A Solitary Star

written by Dora Scamander

Theodora is quiet, unpopular, mysterious, and, to put it simply, different. But she has a gift. And not the gift you'd expect. But is it enough to get her through the trials she will have to face?

Last Updated

05/31/21

Chapters

2

Reads

485

Happily Lonely

Chapter 1
Under a tree, on a bench in the schoolyard, a girl sat with her head bent low over a paper, a pencil in hand. Her chestnut hair fell forward, hiding her face, but she was delicate of frame and was wearing a woollen sweater, jeans with holes that you could just tell had not been made on purpose, and laced boots that came up just below her knee. She appeared oblivious to her surroundings, and the many school children around her, chatting, playing, screaming, laughing, in turn paid no attention to her.
It had always been the same. Theodora Wood, from her very first day at school, had been left alone. Her teachers, though sympathetic, had never really tried to encourage her friendship with others. Why was this? Well, rather strangely, her eyes were one of the reasons. The way those hazel eyes were one moment shining and then dark and sombre, or how they looked out of the windows during class with a sort of longing expression... they almost seemed to say 'please leave me alone'.
And maybe it was that - the increasingly obvious fact that Theodora didn't want friends. Though she was polite and kind to her fellow students when they spoke to her, she never tried to keep the correspondence going, merely smiled gently and walked away. So, eventually, Theodora had been left to herself.
And she seem to didn't mind that. So she was happily lonely that breezy autumn afternoon, while the crowd of children ignored her and went about their conversation, play, or who knows what else.
The playground was teeming with students that afternoon, most of them younger schoolchildren. However, there were a few big older boys lounging on the swings or dominating the slide. Most children avoided them, but occasionally one would take a stand and ask them to stop blocking the playground. These courageous but unlucky children, though not confronted there on the playground, usually came to school the next day with a mysterious black eye or something of that sort.
At that moment there was no one daring to take a stand against the blockages of the swings or slide, and the boys were, you could say, bored for something to bully. And so it happened that they came to spot Theodora.
She did not notice as they approached, and it was only when she saw their shadows in front of her that she was aware that they were looking down at her. She kept her head bent, and calmly kept her pencil moving over her paper.
"What are you drawing, loser?" Said a loud low voice just above her. Theodora heard the noise of the people on the playground dim very slightly, as students turned to look at who the boys had chosen to pick on this time.
Theodora did not answer. She tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear and kept on drawing.
"I said, what are you drawing?" The voice was even louder this time, and it was jeering.
There was no answer.
"What, you deaf as well as stupid?" The boy said. Then with surprising quickness for his large form he swept the paper out of her lap and looked at it for a second. Then he laughed, dropped the paper, and stood on it, turning his foot so the paper crinkled and dirt smeared all over the white surface. Still faintly on the paper there could be seen a beautifully drawn fox, but it was ruined beyond repair. The boys laughed.
They were about to turn away, when Theodora looked up. Her hazel eyes were glinting fiercely, but her expression was not angry. It was... searching. And the boys felt as though this girl could see their minds, their cruel thoughts in the gaze she bestowed upon them.
They took a step backwards. One boy tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a cough. "Gee, what's wrong with you, weirdo?" Another said, rather lamely, before the three of them moved away.
Theodora looked down at her ruined drawing and calmly picked it up. It was only when she saw the eye of the fox she had been drawing still looking out at her trustfully that she felt her eyes grow prickly. But she shook her head, tossed her hair away from her face, crumpled up the picture and put it in her pocket, stood up, and walked into her classroom.
She had not said a single word the entire time.
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