intricate design ✓

1.

Junior Year

BLUE EYES. They roamed the house, an astonished tint in their corner. They'd resided in the house for years yet were still surprised by the luxury of it. Happily, they scanned the threshold further and met with the green eyes of a familiar face. The owner of the eyes scrunched her muscles into a smile and the eyes lit up with recognition. The green spoke a silent conversation and knew their owner was walking up to the blue-eyed woman by seeing more blue as they walked further.

   "I didn't know you were coming back today," said blue eyes. She hugged the older woman, her eyelids closed over her blue eyes. She pulled away and opened her eyes; they could breathe again. "If I did, I would've tidied up the place a bit more. Coffee tables covered in magazines aren't what you want to see the second you enter a house."

   "What? No 'hello, big sister, I've missed you so much' this time?" the woman teased, green eyes drifting to the magazines on the table next to her. She picked one up, a beauty magazine, and her eyes read it happily. "Anyways, I didn't even notice the magazines. No worries."

   The younger one took the magazine from her and placed it back on the coffee table. She grabbed her sketchbook from the table and walked away from the girl, sitting on one of the stools in the kitchen. She took the pencil hooked onto the paper and continued her drawing, trying to ignore her sister looking over her shoulder. Blue eyes watched the drawing intently, figuring out the shading and details needed in order for the pale hands to finish.

   "Don't you think that's a bit gory?" she asked. "You shouldn't draw things like this, Flore. It's not good for the soul. Before you know it, you'll go crazy and start killing everyone in this town like your uncle Sean did in Louisiana."

   Florence rolled her eyes. She knew her sister was joking. Nonetheless, she continued drawing. In her drawing was a wolf, its face pointing towards the moon. Next to it was a mangled body, some dramatic shadowing to emphasize the cause of death. "Uncle Sean was a lunatic. I don't know why you married the freak in the first place. He was always going on and on about vampires and werewolves. How crazy is that? As bad as it sounds, I'm glad he's dead."

   "Yeah?" her sister Italy inquired with a raised brow. She said, "Well, you and me both, sister. Hey—don't you have school? It's seven-thirty. I'll drive you."

   She groaned at her offer but followed her outside into her blue car. It was a typical first day of school. Her sister would come back from 'business' in the summer—Florence knew she was just escaping the small town to have some alone time with her fiancé—and make up for it with cooking her younger sister food for the next week.

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"OKAY, WOW, juniors really need to up their game this year. It's been three years and I see more acne than I did in freshman year," Florence commented when a few boys passed by. Her best friend, Ryan, laughed. An old friend of hers passed by and she tried not to laugh. "That dress on Elena Gilbert looks like my grandmother's couch."

   She'd obviously heard her words and had tried her best not to say something, brushing it off and rejoining her two friends in front of the school office. Ryan hit his friend playfully. "She heard that, Florence!"

   "So?" the girl said with a roll of her eyes. At this rate, the blue eyes were starting to get dizzy. "I stopped caring about the Gilberts when Elena blamed me for her parents' deaths." He gave her a look. "Oh, please, like she didn't want to go to the party."

   She fixed her lipstick in her locker and shut it irritatingly. Ryan put his arm around her as they walked down the corridor, looking for their first period class. Coincidentally, the two were placed in the same classes that year (of which they were thankful for) but the teacher they had was a different story.

   "People in Virginia's northwest region had different ideals than those from the traditional Deep South. Then, Virginia divided in 1863 with the northwest re–" the history teacher stopped speaking when Ryan and Florence entered the already full room. He gave them a pointed look. "Thank you for finally joining us, Ryan and Miss Allen. Please take your seats."

   Florence scoffed when he said her surname. She sat in the back next to her friend, who laughed at her annoyed look. He mocked, "'Miss Allen,' please take out your history book and turn to page four."

   She threw her pen at him, bemused. "Shut up, Ryan."