Painting our Life - 6 Colors

   Dash dribbles the ball and swiftly passes it in my direction. I aim for the net and shoot. It takes a moment to swirl around the hoop before dropping through the net, bouncing back up when hitting the tarmac. I grin. "Yes!" I've been making shot after shot. Never been this good at basketball, but my aiming has improved by a lot.

   "Don't get too cocky. We're just shooting here, not playing a game." She tosses the ball with one hand and it goes directly through the hoop. A perfect shot, with one hand. The ball didn't even skim the side of the metal hoop, although it brushed the net made of rope.

   "Yeah, I know. I'd never win against you." Dash dribbles and walks the ball to half court where she shoots with one hand. For a second I almost doubt she could make the shot, but unsurprisingly, the ball went in the net despite her shooting with one hand and the distance between her and the net.

   The bell rings, putting our lunch break to an end. Lately, we've been finishing our lunches quickly and coming outside instead of hanging around inside the cafeteria. Of course, none of Dash's friends would come. They don't seem to be the types that are interested in sports.

   Unfortunately, it's that day of the week again. The one history period I hate. I sigh. I run to my locker and grab my binder before making my way to the history room and taking my seat at the front beside Janet Portane. Who, I would like to point out, is not Dash. Seemingly Mr. Ustura is all for togetherness and teamwork, and I think he's the first teacher who recognized the fact that group work is actually torture for some kids who can't find partners. So what did he do? He assigned us partners. Now, I'm not Mr. Popular like Dash, so obviously the one person I can work well with is Dash, mostly because we're almost like best friends. Kissing best friends. But even keeping my fingers crossed did not help the fact that her name would've been picked to be my partner in the studies of the Canadian heritage out of more than twenty names in the hat. So I'm here, stuck with Janet, (who is actually quite pretty and has a strange magnetic pull towards me) while Dash is working with one of the two people I detest: Quince Morrison.

   "Pull out your textbooks and begin taking notes on page seventy four," Mr. Ustura announces. The class let's out a collective groan. Anyone would be groaning, note taking is just basically all we do for the whole hour of history. By now, half the class no longer cares and just chat with their friends.

   I can feel every second ticking away, and it's not ticking fast either. Every minute is torture for me as I listen to Quince flirt with Dash. What makes it worse is that she goes gaga all over him. This is not the way I want to spend my history period. I grumble to myself and clench my fist tight around my pencil.

   A sweet voice hits the drums of my ears. "Kyle? You ok? You look a bit red." Janet sets her hand on my hand. "You're warming up, too." I pull my hand away.

   "I'm fine. Thanks for asking though."

   "Ok... I was just worried something is wrong." She smiles and returns to work. What was that all about?

   I sigh. Nothing at this school is going my way. I wish I can just leave. I wonder if this is how guys feel when others flirt with their girlfriends. I don't even know if Dash is my girlfriend. We kiss, does that mean we're dating? We love each other, but we don't admit we're in an actual relationship. I don't know if I even have that right to be jealous that another guy is flirting with her and she's accepting it.

   The bell rings and I thank the heavens that it's finally over. No more flirting for the rest of the day. No more hearing that forsaken voice.

   The final period was same old, same old. But it was still better than listening to Quince. Even going to work seems more appealing right now as I drive to Target. I had dropped Dash off at Tim Hortons only minutes ago. Target is only down two blocks away from Tim Hortons, it's not very far away.

   I enter the store and make my way to the employee lounge where my vest is hung. The air is musty with that smell of packed dinners and old magazines. I don't hang around for long. I just want to do my shift and leave so I can go home and play video games. I probably stressed this a lot by now but, even losing TO Dash is heaven compared to Quince flirting WITH Dash.

   Swipe and bag. Swipe and bag. That's all I need to do. This job reminds me so much of the time when I first left the orphanage. It's not that great. If I could still work at the restaurant without having to explain everything that happened in the past few months I wouldn't be here. I would be sitting in my office, just chilling while reading the applications of new applicants. It's that simple, and it pays a lot more. I sigh and tap a few buttons on the register, then press print and hand the receipt that comes out from the printer to the customer. He takes his things and leave. Nobody was behind him in line. Good. Less work for me.

   I grab my can of Cola and take a drink. The fizz gives off that bubbling feeling on my tongue. Somebody pulls up with their cart right as I set my drink down. The woman sets her things on the counter, ready for her items to be checked out and paid for. I look up to take a good look at her face. A wave of dejavu hits me. My jaw drops and I stand gawking at the pretty lady standing in front of me. Unfortunately, it was a bad move.

   "You look familiar," says Klo. Her voice brings me back from the limbo my mind often traps me in, and I immediately look down.

   "Really? I don't know you." Of course I know her. I just can't let her know it's me. Klo was the waitresss who I worked with years ago. I had a little crush on her. Celestia had made her my girlfriend when she came to take Dash away. The sly pony goddess swapped my memories of Dash with memories of a cheerful life with Klo and other friends. I never had much friends, I still don't. Dash is my best friend, so anybody can see the way I'd feel if someone took her away from me.

   "Yeah, you look like somebody I know, or at least knew. How old are you?"

   "Sixteen. L-look ma'am, I've never seen you in my life before," I lie. Klo shrugs. I scan and bag her merchandise, charge her credit card and hand her her card back. She waves goodbye before grabbing her purchases and running off.

   It seems people I know from the past are only showing up now because fate knows I can't be recognized like this. It's hard not to jump out and just say "It's me! Kyle!" I feel like just keeping my mouth shut is a big responsibility and mission every day. There were many moments where I almost confessed to Jordan, who is visiting his home country for a few weeks right now.

   I wonder what would happen when Twilight comes to revert things. I never gave much thought about the people we've met at Centennial. Most likely their memories will just be erased. Parting might become harder than I initially thought it would be. Because...

It became a routine to get up early in the morning every day and depart with Dash to learn at the one place you absolutely dread after a weekend of heavenly relaxation. This was perhaps my last happy day with Dash. I didn't know it at the time, but she was about to willingly leave my life. And some of the things that happened after still burn a hole through my heart. I wish I could turn back the clock and change everything. Make it so none of it happened. But I can't. What is done is done. We can't change the past. If only we could. If only I could. It's the one thing my heart desires right now, to be with the pony I love. With the PERSON I love.