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But honestly. Color in literature? What a strange concept. To me, color meant pictures, photography, art.
“Whenever color is used in literature, it usually stands for something. In old westerns, the protagonist always wore white and the antagonist wore...” She paused dramatically and splayed out a hand for the rest of the class to finish the sentence.
A few people mumbled, “black,” but the response was anything but enthusiastic.
Still, this color/symbolism thing hooked me, so I sat a little straighter and actually paid attention to what the teacher had to say.
“Black,” Ms. Holderread repeated. “Good.” She clapped her hands together and smiled indulgently at us as if she were addressing a classroom full of toddlers instead of teenagers. I decided I liked the woman. She knew how to find humor in an otherwise dreary situation.
“So, let’s talk about this black color, shall we? What do you think of when you hear black? Night? Dark? Scary.” She shivered for effect and rubbed at the sides of her arms as if she were chilled. “Now what do you think when you hear…black tie? Black belt? Black eye? Black sheep? Blackmail? Blackout? The meaning changes when the word associated with it changes. Don’t you find that interesting?”
I did, but I didn’t say so. When no one else said so either, Ms. Holderread rolled her eyes.
“What about white?” she pressed. “What comes to mind when you hear the word white? Purity? Cleanliness?”
I raised my hand. I have no idea why; it seemed to lift on its own accord because I certainly didn’t want to bring attention to myself. I’d received more tha
n my fair share of notice for the day.
Ms. Holderread lifted her eyebrows, letting me know my interest surprised her. Then she pointed my way, her smile brightening the room. “Grace?”
I licked my lips. “Well…in photography, white isn’t technically a color. I mean, it is, but it’s all colors…”
I stalled, feeling like a total moron. Other students turned to stare at me with vacant expressions as if I were some alien being, beamed down into their classroom. I shrank lower in my seat.
But the teacher didn’t roll her eyes. Instead, one of her brows perked with curiosity. “Interesting observation.” She smiled approvingly, which only made my pulse race faster from her praise. “Tell me, what is the scientific definition of white?”
My face heated; I hated having all eyes on me. “It’s, uh…it’s the reflection of the light from all the colors in the color spectrum. So, I guess it is a color, sort of. It’s just…all of them.”
“Very good.” She turned to address everyone else. “White is the complete presence of light, which gives it the symbolism for wholeness and completeness. I’d say this is why it’s also a very spiritual color. They use white when they depict God in pictures. The Bible claims Him as the Alpha and Omega, beginning and end, which goes along with the symbolism of wholeness and completion.”
Pointing out a kid in the back row, she said, “Will, what’s something else you think of when you hear the word white?”
“Uh…er, a white flag?”
“Very good. Samantha?”
As Samantha stammered out something about a white knight, my mind raced. I’d never thought about how color meant anything in stories. My big deal was pictures and photography, colors in portraits. Suddenly, I saw color in a new dimension with tons of deeper meaning.
The discussion around the room, mostly forced by Ms. Holderread, continued until she clapped her hands together again. “Here’s the question for the day. Actually, for the entire semester. If you were a color, which color would you be? For your semester project, I want everyone to pick what color you are, and explain why. Then I want you to back your answer with literary evidence. Give me examples from stories where this color is used as a symbol and how you feel it relates to you. I want it to be at least five pages long.”
Around me, everyone groaned. Typically, a five-page paper in English would’ve made me moan out my distress too, but I was too busy wondering.
What color would I be?
I glanced around me, and suddenly, every tint, tone, and shade stood out in vivid Technicolor. A gamut of light and dark. Symbolisms galore.
* * * *
Laina caught up with me again just after the last bell rang and I entered the hall. Actually, it was more like I caught up with her. I must’ve been in “junior” hall, because as I was making my way back to my locker, I spotted her twirling on her own combination.
“There you are,” I called, pausing beside her. “I was wondering where my guide went.”
She jumped and spun around to gape at me. “Oh. Uh, hi,” she said, immediately turning back to her locker to gather her homework.
Almost comforted by the fact she was shyer than I was, I lingered next to her as she filled her bag with books and papers. “So I survived through my first day. Go me. And I just wanted to thank you so much for showing me to my art class.” I didn’t demand to know why she’d bugged out on me for the rest of them. For some reason, I wanted to take her under my wing and coax her out of her shell.
I have no idea why, but something in me saw great potential in her. She just needed a friend to help bring her to life.
