|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Fri Nov 13, 2009 12:53 am
While Joanne would be the first to admit that she stayed in her room more often than not, she liked it that way. Her room was comfortable, it was cozy, and most importantly, it was hers. No one could come in if she didn't want them to. Her room was her own private world.
But there were things that her room didn't have. Chief among them were copious amounts of sunlight and fresh air. While there were probably places for students to congregate outside, Joanne purposely avoided them, instead choosing a large tree a short distance from the dorms as her preferred spot.
That afternoon, she was sitting on a homemade picnic blanket made of red gingham, lined with plastic and sprayed with stain resister. The canvas bag next to her had fallen on its side, and a few skeins of embroidery floss had spilled out, as well as a cheese sandwich in plastic wrap. Joanne didn't seem to notice, instead focusing on the hoop in her hand, which held a half-finished garden scene.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Nov 14, 2009 11:38 am
If Joanne was the girl who stayed inside most of the time, then Zeke would be the boy who stayed outside most of the time. His 'private' world was one that could be intruded on quite easily. The paths, the gymnasium... anywhere where Zeke could stretch his legs and run was a good enough place for him. He hated treadmills; the scenery never changed with them. It felt like you weren't getting anywhere, just running in one spot while people could walk past you with ease. He hated that feeling. He liked to see the scenery blur past him.
Zeke liked Joanne, she was a nice girl. She was quiet, often like he was when he was around people that he wasn't familiar with. Mack could make him talk, and Aggie could make him talk. He was sure others could make him talk, but his head felt fuzzy.
He gave a wave as he ran towards Joanne. He stopped at the tree and started to stretch; it was always a good idea to keep your muscles fresh and cool down.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Nov 14, 2009 5:38 pm
The only running experience Joanne had was in running away, both literally and figuratively. She was hardly an athlete, but part of her liked watching the occasional joggers who passed by. Most of them were too into their sport to notice her, which was to her liking. Occasionally one would wave, and she'd hide her face behind her embroidery and wave back with her free hand. If they ever tried to do more than wave, it signaled the end of Joanne's picnic and the start of her own run.
This was not the first time she had seen Ezekiel running. He always kept his distance, which she appreciated. He didn't seem the most talkative person in school, which she also appreciated. So when he waved, she waved back, only covering the bottom half of her face with her project. It was unlikely he would actually approach her.
Joanne was still eyeing him when she returned to her sewing, which was a mistake. As she pushed her needle through the stiff fabric, she managed to stab her thumb with it. Hard.
"Ouch!" she squealed, dropping the hoop. She hadn't made a mistake like that one in a long time. Worse still, the end of the needle was still stuck in her thumb, and Joanne wasn't entirely sure how to get it out without hurting herself more.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
