Fallen Queen

~ C H A P T E R F O U R ~

Fourteen years ago

~WOLFE THEODORE~

She had long, dark yellow blonde hair. I couldn't find the exact word for it, anyways. You could neither call it brown nor call it blonde- it had dark shades of brown along with raw sienna colored strands. It was a gorgeous color, which seemed to deceive your eyes when she stood in the sunlight, and the sunlight graced her soft hair. The locks of hair were neither curled nor too straight, you could tell apart each strand. It was the perfect blend of toasted caramel colored hair and deep, golden brown highlights, creating an intriguing shade. It gave off her beachy, Californian vibe.

I vaguely remember the day she shifted to L.A. from Santa Barbara. She was prolly one, that time, relatively smaller in age, but apparently, she took the same grade as us a few years later. I had just turned three. Her parents were decent, loving people; her father was a doctor. They shifted into the vacant house right next to ours. She was wearing a blue colored onesie with cat ears, and was holding a cupcake. However, instead of eating it, she tore it into bits and kept throwing them here and there.

Her cheeks were pink and big, and her skin was a beige shade with a vivid, warm undertone. She was no bigger than my favorite cushion; a tiny little being, but very delinquent. She waddled towards me, not quite steady on her feet, as my parents exchanged pleasantries with us. She looked up at me with a puzzled expression, holding on to the hem of my shirt, for support. I bent a bit so that she could look at me.

Good God, she was trouble.

She was trouble and mischief in a neat package.

Swiftly, she planted her palm onto my face, and the crumbs of the cupcake that remained were plastered on my face. I was baffled by her movements and agility, and it was then that her face broke out into a huge grin, highlighting her dimples, as a row of baby, white teeth showed. Her eyes were big and like the rain clouds, a mixture of various shades of gray.

She had grown into a teenager right before my eyes. And trust me, I hated her.

I hated her as much as she hated me. Though we were friends, we still were enemies. We would bicker and fight without a second glance at our surroundings, so God help me when it was the Dean's office, because I certainly didn't want to get suspended for swearing in front of her. I looked at her with resentment, as she swore her head off at one of the other girls in the team for making a blunder. The girl was practically shaking in her shoes, as Tissue Paper roared at her.

Angry Isa was practically hard to tolerate, and literally left many wetting their pants. She got angry quite easily; messing with her temper was strictly a no-no.

Which was why I loved messing with it.

Once set off, her anger was hard to cool. She would go off like a rocket and swear her head off, like she didn't have another care in the world. Her personality contrasted vividly with mine- I was hard to piss off. When pissed off, though, I was hard to please.

People liked me. They loved me. Who wouldn't?! No jokes, and all cockiness set apart, I admitted I was gorgeous, with dark hair and dark eyes, and tan color. I was the star quarterback they had in the school soccer team, the captain of the boys basketball team, straight A grades, and there was no exam I didn't top. The teachers loved me, because apparently, I could beat them. And okay, I was cool, like some kind of king that the school treasured.

That is where she entered the scene. She was equally challenging with her studies, all A grades, one of the most competitive students in our circle. She was good at sports- soccer, basketball and relay racing all the same. We were a class of students, specially selected because we were good at it. Everybody in the class knew their positions, but her. Nicolas knew he would always stand second or third. Everyone knew that the first position was reserved for just one guy, and that was me. It was hard to beat me.