The Colors We Desire (Love and Other Dreams #3)
Prologue
Hanna
Eight years ago
Sometimes the rustling of the wind in the birch leaves sounds like music. And the daffodil heads sprouting among the first lush green shoots of the lawn next to me glow in a yellow hue that seems to outshine everything around them.
Just like today. Even though spring has begun to work wonders, I can already see off the road, as I am strolling along, how nature will change in the coming weeks.
I see the hepatica emerging, delicate buds forming on the branches of the apple trees. The scent of freshly mowed grass fills my nostrils, and the taste of sun-ripened strawberries lingers on my tongue.
In my imagination, I step onto a path. I immerse myself in a new world, wandering among vegetable patches and berry beds that appear out of nowhere in my mind's eye, passing by a sunlit terrace made of pinewood. It still looks lonely, but soon, the daisies will sprout new shoots. Their white and yellow blossoms will snuggle up to the wooden posts, and the lavender's scent will waft into the nose of anyone warming their soul in the spring sun on those rustic chairs.
All of this I can envision, and so much more. Back there, where the rose arch marks the entrance to a hidden trail, would be the perfect spot to create a pond with fish, water lilies, and reeds lining the shore, where even the most restless souls could find peace.
A place of power.
A place where everyone can be themselves.
"Hey," someone calls from a distance.
No, not yet . I want to stay in this dreamlike place for a moment longer.
"Watch out, you stupid cow!"
The loud roar of engines shatters the glass dome of my thoughts like a hammer blow. I tear myself away from the wreckage of my dream and blink rapidly to return to reality.
Searching for orientation, I look around. I find myself standing on the road, holding a cardboard box in my arms. The frayed ribbons of my apron and the worn corners of a photograph peek out.
Immediately in front of me, I spot three motorcycles with five girls and boys. Though their faces are hidden behind dark visors, their clothes indicate they must be around my age.
"Is she stupid or what?" Scornful laughter reaches my ears. "Why doesn't she get out of the way?"
Only now do I realize that I'm not just on the road but right in the middle of it. My pulse quickens instantly, and my palms become sweaty. Clutching the box tightly to my chest, I glance at the motorcycles.
"She's a beggar!" the girl with wild blond hair sticking out from under her helmet calls out. Her voice sounds familiar, but I can't place it. "She's blocking our path because she wants to beg from us."
No, I'm not…
"Exactly!" One of the boys laughs, the closed visor muffling his mocking tone. "No normal person would wear rags like those."
With pursed lips, I lower my gaze to my tattered sneakers, whose broken shoelaces I've replaced with garden twine.
In the corner of my eye, I see someone approaching me in brand-new leather ankle boots. "Wait a minute, I know her."
Feverishly, I try to identify the voice.
Is that Jakob?
Please, no.
I shake my head and march on before this gets even more uncomfortable than it already is.
Because you can never control yourself, Hanna. No wonder these things keep happening to you.
I don't know if it's my voice or my mother's now raging within me. I only know that she's speaking the truth.
By now, I've reached the edge of the road, but the motorcycles behind me remain eerily quiet.
Please, leave me alone , I silently beg. It's bad enough that less than an hour ago, I lost my apprenticeship, and I have no idea how I'm going to make it from here.
"I know her!" the male voice suddenly exclaims loudly. "That's Hanna Daydreamer!"
Damn.
I squeeze the corners of my cardboard box and quicken my pace.
The whole group follows with amused cheers. "Oh, so this is what she's become," sneers a woman, probably the blond one. "Suits her, don't you think?"
I desperately fight back the tears welling up inside me. Because now I know who these five are even though I still can't see their faces.
Jakob, Peter, Maria, Melanie, and Laura make up the coolest clique from my former school class. They not only witnessed me every day in class but were also in the audience during the project presentation.
Oh God, this just can't be happening.
"You've really made something of yourself, Hanna Daydreamer. Congratulations." Shortly after Jakob spits out the words, the engines finally rev up.
I dare to exhale. It will be over soon.
Keeping my gaze fixed ahead, I trudge along the road toward Semmtal.
The roar of the engines grows louder.
And even louder.
Soon, they will pass me. My heart thumps so hard against my chest that my whole body vibrates.
Shouting voices mingle with the motorcycles' rumble.
I hold my breath.
It's your own fault, Hanna . If you had just stopped daydreaming, they wouldn't have noticed you at all.
The motorcycles zoom past me so closely that I instinctively leap to the side. The cardboard box flies through the air, and I land on the outside of my foot, twisting my ankle.
A sharp pain shoots through me, and I collapse on the spot. I inhale sharply, the exhaust fumes from the bikes scratching at my lungs. Struggling, I prop myself up on my forearms and lift my head. That's when I see the blonde on the bike turn to me while the guy she's wrapped around from behind reduces speed.
"Freak!" she yells at the top of her lungs, flipping me off.
Then, at last, the five of them speed away, leaving me crouching by the roadside. Deep inside, I know the blond girl is right.
I am Hanna Daydreamer.
And Hanna Daydreamer is a freak.
On this planet, there is no place for me. So many times, my mother has tried to make me understand that, but I refused to believe it. The worlds in my head were too intoxicating, and the dreams in my imagination were too vast. I fought—and never once won.
I can’t go on like this. Here and now, I must finally admit the truth, whether I like it or not. If I ever want to live a normal life, I have only one choice: I have to become someone else.