Just this...very odd idea I had, and it got typed up. Worst one shot ever. Very, very queer... Review please.
"What is your name?"
The words escaped the shiny coating of lips smoothly, having a nice carefree touch to it. Hannah gave off her best smile, the rim of her speckled glasses lowering before her warm mahogany eyes. The peaceful light gently painted across the beige carpet, and shined a brilliant golden color upon her neatly tied honey colored hair. But twenty three year old Hannah did not try to pay attention on her surroundings, but to the scrawny boy in front of her.
He was the queerest little kid she had ever seen. His scrunched up ebony hair ruffled in and out like the breeze, eyes glinting amber as they reflected the sunlight. Unlike her peach complexion, this boy had a darker skin tone, as if tanned. His expression was eccentric as well. Wide curious eyes merely stared right back at her, but his mouth was still formed in the obdurate line. Hannah sighed, crossing her legs over while scribbling down on the clipboard.
The boy merely kept that same blank expression. His gaze faltered over to the wide window taking up the whole wall space. Sunlight poured in, giving the dreary room at least some compassion. He wished he could go outside and play, maybe kickball or baseball. Because of the fact he had to be patient, he could not of course. A low sigh barely came out as he sent one last wistful gaze before coming back to reality.
"Let me ask this again," Hannah said, she said those words carefully. She smiled widely; skin smoothing out, her glittering lipstick stretching until it seems they were scattered out. "What is your name?" There, simple enough. Surely the kid wasn't as dumb as she had thought? Her words and her speech had been deliberate and slow, easy to understand.
"My name is Ash." He said quietly after a moment's hesitation, casting his eyes on the ground. The fine dandruffs of the thick maroon carpet swished in and out. It was like the grasses dancing, but there was no wind here, no freedom. He wanted to be the wind, he wanted to help them move...but oh if only he didn't dream of the impossible! Or perhaps it was the inevitable, he thought, now concentrating his attention to the beige wall.
"Ash. That's a nice name for a kid," She started with a simple compliment. He said nothing.
"How old are you, Ash?" She tried asking again, returning a forlorn smile.
"I'm..." He started in that same small voice again, so tiny with his figure. Really, it was terribly frustrating when he fidgeted in that awkward angle like that. She clicked her pen, receiving a peculiar gaze from Ash. He really must comb his hair, and at least clean his nails too. Good heavens, was that a bruise on his cheeks?
"I'm seven." He finally adverted his gaze from the window long enough to answer, as Hannah scribbled down some more notes on the flimsy sheet of paper clinging onto the clipboard. She sighed, but kept a forced smile on her face which was supposed to look sweet and caring.
"So your teacher has been telling me you've been fighting again." Hannah started casually, switching her position to get a better view of the boy. He shifted uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact. Good, she had hit a nerve. Now they were getting somewhere.
"He started it first." He muttered under his breath meekly, feebly rubbing over the same white cloth of his t-shirt again and again out of pure torment trying to avoid Hannah's steely gaze. Feet swung about as the woman sighed, shaking her head. He was so difficult to manage, but what could she expect? He was only in second grade, although she would've expected much more of him despite his maturity age.
The sunlight was ceasing, indicating it was around noon so far. The distant sound of kids screaming could be heard vividly even through the glass, as Ash closed his eyes wistfully. He could almost visualize the red rubber ball flying high across the field and children having a grand time. But of course, he was stuck here with a prim lady with glasses and a huge empty room only consisted of a desk and shiny metallic drawers. In fact, the only thing he liked about it was those wide windows. He was sure he could see everything if he could only tip toe to it a bit closer...
"Who did you fight with this time?" Hannah asked, interrupting his daydreams.
Ash blinked once, before resuming his usual pace of swinging legs. They were like the pendant of a clock, ticking away time. They were also what annoyed Hannah; that infuriating behavior children had sometimes. Honestly, why could they not be patient and wait for once? She blamed society.
"Gary Oak." Was her reply, as Hannah's frown creased the skin around her mouth. With a deeper frown and some unrecognizable muttered words, she quickly jotted down some fancy blue lines on the yellow lined paper, before looking up again.
"Gary Oak...Wasn't he the one you fought with two times before?" She questioned; a pretend confused look fluttering on her face.
Ash blinked again. Why was she forcing herself to be curious? Why was she forcing herself to smile whenever she looked at him? And why was she forcing him to be confined in this positively awful room? It was an encased glass bottle, his only view to the outside world by that wide window. He stared at that direction again, a reflection of a haunted little boy staring back at him, obviously unhappy with his setting.
"Yes, but he made fun of me first," Ash declared finally, clenching his fist up high to show his pride of defiance and anger. "So I hit him." A light whoosh was made as the fist made contact with air, receiving only a disapproving glance from Hannah.
"And how did he make fun of you, Ash?" She asked politely, jotting down some more words.
The boy thought for a second, swinging his legs. Hannah gripped her pen tightly out of frustration. Really, she mustn't lose her temper like so, no matter how irritating this irksome boy might be. A scowl lifted on Ash's face, memories dawning in to him like a small tidal wave. Indeed, but it was still a wave.
"He said I would never be a Pokemon Master." He said jerkily, a fiery passion of his usual stubborn nature in his eyes. "He said he would become one before me." An angry pound collided with the soft cushion of his chair, as Hannah began scribbling furiously on her piece of paper halfway filled with notes.
"So do you like Pokemon, Ash?" Hannah asked nicely, receiving that same blank look. Her stress mounted then.
"Yes, I want to catch them when I grow up." He said in the simplest matter, as if stating the obvious. Ignoring the fact Hannah was reaching her peak of patience, his legs began swinging under the chair again.
"I see..." She murmured, writing down some things. "So why do you like Pokemon, Ash?"
Question after question. It never ended, this boring torment to answer them. Ash sighed and coughed at the same time, a chaste expression on him. His legs were still swinging. His look was so virtuous. Hannah merely kept her calm gaze.
"Because they're my friends. And I like them." He said, averting his gaze from the windows to the bare ceiling consisted of only one large fan illuminating a bright light. Why did they need it if they already had the sun's power to an extent?
"Pokemon are your friends?" Hannah inquired. Despite her futile effort, curiosity aroused. Of all the things to be friends with, little children's could be the most comical relief of all. Did they never hear of brutal beasts attacking them? They must've visited the other 'kind' nature of them, such as frisky Sentrets and Pidgeys who wouldn't harm a single hair on anyone. Hannah frowned.
"Yes," Ash said with a small smile. "When I grow up, they're going to be my best friends. And I will beat Gary with them." He stated confidently, apparently oblivious to Hannah's petulant expression.
"I see. So you want to fight with them?" She asked, deeply interested in this wild boy's fanaticizing skills.
"It's what a Pokemon trainer do. You fight, train, and you take care of your Pokemon and become friends with them." He said simply, swinging his legs a bit slower.
Hannah stopped writing so rapidly anymore. Were all kids like this? Wasting their career as this so called 'Pokemon trainer?' It was disheartening to hear this, truthfully in Hannah's eyes.
"Gary also wants to become one, and me too. So we could fight when we both are official trainers." Ash let out a small gurgle of laugh, clapping his hands delightfully. "But I'll beat'im." He said mischievously, a spark flickering in his eyes like a corpulent shadow dancing.
Something about this speech swayed Hannah in a way. She stopped writing altogether, deep in thought.
"So you hit Gary because you loved Pokemon?"
Ash stopped swinging his legs, but Hannah did not notice. He returned that thoughtful daze dawning onto his face before letting out one simple short word.
His leg began to swing again. Hannah let out an amused chuckle as she smiled. It was her real smile in a long while, as she gently set the pen and the clipboard away on her metallic gray table cluttered with random things.
"Um, Miss Hannah?" Ash said nervously.
Hannah tilted her head at this awkward tension in his voice, as she smiled warmly.
"Recess is almost over, and I was wondering..."
"You may, Ash."
He broke into a wide grin.
"Thanks Miss Hannah!"
With those words, he flung himself off the chair, took one last look at the window, and bolted to the door until his footsteps in the hallways were nothing more than a mute hum.
She sat there for a second, before grabbing her clipboard and standing up. Her high heel shoes gently padded themselves over to the window overlooking a familiar black haired boy running excitedly to the kickball field. With a smile, she crumbled up the yellow paper into a wad of ball, and tossed it in the wastebasket. Giving a content look, her gaze followed the many reflections of the window as she stood there, wondering and staring at the kickball game that had just started.