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rainbowfic2014-02-16 12:17 pm
kay_brooke) wrote in rainbowfic2014-02-16 12:17 pm
Octarine #6, Tango Pink #21
Name: kay_brooke
Story: Unusual Florida
Colors: Octarine #6 (give a man a fire and he's warm for a day, but set fire to him and he's warm for the rest of his life), Tango Pink #21 (macarena)
Styles/Supplies: Canvas, Pastels (fororigfic_bingo prompt "obedience")
Word Count: 772
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; homophobic attitudes.
Summary: She didn't really want to go to the dance anyway.
Note: Meant to post this on Friday, but it was buried in my backlog of unposted pieces and I kind of forgot about it. Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
“Are you going to the dance tonight?”
Hope looked up from the poster she was decorating, an advertisement for jazz band auditions. She wasn't in the jazz band—she wasn't in any band anymore, not since starting high school, because her mom refused to pay the dues. But her choir teacher was also one of the band directors, and she had asked for people to help make and put up posters for the auditions. Hope missed band, so she had volunteered. She figured it was the closest she was going to get to band ever again.
“The dance?” she said.
“The Valentine's Day dance?” Marigold said, rolling her eyes slightly. “It's tonight. I'm just saying, you should leave now if you want any time to get ready.”
Hope focused back on her poster. She didn't like Marigold that much, so what did she care what the other girl said? “I'm not going.”
Marigold just shrugged, but Cheryl spoke up from across the room. “You're not going, Hope? Why not?”
Hope didn't answer right away. She liked Cheryl better—she might even call her a friend, even though they didn't hang out outside of school or anything. But she wanted Marigold to leave before she gave her answer.
But Marigold didn't leave; she crossed her arms and stood there, like she was impatiently waiting for Hope's answer. Hope gritted her teeth. “I just don't want to go. Valentine's Day is stupid.”
“You're just saying that because you don't have a boyfriend,” said Marigold. “I guess that kinda sucks.”
Marigold was completely right, not like Hope was ever going to admit that. Just another reason to hate her.
“I don't have a boyfriend, either,” said Cheryl. “There's more to life than boyfriends, Mari.”
“You're just jealous.”
“Don't you have a dance to get ready for?” said Cheryl, standing up and tossing the markers she had been using back into the plastic bin they had come from. “You're not going to have time.”
Marigold sniffed and left.
Hope hid a smile. She wished she was as brave as Cheryl. She wished she could stop caring what the snobby girls thought of her. Not that she was ever going to admit that.
“Come on,” said Cheryl, tapping Hope on the shoulder. “Come to the dance. We can go together.”
Hope froze, her marker hovering above the poster. She gripped it harder to keep it from shaking. Her heart pounded, and she couldn't understand why she suddenly felt so terrified. “We can't go together,” she said, her voice breaking in the middle.
“Why not?”
Was Cheryl a--? Hope shook her head. No. Even if she was, she would never admit it. No one would. “Because we're both girls?”
“I meant as a group,” said Cheryl slowly. “I'm going with a bunch of friends. I was trying to invite you along.”
“Oh.” Hope's face burned, and she kept her head down so Cheryl wouldn't see how red it must be.
“Oh my god, did you think I was asking you as a date?” The mocking tone in Cheryl's voice was something Hope hadn't heard before, and it took all of her willpower to hold back tears. “Do you think I'm a dyke or something? Are you one?”
“No!” said Hope. “I just misunderstood. Sorry.” She dared a glance up. Cheryl's nose was wrinkled like she had smelled something particularly awful.
“How could you even misunderstand something like that?” said Cheryl. “Don't be gross, Hope. Get your mind out of the gutter.”
“Sorry.” Hope felt like apologizing for the rest of her life. Or maybe finding some way to go back in time so she hadn't started this stupid conversation to begin with. This was why she didn't talk to people; everything out of her mouth was mock-worthy. “I was distracted by this. I wasn't really paying attention.”
“Whatever,” said Cheryl. “Are you about done? I told Mrs. Hawkins I'd lock up the choir room, and I'd like to get out of here before it gets dark.”
Hope shakily finished the last word. “I'm done.” Cheryl had grabbed the marker out of her hand practically before she was finished saying it. Hope waited, but Cheryl merely went over to the plastic bin to put the lid on.
Hope thought about asking if the invitation to go to the dance still stood, but on second thought, she would rather die.
The silence was getting beyond awkward, so Hope grabbed her bookbag, mumbled, “Bye,” and fled the choir room so fast that she didn't hear if Cheryl answered.
Her mom probably wouldn't have let her go to the dance anyway.
kay_brookeStory: Unusual Florida
Colors: Octarine #6 (give a man a fire and he's warm for a day, but set fire to him and he's warm for the rest of his life), Tango Pink #21 (macarena)
Styles/Supplies: Canvas, Pastels (for
origfic_bingo prompt "obedience")Word Count: 772
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; homophobic attitudes.
Summary: She didn't really want to go to the dance anyway.
Note: Meant to post this on Friday, but it was buried in my backlog of unposted pieces and I kind of forgot about it. Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
“Are you going to the dance tonight?”
Hope looked up from the poster she was decorating, an advertisement for jazz band auditions. She wasn't in the jazz band—she wasn't in any band anymore, not since starting high school, because her mom refused to pay the dues. But her choir teacher was also one of the band directors, and she had asked for people to help make and put up posters for the auditions. Hope missed band, so she had volunteered. She figured it was the closest she was going to get to band ever again.
“The dance?” she said.
“The Valentine's Day dance?” Marigold said, rolling her eyes slightly. “It's tonight. I'm just saying, you should leave now if you want any time to get ready.”
Hope focused back on her poster. She didn't like Marigold that much, so what did she care what the other girl said? “I'm not going.”
Marigold just shrugged, but Cheryl spoke up from across the room. “You're not going, Hope? Why not?”
Hope didn't answer right away. She liked Cheryl better—she might even call her a friend, even though they didn't hang out outside of school or anything. But she wanted Marigold to leave before she gave her answer.
But Marigold didn't leave; she crossed her arms and stood there, like she was impatiently waiting for Hope's answer. Hope gritted her teeth. “I just don't want to go. Valentine's Day is stupid.”
“You're just saying that because you don't have a boyfriend,” said Marigold. “I guess that kinda sucks.”
Marigold was completely right, not like Hope was ever going to admit that. Just another reason to hate her.
“I don't have a boyfriend, either,” said Cheryl. “There's more to life than boyfriends, Mari.”
“You're just jealous.”
“Don't you have a dance to get ready for?” said Cheryl, standing up and tossing the markers she had been using back into the plastic bin they had come from. “You're not going to have time.”
Marigold sniffed and left.
Hope hid a smile. She wished she was as brave as Cheryl. She wished she could stop caring what the snobby girls thought of her. Not that she was ever going to admit that.
“Come on,” said Cheryl, tapping Hope on the shoulder. “Come to the dance. We can go together.”
Hope froze, her marker hovering above the poster. She gripped it harder to keep it from shaking. Her heart pounded, and she couldn't understand why she suddenly felt so terrified. “We can't go together,” she said, her voice breaking in the middle.
“Why not?”
Was Cheryl a--? Hope shook her head. No. Even if she was, she would never admit it. No one would. “Because we're both girls?”
“I meant as a group,” said Cheryl slowly. “I'm going with a bunch of friends. I was trying to invite you along.”
“Oh.” Hope's face burned, and she kept her head down so Cheryl wouldn't see how red it must be.
“Oh my god, did you think I was asking you as a date?” The mocking tone in Cheryl's voice was something Hope hadn't heard before, and it took all of her willpower to hold back tears. “Do you think I'm a dyke or something? Are you one?”
“No!” said Hope. “I just misunderstood. Sorry.” She dared a glance up. Cheryl's nose was wrinkled like she had smelled something particularly awful.
“How could you even misunderstand something like that?” said Cheryl. “Don't be gross, Hope. Get your mind out of the gutter.”
“Sorry.” Hope felt like apologizing for the rest of her life. Or maybe finding some way to go back in time so she hadn't started this stupid conversation to begin with. This was why she didn't talk to people; everything out of her mouth was mock-worthy. “I was distracted by this. I wasn't really paying attention.”
“Whatever,” said Cheryl. “Are you about done? I told Mrs. Hawkins I'd lock up the choir room, and I'd like to get out of here before it gets dark.”
Hope shakily finished the last word. “I'm done.” Cheryl had grabbed the marker out of her hand practically before she was finished saying it. Hope waited, but Cheryl merely went over to the plastic bin to put the lid on.
Hope thought about asking if the invitation to go to the dance still stood, but on second thought, she would rather die.
The silence was getting beyond awkward, so Hope grabbed her bookbag, mumbled, “Bye,” and fled the choir room so fast that she didn't hear if Cheryl answered.
Her mom probably wouldn't have let her go to the dance anyway.