Rain

• Shironaia Bucud, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2011

It was raining. You knew that, you knew it all too well. Why? Well here you were standing on a bridge, in nothing but a red shirt and jeans, being soaked to the bone. But you didn't mind. You liked the rain. A smile crept onto your frozen lips as you brushed slick strands of hair from your pale face. You glanced down at the river beneath the bridge, hypnotized by the disrupted flow of the clear liquid. 'Beautiful,' you thought.
Daisuke frowned when it began to rain. He tilted his head up, glaring at the grey sky; like that would stop it from raining. But no luck. So with a quiet sigh, Daisuke turned and began to walk away from the training grounds. He stared at the ground as he walked; looking up occasionally to make sure he knew where he was going. He was about to lower his gaze again when a flash of red caught his eye, he turned spotting an almost all too familiar figure standing on the bridge. Frowning and wondering why the hell you were out in this weather, he began to walk over.
You continued to stand in the same place, motionless. Your eyes slid shut as your expression faded slightly. The rain gave you time to think and it helped wash away memories. Your eyes opened however, when the soft sound of approaching footsteps reached your ears.
“Hey,” someone said out of the blue.
"Hello Daisuke," you greeted, not turning around. The footsteps stopped. Once more the auburn haired boy fell silent.
He never had and likely never would understand the way you acted. You had gone to the same school. Even then he had never seen you upset or sad; even after your family was killed. Always a smile. You were....weird. And yet, somehow, he felt drawn to you like a moth to a flame. Your bright green eyes caught his and he looked away.
"Was there…" you paused, "Something you wanted to tell me? Or did you come just to stare?" He glanced at you, a frown tugging at his face. "Why are you out here?" he asked; though you could sort of detect a hint of worry in his voice. "I like the rain," you answered with a soft smile.
"You'll catch cold if you stay out here moron." You smiled. He was concerned and he hid it by calling you a moron. You grinned inwardly knowing it was a sort of term of endearment.
"I don't mind it," he heard you speak softly; as your soft loving eyes met his cold determined blue ones.
"Hn," he grunted turning to leave. Fine if she wanted to get sick, that was her choice. But as he was leaving he could have sworn you said something. Shaking his head he brushed it off and continued home. But what he didn’t hear you say was: "I like the rain because....," your eyes met his back, “Then no-one can see me cry."

Short Story by Shironaia Bucud, St Flannan’s Primary School – Brisbane, Australia