A Demystification: Eve

Day 2: Character vs. Reputation

WORD COUNT: 773

Lyn couldn't remember a time that she'd been particularly popular. It seemed that she had never been aught but by herself, even when she'd been surrounded by family. They were all intellectual types. Well, to be fair, she was probably even more of an intellectual than anyone else she'd ever met; one of those intellectuals that live for knowledge, but really couldn't give a damn what kind of practical application could be had from it. And, as far as she was concerned, the business of people was not worth her effort.

Honesty, however, was. And she was scrupulously honest.

And unstinting in her search for fairness in an otherwise fucked up world.

Lyn supposed that it had begun for her when she was six. Actually, it had probably been a long time before that, but she couldn't remember that far back. So six it was; a defining moment in the search for being a decent human being in a world full of self-righteous assholes with nothing better to do than ruin the experience for everyone else.

There had been a boy in school who liked pink. He'd once explained to Lyn that he preferred pink because it seemed like such a happy color, and that's why he wore it as much as possible. Often, that meant he wore shoes and shirts intended for little girls, and not for little boys, because little boys just didn't wear pink.

It would have been easy for Lyn to ignore what was going on, or even to go along with it. For the most part, she just tried to show the little boy--Josselin--as much kindness as possible, but one day in first grade, out back behind the swings (because such things always happen on the playground), some kids tried to beat him up.

"Faggot! Little Jossy-kins likes to wear pink, does he? Does your mama know you're a faggot, faggot?" Six-year-olds didn't usually make this stuff up. This boy, the school bully (named Bedford, called Bubba, which just spoke volumes about his upbringing), was just parroting what he'd heard day in and out from his racist, hate-mongering family. But Lyn, playing by herself as usual, happened upon the swings just in time to see Bubba shoving his fist into Josselin's pink-clad stomach.

Lyn had been raised on two things: be good and keep out of trouble. Her family were a "Keep Calm and Carry On" bunch, having abandoned whatever wild Scottish tendencies were to be found in their bloodline for intrepid Britishness, stalwart and stoic. They didn't believe in 'passionate displays'; they believed in the practical application of morals to every situation. They were a follow the rules bunch, never daring to make waves in what was otherwise a perfectly adequate world.

Evelyn Sinclair had, however, inherited all of the wildness of her Highland past. Be good meant do good and act good and treat other people good (ignoring, of course, the obvious grammatical issues to be had within that motto), even if it meant sometimes throwing caution and the rules to the wind. The defense of the right, of the fair and the just; that was doing good, and nothing else.

So she launched herself at Bubba, swinging and tearing and biting, screaming at him to "leave Josselin alone" over and over again. Something within her, some allergy, she supposed, to injustice and unfair persecution, clicked into place and an overwhelming since of rightness had suffused her every limb. It was a feeling that would only later be replaced by the orgasm (a good one, mind, not that she'd ever had one from aught other than a battery operated boyfriend).

After what seemed like glorious hours, but was likely about two-hand-a-half minutes, Lyn was pulled off of a screaming and crying Bubba and sent to the Principle's office. She had been suspended for five days for fighting, but the Principle had also had Bubba sent home for two weeks for breaking the school's code of conduct regarding bullying. The punishment at home--a thorough paddling and a week's grounding--had been more than worth it, though the stiff-upper-lip disapproval from her family had been difficult to bear. In the end, though, Lyn had done what was right and nothing--not even straight A's-- had come close to the feeling of defending someone else.

It was, to this day, Lyn's favorite feeling and most favorite hobby. Without it, she wasn't sure that life was really worth it. With it, she sometimes felt she could change the world.

And then another asshole asked her for a free shot and something inside her died. Especially since she was forced to say yes.