Painting our Life - 6 Colors

   "So how do you think we can conserve energy?" Ms. Piare asks. I mumble under my breath, wishing science class would be over. I check my schedule, I have a class of history with Dash after lunch. Probably the only thing I look forward to in my day. I sigh and stuff the sheet into my binder. "Kyle? How do you conserve energy?" I think for a moment about my week.

   "I turn off the lights when I'm not in the room."

   "You know what I would grade that response?" Before I could ask, she answers her own question. "A c plus." The class roar with laughter. "I'm pretty sure a second grader can turn off the lights. And I know you can answer with more than just that." Isabella, a freckled girl with long rose hair raises her hand. "Isabella?"

   "My dad is constantly in the living room reading newspapers, he'll be in there for hours and we went through lightbulbs as if they were toilet paper. A week ago, I went out and bought bulbs that don't use much energy, yet shine much brighter than two normal lightbulbs. So now instead of having a whole room of lights on, my dad reads with one lamp using this bulb. And it won't die out for a long while."

   "A." Ms. Piare points at me, "You should learn from her." Isabella shoots me a smug look. I squint my eyes and stick out my tongue.

   The lunch bell rings, dismissing us from the torture what is known as Grade 9 Science. I grab my binder and hurry out of the room, avoiding eye contact with the teacher on the way out. I think it's clear and obvious the teachers here don't like me very much. If I had a dad, I would certainly have him talk to the principal about this matter, but I don't, so it leaves me to fend for myself.

   I drop my stuff at my locker and grab the sacked lunch Dash had packed me. I poke around with the contents, hoping she had made something other than a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Nothing new. Maybe I should start making our lunches. I'm an excellent cook as I've said before, but lately the amount of homework I was given each night has caused my dishes to become much more simpler and quicker to make. Dash had offered to make the lunches because well, she rushes  through most of her homework. Some people may say it's irresponsible to blow through school work, but those people don't add a unicorn-turns-you-young-again scenerio into the equation. It's all good. If I look at it from plain view, school is just something I go to so the cops don't show up at my door.

   I slip into the cafeteria and take a seat beside Dash. More mindless girl gossip, ugh. I silently eat my lunch. A punch on the shoulder causes me to almost choke on a bit of my sandwich.

   "Hey man." Jordan slides into the seat beside me. I swallow the sandwich mush in my mouth.

   "What'd you do that for?" I cough, clearing my throat. Jordan shrugs. He shakes his head, sending black hair flying. I don't know why guys do that. And I definitely don't know why it's called the Bieber Shake. Apparently it's the "cool" way to clear your eyes of hair. Jordan unwraps his sandwich and begins to eat.

   "Mmf, turkey," he says through a mouthful. Dash stops talking and looks at Jordan with a disgusted look on her face. He looks up from his sandwich. "What?" Before she could say anything, I come in for the save.

   "Sorry, she's an extremist vegan." Dash gives me a light shove before returning to her conversation on Call of Duty, something I had not expected girls to tall about. I scarf down the rest of my sandwich, and slump back in my seat. I wish the usual. Wishing school to be over. Wishing to be returned to normal. Wishing that Dash was a pony again? I shake off the thought. Being human has changed her, but she's seemingly happy this way.

   I notice a boy at the jocks' table who I have not seen before since I came to this school. He wears a cast on his right arm. I conclude that it must be why I never see him around. But something about his face catches my attention. I know I've seen him somewhere. On TV? On the streets? No. I have no idea. He flexes his muscles, and the group of boys laugh and cheer. They're pretty large. I sigh. His head turns and faces my table. I notice him nod and smile. He's not looking at me. His eyes are suddenly full of lust. I follow his gaze to see what or who he's looking at. Dash. He's staring at Dash. Uh oh. I wet my lips.

   "Shay, we should go," I say, careful not to use the name I know her as. I don't think the others have dismissed it as just a nickname yet. She looks to the clock and stands up, crinkling the paperbag that was used to carry her lunch.

   "Well, I did promise you I would walk to class with you some time." She winks and makes a shot at a garbage can with the paperbag which is now on the form of a ball. It flies in smoothly. A perfect shot.

   "That was a month ago when we first got here." I stand up and crinkle my paper lunchbag as well. Dash grabs my hand and pulls me towards the exit of the cafeteria. On the way out, I toss away my garbage into the trash bin on the side.

   We make our way to History class, grabbing our binders on the way there. The lesson doesn't start for another good ten minutes so we have to wait outside of the room. There's no one around. Often a geekish kid would be hanging around his locker, playing on a PSP or iPod. But today, the hall is completely deserted. I'm left alone with Dash.

   "So how was your day so far?" I ask, trying to break the silence held between us.

   "Oh, the usual." She laughs, "Mrs. Orpell had a breakdown when she caught me throwing the paper airplanes I made with our math sheets." I shrug.

   "You know, we'd both make really bad parents," I point out. She snorts, giving me a light push.

   "Too much responsibility." She brushes a combination of red, orange and golden hair to the side. "Hey, do you think I can perform a Sonic Rainboom while running?"

   "No." The momentum gained from flying downwards makes it possible, but I don't see any way to gain enough speed to break the sound barrier while running.

   "Why not?" She looks heartbroken.

   "Because human legs are too weak. We can't even match the speed of a car and do you see those breaking the sound barrier?"

   "Your legs maybe, but not these babies." She points down.

   "Just don't try it ok?" My voice almost comes out as a plead. She could get hurt in the attempt.

   "Fine." The bell rings and within a minute the hall is swarming with students rushing to their lockers. I open the classroom door and pull Dash inside, afraid one of us will get trampled over. We find seats near the back of the room and set our things down.

   The room quickly fills up with noisy students taking their seats whilst chatting. The sound of them is enough to give me a headache. A skinny, bald man slips into the classroom and stands in the front at the chalkboard. Mr. Ustura. Many kids just call him Mr. U because it's easier to say. He knocks three times on the chalkboard and everyone in the room hushes. Before he could announce the start of class, the door opens and the boy wearing the cast walks in. I grumble. Just great.

   "So you finally decide to join us, Mr. Wooding? How's the arm?" Mr. Ustura smiles at the boy.

   "Oh, it's feeling better. Doctor says I'll be out within a month or two." A month in a plastic hard cast? My arm would suffocate.

   "I'm afraid you'll need to take a seat. No special treatment, not even for the injured." Mr. Ustura grins, pointing at a seat beside me. I silently scream in my head. Jenny, a blonde girl at the front holds up her hand and the boy highfives her with his free hand. He receives plenty more on the way here. Nothing suprises me until he reaches two desks away from here. James, who sits in front of me, utters a name I had wished to never hear again.

   "Welcome back Jakob, coach said I'll be getting your spot on the football team." The boy's name echos through my head. Jakob. Of course, his face was so familiar, why had I not noticed before? I swore I would never forget that one that stole Dash from me and nearly had her auctioned off to a stranger looking for a maid around the house. My hand curls into a fist and I resist the urge to stand up and punch the crap out of Jakob.

   He sits down beside me, and kicks his feet onto the desk. His head turns, facing me. He blinks. Once. Twice. Rubs his eyes.

   "You look familiar, have I met you before?" He asks, poking me with a pencil. I brush the pencil aside and wet my lips.

   "N-no. We never met."

   "Class, today we will be starting a partnered assignment." Everyone erupt into cheers. A partnered assignment means you get to work with someone else. It means two minds are put together to make something great. And best of all, if you fail, at least you have another person going down with you. My eyes dart to Dash and meet hers. She nods, understanding what I want. Ustura chuckles. "If only some of you were this excited last week when we had the Canadian Government test. I haven't even told you your assignment yet and you already have decided on your partners." I feel Jakob's eyes piercing through me, and looking straight at Dash. I bite down on my tongue, calming myself a bit. "In the next month, you and your partner will be researching on World War Two. You will gather information, data and knowledge on this cruel war."

   Kathy Ru raises her hand. "Don't those all mean the same thing?"

   Ustura scowls, "This isn't English class." Some classmates giggle silently. "You and your partner will then create a five minute minimum speech or presentation. You may use Power Point and other software if you wish. But remember, five minute minimum. Right now, I want you and your partner to get together and jot down everything you already know about World War Two. Any questions?" No one raises their hand. He leaves the room, our cue to start working. I pull my desk and connect it with Dash's. Before I could pull out a blank piece of paper, trouble heads our way. Jakob. He walks over and pulls a desk beside Dash's.

   "Wanna work together, Ms. Sexy?" he talks smoothly, as if he's been doing it his whole life. Dash takes one look at him, and explodes.

   "Ms. Sexy?! Do you know who the hell I am?!" The whole class goes silent.

   "Do you know who I am?" Jakob smiles smugly, "You'd find me irresistable. We should work together."

   "No, I'm happy with Kyle as my partner. And what makes you think I'd ever work with you?"

   "Because I'm the captain of our school's football team, and I'm cooler than that guy." He points at me. I was about to say that Dash is head of the track team but a glare she shoots at me tells me to shut up and just watch.

   "You think I'd work with you?! Don't you dare think I forgot what you did to me a few years ago!" Dash points a finger right in his face. "If it wasn't for Kyle here, you and your creepy dad would have sold me off for a small two thousand dollars." What she had just said raises suspiciouns throughout the classroom, and I begin to notice the tension.

   "You... You're Rainbow Dash?! That pony who took care of me?" A few kids gasp and whisper between themselves, calling us insanes silently. I shift uneasily in my seat, unsure what to say or do. He looks like he's about to hug her. Dash notices and shoves him hard. He falls to the ground... right onto his broken arm. Dash let's out a huff. Before he could react or respond, she grabs my arm and pulls me out of the room. The minute we step into the hall my voice magically reclaims its position in my throat.

   "What the hell was that?"

   "He deserved every bit of it." My heart agrees with her but my brain tells me it's wrong to resolve to physical violence. I was about to scold her when I notice a lonely tear roll down her cheek. "Take us home." I clear my throat and wet my lips to make sure my words come out audible.

   "School's not over."

   "I don't care. Take us home," she pleads. My mind races for a few seconds, then I realize there is no right thing to do here. If I bring her back to the class, she'll just get in a fight with Jakob. The only other option is to bring her home and let her rest. I choose the option that benefits her the most, even if there is no winning choice here. I take her hand, mumble a "Let's go...", and we silently make our way to the parking lot where our car is parked.