Chapter I: The Nameless Klutz and The Sister with many Nicknames.
Rosa's Point of View
It's been my opinion for a long time (I don't particularly care how long) that no one of any race, gender or age should be playing sports if they are unnaturally attracted to injuries. Of course people don't usually listen to my opinion and in all honesty it would be impossible to considering I do not express my opinions openly. I hate doing that.
Everyday when sports are in season I watch the track or Cross-country or usually whatever is playing outside after school for their practices. I'm not on any of the sports or any after school activities for that matter not that I wouldn't want to be, I just don't work well with others.
Our schools track is a normal 1/4 of a mile and every team has to run a mile once a week. The team's are separated by gender as of this year but I'm not entirely sure why. I gathered something happened in the gym. They sometimes go in there instead of outside when its raining.
Anyways, I'm watching the Girl's Track team (or maybe it's Cross Country? I can't really tell) today and it's slightly amusing to watch some blonde try to run backwards and talk to her friends, while the coach is constantly yelling at her. Their coach is Mr. Small which is entirely misleading name considering he's 6"2' and very muscular. He doesn't teach gym here, thank god. I don't like him very much but appreciate that he lets me watch the practicing on the bleachers. They had a substitute once who said I could either join the team or go home, bitterly I went home.
I watched silently as a girl sped around the track field at a speed that seemed unhealthy. She flew past another girl with stopping and the other girl was going considerably slower, unfortunately the slower was apparently unlucky as she became very unbalanced and trip actually doing a somersault and I think she may have gotten her leg stuck in the bleachers.
I heard her say a drawn out "ow" quietly and evidently she couldn't see me (damn my short height and these tall bleachers) because she started calling loudly but not quite yelling "Coach! Over here, I'm stuck!"
Now may I take this moment to say, I am not under most circumstances I very kind person but they rest of the team seemed to either be complete bitches or just not hear her because they were heading back to the other side of the track to take a water break and as was already over there and I swear his half blind he couldn't see her. I was the only one there to help and what kind of person would I be if I just let her suffer? My mother would be ashamed and her opinion matters to me.
I sigh and walked down the bleachers, slightly faster than a snails pace but not much.
"Are you alright?" I ask, fully aware she is not. She jumps, probably startled.
I watch her attempt to maneuver to look at me, it works slightly although she is now looking up at me with her head tilted backwards. I wonder if this is how tall people feel, always looking down on others. I notice she would be pretty if she wasn't covered in sweat, wearing layers upon layers of makeup and squinting.
"Ah," She responds sounding awkward "Not really. Could you help me?"
I kneel down back to being short. I examine her leg which actually seems like it would be easy to slip out from under the bleachers. The space was fairly big and she was hardly overweight, in fact she looks very skinny. My attention was drawn towards her bright orange shoelaces, the were caught on of screws.
"Don't move for a second."
I scooted closer to her and laid down on the ground in front of the metal bleachers reaching my arm under them. Maybe there were advantages to being short. I made short work of removing the screw and shoelace from each other but true to her word the girl (I never asked her name) stayed stock still. I sat up quickly.
"You're free." I told her. She removed her leg quickly but I grabbed her arm to keep her from standing. She looked back at me curiously.
"Let me see your ankle." I demanded.
She smiled, it seemed mildly sheepish to me. "I'm fine really, Thank you."
How troublesome arguing with me when I'm being so nice to her. "If you're fine, walk ten feet without stumbling."
She got up slowly, took two steps and promptly fell over oh so gracefully.
I rolled my eyes although I was behind her. "Take off your shoe and sock on the foot that was stuck in the bleachers."
I walked over to sit in front of her as she begrudgingly did as I told her. I placed two fingers on her ankle lightly.
"Does this hurt?"
"No." She sounded like she was pouting, I applied more pressure.
"Ow!" She snapped at me "That hurt."
I resist the urge to smile, she was funny and friendly but I didn't want to make friends. I made my way back up the bleachers to get my back-pack, not bothering to tell her to stay there, it's not like she can walk on her own anyways.
I took out a bandage in my backpack and wrapped her foot correctly. My mother use to constantly worry about me hurt myself so I took a first aid-class to calm her down and I figured it was a useful skill to know.
"Do you often carry around bandages?" She asked (I need to ask her name) sounding like she was slightly freaked out.
"No. Not really." Always.
She looks curious but leaves it at that. Even after I had already considered a suitable answer (lie) to why I have bandages on my person.
"Do you have anyone who can pick you up?" She stared at me looking confused. "You can't walk on your own and you definitely can't run."
"Oh right. I take the bus."
I looked over at the rest of the girls on the team. "Do you think any of them would be willing to take you?"
She grimaced as she followed my gaze. "No, they aren't exactly the friendliest people in the world."
I resist the urge to sigh in front of her. That would be rude, my mother would be ashamed, she hated rude people and I was really only doing this for my mother. In a very odd sort of way as I've never been good with "random acts of kindness".
She frowned looking sad, she probably thought I was just going to leave her here. I really should but even I'm not that mean."Do you live far from here?"
She paused a minute. "Uh...no, just a block or two away...Why?"
I grab my backpack, slung it over my left shoulder Without warning or any response at all really I grabbed her arm placing it over my shoulders and I wrapped my left arm around her waist. I pulled her up with me and we stood, her leaning on me slightly. It wasn't even uncomfortable, she was average height, naturally that meant she was taller than me making it quite easily for me to fit right under her arm.
"You give me directions and I'll help you back to your house, okay?" It wasn't really a question but might as well be mildly polite here.
She paused probably out of shock, it was no secret that I was probably the most anti-social person in this school. Then she looked bewildered, oh god it's one of those cliche moments when people think they're dreaming but very obviously aren't.
Just as I was about to glare at very fiercely she smiled at me. Really happily too.
"Thank you. That's really nice of you." I hate being nice. I gave no response and helped her to stumble inside to the locker rooms.
"I'll be right back. I'll go talk to . Stay here." I command and left without giving her a chance to answer me.
intimidates me, because well he is not I am a very small person with very little social skills whatsoever. However this girl was hurt would probably yell at her later if she just left. I didn't want that to be my fault.
I took a shaky breath and walked up to the big coach. "Excuse me, ?"
He didn't respond but looked over at me. I took that as an incentive to continue. Shoot what was the girl's name? "She," I pointed to the girl better than nothing I suppose "sprained her ankle and won't be able to run for a few weeks. I'm going to take her home."
Well that sounded good, don't ask just leave no room for argument. He nodded and looked back at the girls still running. That was much easier than I thought but my heart is still pounding too fast.
I sit down at the bench right outside of the locker rooms where I saw her go in. She needed to get changed I suppose but I was not going to help her, she might be a lesbian. Not that I have a problem with lesbians or gay people in general that would make me very hypocritical. Let's leave it at that for now.
She came out a minute later and I got up to put my arm around her waist. "Coach Small said I can take you home. You shouldn't be running for a few weeks, okay? Lead me to your house."
She seemed disappointed about the running but honestly I'd be surprised if she wasn't She was one of the girls that was so dedicated she came everyday and always seemed to try her best. I know because I'm always here watching. She led me quietly and leaned on my shoulder comfortably. I felt like a demented puzzle piece that barely fit.
We finally stopped at a tall house with a patio/porch thing that had stairs to get up. We walked sideways up them which if the stairs didn't give the creepiest creaking noise that sounded like they would cave under our weight would have been quite hilarious.
I let her go when I realized she could stand on her own. She fumbled for her house keys in her pocket. Safest place to keep them I guess. She turned to me as she was turning the key. "Thanks a lot for today. I owe you one."
The door opened soundlessly and I stood there for a minute alone realizing three things.
1.) I mildly enjoy being nice.
2.) Therefore I'm never doing it again.
3.) I never found out her name.
In slight fear of looking like a stalker/freak I left quickly walking home. She didn't actually live that far away from me. Our house was nice, to me anyways. It was a gray building that didn't have any silly stairs for people to climb up and our door made us walk straight into the living room from there the kitchen was connected by a doorway (no door). There was a hallway leading to my room, my half sister's room, my mother's room and the bathroom. My room had a passage that lead up to the dusty attic.
"I'm home." I said quietly not altogether expecting a response. Sometimes my mother was home sometimes she was not. There was usually no pattern to it she just was there or wasn't.
"Welcome back," A voice said from the kitchen. My mother was home. I put down my backpack and went straight to the kitchen "You're a little late aren't you, Darling? Where were you?"
My mother has this "issue" with my real name. My father named me for an ancestor of his family, Rosaline. My mom had no problem with it at the time but as soon as he left when I was six, she started making up nicknames to call me. They change every so often but she hasn't acknowledged my real name since then. I accept it gracefully because it doesn't bother me much. Right now my 'name' is "Darling".
Anyways, I recapped my mother briefly as she twirls around the kitchen making some food I didn't ask about.
"Darling could you go see if your sister emailed us?" She asked kindly.
I go to my room and turn on my laptop. My sister doesn't email my mother, she says she has nothing to say to her. They get along well sometimes but my sister doesn't appreciate "some lady who has no blood ties to my family decide she's gonna boss me around all the time" as her words were. She can be rebellious. She still talks to me though because she considers me a "full fledged" sister as we call it instead of just half.
Logging into my email I see she has emailed me.
What's the nickname this time? Me and my mom were talking about it yesterday. You should come visit sometime. We can show you around. How's school and that witchy mother of yours? Make any new friends? I miss you over here, kiddo. Tell the witch I said hi and to stop sending me newspaper articles. If I wanted to know what was happening, I'd look it up online or ask you. I have to go. The Queen is calling. Get back to me on coming over here.
Love Your Ever Faithful Sis,
I barely register that I'm grinning ear to ear. My sister is one person I actually enjoy talking to. The first time we met she said to hell with my attitude, we were sister's and that's how we were going to act and that's what we did. She was pretty convincing.
She didn't really love my mother and more often than not referred to her as "the witch". She had this thing about nicknames she really loved them. Mine was usually "Kiddo" but changed sometimes. Besides teacher's there was only one person who called me by my name and that was Anna Claire. my sister at least acknowledged I had one. "The Queen" was her best friend of three long years.
When she said "over here" she meant France, she's studying abroad over there to be closer to her mom's family since no one knows what happened to our dad, he just vanished. She's always bugging me about visiting France.
Grinning I pressed reply and type up a response:
"Dear This Faithful Sister of Mine,
Darling for now but it will change sometime. I'd love to but I don't speak French. You know that. She isn't a witch or witchy and she's doing okay. I miss you too and I'll pass along the message. Well don't keep her waiting. Her majesty would not appreciate that.
Love Your Only Kiddo,
I love my sister a lot. She's so easy to talk to. I go out to the kitchen to tell my mother about the email and walk back to my room accident catching my image in the mirror that's unfortunately in the hallway. I don't like my reflection I look too much like my dad.
My eyes are too dark like his and my hair would be an exact copy of his if I didn't straighten it every morning. I have annoying ringlets that when I dyed a different color my mom ignored for almost two weeks. My hair is naturally light brown but I dyed it to a dark red color. My hair is long as it goes down to my waist straightened and naturally comes up to my shoulders. I'd like to cut it but my mom would freak. My face looks generally like my mom and so does my body except I'm so much shorter than she is.
I don't like looking like my father because it upsets my mom. She refuses to talk about him or even confirm his existence and part of my life. I have good memory and still have pictures. My sister's mom sometimes talks about him with us and it's nice to hear because from what she said I don't think he would ditch us for no reason.
My mom makes dinner and we sit having useless chatter about our days or the weather or about what people we know are doing or what's happening in our lives.
That was how the day went for me mostly normal except for some variables that were changed. That was my life with my family and I didn't think I had much to worry about. Things would change tomorrow.
A/N: Hello, thank you for reading, please review and I'm sorry about any mistakes that are in here. This probably going to be put in the wrong genre and for that I apologize in advance.