(Intro) Circles
October/ 16 / 2022
Anonymous’s perspective:
A circle is a perfect shape. Because of its inclusivity. Lots of things happen in circles. I watch as 4 miserable kids crowd around a neat desk. I watch outside the window. Circles and the number 4 are perfect, practical things.
This circle of kids obviously isn’t just some circle. It’s a circle, with the capital ‘C’. Just as they begin to fill the air, Eloise strides into the very middle of this Circle. Shoulders rigged, eyes stone-like and furious. Ignoring them all.
My throat goes dry.
Moments have a way of lasting. They ring out, like notes strung from a harp. Like this. When you play a note in a non-sound-absorbing room, the note seems to ring out, echoing for ages. Clinging to your skin for just a bit longer than you thought it could.
In this instance, instead of hitting a marimba’s key for a sound to last, this moment is fueled by the stories of the people filling the room. Stories that I have no business knowing.
Stories fill this room with this gratifying atmosphere of melancholy. For some reason, I cannot tear my eyes away from it.
Melancholy can be beautiful if you know how to see it.
Everything is so intensified and vigorous. Down to the ominous lightning from inside the room on a perfectly sunny day of Spring. To the way how Eloise’s lips are knit into this razor-sharp line, her presence so absorbing and real.
Even the way the 4 in the Circle stand, knitted together, glaring fiercely at each other. It’s all so ambient and illuminated in the right way.
I have to rub my eyes to ensure this is all real.
Mrs. Verronica stomps into the room. That’s right, stomps. She never strides, prances, or waltzes. She’s a heavy, burly woman with a short-cut blonde bob and always sporting the same blazer.
Although she can be annoying at times, she’s an alpha female that no one dares to counter. Her lectures are rumored to make floor tiles shake. Really, they actually shake. I’m scared that I will get to experience the Earth-Shattering Verronica Lecture.
She settles down in her leather office chair. Just in front of Eloise Adelery.
To my surprise, Verronica’s tone is calm. From what I can hear, through the window. Her face slowly melts as she gets a better look at the 5 kids in front of her.
The 4 kids in a Circle cross their arms and look at each other for reassurance. The girl in the middle, Eloise, doesn’t budge.
As someone who doesn’t know much about the real history of those 4, I can still tell how much these guys rely on each other. They certainly aren’t plastic copies of each other.
One is tall and slim. The other is dark and small. The third is curvy with this large, wild hair. And the last…all put together with all sorts of odd shapes.
And yet, they all still stand in a circle. As equals. Meanwhile, Eloise Adelry still stands in the very middle. Poised and pinned up. Her brunette hair resting on her shoulders.
She could be the next Mrs. Verronica before anyone knows it. But there’s a difference between the two of them. Mrs. Verronica is a grown woman with a family, and both a life behind and ahead of her.
Eloise…she’s just a girl. A girl who pours alcohol into the fire, one who plays games too big for her and still dominates it.
One of the 4 in the Circle raises her arms up in protest. The shrill squeak of their voice is muffled by the windows. A different kid pulls her back by the shoulders.
This isn’t their story.
In fact, it was never any of ours. Truthfully, it never did belong to Eloise Aderly either. The girl was shunned and slammed out of these very school doors after this meeting with the Circle and Mrs. Verronica.
She never came back.
Neither did any of the 4 in the Circle because each was sentenced to juvie weeks later.
Juvenile cells come with damp, jagged edges. They’re not empirical and perfect like the number 4 and Circles.
Mrs. Verronica still stomped in and out through those doors like nothing had happened. She’s used to this by now. She doesn’t carry her troubles on her shoulders. And she has a family to go home to. That’s why she’s no Eloise Aderly.
She’s a rat...
Eloise.
One with pearly white teeth. But still with dark beady eyes and a knack for stealing. Eloise Aderly always did believe that the world belonged to her. So why should she deserve to have her own story too?
