Author: Sparkling Acrobat PM
My Mom always said I was special. In my world, that meant I was human-sized and didn't sparkle. I wish things had stayed simple; I didn't need trouble, I didn't need more magic shoved in my face, and I definitely didn't need Him with his stupid blue eyesRated: Fiction K+ - English - Humor/Romance - Chapters: 8 - Words: 30,554 - Reviews: 38 - Favs: 12 - Follows: 22 - Updated: 07-19-12 - Published: 05-18-10 - id: 2808343
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Hello there! I just want to add some quick notes before you dive into this story ;)
Disclaimer: I do not own Superman or the periodic table, in case anybody wondered.
Note: Ok, this is how thinks are. I don't like plagiarism. I work hard to squeeze these plots out of my brain and if ANYbody dare to steal my work, I will track down their sorry a**es and sue. I know people in places, do not mess with me.
My hair is black, pitch black, such an inappropriate color. My eyes are gray and piercing, or so people say. I am very tall –according to my mom. I wear pants and t-shirts instead of flowing dresses with a million little flowers on them. I don't wear tiaras or crowns or anything related. I go to high school and live in a yellow house, not under a rock, a tree, or in a flower. I don't have pointy ears, I don't sparkle, and I definitely do not shed magic powder. I am not always smiling or saving the day. Oh –I don't know how to play the harp, or the flute, not even the harmonica. And, worse of all, I can't fly. What's wrong with me? Mom always said I was special, and by that she meant freak; I shared her opinion.
Hi, my name is Flow –and I am a fairy.
I walked calmly around the halls of Saint Louis High School; nobody noticed me, but I noticed everybody. Students went here and there like bees, girls talked, guys jumped and hit each other, professors tried to keep things in other –very unsuccessfully. Before I knew it, my locker was in front of me, the same old pal as last year; sighing, I kicked it and it popped tiredly open.
"Hi, dear," I addressed it. "Miss me?"
I thought it was rather rude that it didn't answer; but then again, things didn't usually replied to what I said, they much preferred talking to my mom. Or maybe my poor, old locker was still recovering from the three months it did not have to open. Three months of break. Three months I had to spend with my family non-stop.
"Oh, the joy." I shuddered. "Glad to be here."
I took my books for the day and closed the locker. I really needed to stop talking to inanimate things which I knew would not answer; those snobby objects were most unpolite –and that wasn't even a word. A screech sort of sound came from behind me making me turn startled. A guy who was at least two heads taller than me –and obviously had a steroid problem– was holding up a younger, twig-looking boy against a row of rusty lockers. The little thing had his legs in the air and tried to kick his captor. Failing miserably. They did not have many spectators, but the ones that were around either looked intently expecting a fight or pulled out their cell-phones to film whatever happened. Very mature, kids, so much for trying to help.
I frowned. I couldn't get in between them; Superman would sue me for stealing his job. I had never met this Superman fellow, but I had heard weird rumors about his protectiveness of his "hero" role and some very curious stuff involving wearing underwear on top of his clothes. But then again, I couldn't not help now, could I?
Unconsciously, I focused on Elephant guy, as I had just nicknamed the big dude, who was a much easier and weaker target than the other one.
"Let him go," I whispered as low as I could even though I couldn't whisper very well. Elephant guy stopped for a second and looked around, probably trying to find me. "Now," I emphasized.
The younger boy was hitting the floor a second later looking pained but relieved. I couldn't say the same about Elephant guy whose eyes were wide open and glaring at his own hand. He seemed quite upset with it.
A smiled fixed on my face as I turned to walk toward my physics class; that well known sensation of satisfaction filling me.
Take that, Superman.
Class brought no new, adventurous experiences. Many new faces showed up, most likely transfers, and the teacher, Mr. Kinely, talked about energy and collisions. He obviously did not get the memo about the illegalness of teaching the first day.
I wondered if illegalness was a word.
I placed my head of my palm and during the whole period tried to keep busy writing notes in an attempt of not falling a sleep. Fortunately, when that failed I could resort to reading the notes people had half-written, half-carved on the wooden desk where I was sitting. Smiling, I decided to join the vandalizing of school property and drew a cartoon face with a bubble that said "Hi". To my great satisfaction, class ended in fifty minutes and I was again free to watch people in the halls while I walked to my very favorite class, Biology. I could almost hear my Aunt Proxia's voice telling me that I should like art and dance instead of delighting on seeing some animal's insides; I shrugged it out of my head, Aunt Proxia and I never really agreed on anything, anyway.
I wasn't expecting some exciting-break-into-dancing type of stuff to happen as I walked. Average high school life was not as eventful as this morning, certainly not as entertaining as TV made it seem; however, I couldn't help but look around in the search of something interesting. And I sure found it.
Lying against the wall next to my Biology classroom was the most obnoxious, air-headed, self-centered attempt of a pig that I had ever had the disgrace of sharing my precious breathing air with –Rodney Welkins. He was tall and bleach blonde, not his natural color, and had the complexion of the football player he was –and the wardrobe to prove it (or the lack of, may I say). He was surrounded by four of his most loyal followers, also known as poor desperate souls, and a more numerous groups of girls. Yet, Rodney was looking marvelously displeased.
I smirked, even though something told me inside that I should have been feeling pity and pulling a magic wand out of my backpack to help him with his torment. But I couldn't feel pity for Rodney; and, even if I could, I had no magic wand with me. A girl next to Rodney screeched something along the lines of "I love you" and jumped, but no one really paid any attention to her. Then, as I got closer, I realized that the crowd wasn't surrounding Rodney; instead, they were all talking to the guy right next to him. He was only slightly taller than Rodney and with black hair –that was all I could see of him.
I sighed; hopefully, this did not mean that Rodney-clone volume II had just arrived. Else, I might just prefer to stay with my family.
I passed the congregation to go into the classroom. My eyes scanned the room twice before processing that no one was there yet, so I went to the front seat right next to the window and threw myself in it. Or so I wanted to do; instead, I had to conform to gracefully falling on the seat. My head lay against the cold window as I resigned to peacefully wait for the class to start.
Too bad I didn't have much patience.
The voice brought me out of my thirty-second zoned out state. Uninterestedly, my eyes fell on the person who had talked; it was the same dark haired guy that had been with Rodney.
"Hey," I replied, as I would have done with anyone else.
Taking a closer look, I realized the ends of his hair were blue, instead of black like the rest, and that the blue matched his eyes. I had to gap at him for a second when my eyes landed of his blue ones. I had seen many eyes colors in the past –truly– but never had I seen a blue so intense; it didn't remind me of the sky, a sapphire, or the Atlantic ocean, it was more like there was pure Mercury (II) floating behind his iris. For some reason, my temperature rose and, mentally pouting, I had to go back to the coldness of the window and advert my gaze in an attempt to cool off. But I knew he was still looking at me; I could feel it, it was one those things I just couldn't help sensing.
"I'm Rayden Glint"
I turned to look at him again. He was lying against the desk next to mine and smirking. Was he trying to start a conversation?
"Good for you," I said.
A smile flashed across his face, his blue eyes looked at me with something very similar to amusement –I didn't like it one bit, especially not coming from those eyes.
"And what's your name?" He asked me.
My head tilted to the side. "Flow"
I waited for him to look confused and then mocking. But it never came.
"Nice name," he said. Then, he went to his own seat at the back of he classroom.
His behavior puzzled me. Was he not just trying to talk to me? Did he not just walk away? I narrowed my eyes even though my gaze was fixed on the chalkboard at the front of the classroom with the notes from the last class, Calculus, I think.
"Thanks," I replied softly, somewhat hoping he had not heard it.
I turned and saw him sitting on his desk, which was balanced on its back legs, his arms folded, and a smile dancing in his mouth. His blue eyes clashed with my dull, gray ones. As more people came in, minding their own businesses, I lay my head against the window once more. That was a very interesting person.
School had been over too soon. I sighed as I walked the well-memorized block to go home. Yes, I said walked. Get over it. The streets were oozing with cars going here and there because it was peak hour; this was one of those times when I was oh-so-pleased I didn't own a car; but then again, I was very much a people watcher and that's why walking suited me so well.
I sort-of hopped my way up the stairs in the front porch of my ever-yellow house. I can't remember exactly the time when Mom decided what the color of the house was going to be, but I know it had something to do with "bees like honey" and such.
"I'm home!" I shouted when I finally got in the house.
Immediately, I felt a tingly sensation all over me. I saw Dad coming from his studio and Mom from the kitchen; they were both smiling and wearing average clothes that fit their average height. I sighed.
"You really don't have to do this," I repeated the same phrase I had said for such a long time.
"But, honey, it makes you feel better," Mom said.
I wasn't startled when I heard a male voice coming from around my neck and felt the light weight on my shoulder. "Yes, sugar cube, it's all for you."
I looked down to see the male figure comfortable placed on my shoulder and squinted at him. He smiled one of those cocky smiles of his, but it just looked ridiculous in contrast with his pointing ears and matching hat.
"Erik!" Dad exclaimed, talking to the guy on my shoulder. "For magic powder's sake, change right now!"
Erik rolled his eyes before flying away from me. In less than what it took me to blink he had grown to be taller than I. But, of course, this was just a normal afternoon –or any other time of the day– at my house. Mom and Dad tried to put and act to make me feel more normal, Erik, my brother, didn't. I actually appreciated that of him; at least he didn't make me feel like some purple monkey at the zoo. Still, I really liked the color purple, but that was an entirely different matter.
I rolled my eyes and started to go upstairs to my room.
"Had a great day. Homework to do. Eat later. Go to room. Love you all" I shouted as I closed the door of my room. I know, I wasn't the most charming flower in the garden, but why waste precious saliva communicating?
Save trees, go green. That's what dad always says.
I threw my backpack next to my bed and fell into its glorious softness. I had closed my eyes and drifted to ever-after land when, once again, I felt a weight on my back. I turned and the weight fell on my belly. Smiling, I looked at Erik.
"So, how was your day?" His tiny self asked.
"Uneventful," I answered. "You know how boring big people are."
"Yeah," he said as he started to slightly float above my body. "You know, you don't have to go to that height school place."
"It's high school, Erik." I smiled and sat up. "And I know, but it entertains me. And it keeps me from mom and her crazy food and dad and his compassionate looks." Erik looked at me seriously as he floated around my eye level; I could almost swear he was focusing on thinking nothing. "And from your obnoxious self," I added on second thought to get back his ever slipping attention.
"Nevermind." I smiled. "How was your day?"
"Too eventful. That neighbor's cat, Samantha or whatever, decided to pay us a visit today, again. I swear she is the most annoying animal I have ever communicated with."
Samantha was the white and brown-stripped cat of our neighbor Sam –Yes, you can find all type of creative people these days. I knew for a fact that Erik disliked the animal and Mom and Dad were afraid of it, meaning that they magically disappeared when the cat was around leaving the job to my brother. Literally. I didn't mind Samantha, mainly because she never came when I was home; partly because I could hardly communicate with that particular animal and it didn't matter how many offensive "meows" a cat could meow, they would never be anything more than meows unless you understood them. Lucky me.
"I guess she thinks you are one of those old ladies who love to gossip." I smiled brightly at my brother's frown. "I think I even see a wrinkle there."
"Shut up, Flow," Erik beamed.
This was just like us. Even though Erik was some years older than me, and by some I mean that nobody knows how many, we bickered like sibling who where two years apart. For the most part, I won our fights, and I loved to maintain that it was because Erik's magical self had the appearance and attitude of a teenager; the latter which everyone knew resembled that of a toddler.
"Erik, Flow, dinner is ready!" Mom's voice echoed from the kitchen to us.
Erik and I shared a look of fret at the thought of fighting against whatever 'normal' food Mom had tried to cook and failed. Again.
"Are you ready?" He asked me, changing into his taller height and setting foot on the floor.
I pulled out my phone and pressed speed dial as I followed him out of the door. "Totally. I'm calling the pizza people already."
Erik nodded approvingly and we went downstairs. It didn't smell like burned and, hopefully, I would be done with this eating business and have some time to do my homework before midnight –no one really knew how dangerous Mom's food could get sometimes.
Exhausted had just acquired a whole new meaning to me. Pasta had also been redefined in my personal dictionary and it was no longer that tasty, non-dangerous food it used to be. Actually, there were very few edible things that I still considered safe; mom's experiments had scarred me for life. Erik and I had gone downstairs (after ordering three pizzas) and we had found our ever-smiling mom next to a pile of pasta that was definitely taller than me –and I was tall for my family standards.
Mom didn't seem that was a problem.
For thirty minutes, Erik, Dad and I battled against the thing; they shot bits of magic while screaming incomprehensible things and I tried to control the beast using fire, pans, and any other thing I could put my hands on. Mom just floated around saying that we shouldn't play with our food but that she was happy we were having fun.
Yeah, lots of fun, that's what I had.
Sighing, my body fell heavily on my pink bed. Yes, I said pink; pink sheets that matched the pink and white, fluffy, lace-covered pillows, and the pink walls. In fact, my whole room was some sort of cake looking place plus the various ballet shoes hanging from the ceiling and the shine-in-the-dark stars that were plastered all over. Just as a proper fairy's room should be, my mom would say.
I smiled and reached over to my desk to get my Biology notebook.
"At least my room doesn't bark and try to eat me like the pasta did," I said to myself as I opened the notebook and scanned over the homework I had to do for tomorrow. "This is going to be a long night."
I reached for my Biology textbook and opened it on the assigned page. I was happily gone to the land of the insides of some bird when a horrible, screaming sound made me screech. A second later, an equally creepy sound made me jump and fall, pathetically gracefully, on my very hard floor.
Somebody was going to die.
I stood up and decisively stormed to Erik's room, which had been conveniently placed next to mine. The door opened before I could knock and the blinding greenness of the place made me blink several times. Someday, I would ask mom what was up with her and monochromatic rooms. It could also have something to do with my brother's slight obsession with that color; and the fact that it matched his eyes –vain idiot.
"Erik!" I shouted uselessly. Of course, who could hear anything with that deafening music playing?
I walked in the room and toward my brother's black desk searching for the awful device from which the sound was coming. And there I found Hope. Hope as in Erik's iHome. For someone so magical, my brother seriously loved technology (much to Uncle Yellowbrick's displeasure). I eyed Erik suspiciously to find him "dancing" in his taller form on top of his bed –also known as shaking his head uncontrollably and jumping up and down. And that's when I decided that I had to turn the wretched thing off, for his sake, of course.
Erik kept dancing quite a few seconds after I had turned the music off, obviously still not realizing that the only music that he was hearing was in his head. I smiled, what a cute big brother I had.
When he finally stopped, he looked at me confusedly and then at my hand on top of Hope, then at my face again, but finally settled on my hand and frowned.
"What's wrong with you, Flow?" He asked sounding rather offended; I think it had more to do with the fact that I was touching his precious Hope than anything else.
"I was kind of feeling the need to, I don't know, hear my own thoughts? Maybe?"
Erik changed into his fairy looking self and floated on top of his bed cross-legged.
"Why didn't you conjure a sound bubble or something?"
Growling, I picked up one of his shoes lying around and threw it at him. It felt very satisfying when once of the shoelaces hit him and send him flying against the wall –literally. And I was about to tell him what an inconsiderate idiot he was for not remembering that I can't do that when a sound from my room startled me. Yes, I was very easily startled. Erik and I shared a look before we both ran (or floated) to my room in our respective sizes. My eyes looked all over the lace-covered place until I spotted the shining, ball-looking, pink thing plastered against my window.
"Is that a bird?" Erik asked.
I squinted. "I don't think birds come in pink."
I went to my window and opened it. The pink ball floated around in a little flutter before coming in and landing on my windowsill.
"Oh, wow," a tiny, high-pitched voice exclaimed. "That was certainly not my best landing."
The thingy looked at us wide-eyed; Erik and I looked at it more than just a little confused. It was very pink, just as it had seemed before, and it sparkled all around its round self. I could hardly say that I had seen anything more adorable.
"It's a messenger pixie," Erik whispered.
I nodded still watching the magical creature; it was doing this cute thing trying to grab her own wings to make them stop shaking. Finally, she gave up and flew to our eye level.
"Hi!" she said with her high-pitched voice. "Are you Flow?" he asked looking at Erik.
I couldn't stop myself from giggling; I was already using all my force of restrain to avoid grabbing the Pixie and cuddling it. Erik, however, didn't think it was so funny.
"Do I look like a girl to you?" He frowned at the smaller creature.
The pixie titled her head as if to take a better look at my brother. "A very ugly one, yes."
"I'm Flow," I interrupted my brother before he could say something rude and scare the pixie away.
"Great! I have something for you," she said, full of energy.
Out of her little, minuscule bag the pixie pulled out an envelope that I swear should not have fit there and gave it to me. Under Erik's gaze I broke the star-shaped seal and took a paper out of it. I glared at it.
"What's that?" Erik asked and he saw what was in it.
I would have answer if my tongue had not just been declare "out of service". Printed in the paper was a picture of the doodle I had drawn on the desk I sat during Calculus; and next to it was another doodle with some letters scribbled on top of it.
Hey back, it read.
N/A: Hey there again :D So, what do you think? I'd appreciate some feedback, I love to hear from you guys!
Also, I'm really sorry that I haven't updated Struggles of a Writer, I've been working on the next chapter but it hasn't been coming so well, which is why it's taken me so long to put it up. You guys deserve a lot more than a half-chewed, mediocre little chapter. Please be patient with me.