"Tell me more!" Whines Celiese.

I pause to lift a finger, signaling her to wait while a finished swallowing my food. I looked up into her freckled face.

"I already told you everything I know!"

She crinkles her nose in distaste of my answer, and I knew she won't let this drop until she sees the kid on Monday. Lucky for her, it's Friday. I watch her as she pushes her rice around the lunch tray. "Aren't you going to eat your rice?" I ask.

She places her fork unto the table in a dramatic fashion and looks me dead in the eyes as if I asked her a very serious question. "Vie, do you know how crappy this rice is? it tastes like armpit!"

"I suppose you know what armpit tastes like?" I rebuttal.

She gives a pout and practically shouts her response. "Of course and don't! I am only assuming. Besides, that rice is just added carbs. I don't need it, and maybe we both need to start thinking about these sorts of things."

Dramatic as ever.

I give her a questionable look, and ask "Since when did we decide to care about our figures? I always though your mantra was "Fries before guys"? I knew what was coming next.

She covers her face with her hands and sighs. "Violet," she pauses. "all we are, are just single pringles". I couldn't help but laugh.

"We're pringles now?" I chuckle.

"Yes, and to be honest you are a bit too salty today Vie." Says Celiese. "When the new kid comes, he might be some fugly mamma's boy, or he could be a snack. But let me ask you this, what will he think when he reads your salt content?"

Darn her and her stupid analogies. Should I care? Do I conform?

"And why does this specifically apply to me? Should I care?"

Celiese gives a little laugh, almost sounding frustrated. "You know, I really do try to make progress with you. " She sighs. "Maybe you should start caring."

"For what a stranger thinks?" I ask.

"No, that's not the point I am trying to get across." She palms her face and then looks at me. "I know you act like you don't give a sh** about anything, but you need to start caring about things. Actually enjoy stuff. You won't be a high school student forever."

I start to play with them hem of my sweater. "I... know. I do care. It's just that..."

"Just what, Violet?" Says Celiese. "You know I care about you, but you need to stop being so uptight. Live a little, show some skin for once." She points to sweater. "It won't hurt to, I don't know, not be pasty?"

We both just look at each other for a moment. "You know, it's okay to not be perfect either. Okay? And I'm not saying to stop caring, just care about different things."

I look at her for a while. "You're confusing..."


"There's the bell, let's go." She says, and I get up from our table to follow.

Celiese dumps her tray, and we walk down the hall to the main commons. We don't talk for a while as we walk. This gives me some time to think about what she had said. Am I too uptight?

"Okay, I have to go to stats. Text me after school, okay?" It is finally the last hour of the day, and it is even better since we have last lunch before 5th hour begins. I find it even more enjoyable since I have ceramics class last, which is a good way to cap off the day.

"Okay, I will. Bye, Celiese." I wave to her and she waves to me as we part ways.

I make my way to class and put my stuff in a cubby to keep it from getting dirty. I sit down on a stool and wait for the class to begin. Just as I got settled, my teacher whom we all call Fuzz (for what reason, I have no idea)walked into the studio/classroom.

Picture this, a hairy hulk of a man wearing sandals and an old band t-shirt. Maybe his amount of hair had something to do with his name, but I'm not gonna get into too much of the details.

As always, he shouts today's schedule.

"Alright, you chumps! It's time to start working! If you finished your coil vase or pitcher, switch to the wheel and vise versa. Clear?"

Everyone shouts a "yes" and gets to work.

I get out my towel and apron, and get a water bowl ready. As I start walking over to the wheel area, my mind drifts back to what Celiese had said. Should I start caring? But what she said was a contradiction within itself. That I should care but not be perfect? I swear, her logic makes no sense sometimes.

I set my things down and grab some clay. While wedging it my thoughts were on her words. Her very confusing words.

The wheel starts to spins as I clicked the switch and pressed on the pedal. I start to center the clay, then pull up. I let the clay slide through my fingers as I slowly shape it using the cylindrical force that the the spinning motion poses on the clay. If I go too slow, I will not get the results that I want. If I pull up to fast, the clay will rip right off of the base. It has to be steady and precise movements.

It calms me to know that I have control over this, but also irks me to know that one wrong slip up and I would have destroyed everything I worked for.

And then I feel her.

She trails cold fingers over my spine with her eyes, sending chills up, down, and all over.

"It's off," She whispers to me.

"It's off, Violet." Says Lynae as she tries to move Violets hands a little further down the clay. Today, Violet had gotten to come with Lynae to a potter's studio a little out of town to watch Lynn practice her wheel-throwing. Lynae had let Violet try using the wheel. Ever since watching Lynae move her hands to meticulously move and form the clay, she wanted to do the same thing.

"I am trying, Lynn!" Pouted Violet to her big sister. She swipes away Lynn's hands and not-so gracefully tries to pull up the clay in her own way. It did not work out, and ripped right off the base of her former creation-in-the-making.

Violet gave a long and exaggerated sigh."What the heck does 'off' mean anyways?" Said Violet in a huff. All Lynn Could do was chuckle.

"Will you listen if I tell you?" asked Lynae. Violet gave a brief nod, not meeting her sister's eyes.

"Okay then, listen closely." Lynae took her own clay and started throwing on her the wheel that was in front of her. "When you start the wheel-throwing process, it is called centering." Violet watched as her sister pulled the clay toward her while the wheel was spinning. She pulled it up and then down, repeating the process until it was completely in the center of the wheel.

"Centering is the most important thing. If you start off your project in the most perfect way, it in a sense builds a perfect foundation. It it is too wobbly or not centered directly in the middle, there is a higher chance of failure."

The combination of Lynae's voice and her perfect hand movements were calming. Although, it still made Violet jealous with the basic fact that Lynn can create this perfect piece of pottery in a matter of a few second, and all the while making it look easy.

"Do you understand now, Violet?" asked Lynae. "Now tell me, what is the most important step?"

"Centering," said Violet. "because it is the foundation of a good pot." Lynn nodded in acceptance at her response.

"Never again start to make it when it is off, always center it perfectly." Lynae paused. "If start it off bad, it will end that way. It will fall apart, all right?" Violet looked up into Lynn's lash fringed eyes and smiled.

"I won't forget, never."

"It's off," she said.

Her breath was supposed to be warm in my ear as she spoke, but I felt nothing but the cold realization that she should not be here.

Yet here she was again, standing next to me. She is not always this close to me. Sometimes she just watches and other times she sits fa away when she shows up. Now it felt like I was being suffocated. She does not breath but it feels as if my air is being stolen.

Or maybe I don't want to breath in her air. All I did was let the wheel spin, the clay grazing my fingers as it spins. It becomes unruly.

"It's off, Violet. You promised." She backs up from my potter's wheel. I close my eyes, and hold my breath. I wait for blackness to almost take over. When I open my eyes and let in a dusty breath of the ceramics room's air, she leaves me.

When I look down unto my wheel, it is no longer on the road to becoming perfectly centered. It is just a messy pile of red clay that i had taken my focus off of.

"Clean up!" Yells Fuzz.

What time is it?

I look up at the clock and see that there are ten more minutes of school left. I look back down at the glob of clay and scrape it off while the wheel is moving. Didn't class just start? I must have lost track of time.Good grief, I had gotten nothing done today.

I clean up my work space and put away my apron and towel. At least I can go home and rest. But what will solitude bring to me?

More of her?


I walk out of the building and text Celiese to talk to me later. I put in my earbuds and turned on my music so that way I can listen while I walk home.

My playlist starts on the first song that turns on is The Good side by Troye Sivan. What a great way to kick off a long walk home. Why I don't ride the school bus? I hate it. The kids are immature and mostly freshmen who don't have anyone to drive them places. All though I am just a grade above them, I don't want to socialize with them.

So, why don't I have a car? Because I would have to buy one and that would require spending money. Spending money means having money. In that retrospect, I am broke and I don't want to get a job.

Besides, the walking clears my head. Just a 30-minute head-clearing experience from the school to my house every day after school. (My mom drops me off in the mornings but can't in the afternoons)

Yay, walking.