osprey_archer | Ladies Bingo: Silhouette

Oh hey! I filled a Ladies' Bingo square almost by accident! This is an outtake from my NaNo (I'm at 22,367 words) for "silhouette." Phase one of Ashlin & Olivia's friendship is collapsing.

***

I saw Ashlin one last time. I would have avoided her if I could, but I had to go to pick up my portfolio from the art room.

I had meant to pick it up after my history final, but when I peered into the room, Ashlin was in there painting, and I chickened out, and cursed her all the way home. It wasn’t just the portfolio. I had wanted to have one last chat with Mrs. Marks before summer.

So I went back on the very last day of school, even though I didn’t have any finals. In fact, practically no one had any finals that day, and there was almost no one there. The school seemed bigger and brighter than normal: the sunlight from the doors seemed to stretch along the polished floors for miles.

The art room was dim, though: the lights were off, and the light from the windows obscured by the leafy trees outside. I peered in. Ashlin wasn’t there. I slipped inside, rushing to the back shelf to grab my portfolio, but when I turned around to leave…

Ashlin had finished the Queen of Summer, God knows how. The painting loomed out of the shadows, and even in the dim light it was beautiful. The duskiness of the room enhanced the shadowy mystery of the forest, while the bright colors of the Queen seemed to glow against the darkness. She almost shimmered, like a heat haze in high summer.

I gazed, mesmerized, taking in all the details. The butterfly perched on the Queen’s fingertip. The spray of daylilies in the background, bright orange against the dark green of the forest. Occasional glimpses of the deep blue sky through the branches.

I don’t know if Ashlin saw me looking at it. I think I heard her right when she arrived, and turned, and saw her standing the doorway. She was just a dark silhouette against the bright lights of the hall, but even though I couldn’t see her face, I knew her. I knew her height, her manner of holding herself, like a bird perched on a twig on the verge of flight. Her chin lifted, just a smidgeon, and I knew that too.

“Olivia,” she said.

“Ashlin.”

She swayed, as if she meant to move forward, but she remained in the doorway, outlined by the line. She lifted on hand to the door jamb as if to support herself. “I’m just here for my painting,”

I hoisted my portfolio like a shield. “I’m here for my portfolio.”

Her shirt had a draping medievalish sleeve that fell to a point, creating a great black triangle against the light. “Well,” she said. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” I said. Suddenly my feet began to move - that was how it felt, like they started walking without any contribution from me - and I walked past her with my head down, so I didn’t see her face, but once I was out in the light shining hall my steps faltered, and I turned around.

She no longer stood in the doorway. She must have gone inside, but I couldn’t see anything in the art room: it was simply too dark in comparison with the dazzling light of the hall.

“Goodbye!” I called. And then I ran.

And then she was gone.