Friday, November 18, 2011
Twelve-year-olds are nearly always peculiar, but this particular Jane was more peculiar than most. She had a pet rabbit that she intended to roast, and a collection of spices that had arrived in the post. She loathed rhymes and only wore white stockings and had a habit of kicking walls when bored or nervous or confused or happy. Her father had been Greek, but nobody who knew Jane had known him, other than her mother, but even that might be a stretch, unless when you say "know" you mean in the Biblical sense. She liked to drive cars but was never allowed, which made her incredibly frustrated, which she vented by kicking walls. The walls of her home were covered in scuff marks and mud and even dents here and there, because although Jane was small she was quite strong when she wanted to be. She hated the color grey but her mother made here wear it to school because it was sensible and would keep her warm and also because it was the school's uniform dress code. Jane thought the idea of a dress code was sensible, but that the color grey had been a poor judgment on the part of the school board. Jane had decided a few years ago that she was probably going to be an insurance lender when she was grown up, or else own a fish market, or, if the world was vegan by then, a seaweed market.