In Blue (You Look So Good)
Kellyann Ye
“Tina, why did you color in this part of the dinosaur black? If you read the directions, which I’m sure you did, because everything else is done correctly, you would have known to color it sky blue.”
Mrs. Oglethorpe’s face is stern, and her eyes are brown and angry.
Tina, who is five years old and sitting in her chair with her legs crossed at the knees and crossed again at the ankles like she’s trying to make herself as small as she can be, doesn’t respond, only twists her fingers into an approximation of her legs.
“Why are you asking her this? You already know what’s going on. There are thousands of books on the subject.” Tina’s father, Mr. Burton, menacing in his slate grey suit despite being crammed in a desk meant for a kindergartener.
“Please, calm yourself, Mr. Burton. I assure you I know what I’m doing. Yes, SPCB is the most likely reason, but it never hurts to double check, to make sure it wasn’t just an accident.” Mrs. Oglethorpe reaches into her desk, picks out two crayons, with black and sky blue printed in tiny colors on their jackets.
She turns back to Tina, softening her voice into the one she uses during story time, when all of the students race to sit next to their friends on the Rainbow Rug. “Can you point to the black crayon, please?”
Tina bites her lip, untwists her fingers, and points.
Mrs. Oglethorpe looks at the crayon in her left hand, with the words sky blue printed too small for Tina to read, and smiles back at Tina, “Very good, Tina. Thank you, Tina and Mr. Burton. That’s all, I look forward to seeing you in class on Monday.”
“Yes, Mrs. O,” says Tina in a reedy whistle of a voice, and trails out of the classroom after her father.
This is why crayons have the names of their color printed real small in the bottom left-hand corner of their paper jackets:
Humans, homo sapiens, are born into the world having a soulmate. This was discovered following investigation into the theory of separation, the name that is now given to the idea that humans were put into the world as half of a whole, and that at some point earlier in time, something changed so that those two halves were introduced into the world separately, and thus spend their entire lives searching for their other half.
From the time of their birth, until they first meet that soulmate, any specific homo sapiens will be unable to see a certain color, most often blue, brown, or green. Recent studies conducted by professors from many prodigious universities suggest that this is due to the color of the eyes of the soulmate, as there is a strong correlation between the two events.
This specific type of temporary color-blindness, named in the medical field as SPCB, or Soulmate Pattern Color-Blindness, does not usually manifest itself until schooling begins, around four to five years of age, when colors become a more often used part of an individual’s daily life. It has not been shown to have any detrimental effects on infants’ ability to learn and recognize their environment.
Other recent studies show that in place of shades and tints of that specific color, individuals will instead see in shades and tints of black, namely differing hues of grey, until they encounter their soulmate. And of course, SPCB has been proven to disappear upon meeting with one’s soulmate, as the majority of coupled adults can view the entire color spectrum.
Regulated testing is carried out beginning in kindergarten and first grade, depending on the school district, and all results are carefully recorded and filed away.
Tina is sixteen when she moves for the fourth time in as many years, sixteen when she sits down at her desk for her first day in English and another girl sits down by her moments later.
The girl has grey eyes, Tina notices, because that’s the first thing she notices, the first thing anybody notices when they meet someone new. And it’s impolite to stare, but eveybody’s eyes flick up to look in the eyes of the other person when they meet, but somehow Tina has managed to go sixteen years without ever meeting the other person’s eyes when she does so.
But she looks up again, just to check, because grey could mean blue, flicks a look up at the other girl from under her eyelashes while keeping her head bent towards her paper, and the girl is looking back. Not even making an attempt to hide her stare. Just looking.
“…hi,” whispers Tina, because suddenly she can’t look away from the other girl, can’t look away from her eyes or the way her blonde hair falls down her back in ringlets, how she’s alarmingly pretty even without makeup and she knows that because one of the girl’s other friends was remarking about that as class started.
And suddenly her breath has caught somewhere in her chest and there’s a hollow sort of feeling bubbled at her sternum, hollow with anticipation, she thinks. Tina gives a little smile and half a wave.
“Hi,” says the other girl, waving properly back. “I’m Sophie.”
“Tina,” says Tina, and fights the urge to glance at Sophie every few minutes for the rest of the class.
It doesn’t happen all at once, doesn’t even happen fast enough for Tina to notice, but suddenly one day, she opens her crayon box and none of them look the same. She pours them out into a giant, waxy pile on her bed, just to check. Then she lines them up on the floor, just to check again.
Still, none of them match.
This is why schools no longer have assigned seating alphabetically by last name anymore:
Studies have shown that, despite not being able to describe any aspect of one’s soulmate conciously, other than the now obvious eye color of their soulmate, individuals are subconciously drawn to their other halves.
There is little concrete evidence of this, but there have been enough coincidences that the majority of the population regards it as fact.
Kellyann Ye
“Tina, why did you color in this part of the dinosaur black? If you read the directions, which I’m sure you did, because everything else is done correctly, you would have known to color it sky blue.”
Mrs. Oglethorpe’s face is stern, and her eyes are brown and angry.
Tina, who is five years old and sitting in her chair with her legs crossed at the knees and crossed again at the ankles like she’s trying to make herself as small as she can be, doesn’t respond, only twists her fingers into an approximation of her legs.
“Why are you asking her this? You already know what’s going on. There are thousands of books on the subject.” Tina’s father, Mr. Burton, menacing in his slate grey suit despite being crammed in a desk meant for a kindergartener.
“Please, calm yourself, Mr. Burton. I assure you I know what I’m doing. Yes, SPCB is the most likely reason, but it never hurts to double check, to make sure it wasn’t just an accident.” Mrs. Oglethorpe reaches into her desk, picks out two crayons, with black and sky blue printed in tiny colors on their jackets.
She turns back to Tina, softening her voice into the one she uses during story time, when all of the students race to sit next to their friends on the Rainbow Rug. “Can you point to the black crayon, please?”
Tina bites her lip, untwists her fingers, and points.
Mrs. Oglethorpe looks at the crayon in her left hand, with the words sky blue printed too small for Tina to read, and smiles back at Tina, “Very good, Tina. Thank you, Tina and Mr. Burton. That’s all, I look forward to seeing you in class on Monday.”
“Yes, Mrs. O,” says Tina in a reedy whistle of a voice, and trails out of the classroom after her father.
This is why crayons have the names of their color printed real small in the bottom left-hand corner of their paper jackets:
Humans, homo sapiens, are born into the world having a soulmate. This was discovered following investigation into the theory of separation, the name that is now given to the idea that humans were put into the world as half of a whole, and that at some point earlier in time, something changed so that those two halves were introduced into the world separately, and thus spend their entire lives searching for their other half.
From the time of their birth, until they first meet that soulmate, any specific homo sapiens will be unable to see a certain color, most often blue, brown, or green. Recent studies conducted by professors from many prodigious universities suggest that this is due to the color of the eyes of the soulmate, as there is a strong correlation between the two events.
This specific type of temporary color-blindness, named in the medical field as SPCB, or Soulmate Pattern Color-Blindness, does not usually manifest itself until schooling begins, around four to five years of age, when colors become a more often used part of an individual’s daily life. It has not been shown to have any detrimental effects on infants’ ability to learn and recognize their environment.
Other recent studies show that in place of shades and tints of that specific color, individuals will instead see in shades and tints of black, namely differing hues of grey, until they encounter their soulmate. And of course, SPCB has been proven to disappear upon meeting with one’s soulmate, as the majority of coupled adults can view the entire color spectrum.
Regulated testing is carried out beginning in kindergarten and first grade, depending on the school district, and all results are carefully recorded and filed away.
Tina is sixteen when she moves for the fourth time in as many years, sixteen when she sits down at her desk for her first day in English and another girl sits down by her moments later.
The girl has grey eyes, Tina notices, because that’s the first thing she notices, the first thing anybody notices when they meet someone new. And it’s impolite to stare, but eveybody’s eyes flick up to look in the eyes of the other person when they meet, but somehow Tina has managed to go sixteen years without ever meeting the other person’s eyes when she does so.
But she looks up again, just to check, because grey could mean blue, flicks a look up at the other girl from under her eyelashes while keeping her head bent towards her paper, and the girl is looking back. Not even making an attempt to hide her stare. Just looking.
“…hi,” whispers Tina, because suddenly she can’t look away from the other girl, can’t look away from her eyes or the way her blonde hair falls down her back in ringlets, how she’s alarmingly pretty even without makeup and she knows that because one of the girl’s other friends was remarking about that as class started.
And suddenly her breath has caught somewhere in her chest and there’s a hollow sort of feeling bubbled at her sternum, hollow with anticipation, she thinks. Tina gives a little smile and half a wave.
“Hi,” says the other girl, waving properly back. “I’m Sophie.”
“Tina,” says Tina, and fights the urge to glance at Sophie every few minutes for the rest of the class.
It doesn’t happen all at once, doesn’t even happen fast enough for Tina to notice, but suddenly one day, she opens her crayon box and none of them look the same. She pours them out into a giant, waxy pile on her bed, just to check. Then she lines them up on the floor, just to check again.
Still, none of them match.
This is why schools no longer have assigned seating alphabetically by last name anymore:
Studies have shown that, despite not being able to describe any aspect of one’s soulmate conciously, other than the now obvious eye color of their soulmate, individuals are subconciously drawn to their other halves.
There is little concrete evidence of this, but there have been enough coincidences that the majority of the population regards it as fact.