September is like fire. Itâs cliche, but trueâat least for the time being, based on what observations Mi has gathered. Her flame is bright, shimmering and rippling in mesmerizing waves that catch the eye from afar. Warm at times, a gentle, courageous and bold red that Mi finds herself circling tighter and tighter around, drawn in. Yet at other times, it seems to teeter on a border between recklessness and control, sparks flying, ripples of flame undulating with an alarmingly erratic pulse. Mi has yet to tiptoe close enough to find out whether this is a flame that warms, or a flame that burns and leaves irreparable ruins behind.
Even now, she rises from her seat with an inherent force that seems to fill the room and burst from its seams. Magnetic, electric, with each step closer. Singularly entrancing, albeit at a distance. Distance, Mi knows all too well, translates into all kind of illusions. But for now, she is content to bask in the warm company of a friend.
She mimics September, crossing her arms as well and offering her own knowing grin as the woman approaches. âOkay, true, trueâI mean, honestly?âI donât think they should give grades, ever. But you can still have favorite students, right? And you never said I wasnât your favorite.â She winks, the expression exaggerated, making her whole face wrinkle up in the effort. Squatting for a moment over the cooler bag, she unzips it and rummages. âI amâŠÂ but I heard the best students always arrive early to class to do some extra studying, so here I am⊠wait⊠I brought something too⊠for extra credâah! Ta-da!â Mi stands so quickly that the abrupt motion leaves her teetering, sidestepping once to find her footing again, but her hands fortunately still hold fast to an old maroon thermos, thrust triumphantly out into the air in an instinctive effort at preservation. After all, Mi has had many close calls with nearly dropping valuable objects, and today, the prime offering is certainly valuable. Sacred. âCoffee for the lady,â she announces in her best waitress voice, presenting the thermos to September with both hands. âDark roast with three spoonfuls of honey and milk, and!âthereâs a jar of honey in my bag in case you need another spoonful.â
âNowââ her gaze moves from teacher to classroom, assessing its state of chaos and pinpointing potential picnic locations. There seems to be a relatively small open area on the rug in the back, a clearing where the desks have been pushed asideâlikely in a skirmish of schoolchildren proportions, and of course, Septemberâs desk. That last option quickly gets tossed in the name of changing it up. Mi begins looping the handles of various bags over her forearms, glancing up at September and throwing a nod toward the back of the room. âPicnic on the rug? Itâs not grass, but itâs close, right?â
THE YOUNGERâS IMITATIONÂ coaxes a coy smile onto her lips, gentle and humoring, and she allows her posture to ease so as not to reflect a perfect image of the woman before her-- though thereâs a thought that lurks in the depths of her mind telling her sheâd be better off becoming more like mi. kind and patient, qualities sheâs lost as timeâs progressed-- qualities sheâs perhaps knowingly tossed aside. kindness and patience were not the qualities you wanted breaking out of a flooding cabin in your titanic of a life. but the numbing apathy thatâs taken its place is even more burdensome than having sank with her life to begin with, even heavier than sheâd begun. and it certainly doesnât help her career.
in the days when determination was ripe, sheâd sworn sheâd have been something by now. sheâd have made a name for herself, found herself a new passion and made it her life. but looking around at the walls that now trap her suddenly becomes overwhelming and she struggles to breathe over the waves of self-deprecation that follow. this job was supposed to be temporary; her life was supposed to have skyrocketed already. she was supposed to have a career in something that thrilled her, something that challenged her, something that got her up in the mornings, something she loved. but each new morning greeted her with breakfast opposite her brother and his wife and a silent carpool ride to their beloved school. and if that werenât enough, putting on a smile for a room of five year olds was ten times more draining.
the sound of miâs exclamation snaps her out of her reverie, vision flickering back to the sight of the younger stumbling over her feet, a red thermos in hand which is soon thrust toward her. she wonders briefly if mi is happy; she wonders briefly if miâs knew where her future lied. but only miâs voice fills the silence and september reaches out reluctantly with her eyebrows furrowed in bemusement, still disoriented from everything clouding her mind. still, in moments like these, sheâs thankful for mi. she was always there for september, whether she realized it or not. and in any case, september would always be thankful to someone who distracted her long enough to prevent the memories from resurfacing. but not that sheâd let them know.
the corners of her lips curl upward as she examines the gift, a glint of mischief present in her eyes. mi was so kind that she almost felt guilty for teasing her as she often did, but the reaction she gave was always priceless and september could never quite help herself. the older gives a brief nod of her head, leading them over to the rug mi picked before speaking, her voice slow and thoughtful though its tone holds an air of playfulness. âiâm not so sure a teacher can accept a bribe...â her gaze returns to mi, lips now pulled into a impish smile as she lowers the canister. âunless youâre trying to get me fired?â the cock of her head is perfectly timed with her lift in her voice, and she pauses for a moment, just long enough for mi to sputter a syllable, before continuing on. âin which case... well, letâs just say you wouldnât be my favorite student anymore. and this âpicnicâ would be for naught.â
