Ophelia Monologue

TODAY WAS NOT a normal day for walking home. The clouds that shined over the town made me slightly put off by the idea of Santa Rosa for a corn dog. Not like they had good corn dogs, but I was hungry and carried a heavy pocket full of sunshine.

I guess I was meant to stop at a random road today, because as I stood staring up at the clouds (and finally knowing what Louis was doing all that time when she was daydreaming), I wasn't the only one who ditched school. There was another figure that came from the same direction that I had come from, stomping her way down the street and holding a look that was deadly, carrying a knapsack too big for her arms. The most stand out thing was not any of these aspects but really just the fact that her hair
The thing still sits all clumpy and heavy looking as she readjusts it in her own arms. "Nothing, really."

I don't push it. "You're Ophelia, huh?"

She sighs as if it's a bad thing, repeating me. "The one and only,"

I know this girl like everyone in the school knows her. She sits with the people who hate me and laughs with them and maybe get's drunk with them too. Ophelia Waters is a big shot because she was the only one person who knew how to do something useful of all her friends, and that was rollerblading. She was the best in our town and was often was represented by the fact. If you knew one thing and one thing only you knew that girl could skate like no tomorrow.

I'm sure she's all that - straight A gold medalist skater. But something had made her stop, and I knew that only because she didn't play anymore on Roller Derby Saturdays where the whole school went down to the area to see her either compete, leisurely practice, or skate with her, depending on the Saturday. She wasn't the only one, but it seemed like it because she was the only good one.

I knew all of this from, you guessed it, Santiago. "Shouldn't you be in
Worthy. She fidgets with her knapsack and looks at her shoes as if she knows suddenly she shouldn't be talking to me. "I finished my classes,"

"If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything," I say aloud, maybe without meaning too. Her blush was worth it and it spreads all through her giraffe neck. Another rule of thumb when it came to lying - I could almost always tell a bluffer.

I don't know what's driving me to stay here talking to the most random girl on the most random sidewalk. If anything it's time for me to get home and sit on my roof so I can pretend to think when my parents get home they'd look for me. Instead, she looks up at me with her eyes that hold secrets through her oddly dark eyelashes in a whisper, "That's Mark Twain?"

I don't know if that's what makes me stays, or if maybe I'm humoring the fact that a pretty face was talking to me like a normal person. I'm yet to decide on that one. I do know that she desperately seems to be avoiding the consequence of being caught. "You caught me. Looks like my Samuel Langhorne Clemens quoting days are over,"

I wait to see if she gets my stupid connection. If she does, she doesn't say anything. "I should actually get going,