We cheer and we clamor.
We yell and we shout.
We make a sound that would be pretty much the same noise as a baboon. You see, together we sound…loud. Together we are not separate. Together we are a team. Together we blend into one being; one watchful eye surveying the little life-form of one human, a secret camera of protection.
And, though we are one voice, one fountain of hope, one girl leads a separate life. Individuality.
Ezme is not with us.
She stands up there on the stage, talking her bows as a ‘Little Woman’, herself actually barely taller than Nickie, barely more accomplished than she was in her first year, and yet, having gained some magical wisdom, she towers over us all, she has something that we lack, and that we perhaps may never strive towards. Individuality.
The auditorium lights go up, Ezme disappears into the backstage changing room, no doubt chatting away to her fellow cast-members. It’s easy to make friends when you’re constantly working with them. Even when both your characters hate each other, one can still make a friend from a fellow artisan.
Waiting, we see her emerge five minutes later, indeed chatting away to male student. She waves to us, and as we make our way across the shining wooden floor and pass the stage that is almost as dark as night, we hear her laugh (a laugh that sounds so unlike Ezme, yet cannot be false) and say “Charles”.
That must be his name.
Good-looking kind of chap, as well.
Many thoughts race through the minds of various ‘Outcasts’, eager bullets trying to destroy the friendships made and the good of humankind.
Ezme reaches up on her tiptoes (having not seem to have grown at all in the last half of a year) and gives Charles a little kiss on the cheek. A peck, a sign of gratitude, or perhaps something more…
Ezme links her arm through his and they walk out together. She hasn’t even said goodbye to the ‘Outcasts’.
Individuality has finally claimed her.