seasons

4: saorsa

Song: Burning Desire by Lana Del Rey

It was early February, about five months after I first saw the pale girl when I finally gathered the courage to talk to her. I remember sitting next to her in AP History for the first time all year. She didn't even look at me; she was too busy sketching orchids in her coffee-stained notebook. She didn't know it, but I was already immersed in every part of her person. Her hair was messily braided into a rope that hung loosely down her spine. She decorated it with lilacs and dandelions. One fell out, and I picked it up; just like her, it was authentic. As my fingers played with the delicate petal, her shirt slipped down her shoulder. The lace of her yellow bra stood out against her skin and curved over her freckled shoulder. The mustard yellow contrasted hideously with her off-white oxfords and bumblebee socks. Somehow, she pulled it off.

I started paying attention to class. The teacher, Dr. Wren, called my attention by asking the girl a question. I don't think she heard her the first time but when she repeated, "How did the 20s define America, Miss Sicily Martin?" Sicily's cheeks blushed furiously. I heard a few snickers around the room but I was anticipating her answer.

Her voice was raspy, mellifluous, and a little bit shaky as she stated, "The 20s were a time that coincided with our dreams and ambitions. We were foolish and exuberant. We were desperately fake, trying to find ourselves or prove ourselves, I'm not entirely sure which, but I know for a fact we were full of life. I think the 20s were rebellious and vibrant. They were years of unparalleled advances and creativity. To me, they were a new beginning to another, inevitable, end."

I don't remember what Dr. Wren said after that. I was focused on Sicily. Her words didn't just strike a cord with the 20s, not that I actually gave a shit about history, they also woke up a part of my heart that had been dormant for far too long.

I had been too dull, too set in the image of my reputation and what was expected of it, what was expected of me, that I forgot about what I could do. I forgot I had a choice in my life. I smiled to myself. Sicily's words had a way of igniting parts of me that I had frozen out years ago. She didn't even know why I was smiling at her, but she smiled back goofily, pushing her round glasses up against her face. Her hazel eyes were full of curiosity and confusion, but Sicily smiled back at me nonetheless.

The bell rang, and she quietly gathered her things. I hung around since it was lunch hour and waited for her to leave, attempting to not look like a stalker. Sicily left the room, and I followed behind her like a faithful lab. The not being a stalker part failed, I guess. She turned into the library, settling in her usual corner and I followed.

She was startled when I sat next to her. I must've scared Sicily because she hit me with the book she was reading. The book was A Midsummer Night's Dream. As my body fell to the side with a groan of pain, Sicily yelped in surprise.

"Emerson Conners? I'm sorry for hitting you, but what the hell are you doing here?"

I laughed and sat up, adjusting my varsity jacket. Shifting in my ripped jeans, I fiddled with the lavender colored bracelet, a nervous tick I had since I was a little kid.

"I wanted to talk to you," I murmured, not as confident as I usually appeared. In fact, my entire "cocky star soccer player vibe slash the second part of the Dynamic Duo aka the Conners Twins" fell apart as soon as I looked into Sicily's eyes. She raised an eyebrow.

"We aren't friends Conners. And I'm not your type."

"You don't know my type, Martin. And we could always start being friends. You have nothing to lose," I retorted, flashing her a pearly smile. Her cheeks flushed, and I think she almost "awed" at my dimple, but her nose crinkled up as her lips widened into a sardonic grin.

"Look hotshot, you may have all the all of the girls, a fair share of the boys or whoever is attracted to you, and everyone else in this town wrapped around your finger, but that doesn't mean I have anything to gain from being your friend either."

My eyes widened in awe, not because she had rejected me, something that was entirely foreign to a Conners twin, but because she wasn't the slightest bit afraid to say it. So instead of crying like a little bitch, I laughed.

It was a still kind of laugh that had me shaking my shoulders and snorting quietly through my nose to breathe. After awhile she started laughing too, and at that moment we were inexplicably free from all confines of high school. We forgot all expectations and all status rules. In that small frame of time we became something greater than a daydreamer with funky socks and a popular jock with a lavender bracelet because, in that moment, we became Sicily and Emerson.