(Tuesday, 11:51)
Three Weekends Past

Skye was distraught. It was impossible to disguise, seeped off her very pores in an overpowering essence. Eminent in how she clenched her coffee cup between the palms of her hands, fingertips paling from the force of her grasp, and mind oblivious to the heat scorching her hands. Undeniable in her new-found perfect posture, back an unmoving and firm wall rather than resting peacefully into the crook of her hammock. Every limb was tense, molded into a permanent position: one foot firmly on the ground to keep the knot-like seat from swinging, the other bent in front of her. Even her face seemed to be permanently etched into a scowl of deep, pensive thought, chin never wavering even the smallest of a centimeter in the wind, nor her hands lifting from the over-warm coffee cup to remove the curly ribbons of hair which that same wind constantly tousled into her currently unseeing her eyes, tickling her face.

A fight against nature, the very winds and mists which Skye so often took as allies in her ventures, into the woods, into a stream, onto a walk in the ice with her friends. Yet, now they were not so companionable to her, attempting to cast her off her hammock, propel her back to the adventurous and happy fifteen year old she had for so long been. But, the battle was dismal, one-sided, as Skye kept her unresponsive scowl on her unmoving form.

Only three things had an effect on her, as she stared blindly into the dancing grass beside her: the low and slow creaking of the sliding glass door, which her mother had taken to visiting often, as she awaited the arrival of Aurora and Scarlett; the many mosquito bites spinning up her legs like laces to ballet slippers, a prickle and torture gifted to her from her latest venture into the woods; and the constant fogging of her thoughts, dead tired herself notwithstanding the fact that she'd overslept that morning. Irony, is that, that she should sleep so long and be so sleepy still whereas Scarlett and all the other insomniacs appeared far less affected?

Even those still caused barely a flinch or a waver upon either her body or her mind, each recurring itch or opening of the door dissipating further and further from recognition until they didn't register at all.

Yes, Skye was worried, and as to that would deny her wabbit state. She was not a fool; she knew of her appearance. Why else would her mother continue to check on her rather than go out with her boyfriend? As if that isn't a creepy enough thought as it is, her mother having a boyfriend. All the same, who's to say she did not hold the right to be worried? Must it be bestowed upon a person for them to be allowed now? No matter if it's for one of the people she knew to never like it.

Aurora, Aurora who was visiting today with Scarlett, reuniting the triangle gang for the first time since school let out, even if summer hadn't yet started properly, what with exams still running. Aurora, coming over so that they may group together against the evil that school had left them with: summer work. It would seem that pushing five timed essays upon the honors kids during exams simply wasn't enough, so AP World History also got to assign four essays and another chapter crutch to be completed before the next year's AP World History II.

Skye, however, was not so nettled with the summer work, but was rather pondering how strange it was to have missed something so important in her friend's life. To have heard about it from another afterwards because her trip to New York City spanned to the end of the year. To have never then seen Aurora or perceived her own analysis on her friend. Pondering, wondering, debating if it was her fault. If maybe had she been there, she could have helped in some way, or at least bashed some of the bloody people standing by, who were only innocent because they hadn't reached the Asian to ask her a question. Could have shrieked at someone for not helping, for hurting her friend like they had. She could have done something, she was sure of it, and then Aurora might not have crashed so hard. It was her fault, or at least partially.

Currently she could rely on nothing more than rumors, the gossip she picked up on as she walked the halls splattered with the odd number of people, far less jammed now people only attended when they were scheduled for an exam. That, or else the likely slander shouted directly towards her from those angry with Aurora and surprisingly intelligent enough to recognize Skye as her friend. She didn't hold much hope or trust in human intelligence anymore, sad enough though the fact was. Like Scarlett, their shared English class had disappointed her to the point of no return.

As it went, she'd had yet to come across the date for either of the exams which she shared with Aurora and thus was reduced to the gossip. Partially, that is. Skye could not be foolish enough to believe some of the most criticaster things they said about her friend. Honestly, kicking people down for accidentally getting in her way? It was quite obvious that somewhere along the line these fescennine jackanapes bagan embellishing.

It was not, however, too far fetched to believe that Aurora had begun insulting people, within good reason, Skye was certain. Indubitably easy to see her snapping at leeches, ice in her eyes, for asking her to lend her notes when they very well had their own. Incontrovertibly simple to picture her slinking close to the 'losers' Skye knew to be her friends. Already people were changing with her as well, the normal obstreperous fools, adamant to get in the last word. They were now calling her a flambuginous, fatuous, furciferous follower and copier of the bitch they'd always considered Scarlett to be. Expressed in much smaller words and with far more placeholders but of course.

Brain half misted with delassation, this still triggered a memory of something Caden once said. Caden was, admittedly, far brighter than the three of the triangle seats, especially in geography. Story telling, humor, and geography, three fortes as opposed to one, and none could hold a candle to him. Most did loathe him, however. Execrate him regardless of how extremely kind and entertaining he was. Moreover, they would use him for interest and then scream at him whenever he proved himself to actually have a brain in class--apparently a task far too complex for themselves. Skye and her friends had always taken pride in both defending and befriending him, as opposed to joining the smiting ranks of the allegedly popular. All the same, he'd once called Aurora 'secretly vicious' as one of his jokes, something Skye now wished she'd minded more closely.

The worst of it all though wasn't really the gossip. The most horrific aspect was wondering how much was actually true, and then just how far gone and changed her friend had become from such a seemingly normal day. What if she wasn't the same? What if Skye's friend was lost and, even worse, couldn't be returned? That was what held her stiff and still in her uncomfortable position. That mentality in itself retained her from retrieving a sweatshirt to protect her from the oddly fluctuating temperatures, her circulation known to recede from her hands. Frozen, so active in though and yet her body sat rigid and forgotten.

Everybody must have once heard of the power of terror, all consuming, must have experienced trepidation and fear so deep at least one moment in their lives. And, that had Skye worried as well. Terror, an emotion. Corrupting and controlling but an emotion first and foremost. Aurora didn't work well with emotions, at least not large ones. To Skye's memory, only Scarlett had ever placed emotions upon Aurora, created a list of when she had felt what to prove she felt. Still, even those were not large emotions. It struck Skye as kind of funny that for so long people had been attempting to teach Aurora to swim when they should have taught her to better deal with emotions. Perhaps then she would have been better prepared. Instead, now Skye had no idea how deep she had been immersed into that dreaded abyss of listlessness and fear.

'Twas just so strange, how everything can change so quickly, so fiercely, and without her knowledge as well. How the world could leave her defenseless and at loss as to ameliorate her friend. For all intents and purposes, Skye was left aboulic in the situation, and with no chance of egression. Trying, that was the best way to put it. So confounding, a behemoth, not of destruction but some ill-found fear and worry, eating away at her insides.

Perhaps it was that last thought of her own defenselessness, or else the clanging shut of the sliding glass door, louder now than the soft click of her mother's closing, that dimmed Skye's thoughts. Instead, she swiveled her eyes to look at the sky above her, overcast with promisingly dark cumulonimbus clouds, thick with distant thunder that perked her ears. Likely another reason her mother had been checking on her so constantly, but she didn't care, thunderstorms were hardly scary. No, and they were so much more fun to watch, especially on a water base--or, at least that's what Aurora and Scarlett proclaimed.

Truth be told, most people are idiots. A storm is no more dangerous than heat if you can act properly. Then again, it'd take much too much out of people to actually learn something, wouldn't it? Instead they have to delineate thunderstorms as this horrific and terrible thing, especially in stories, as some sort of mood setter. It's mostly the nose that scares them, not even the truly dangerous portion. All the same, this is the same species that's afraid to get its hair wet...

It was on that note that her hammock sank further down afront her in response to another body's weight, red-amber curls narrowing the vision of her still unmoving form. The signs of her worry, her frantic thought train were still intact, certain it would be too strenuous on her delassation weakened form to move, but Scarlett understood, her own worry mirroring Skye's in her eyes and brow.

"Skye?" She murmured, questioning both if Skye was truly with her as well as if she could remove the coffee cup, her hand having gestured to Skye's throttling cling to the object.

The girl only inclined her head a fraction in response, her light brown curls falling forward as Scarlett immediately took action. Despite her friend's agreement, she still had to carefully pry to cup away from its precarious stance, always sure not to spill a drop of the still torrid liquid onto her friend. Then, she merely slipped a black overcoat she'd been carrying off her arm and held it out to Skye, silently pleading for her to put it on herself. Which she did, just after a few long moments of silence.

This couldn't be happening, no. Scarlett couldn't handle this, not two friends changing before her eyes. Aurora she could handle, but only if she had Skye to help her. With this, all of this, both of them, Scarlett might just break down herself--who knew people asking for help could be so detrimental? The truth was, Scarlett, however untrusting and hard to please she was, was nothing without her friends. Her true friends. But, she also had no idea how to help them, was clueless as to how far Aurora would fall, had no idea how wretched Skye would respond. She could supply a sweatshirt, sure, but what was she supposed to do? She was no Aurora, as she was constantly reminded.

So, she rambled, rambled to Skye about what had happened. Scarlett rambled and babbled in the hopes that, maybe, Skye might respond. "I guess you haven't seen Aurora since you've been back? Or, at least, I haven't seen you. If my exams are anything to go by though, you'll probably have heard the people... They don't very much value keeping to themselves, do they? Or personal space, for that matter," she broke off, flinching slightly as she thought about it.

Skye said nothing, but watched her redheaded friend closely, fingering the jacket she recognized to be Scarlett's from earlier that year as she pulled it over her knuckles. Scarlett noticed this, allowed herself to watch a few moments as her friend slowly began moving before she spoke again, "I guess I mean to say the truth of how Aurora is, then. From me, as opposed to the school 'populars', as I might be a bit of a more reliable source."

Skye flinched at the spite in the girl's voice as she said 'populars', understanding how much trouble they'd been causing herself lately, let alone her friends, but her brain still too foggy to feel her own anger. Still, she watched readily as the redhead continued, "She has, admittedly, become a bit... colder? Is that even the best way to put it? She's pushing back at the walls pushed on her, how is that wrong? She's snappier, a lot snappier, but really just to people who attempt to use her. To friends, to us, she's Aurora, just Aurora, our Aurora." She ended, voice still just a murmur from her own thoughts, furrowing her brow, allowing her hands to fall at her sides after having used them for a multitude of gestures as was her Italian habit.

The brown haired one still said nothing, stared at Scarlett as if she knew there was something more, but she pulled her foot back from its firm hold on the ground, allowing the hammock to swing them rhythmically on its hinges.

This time, Scarlett waited, watched Skye until she had lain down, the stiff form of worry and thought nearly gone. Then she spoke once more, "She's going to get better, I think. The only thing is... I think she might fall back, start helping people again once she's over it. That this will be cyclic, predictable..."

Biting her lower lip at these words, shifting her head to better see the fast moving grey masses of they sky above, Skye developed a response to this, "Did you... you didn't know the crash would happen all along, did you?"

"I feared of it," Scarlett answered, plucking at the netting of her seat, "I thought she might be the sort, we all might be..."

"So then, what if you're right? What if it happens again?"

"We do what we always do, we stick together and hopefully learn how to help our friend." And me you, she added silently, studying Skye's still weak appearing form.

Before Skye could find a light-hearted retort, the sliding glass door clanged open once more, causing both curl adorned heads to flinch in surprise as Aurora stepped out of the doorway.

A/N: This increment wasn't actually a part of the original story, I just disliked the ending. I found it lacking depth, so I wrote this scene in today. Honestly, I wouldn't blame anybody if they would rather it gone. If you find it much too horrible, send me a review or something and I'll remove it. Or else, tell me your views I suppose.

Lissa.