those hazel eyes.
Society demands a certain amount of decorum, but I’ve never been one to adhere to such rules as if they’re set in stone. Rachel is different from others. For starters, she’s very touchy, and well aware that it’s taboo. But I don’t let it bother me- perhaps because there’s a little something there, just behind her smile, that I can’t quite put my finger on
The fog of sleep finally seems to recede from my mind and I reach for the heavens to stretch. It’s only now that Rachel finally pulls all digits to her side and gives a small giggle. “It’s time to get up Eve. Lunch is just about over. We still have half of our wonderful day left,” she says to me.
I turn my eyes to her and take her in. Rachel, with her hazel eyes and brunette hair dangling just low enough to tease the beginning curves of her breast. She’s smiling- she’s always smiling. A “wonderful” day is what she always calls it; these mundane days that I let come and go, with not a thought of the things that plight us. Yet to her, these days are always wonderful.
I can’t help but think that at times, she has something inside of her that the rest of us have seemingly lost. She’s a “Natural” after all. I try to resist, but fail, as I find myself all but admiring the way the world appears in the sparkle of her eyes. This mundane existence is wonderful in all that it is, to Rachel. However, these are but idol thoughts in a mind still not quite fully awake. “I don’t wanna,” I protest in a pout.
“You will, regardless. Now-” she stands up and leans down to take my hands while yelling, “Upsie daisy!” and pulling me to my feet.
I nearly run into her at the unexpected force but I manage to stop myself at the last moment. I see a frown flicker across Rachel’s lips for just a moment and then it’s gone. “Let's go. We have history next,” she says much to my dismay.
“Wonderful, Mr. Gordon’s class. Boy am I glad we won’t be missing that one!” I say sarcastically. Rachel holds up a hand, flick readied to go. I let out a gasp and swat her hand away playfully. She gives a giggle and pokes me in the side to tickle me.
After several moments of what would certainly end up on the school bulletin as “violent,” behavior, we collect our things and head down to the class.
The stairs give off a hum in protest to our stamping feet down them. When we reach the exit, Rachel gives a tentative peek outside before fully opening it. She says the coast is clear and we dash out. We run through the lonely courtyard and make our way to the main campus. We pass other students here or there- other “truants” cutting it close to the bell. A ding-dong chime lets us know we’re only a handful minutes away from class starting. We begin a full run but stop ourselves as we turn a bend and notice a teacher. I don’t recognize him.
He probably teaches the last years- students about to "enter the real world," but we still can't afford to be caught by him, not this close to the bell.
He spends forever trying to straighten up a poster. Behind me, Rachel lightly taps her foot in irritation. A couple minutes later he nods to himself and seems to finally be satisfied with his tedious chore. With an about-face, he cuts across the hall and into the teacher’s lounge. I can make out the name, “Victor” on his nameplate. But this isn’t the time for such idle thoughts.
By my figuring, we have less than a minute left. Rachel and I sprint for dear life and slam open the classroom door. We rush to our seats and the moment we connect chair with butt Jamie shouts out “safe” and the bell rings. That very moment Mr. Gordon walks in on pudgy legs, with his short hair and his stupidly white tie. He pushes up his glasses while laying his books on his lectern and scans the room. Before long his eyes land on me and Rachel in the seat behind me.
“Nice to see you ladies have made it,” he says in his throaty voice. With a bashful smile, Rachel gives Mr. Gordon a tiny wave. Mr. Gordon simply nods and starts his lecture on the wonderful world of history. He talks about the world of old and the wars they fought. I'm all but forced to daydream out of the window to get away from it all.
I simply stare into the field below and imagine- just imagine- how much more things could be. War. I can’t even imagine a “war.” Entire groups of people killing one another for the vaguest of ideas and promises. Life doesn’t like that kind of thinking though. We’re given what we are, and can’t change it. That’s why history is so lame. You can’t learn from the past because the mistakes of the past are theirs and theirs alone. Just like today’s mistakes are ours, just like how today’s won’t be the next generation’s.
The chime sounds and startles me from my thoughts. I look up just in time to see Mr. Gordon leaving with a scowl on his face, along with Rachel and Jamie making their way over to me. “What’s up?” I ask them.
“Let’s go have some fun,” Rachel says with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
“Can Johan come?” Jamie asks.
Rachel pointedly says,“The new one? Ew, no. Just us friends. We haven’t all hung out together in a while. You’ve been busy-”
“Having a life?” Jamie says with a hefty dose of snark. Rachel rolls her eyes and goes to flick Jamie before seemingly thinking better of it, and pulling back. The glare on Jamie’s face is terrifying. But she’s familiar enough to Rachel’s far-too-casual attitude. Once we’ve all collected our stuff we decide to make a beeline for the shops by the station.
My time spent with them is long, and bittersweet in its relative shortness. There’s a small candy store we love to go to when we have a chance. I love their little chocolates. They’re handmade, a trait so few of us have nowadays. The clothing stores we visit are nice too. Clothing isn’t my forte the way it is for Jamie- she’s all about the fashion. But she’s in an extra fervor today due to us making her ditch her boyfriend.
The clothes she makes us try on range from too embarrassing to think about again, to super cute like the kinds of dresses you see in old children stories, like the one about sheep. Some of my favorites, though I wouldn’t admit it to Jamie, were the darker dresses with the frills. I personally think they give a nice mix of cute with tones of maturity.
I can’t help but notice Rachel a bit more than I usually would. The setting light, and the way it bounces off of her makes her seem a little otherworldly. But in paying extra attention to her, I’ve realized that she’s gotten quieter as the day’s gone on. I also notice her offering me a lot of glances. Everytime I try to get her attention, to give a silent inquiry on what’s wrong with her, she looks away in a hurry.
It was during one of these little games of cat-and-mouse that Jamie offers up paying for our food if we eat her favorite restaurant- so of course we do!
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