by Star
Part 1 ~ Maya's POV
Well, the purple lunatic thinks she’s won this round.
Argh. She has. I need to fight back. I have no idea why she’s being so crazy recently. Ok, so the day I met her she was painting over a huge Disney Cheshire Cat on the wall, but she’s been even more insane over the past few months.
I can’t think what it is. I haven’t offended her, I don’t think anyone can. It’s not that she’s not herself, it’s more like she’s being too Terri-like.
“Hey Maya!” Two voices say cheerfully.
I blink. Then sigh. Wonderful. The Looney Twins. Vicky and Starling Torrance. They are identical, they wear the same clothes to make it even harder for people to tell them apart, they talk at the same time and on the off chance that one twin talks alone, the other will quickly finish her sentence.
And they seem to adore Terri and I. It’s like having a stalker. One stalker with two bodies.
“Hey twins.” No matter how disinterested I sound they never pick up on it.
“We have a question.” Vic (I think) states.
“Why is Terri carrying two tins of purple paint around?” Star finishes. Well, I think it’s Star. It must be if the other one’s Vic.
I shrug. “I have no idea. Maybe it’s a new fashion accessory? With Terri it’s impossible to tell.” Unless she’s going to paint over the mural?
They raise their eyebrows simultaneously. Sometimes I wonder why they were made into twins, is it worth giving one personality two bodies?
“I have to go.” I tell them. “I’ll go check on Terri.”
“See you later.” They chorus.
Not if I can help it, I think, but give them a big grin and say something brainless and cheerful as I beat a hasty retreat.
I head back to our room wondering what kind of mess I’m going to find. If Terri has been sighted carrying two tins of paint around our room should be dripping with paint and stinking of paint fumes.
Strangely, it’s empty.
No Terri, no paint, just that sodding mural. God! I’m even picking up her phrases.
Actually, it’s good. Terri usually paints happy pictures, Disney, flowers, butterflies – god, she’s crazy about them. I have yet to show her my birthmark. It’s kinda unique. It’s shaped like a butterfly. I’m not sure why I haven’t shown her, then again, there’s something a little odd with whipping up my top, showing her my belly and saying, “Look, I’m branded with your obsession!” to a girl I’ve known only a few months.
I sigh, the mural is really good. However, it makes the other walls look really drab and dull. I don’t see why every room should be painted cream, it’s such a boring colour. I mean, I know neutral is good, but pale blue would be nice and it’s not exactly a vibrant colour.
But there’s no paint around. The other wall needs decorating. In a fit of inspiration I grab Terri’s magic markers and start writing.
I have no idea what to write but that doesn’t stop me scribbling away. At first it’s just quotes I like and random thoughts.
As I write my mind turns to last Tuesday. Terri was in a really strange mood. We only have a couple of classes together since we study such different subjects, I was going to chemistry just as Terri was heading towards the art block. Usually we just wave because we only cross paths, we don’t go in the same direction.
However, Terri bounded up to me and gave me a big hug. “Howdy partner!” She said, twisting her Irish voice into a Texas twang with very little success.
“Um… hey!” I responded, a little startled.
“Lezzies!” Helena Shrader commented, before pushing her way between us and walking to her next class, nose in the air. We hate her, she seems to think that she’s some kind of a deity here in the middle school just because her father is part of the Alumni.
Terri gave me a weak grin then promptly vanished at the speed of light.
I looked for her at lunch but she just waved at me and disappeared with her friend from art class, Louie. She usually sits with me, she says that most of the people here think she’s “too hectic” to hang around, and she says they’re “too dull”.
I felt kind of stung. I ended up sitting with Marie from my English class, wondering why it hurt so much that Terri wasn’t sitting with me. It was only lunch, it’s only habit for god’s sake.
But she didn’t sit with me during dinner either. And she was quiet while we were studying. That never happens. Terri can’t do quiet. Nine times out of ten I have to go to the library to get my work done.
I have no idea what was up with her, and she wouldn’t tell me. The next morning she woke up and became this shrill mega-Terri. While I really like her, she’s being too Terri-like.
I stand back to take a good look at my ‘art’, idly wondering what Terri will think of it.
That’s when I notice the poem.
A cool smile in your direction
A casual flip of the hair
I can walk the other way
I don’t have to go out of my way for you
Fine
Don’t pay attention
I’d rather be alone right now anyway
I don’t need to have you around
Okay
So maybe its not completely true
But I can pretend
I can put on a false front
Just because I want
To spend a little time with you
But it doesn’t matter
I’ll turn around again
A cool smile in your direction
A casual flip of the hair
I can walk the other way
I don’t have to go out of my way for you
How on earth did I come up with that? That’s not a poem you write about another girl. It’s really not. That’s the kind of poem you write about guys.
I could try to convince myself that I was thinking guy-thoughts while writing it, but it would be pointless since the rest of the wall is covered in phrases such as “purple peril” and “butterfly bonkers”.
I feel oddly squishy inside, like someone’s tickling behind my belly button.
I can’t deny I wrote it about Terri.
I can’t let her see this! She’ll freak out. She’ll think I’m… into her?
Which I’m not. Like so not. Not at all. ‘Cause I’m a girl, and so is she. So I can’t be into her.
I mean, who cares if her hair is all purple and shiny and just catching a glimpse of it across the halls makes my stomach flutter? Who cares if she’s got the greatest eyes, with or without those contact lenses? It doesn’t matter that she can make me laugh no matter how down I feel. And it’s completely irrelevant that her puppy-dog-eyes ‘what-me?’ look gets me every time. It doesn’t matter that I think she’s one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever met.
It doesn’t.
Because I’m not into her…
Am I?