January 3rd, Tuesday

The Lone

7:19

A buzz flutters in the air reaching the nape of Solaforma’s neck. It sends a warm pulsate down her back and through her limbs, like lighting conducting through her every nerve telling her to be on edge. If she didn't know any better she'd say she could almost sense something. 

“There's a boy in the front yard!” A thirteen year old girl shrieks from the foyer.

The girls run in a stampede of long ponytails and tangled braids as they swiftly crowded the three spotless windows that overlooked the yard. They all turn their attention to the bygone oak tree where the white swing drifts thoughtlessly across the grass.

In the dining hall, across the way, Solaforma stops cleaning her window and holds her breath listening to the inevitable chattering of the young girls.

“Coincidence?” She asks herself in a soft voice.

A voice in her head answers back. Nothing ever is.

She tosses her chin over her shoulder, gazing at the small children that bounced up and down while they try to look over one another's thin shoulders and round heads.

“He’s hot!” a preteen says in a burst of surprise.

A younger girl scoffs. “No he is not!”

“Who is he?” An older girl asks with a settle glare that dares someone to answer.

“He could be a weirdo.” A teen in round rimmed glasses says cautiously.

Solaforma slowly turns her whole body toward the crowd. With a heedful motion she places one black slipper in front of the other as she cautiously crosses the creaking floorboards.

In her chest, her heart thuds a little too fast with the vanishing hope that her day wouldn't start so horrendously. With every step she knows that her hope is just a useless idea she shouldn’t even begin to indulge in.

She sets her lips into a fine line of concentration as she begin to formulate explanations, ulterior plans, and possible lies that could borderline truth to the home’s supervisor. The Head Mistress would become curious, she would question just who was the boy and if she were hiding anything else. She didn’t have the time to hear the middle aged women complain about a teenagers social life.

She takes a deep breath realizing the unexpected fact that she hadn’t felt this intolerable feeling in so many years that she almost forgot what it was. This face heating, palm sweating, heart jittering, feeling of embarrassment.

Before her face could turn a shade of rose petal pink she shoves the feelings away replacing it with immense stone cold confidence as she approaches the group of girls.

They didn't notice her behind them as their small heads bobbed up and down, the miniscule hairs on top of their heads swaying with them as they looked onto the chartreuse green yard. The yard where she had an unbelievable amount of happy memories, many of which were warm summer evenings.

The gentle warmth of the setting sun rays would cast a soft pastel hue on her cheeks as she sat on the white washed swing. There, on the splintering swing that had already been replaced twice in her lifetime, she would gently rock back and forth, the motion reminding her of a grandmother’s rocking chair she never knew, as she read the fine lines of many books.

She looks to the swing now where the boy sits rocking back and forth with so little care one would think he owned this house, no as if he owned the block. He turns his head in profile, grinning at something in the distance.

Solaforma can't help her eyebrows furrowing gently in underlying anger as she watches the inconsiderate boy rock the swing with his black shoe heels.

The Head Mistress rushes into the foyer just as Solaforma subsides her frown and watches as she pushes a few girls aside to get a glimpse of the boy. Her eyes widen as she spots his shaggy shoulder-length, wavy, onyx hair and his refined face.

She turns to the girls. “Who is that?" She asks with slight poison.

Solaforma speaks calm and collected. “My classmate, Ansidara Tore.” The dozen faces turn to her, falling into a state of shock then pure confusion.

The Head Mistress shakes her head trying to understand how the coldest human on Earth captured the attention of a face that can break a thousand hearts.

“Why is he here?” She crosses her arms over her chest then gives a subtle eyebrow raise that dares her to lie.

Solaforma takes another step forward curling her hand as Ansidara looks to the house across the street once again then throws his arm over the swings back.

He knows she is there. She can instantly tell as he allows a precise smile of amusement fall on his face. She now becomes highly aware of his goal. He wants her embarrassed. He wants her emotions to be a simple toy to play with whenever and however he desires.

For any other girl he would have gained those emotions with no obstacles whatsoever, but she is different. She is in complete control of her feelings leaving nothing but a cold empty shell of a human that will not care, can not care. Solicitude was a luxury she once had, she no longer deserves.

“I don't know.” Solaforma answers then relaxes her hand. “I really don't know why he's here.”

There is an insufferable silence until a little girl asks, “Is he your boyfriend?”

The girls burst into an ear piercing choir of shrieks that turn Ansidara’s head toward the window, his face is now full of confusion. She ignores his warm dark eyes instead directing her attention to the girls.

“No way!” A girl yells over the others.

Another giggles with her small pudgy hands covering her mouth. “Really!”

The Mistress hushes them all with a quick whisk of her hand.

She turns back to Solaforma giving her a hard glare as she crosses her arms over her large chest. “You may all go to school.” She says never leaving Solaforma’s calm eyes. “You wait.” She says with a small jerk of her head.

The girls run out the door to greet the stranger with giggles and hellos as they surround him, bombarding him with unfeasible questions. Solaforma can see from the window that he gives a nonchalant laugh that appears far to practiced as he answers as many questions as possible.

The supervisor watches the girls swarm the tall, young, man for a moment before meeting Solaform's eyes. “You know the rules Solaforma.”

She nods, lifting her chin slightly as she looks down to the woman who has been the supervisor of the foster home for two years now. That is less time than most of the girls there.

“I understand.” She utters in a soft voice.

The mistress places her hands on her hips, looking down to the water damaged floorboards as she speaks. “I don't mind you older girls dating, you know that, but when they come around the home that’s when I have to put my foot down.”

“I understand.” Solaforma repeats. “And with all due respect you are mistaken he is not my boyfriend.” She says just a bit sterner.

The Mistress stares at her for a few seconds more then slowly turns away. “Go to school.”

Solaforma obediently nods as the Head Mistress strides out of the foyer. She can't help but to watch her back with scrutiny.

She turns away leisurely walking to the entryway where her satchel was neatly tucked on the top of an eight by eight wooden cubby. She looks down at the white tiles that fill the entryway floor. Many of which had been cracked over the years and filled with black dirt from the dozens of filthy shoes.

She looks to her single leather shoe finding that the other was tossed afar in the chaos. She quickly slides the four year old shoes on unsurprised that her once perfectly shiny shoes now had a deep tan scratch on the top. She releases a long held sigh then reaches for the golden knob of the door.