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Heather Chandler had always been interested, though she would never admit it, in the colours. The Colours. From the very start you had a colour, your own colour.
It wasn’t like a favourite colour though. It wasn’t just a colour you wore often, or that you enjoyed to look at. On the contrary it may become boring to you because its all you can look at. You saw in this colour. In fact it was the only colour you were able to see in at all.
It may be all you know and it may be boring; but It was your colour.
Hers was red.
At least that’s what was worked out due to the way she always appeared to gravitate towards it. Her parents had been ecstatic when they had found out and from almost the moment they figured it out, they exaggerated their happiness about it and its meanings.
She was explained from being old enough to understand the colours, that red was a strong colour. She was told it showed leader ship. Dictating that in her future was the act of becoming a great leader; that she would be hard to break. Despite the contrast of its colour to hers, they described Red as a diamond. It was beautiful, something everyone wished they had the chance to own, but lived on knowing they couldn’t, because it wasn’t weak.
If Heather was being honest with herself, which she isnt entirely often, she would tell you that she never specifically believed them. She didnt understand how the colour you saw in could decide who you were. It didn’t make sense for the two to have any correlation. The stories always interested her though and she enjoyed listening to what all the colours meant, so she never spoke against it.
By reaching the age of seven, she was interested in knowing the rumours were true; the television rumours. They told of other colours. Of her ability to see other colours, alongside her own. The idea intrigued her. It was something, that from hearing it, she knew she liked the idea of. Something she knew for certain she wanted. She did like her red though. She felt as if it was special. All the things she had been told made it seem as though it was a good colour, that she was lucky to have it. Although, until she saw other colours, she could never be sure of how true that was.
So she asked. She asked parents, teachers, school helpers, even random people on the street, any adult she could access. Her teachers told her she was too young to understand. That she would understand one day and then she would realise that now, they were right and she hadn’t have needed to know this young. That angered her though because she wasnt, she knew she wasn’t. Other children her age were always talking about the colours; yellows, greens, blues. They all seemed to understand them, so why didn’t she?
There was one girl, who said she had always seen pink, who claimed to have started to see another colour one day, though she never told anyone what that other colour was, so many people didn’t really believe her.
Heather had contemplating asking her at one point, about the colours, why she was hiding them and what it all meant but everyone thought this girl was a freak and she didn’t want people to call her a freak too. So she decided against that idea.
So she eventually went to her parents. Their response was long and not particularly what she had expected. They had sat her down and told her it was important she remembered this. That seeing other colours was a special thing. Her young, curious mind was intruiged by this and as such, she listened carefully.
They started by asking if she was querying the subject because she had experianced it. She said no. Though she was only young, she still sensed the odd relief in her parents sighs. They then continued to explain themselves. They old her everyone had a soulmate, a special person that someone is made to spend their life with. They told her that the first time you touched this person, whether it be by accident or purpose, you would see in their colour.
This confused Heather, did this mean that she would loose her red?
It didn’t, they explained. It would mean her red would be enhanced by the addition of a secondary colour. Thats why its special, because then, your two colours would mix to create many others, that meant that the person you touched was made for you.
Heather could never quite get over this.
Constantly she searched for her so described soulmate. Making sure to brush each and every person she walked past, just in case. There were some people she returned to, in the confusion that there may have been something, that the colour just didn’t fully come through but that never turned out to be the case. So she grew frustrated.
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From seven until twelve it had angered her and still beyond that time period. It made no sense to her how none of the many people she had came into contact with were her soulmate. She never quite could sum up the true span of the world despite it and everytime she tried, she grew more annoyed by it.
Not only that but she didn’t even know what she was supposed to expect her soulmate to be like. Were they a certain type of person? Did they look a certain way? Act a certain way? She was told she couldn’t be sure and from the experiance of thinking through it, she knew that wasn’t a lie.
All she could manage to fathom was that her soulmate would be a man. Well they were meant to be anyway. As far as she could guess. Her parents talked, whenever Heather brought up the subject, about how she would eventually find the person who was meant to be her husband. So that implied her soulmate was a man of some sort.
There was nothing in her that urged for her to tell this to anyone because they would most likely judge her for it, but something in her never quite felt right about that. The concept of that caused her stress that she couldn’t quite explain. Maybe that meant she didn’t have a soulmate and as such felt weird about having one? Everyone had a soulmate thought, didn’t they? She had heard the radio speak of soulmates who had been two men or two women. Was that what she wanted? It couldn’t be, could it? Not realistically.
People thought that was weird and Heather had never been described as weird, not once. So she couldn’t possibly want something that others see as weird.
Thinking on it, she remembered one time hearing someone talking about how they firmly believed that liking the same sex was just a joke, but not a prank sort of joke, more like a ‘you’re bullshitting’ kind of joke. They said that only a man and a women could be soulmates, that only they could see each others colours. That anyone who claimed they saw different was just lying to seem special.
Honestly, Heather didn’t understand at all why someone would think to do that. It was obvious people disliked it, so even if it did make people think you were special, it wouldn’t be in a good way, it would be in a judgemental, discriminating way.
No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t think of any circumstance in which someone would take the risk of being judged so negatively, not even for the attention it brought and trust me, would she do a lot to gain attention.
Something settled in her telling her that whatever she was thinking and feeling right now was just a phase. That she would eventually find a man and share colour with him and that all this nonesense would just disappear from her memory.
At least, thats what she hoped anyway.
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It hadn’t only been a phase that she could wash away within years to come, this unsettling knowledge had came about when she had reached around 14.
It had taken two years of extensive thinking and self observation for her to have finally came to the conclusion. She was right, she never wanted a male soulmate. She hoped, in fact, she was fully aware by this point, that her soulmate would be a woman and as much as that shook her and as much as she had to hide that fact behind a fake smile of grinding teeth that will not allow the truth to escape their caging, she knew, that was that. Not only did she have to hide this fact because of the judgement it would give to any of the days youth, she had to hide it because she was popular now. If anyone found out, if anyone even had the nudging suspicion she felt this way, everyone would know, there would be no living it down and her life would be compressed unto an unbearable hell.
Changing the subject at hand, popular may have been somewhat of an understatement. She was the queen of her grade. She was the one at the top that never planned to come down. Everyone knew her, the red heather. She was worshipped. The red queen of freshman year.
The fact she was the red Heather is an important factor. She couldn’t just be Heather as there was a second Heather now. Heather Duke. Green Heather. The second, by quite a long shot, to the throne. Co-queen if you will.
And no, she wasn’t her soulmate.
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Heather Chandler had been in the school yard when it had happened. It was lunch recess when she had the fortunate event of being approached by a regular member of the school. Another Heather - Mcnamara. Yellow Heather.
“I know you’re- well you probably don’t want to talk to me but um my friends .. they..” The much taller yellow girl turned slightly, directing the red heathers gaze to settle on a group of girls, giggling and cackling like banshee’s behind her. Though she was unable to quite place why, this fired up an angry energy in Heather. The group had obviously gone out of their way to set her up for hell, fully aware of what happens when you try and talk to one of the head heathers when you’re anything but.
“Your friends? Your friends what?” Heathers voice was tinted with slight forced irritation. Her hand was placed against her hip, though she didn’t slouch, as so not to appear so small to the lower girl.
She was the queen after all. She couldn’t settle for seeming small. Nor could she settle on the compassion nagging inside of her for this girl. Especially when there was no leads as to why she felt it.
The yellow girl flinched at the coldness in her tone, her fringe curling over one eye as she cocked her head further downwards, causing it to cover one eye entirely.
“Well um they told me too.. dared me to actually.. give you this.” Before Heather had the chance to retort at all, the girl pulled out a large, well bloomed flower that she had been hiding “They didnt believe i’d have the guts to give you it so um well,” it was thrust it in Heathers direction, so it was just in eye line before her nose. “here.”
The red Heather glanced upwards at the other heather. Not making the effort to give anything away. No movement, no speech, nothing but the cold glare of someone who was needing to puff themself up to seem stronger. It was the great bears tactic. Something urged her to take it in that moment, though she made no effort to sucum to it. Taking it may make her seem weak and there was no space for weakness in her position, she had learned this over time.
“And why should i take it?”
Mcnamaras face dropped, well not her whole face, but her eyes. Heather was able to notice this because you had to look someone in the eyes and not break contact to intimidate them. They were originally starry, bright but now because of red’s input on yellow’s life, they were tinged with a slight dullness. The fact hung in her throat thought she wouldn’t let it show.
“Well, mm my friends arent really the nicest, uh people” A sighed pause. “and i thought maybe.. it may have been crazy.. but maybe if i showed them i could do it, they would be less mean.. it may be crazy.”
Despite the frog in her thoat and the very depressingly relatable feeling she had for this girl, this very vunerable looking girl. She laughed. She didn’t want to, she really didnt but she was raised to look down on those who were weak and treat them as nothing but the sidewalk she travels on to school. So she did anyway.
Mcnamara looked heartbroken at the embarrasment as if someone had without metaphor, just trodden on her. She pulled the flower back towards her own body and looked down towards her feet.
She shuffled.
Heather didn’t know what made her do it. In fact, looking back she had absoloutely no fucking idea exept from maybe being in the right situation at the right time. But her hand reached out in an effort to cup the flower.
Pausing, just before her hand reached the other girls, she contemplated what she was doing.
No.
This was okay.
It was fine to do this.
It wouldn’t make her weak.
She could come out of this without a scratch.
“Fine- Alright. Its a pretty flower so just give it to me.”
The yellow heather looked back towards the smaller of the two, eyes gleaming with their starry shimmer once again. Heather realised in that moment that Mcnamaras friends must have been even worse then she first expected for her to react like this to the lack of rejection.
With a smile that made red shiver out a breath, Heather pressed the flower forward so that it brushed against the closeness of the red heathers hand. As it had been signalled for her taking, Chandler wrapped her fingers around the short amount of stem the girl had given her to recieve it. Somehow, she realised after, in both the worst and best way possible, their hands had grazed each others during the transfer.
“Fuck!” The queen retorted, jerking back slightly and rubbing the palm of her hand that had been stung with electricity.
Not the electricity like a soft brush and a rush that tingles in your chest. But real electricity. The type that one would imagine could kill. The type that caused pain, an oddly satisfying pain, but pain. Glancing towards the other girl, she readied herself to pounce at the person who had dared to trick her. She readied herself to ruin the yellow girls life. Though to Heathers surprise, Heather seemed just as shook and puzzled, pained even, as she had been.
“What the fuck just-” Heathers angry monologue was interupted by the smallest strike of pain behind her eyes, followed by a flush in her vision. It took a moment of recovery for her to realise her red was disappearing in places. What was this?
Was she going blind?
She realised it was quite the opposite when a shocking light and rush of colour, devoured her senses.
It was yellow.
From the light, almost white yellows, to dark golden yellows, she hadn’t prepeared herself to in any circumstance have to deal with such an overwhelming stance of change.
It hurt her eyes at first, it was different from her red. It was bright. Very bright.
But the most amazing part was the orange. The colour that appeared as the yellows and reds began to merge together in an artistic harmony. It was pretty.
Light that broke from the clouds, now a pale pinky-yellow, shone in a shimmer of orange. The orange was light. It brought heat. Orange was warm.
Freezing for a minute, a quick realisation set in.
This was her soul mate.
She blinked.
Just blinked.
Maybe it had been a dream?
A hallucination?
It hadn’t.
She blinked again. This time harder. Upon opening her eyes again though, nothing had changed. Nothing but the fact that she was becoming acutely used to the abrupt, vast change.
She noticed the other girl, who was not to anyones surprise, dressed in yellow, shimmering at her. Her intimidating glare, now weakened, settled on Heather Mcnamaras eyes.
They were pretty. Very infact. A very dark shade of orange; brown. Dark but bright. They were still bright.
She was flustered, this was obvious from the red-pink that coated her cheeks and ears. Heather wondered if she looked like that too and maybe the other heather had realised it. Part of her hoped she didnt and part of her didnt have the slightest care if she did.
Before even being given the chance to respond to what had happened, they yellow girl pressed the flower into her hand and scuttled away, fast and flustered to the band of hyeanas she had proven herself to.
Heather, regaining herself again, glanced down at the flower. It was orange. Had she known?
It wasnt fake and it could be watered. She decided to herself she would keep it alive for as long as she could possibly keep a flower alive for, as a memory of the soulmate she would never be able to recieve as her own.
They may have been in the same school and the other girl had obviously recieved the colours too, but Heather knew not to speak of it to her, or anyone else. So like everything else, she kept it a secret. The flower would be a memorial of that secret. Before it dies, she will press it.
A never ending memory of the fact that, like its petals, orange is the warmest colour.