Weekly Writing Challenge: From The Pages Of A Question Mark

She stood there quietly, careful not to lock eyes with anyone but stare at the ground. She stood in the farthest corner, and it almost seemed like there was a little less sunshine there, a piece broken off from Tartarus. She knew she wasn’t going to make it to class in time, but that was hardly significant in the recent light of things.

Up until last week, she had thrived on sharing the spot of center of attention, content to be the loyal sidekick of the ever so intimidating girl whom she looked up to. As long as she walked in her shadows, the world beneath her feet was adorned with flowers..and a beautiful symphony harmonized in the background of her days. She’d come far from being the new, shy and lost girl she was at the start of the semester. Using her perceptive skills, it hadn’t been hard to figure out how the politics in this school worked. You bow down to the ‘superiors’ and get recognition, or be a chameleon and blend in the background. She was tired of the latter, and so opted for the former this time. Life was bliss, and she was content. Oh it didn’t matter if she was sometimes shoved around by her ‘leader’, made to do things that went against her nature, lost the capacity to think for herself and basically became a big Question Mark. She was noticed, and that was all that mattered.

But her idol had deserted her. She had packed her bags and left with her father, not for a moment considering the impact it would have on her disciple’s life. But even bothering with a phone call was too much to expect, wasn’t it? After all, they weren’t friends. They were in a relationship of give and take, where she pledged her loyalties and got a safe haven in return. Or maybe they were friends. It didn’t matter. Now how was she to carve a niche for herself when her own identity was missing. How does a question mark question itself?  

Her knees were just about to buckle, her mind just considering making a run for the exit when a smile fell upon her eclipsed corner of the ground. It was one of her colleagues, another question mark who had sympathised with her in moments when her conscience had tried to breakthrough. She offered her hand, and the glint in her eye showed that it was time to get rid of the question marks that plagues both of them. Well it was about time them, wasn’t it? With squared shoulders and the light hearted feeling of losing that ridiculous punctuation sign she thought was acceptable, she reached for that hand. She knew what she had to do now. She took a step forward.