We always thought she had photophobia. At least, that was what she told anyone who was inconvenient enough to ask why she wore sunglasses all the time, including inside places with dim artificial light. We (me, James and Esther) knew Violet since kindergarten and we didn’t even think about it anymore, Violet and her sunglasses were kind of the same thing. There was no Violet without sunglasses. Now that “the event” (that’s how we’re calling it now) happened, I start to think that it’s a bit weird that we, her closest friends, couldn’t tell what was the colour of her eyes.
Maybe it’s her personality. Violet isn’t the type of person who actually encourages you to talk to her and ask things. I’m not saying she’s a bad person or unfriendly, I love her and she’s my best friend. But she’s quiet, reserved, discreet, a shadow. A very good shadow, Violet has the magical ability to show up in the exact moments you need help, and she can be the most supporting friend without uttering a word. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. Or at least, again, that was what we thought before “the event”.
Actually, no, she didn’t hurt a fly. Maybe I should tell the story now, I’m putting my best friend’s reputation at risk. To be fair, she didn’t even hurt Thomas, the main character of “the event”. But considering he’s never going to be able to play tennis again and that his parents now have only one living child and this is Thomas’ annoying sister, I would say Violet proved she can be quite cruel.
It was break time, and the classroom was a noisy mess, as always. The teacher leaving the room was a signal to all the troublemakers jump off their desks and seek freedom outside, but it was a dark rainy day and most of them were staying inside. Our school doesn’t have good spaces protected from the weather to hang around. Our little group tried to shield in a corner, I had my nose in a book and James and Esther were playing checkers while Violet watched.
Then Thomas came in our direction, and I rolled my eyes because he’s so annoying. When I realised that he was talking to Violet, I closed my book, ready to protect our delicate flower. James and Esther prepared themselves to do the same. And then it happened. Until now, I don’t know why she lost her control in that specific moment. We had been through unacceptable situations before, and she was always the same Violet the quiet.
She stood up and we realised she was nearly as tall as big Thomas. She waited for him to stop talking and laughing, which he did because he was surprised that she was confronting him, and Violet took of her sunglasses. We could tell her body was tense. I don’t know, I expected her eyes to be of a less common colour like green on grey, but they were of a dark brown like mine. Then, many people in the classroom started to scream. And I stopped looking at Violet’s eyes and looked at Thomas.
Oh wow. Looking wasn’t enough, I had to be sure. I touched the muscles of his arms (believe me, if he was not a statue, I would never do that). Cold and hard. Maybe his family could display him in their garden? They already had a granite water fountain.
Violet had put her sunglasses back on to her face.
It had stopped raining. Blinding super bright sunlight came through the window.