★ tessa triste -- d10 -- fin ★

tessa triste they tell me your  blue skies fade to grey they tell me your  passion's gone away You roam the halls of school, as you always do. Nothing seems out of place. Until you see her; a girl, slipping unnoticed through the crowds. You're not exactly sure what draws you to her, perhaps it's just something in those forlorn and startlingly bright hazel eyes or the how elegant each stride her long legs take. And, if you look close enough, you could say she was pretty in her own way. Narrow face, A small nose that seems pinched at the bridge, cheekbones set angular and high, a delicate jawline and chin, eyebrows dark and round, thin lips that seem to be permanently curved at the corners in a wistful frown. Her pale skin almost makes you wonder if she really is a ghost, like she is invisible to everyone. It seems like it. Except, you don't exactly believe in ghosts. Something about her makes your heart melt in a way. Her thin neck slightly craned downward, her eyes fixed to her feet. Skinny arms that hugged books to her chest, slender legs carrying her delicate body hastily across the floor. Her narrow shoulders seemed to easily maneuver through the crowd. Meanwhile, no one ever glanced her way. You suppose it was easy to lose her. She looked about average height, perhaps just a little taller. Her clothes lacked any colors that would make her stand out; just muted hues and jeans that seem to be worn one too many times. She had a thick spill of light brown hair that draped over her shoulders. It was neat in its own messy way, with ends that didn't line up and strands she didn't bother to move out of her eyes. You can't help but think how easy it would be for her to simply disappear. they tell me your life's been way off line you're falling to pieces  every time There was some longing in her expression, something that shared its space with loneliness. You see her glance at other groups; groups that laugh and smile, and you understand. You watch her stand alone, quietly by herself. There was hurt in her eyes, pure hurt. It was almost like everyone made it a point to ignore her, to look away from her and never venture near her. As she stood in her idle position, her shoulders  gently curved into her body, as if she were going to concave. It made her look so small, so helpless, so pitiful. You think to yourself, why isn't anyone helping her? Walking up to her, asking her how she is, just saying hi. You consider it, but the crowd seems to stop you. Makes you feel like she isn't there, makes  you think she doesn't need. You start to sway their way. And, soon enough, it seems like she could turn into something that seemed as commonplace as a vase on a side table. There was a faint ruffle of noises, a grunt, a swish, a clatter. Laughter and jests thrown around soon after. Her head snapped to the source like a hunting dog that just picked up a scent. You can see a boy sprawled out, and papers and books scattered across the hard floor. And, instantly, she drops down to her knees and starts to pick them up for him. You can't help but admire her, doing it when no one else will. Doing it, even though that boy has probably ignored her once or twice. She pulls  him up with a little bit of effort that included having to dig her heels into the floor. After being given back his stuff, he simply scurried off, not giving her eye contact, much less a thank you. And something inside you fumes. She had just helped him, and this is what she got. It wasn't what she deserved. And then you see her, pushed down, her books flying everywhere and her thin body resting on the floor. No one rushes to help her, no one does what she did. And she simply lays there for a few seconds, as if she were waiting. She has every right to. When she realizes no one is coming to lift her up, she presses her palms to the floor and pushes herself up. She doesn't send an insult, she doesn't cuss, she doesn't say a word. She simply dusts herself off and picks up everything she dropped. It's obvious she doesn't like attention, they way she studies the ground as she does everything. And, oddly, she doesn't seem at all bothered no one helped her up. But, as you stare at her more intently, you can see a neutral emotion covering up her sadness. She doesn't seem like one to complain about any of her special treatment. No, she doesn't look like a person who really says much at all. She walked away slowly, sinking away once again. Everyone went about as if nothing had happened. Treating this girl as if she didn't even exist. It seems the only attention she's ever received was negative. And you wish you could have done something, anything, but it felt like it was too late now. What you do not know is that it's never too late for Tessa Triste to have even a little help. cause you had a bad day you're taking one down you sing a sad song just to turn it around "Why don't you go hang out with your friends?" Her father's rough voice echoed through the room. It was an unnecessarily large room. In fact, it was an unnecessarily large house that the Triste's lived in. Or, at least, large for a house in Ten. From Tessa's window, you could see the whole sprawling land of meadow that the rich family owned. Tessa was never greedy with this. She never took anything for granted. It seemed, in fact, that she underused her wealth. "I don't have any, Dad." It came out matter-of-factly, which might not have bother him, except it came from the mouth of a seven year old. Every child should have a friend. "You should make some, then." Tessa cocked her head, squinting her eyes. She looked at him in a way that made him feel like an idiot."I try. But everyone just walks away from me." That's where her sadness was born. Right there, when she was seven, and it has been growing. Growing and growing and growing. "Tessa, I have a surprise for you," Tessa had always favored her mother out of everyone in the family; she didn't love her father or her brother nearly as much as she loved her mother. Tessa looked at her, curious. Twelve years old, and she already seemed too mature for her own good. Her mother led her outside, and there she found a horse. That horse was the first thing that seemed to make her smile in a really long time; a real smile, not a fake one. She had spent the whole day learning to ride, taking lessons from her mother. She named him Orion after the white spots that speckled his black coat. After that, most of her days were devoted to riding Orion. It was the first thing to make her truly happy in years. Now, Tessa seems to spend most of her time either riding Orion or gazing out her window. She's practically disconnected form everyone except her mother. Her father and brother tend to spend more time together, which is completely fine with her. She continues to be ignored everywhere she goes, prey for bullies at school. She doesn't tell her family about any of the things that happen, and does all she can to hide her depression from them. She always feels guilty when she seeks attention, because she doesn't want anyone to worry or feel bad for her. So, she just keeps to herself. She keeps considering whether or not to run away, since no one would really notice other than her family. The sound of a wanderer is quite appealing to her, but she just can't bring herself to do it. She can't bring herself to survive out there when all she's ever known was a good life where food was always there on her plate. And she couldn't leave Orion, the closest thing to a friend she's ever had. So she'll stay put, and tell herself it's okay for now. you say you don't know you tell me don't lie you work at a smile  and you go for a ride WC: 1,359 FC: Emily Arnold Codeword: Odair you had a bad day the camera don't lie you're coming back down and you really don't mind