CHAPTER 4: ONE-IN-A-MILLION
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Isn’t it funny how quickly things can turn around? All it takes is one small moment to change someone’s life. Even the biggest wildfires all start with a single spark. Surprisingly, I too had found my spark. I felt like a teeny tiny marshmallow, slowly being cooked by the fire. But it wasn’t any fire, it was a fire of desire, a desire for her.
After that evening, she tried to meet me almost every other day after my classes got over. Violet would wait for me by the school gate, as I impatiently anticipated the ring of the school bell. The other kids would stare at us, but she did not give a care in the world and soon, I learnt to do the same.
On the days we met, we would first go to the same secret hideaway, making sure to grab two packets of dry ramen on the way. The ramen filled our stomachs, but our conversations filled our psyches with joy. I came to the realisation that a majestic view, and someone to talk to was the only thing I needed not to be afflicted by, the VOID. I started to forget about that feeling altogether, as the VOID was slowly being replaced by burning embers of desire.
Through our conversations, I learnt that Violet did not want to pursue a conventional education. That girl was a born artist, and she wanted to make a living out of her passion. She had taken a gap year, as she needed time figuring out which school in the country would help her pursue her artistic endeavours. I found it different, but not in a bad way. Turns out, she was bold, bolder than anyone I have come across in my life. How could she go against the cruelty of this world? It forces young men and women to fit into a predetermined space carved out for them. They have to give up their identity, just to be able to “fit in” for a mediocre life. Amidst all this, she stood defiant against the expectations of society. She was strong, and turns out, she would be my strength one day, and also my weakness.
October 3rd, 2016. Winter was starting to creep in, as autumn began taking its leave. Like any other Monday, school was a drag. Although Violet helped me to find some respite, the people in the hellish institution still treated me the same way. The isolation, the teachers, the constant sense of dread, it never stopped. My only salvation was her, since she was the only one, the only one who didn’t see me as some kid who was from a broken home, or someone who was “intellectually challenged.” She saw me for who I was, she saw me as Robin.
As the last ring of the school bell echoed through the corridors, I packed my things, and hastily made my way to the school gate. She stood there waiting, as usual.
“Hello there sir, how are you doing this fine evening?” Violet said, while trying her best to mimic a posh English Lord.
Once again, she did not fail to make me laugh. I replied in a fake accent, “I’m alright madam. So, shall we get on with our, our uh- um.”
“Proceedings?” Violet replied, managing to find the word I was looking for.
“Yes, proceedings!” I said.
“Indeed we shall,” she said, as we started to make our way to our spot. To think that an abandoned wing of the local park had become “our” spot, filled me with an almost childlike excitement.
First, we made our way to the nearby convenience store, being sure to pick up our usual snack. The old lady at the counter always gave us judgmental looks, but Violet would always give her a wide grin, much to her distaste.
“I don’t think she likes us,” I remarked, as we continued to make our way to the park.
“You mean that old lady? Please, I’m sure she’s just jealous of how SUPER AWESOME we are,” said she, with a burst of energy.
“Right, very awesome,” I replied, with solid sarcasm.
“Oh c'mon! We’re so awesome that we even have a theme song!” Violet said.
Confused, I asked, “Do we?”
“Of course you dummy!” Violet replied, as she took her phone out.
“Just listen,” she said, as she began to play a song. I recognised it immediately.
“So the song from Power Rangers, is our theme song?” I asked.
“Yes. Its ours. You’re Red Ranger, and I’m Violet Ranger,” she said, as she began moving around to the song.
“I don’t think there ever was a Violet Ranger,” I remarked.
“There is! And I’m the first one!” Violet replied, as she started to get into the groove of the song.
“Gosh, you’re such a kid,” I said, as I wondered how could she not give a care about dancing to a children’s song in public.
Violet calmly replied, “Its good to be a kid sometimes Robin, helps you to take a break from adulthood.”
After a few more minutes of walking, we reached our spot. Taking a seat on the cobblestoned floor, we opened our packets of ramen and began munching. A sunset awaited us, probably the last sunset before the gloomy winter set in.
“So. How was school?” Violet asked.
“The usual,” I replied tersely.
“Did you talk to those students about the group project?” she said.
I lied, “I did.”
She could make out the uncertainty in my voice, “Robin, if there’s one thing you’re bad at apart from drawing, its lying.”
“Look, I’ll talk to them soon,” I replied.
“You have to, okay? Its an important assignment for the semester, and you can’t manage it all by yourself,” she said, with concern in her voice.
“I know! It’s just that, the people in that place never really saw me as, well, ME. They see me as some sort of misfit, a weirdo,” I replied.
“Everyone is weird. Its just a matter of how much one decides to show it,” Violet said.
Taking a bite of the dry ramen, she continued, “I know its hard for you Robin, but you have to realise that the world isn’t your enemy. You won’t get to know a person unless you talk to them.”
Looking down on the ground, I replied with, “I know.”
“Now chin up, and promise me that you’ll talk to those kids tomorrow,” she said, as she held her finger out, “Pinky truce?”
Her “pinky truces” always managed to get a smile out of me. We started to do that whenever we had to make something official. It was our way of signing a blood oath, something which was completely sacred to us.
I held her finger with mine and confirmed the oath. After a brief moment of silence, I spoke, “How’d your day go?”
“It was surprisingly productive. I practiced my water painting today,” said Violet.
“When will I get to see your art?” I asked. Being familiar to the question, she answered with the same expected reply, “When the time is right.”
“You know, I’m starting to think you should be a monk instead of an artist. With all your fortune cookie wisdom,” I said, with a bit of annoyance.
She chuckled, “Being a monk is all fun and games I’m sure.”
Violet stopped mid-sentence, and said, “Speaking of games, I have an idea.”
“What is it?” I asked.
Excited, Violet explained, “Let’s play a game, just the two of us. One of us will have to spot something, while the other will have to make up a completely fictional story about it. You get me?”
“I think I do,” I replied, trying to make sense of her game.
“Okay, I’ll start. You spot something which is around us, and I’ll make a random story out of it,” said she.
Being curious with what she’ll come up with, I said, “Okay, that tree over there.”
“Hmm… Its an ancient tree where tiny wizards practice secret demon magic,” she said.
Being baffled by her absurd remark, I spoke, “This seems like a lame idea.”
“Oh c’mon! Just try it once, please! It’s like you’re writing a story book in real time,” she nagged.
I decided to try it for her sake, “Okay, but just this once. Go ahead.”
“Okay! Hmm… Look, those birds over there, what’s their story?” she asked, while pointing to a flock of birds flying in the distance.
I thought for a moment, and then gave my answer, “Um… Killer birds who have a taste for, clowns and frogs?”
Violet seemed displeased with the answer, “I understand the clowns, but why frogs? They’re cute, little, tiny and very squishy.”
Call it foolishness, or even plain stupidity, I would say something in the coming moment that I knew would have consequences.
Under my breath, I spoke softly, “That’s the only thing you and a frog have in common.”
My heart sank after I said that. She was definitely going to slap me and walk away. Thankfully, my cheeks were safe, as she had not heard me properly.
“What was that? Your voice died down for a second over there,” Violet asked.
Recomposing myself, I made sure to give a firm reply, so that she would not inquire about my previous comment. I said, “I said that I hate them.”
She nagged, “Aw! I thought Robins were cute and gentle birds! Not killers!”
I knew for a fact that Robins weren’t cute birds. I asked, “You think Robins are cute?”
“Of course! But not as cute as you are, Robin Hastings,” she said, as her dark hazel eyes looked into mine, and she shot her same infectious smile.
Dumbfounded, the only thing I could reply with was, “Wh-What?”
“Yes. But now you are a froggist,” she said.
She leaned in close and whispered into my ear, “That’s a person who hates frogs by the way.”
I tried to speak and ask her about what she had said before. Instead she replied with, “Shhh, enjoy the view, its the final sunset before winter.”
As we sat in silence, with empty packets of ramen in hand, the chilly October breeze washed over us. I could not help but think about her remark. Was she actually flirting? With me? Me of all people? There was definitely something wrong with the natural order of things. Maybe God was on vacation that day.
One thing was for certain though. There was a teeny, tiny, very little, microscopic, one-in-a-million chance that Violet Andrews, the girl I had fallen into an abyss for, actually liked me back.
