Artistic License

September 22, 2009


Filed under: Side Stories — Joana @ 9:11 pm

And here’s another side story courtesy of a Fiction Writing prompt, this time to just use the word ‘red’.  And for some reason WordPress won’t let me use indents like I did with the first one.  Oh well.  Enjoy.

I like calm colors like grey, and blue, and grey mixed with blue.  I know it sounds boring, but that’s just who I am.  So of course, when Miranda decided that a bright, red dress was perfect to wear to our eighth grade graduation, I kind of questioned her.

“Of course you don’t understand it, you’re a guy!” Miranda said as she took the dress off its hanger and stared at it lovingly.  She was in love with this dress and there was nothing I could do to stop her, was what she seemed to be saying.

“It will make you look like a cheap whore,” I said.  Miranda gave me a look of horror before bunching the dress up a bit in her hands, hugging it to her.

“It will not!” she said.  “Anyway, your taste is boring.  Dress clothes and a tie is not what you wear when you’re graduating.”

“It’s only eighth grade,” I protested, but Miranda shook her head.

“Yeah, but we both got into the fine arts academy, so it’s like ‘Bye, everyone, we’ll never see you again!’.  Don’t you want to make a bigger impression on everyone?” Miranda frowned and put the dress over her shoulder, taking her headband out of her hair and putting it back in again.  Her hair was down to her waist and too unwieldy for those cloth headbands, but she didn’t seem to think so.

“If I wanted to leave an impression on our class I would’ve done it already,” I said.  Miranda sighed and took the dress back into her hands.  Despite my protests, though, she didn’t put it on the hanger.  I had to follow her to the women’s dressing rooms, since our parents only let us come here alone as long as we promised to stay together.

“Well you’re not like me,” she said.  “I’m a performer!  I dance across the stage and expose my soul to the masses.  You… I wasn’t even aware they had a math and science program there until you applied for it.  Geek.” As if that were a cue, I adjusted my glasses after they slid down my nose a little.

“If I’m a geek, you’re a drama queen,” I said.  Miranda frowned.  The dressing rooms were full right now, so she had to wait.

“But I’m a dancer, not an actor,” she said.  “Would that make me a… dancing queen?”

“Like the song?” I asked.  Miranda smiled, and she started belting out ABBA before I could stop her.  There’s a reason she’s a dancer and not a singer or actor.  She’s as tone deaf as… a thing that’s really tone deaf. There’s also a reason I’m not a writer.

I cringed and covered my ears, throwing looks at the dressing room attendant, hoping she would do something.  Apparently the dressing room attendant was regular deaf, though, because she just stood there behind her counter, stoic, not even seeming to notice Miranda’s horribly off-key singing.

I had to give Miranda some credit, though.  She has fun.  Even if it is at the expense of my dignity most of the time.


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