Violet by S J (year 2 reading books txt) 📕

I groaned and slumped down against the wall, my face buried in my hands. “Violet, honey… what’s wrong?” whispered my foster-mother from the doorway. I shut my eyes and tried not to let my tears fall. At the moment Clary was acting as if she cared for me, as if she actually was my temporary mother. But I knew better than to fall for that. As soon as she started thinking I was crazy, she would let me go and I would be transported to the next foster home. The foster system didn’t even know what to do with me anymore. Just like an unwanted object, I was passed from one home, to the next.

“Violet, I know that this is all hard for you, moving houses and sch…,” she trailed off and gasped as I lifted my head. I stared back at her. “V-violet…your eyes!”

I know what she meant. I glanced across the room at the long elegant mirror that was placed near my bed. I saw myself. A small girl with wild purple hair, detailed tattoos running across her upper right arm and deep purple eyes that were always alert, waiting for danger. How could I explain to my foster-mother that the hair on my head grew out of my scalp purple and wasn’t dyed, that my tattoos weren’t drawn on with a needle but instead had suddenly appeared on my arm on my thirteenth birthday, and that my purple eyes weren’t the result of me using purple contacts, in fact they were the reason I used brown eye coloured contacts instead. I didn’t know what was wrong with me, I didn’t know why I was different to everyone else. I wanted answers, but nobody gave them.

“They’re not contacts,” I snapped at Clary.

“Darling, nobody has purple eyes,” Clary soothed, her face a picture of concern.

I squeezed my eyes shut tightly and slapped myself mentally. I remember telling my previous foster parents that my natural eye colour was purple. They had held me captive as they scrounged through my eyeballs, trying to get out the assumingly ‘hidden contacts’ in my eyes. My eyes had stung for weeks.

I breathed in deeply, hoping that Clary wouldn’t freak out as badly as they had.

“Clary I am trying to find my brown contacts, so I can cover my naturally purple eyes,” I stated slowly as I watched her scrunch her forehead and look at me with a confused expression.

“Violet, I don’t know what you are trying to achieve but I know this is your business to deal with, if you ever need to tell me anything, don’t feel afraid to approach me,” she murmured, and on that final note, she turned on her heel and left the room.

I stared after her, shocked. None of my other foster parents had ever let that subject go this easily. Maybe this home was not going to be so bad. I looked at the clock and jumped to my feet. There wasn’t enough time to try and find the stupid contacts, I would have to brave the first day of my new school with purple eyes.

As I pulled into the school carpark I could feel all the student’s eyes on my old van. I parked near a sleek sports car and gulped. Compared to all the other cars in this carpark, mine looked like a dump. My heart pumped fast as I reached out a shaky hand and opened the van’s door. I cautiously stepped out onto the hard-gravelly ground and looked up at the building that loomed in front of me. It was a magnificent big building, bannered with the words ‘Warlmond High school’. I saw all eyes swiveling towards me. The whole carpark went silent…and then the whispering began.

“On my god, she must like purple!”

“What is up with her hair?”

“Those eyes are just creepy,”

Tears threatened to come out, but I forced them to stay. I stared straight ahead and kept walking.

As I walked up to the front desk, the receptionist looked up at me sharply. Her eyes narrowed as she studied me.

“And who may you be?” she said grimacing. Jeez, what a way to welcome a new student!

“I’m Violet,” I said quietly, “I’m a new student,”

“Well Violet, I’m sure you know the school uniform policy,”

“Yes,” I answered hesitantly. I looked down at my clothes. They seemed pretty respectable.

“So, I’m sure you do realise that dyed hair is not tolerated at this school,” she snapped.

I groaned inwardly and thought of an excuse.

“It’s really long-lasting dye,” I lied but the excuse came feebly, and the receptionist just raised her eyebrows. She didn’t look the slightest bit convinced.

“Well then I’m sure you can dye over it,” she said smugly. I nodded weakly. I heard footsteps approaching behind me. Turning around, I saw an old man walking stiffly beside a tall boy whose mouth was set in an angry scowl. His jet-black hair hung over his dark eyes as he glanced at me with a bored look.

“A-ha here comes Principle Harlley,” said the receptionist, all her iciness replaced with fake enthusiasm. The old man smiled politely and turned to me.

“Hello, you must be Violet, Zachary will show you to your locker and your classes,” he said warmly, gesturing towards the boy. Zachary grunted in reply, his mouth still set in an angry scowl.

As Zachary led me down the hallway, I could feel everyone staring at me.

“Here’s your locker,” he said stopping at an old, sky blue locker that the paint was peeling off from. As he turned to go I spoke up.

“Wait, you have to show me where my class is,” I stated, a small smile starting to form at my lips from his reluctance to show me around, he obviously would have been rather doing something else. He sighed impatiently.

“Fine,” he huffed.

“Sooooo, Zachary why are you showing me around?” I questioned as we started to head to my first class.

“It’s Zach, not Zachary and it’s not my choice to show you around,”

"I figured," I huffed, rolling my eyes.

He sighed in exasperation, "My step-dad is the principle...means I have to show all the new students around,"

"oh," was the only reply I could think of.

"Here's your class," he said bluntly and left me standing outside a tall wooden door marked 'maths'... just my luck, I had to start off in the new school with literally the worst subject ever invented. 

As I walked into the classroom, feeling like a snail without its shell, all the student's heads swiveled around to look at me. I cast my eyes downwards and shuffled to an empty seat near the back of the room. A tall girl with long red hair and tonnes of freckles was seated next to me. She turned to face me and flashed a bright smile.

"Hi, you must be Violet... I'm Ginger," she whispered.

"Hey," I mumurmed back in reply.

"Do you know what's really funny, my name is Ginger and I have 'ginger' hair and your name is Violet and you have 'violet' hair... although obviously it's not your real hair colour," Ginger chattered excitedly.

I gave her a tight smile. If only she knew how wrong she was. I gave my attention to the maths teacher at the front of the class and tried to concentrate on the many numbers and symbols on the board as Ginger droned on about hair colours. When the lesson was finally over I pulled out my schedule and groaned when I noticed that my next lesson was PE. I didn't even own any PE clothes yet. As I headed to the front desk once again, I spotted two girls dressed in skimpy clothing, looking like they stepped out of a beauty magazine, whispering fiercly by the doorway. My curiousity got the better of me and I started to slowly inch towards them, trying to listen to what they were gossiping about. 

"Oh gosh, you should have seen her Zara, even her eyes are purple" one of the girls hissed, flicking her blonde hair behind one shoulder. My eyes widened and I leaned in closer. They were talking about me!

The other girl, a brunette and presumably Zara wrinkled her nose in distaste.

 "That sure is a hell of an obsession with a colour," she snickered.

I scoffed causing the two girls to jump in fright and turn towards me. Their shocked expressions quickly changed into smug ones as soon as they spotted me. 

"Thanks for your opinions...not that they matter to me," I said bittersweetly and waltzed past them. Their comments are nothing compared to what I had experienced before.

I entered the change rooms holding clothes two sizes too big for me. I had spent a solid ten mintutes trying to get a spare change of clothes from the stubborn receptionist. I swear she had given clothes too big for me on purpose. 

I manoeuvred around the crowds of girls and their belongings until I found a quiet corner at the back of the change room. Feeling a light tap on my shoulder I turned around to find Ginger grinning at me.

"Eeeee we're in the same P.E class too!" Ginger practically yelled causing several girls to give her glares.

"Uh...yeah we are," I mumbled trying to walk past her in hopes of escaping her loud chatter.

Publication Date: 08-14-2019

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