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-- Winter Formal -- Her eyes are screaming at me, I can feel it. Steaming from her hot red eyes. Her cold, harsh expression chilling me more than the winter air. The clouds following her heavy breath remind me of an angry steam engine. I can practically hear her whistle.

"Dorian--" She cuts herself off.

I can hardly even remember what it was I said now. My mind's gone blank. All that's there is the anger in her red eyes. I can't move. I want to say something, but my jaw just lies here dumbly agape. I can't move. For God's sake, why can't I move?

"--... Just... Forget it."

She turns away from me, and storms off in a direction.

Earlier in the night, Coach Riley and I had been enjoying an evening in each other's company while we chaperoned our first annual winter formal. I hadn't known, of course, that she would be there too. But she obviously took it upon herself to ignore the second half of the party's title. She arrived strictly in her usual letter-mans and -- of course --  her trusty pair of cleats. Though, come to think of it, I'm not entirely sure if she's ever owned another pair of shoes in her life. Despite the jarring contrast between her and the rest of the participants however, she still fit. She felt exactly right the way she was.  

Throughout the evening, we shared faculty-approved child-safe sugary drink, while she laughed at my chaperoning tactics as well as my ill-informed intellectual witticisms... I shoved balloons between students, she blew whistles at titillated young boys. We talked about politics of the 1950s, the dual meaning of "unionized," childhood love stories and unfortunate parenthood... But what was it? What was the awful thing I said? Something came spilling out of my mouth, and for some reason Riley came over with quite the fit of silence, before tentatively excusing herself in a huff, and avoiding me throughout the hallways before meeting me with those wet, red eyes...  

And eventually, slowly, I feel my eyes begin to fall down to the cement. All that's left of her to look at are the dotted marks left in the sleet by her cleats.

Carpe noctem. That's what I told myself as I overcame my surprise at the sight of her large, raven bun. There goes that, I suppose. And, quite possibly, what I would have considered to be my first real friendship in years.

-- Dawn --

What's with the new kid?

Does he ever take that hood down?

He doesn't even talk to anybody. He's even too blue for the emo crowd.

Across the cafeteria, there sat a hunched blue and white blob on the corner of a wide-seated bench. He had a cafeteria tray, like the other more colorful blobs surrounding him, but his seemed like a mere prop, sitting untouched in front of his pale, lanky figure. The poor child had just made it to his first day of school -- which was technically the third day of school -- and he hadn't even made it to 4th period without a cloud of whispers surrounding his poor blue head.

However, a pare of red eyes seemed to keep quiet attention on this blue thing from across the room. Where exactly did theis new piece of furniture come from? He looked practically ill. But more importantly, his plate seemed to be catching a quick case of the common cold.

This lumpy red and brown child took a soft plop into the seat across from the boy. He jumped and flicked his eyes upwards, only to be met with a round freshman already knee deep into her lunch. His guard stood up tall as the air between them fell deadly silent. Before a casual interjection:

"Hey, are you gonna eat that?"

Again, the boy startled. As if his skin could fall any more pale, she peeked up at him. With a nervous head shake, the girl stole his plate. And peaceful silence fell for a few seconds more.

"... It's Riley, by the way. You aren't too great at making new friend, are you-- uh--" "D-Dorian." He stuttered quietly. "... That's a pretty pansy name." He recoiled slightly and slipped deeper into his hoodie. A pause. Somehow, he muttered again, "I-I'm really just not very good at impressions..." "Really? Because I'm pretty sure anybody can do Arnold Schwarzenegger's voice."

He blinked, as he slowly processed her misinterpretation. "... It's nice to meet you, Miss Riley."

He could feel her jump as his lips revealed his sharp front pair of pearly teeth.

-- Christmas --

Christmas always meant something heavily important to you. Not as a christian or anything, you stopped believing in that bullshit a long time ago. ( Actually, did you ever really believe that? ) But there was always something very important about it.

Of course, the lights were always a wonderful thing. Secretly, you loved those lights. Your eyes would gleam every time you went to a mall or a shopping outlet, or even when you passed by a house you had already seen 12 times over. You actually really loved those lights. They were warm. They felt like home. They felt like something you could never quite express in person. But they felt the way that stars look.

Snow was also warm in your heart. Not as warm as summer and spring, but someone close to you always loved that white winter snow. You still remember, having snowball fights in streets with her, drinking warm chocolate and later coffee as you watched the snow fall out the window. You even remember how surprisingly warm her hands were, when she would slip off her glove to take your fingertips. She was always rather cold the rest of the year. But when it snowed, she was always very warm.

There's something about this holiday that reminds you of roses and dandelions. It's always so red and sweet, almost sickeningly cheesy in its presentation. But it was also everywhere. Like a weed. All too often treated like something that shouldn't be cherished. But it's really quite unique. And beautiful. And fuzzy.