Chapter 3

Malia's POV

As the shadow came over me, I looked down at the ground already knowing what this was about and who it was, but the Prada sneakers confirmed that I was totally right.

"Where were you this morning? I'm really sad that we didn't get to do our first day routine," she said with mock disappointment.

This so-called first day routine involved her and her cronies attacking me in the parking lot, hallway, or courtyard and then purposely spilling her entirely too expensive, large coffee down my shirt; all while her "friends" watched and video taped. They would send the video around the school and by first period everyone would know what had happened and would be laughing about it.

" Really we're going with the silent treatment again...I know you can talk, freak. Now answer the questions before I get really angry," she sneered.

I didn't even look up. I already knew that no matter what I said or did this was going to end the same way so I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of getting a reaction from me.

" Ok I guess that's how we're playing it today. That's better for me anyway I get out of having to look at your ugly face for another day," she said as she stepped closer.

I closed my eyes waiting for the worst and like I'd guessed I felt a ton of cold liquid get poured over the top of my head and drip down my back. I didn't even flinch. I stayed with my face in my knees hoping that they would just leave me alone.

" Enjoy getting that out of your clothes."

She laughed as she threw her cup at my head and walked off with her friends at her side. When I was sure that they were gone, I picked up my head making all the ice cubes slide down into my shirt. My hair and back was already getting sticky as it dripped. I got up quickly, grabbing my bag, as I raced off to the nearest bathroom.

I went straight for the handicap stall, pulling my shirt off as soon as I got the door locked. I dropped my bag at my feet and dropped my soaked shirt in the sink. I turned the water on and started to rub out the gross brown stains with some of the cheap, useless hand soap. After a few minutes of futile scrubbing, I gave up. I wrung out my shirt before putting in the front pocket of my backpack hoping it wouldn't ruin anything. I took out my jacket and zipped it up, covering my sticky bra. Before I could attempt to fix my hair the bell rang so I completely threw it into a bun and rang off to get to class on time. Everyone laughed as I passed them in the hallway and I was sure that they'd all seen the video by now. I could put my hood up or pull my hair to cover my face so I just had to take it.

Thank god I had art! Nobody could bother while Mrs. Longo was in the room. It was also the last class I had before senior privilege. As soon as I rounded the corner, I could smell the spicy scent of the candles that Mrs. Longo always had burning in her class room. I started to relax when I could see her smiling face holding the door open for her students. She was holding a glass bowl in her hands and when I got to her she said,

" Grab a card. All of the tables are labeled with a number, so whatever number you have on the card is your table."

I reached my hand into the bowl and pulled a small, folded pink card. As I walked in I unfolded and in pretty curlicue writing was the number 2. I found my seat at one of the tables at the front, right next to the window. It was perfect. I pulled my sketchbook out immediately and tried my best to ignore the laughs of everyone that was already in the room. As people came in and found their table, I waited anxiously to see who I would be sitting next too, but when the bell rang, I breathed a breath of relief realizing that I wouldn't have anyone. I looked up from my page and noticed that Mrs. Longo had come in to start class yet.

It was obvious she was looking when she stood at the door after the bell and was searching the hallway. She looked behind the door and a large smile came upon her face.

" Good to see you again. Grab a number and find your table," she repeated the smile never leaving her face.

When the figure she was talking became visible in the door, I gasped. I clenched my pencil tightly between my fingers as I realized that it was the same guy that I had seen earlier this morning. The same army green shirt and leather wrap bracelets, the only thing that had changed was the black jacket that he'd put on. My cheeks grew warm as he walked in and quickly looked back to my page so that nobody would notice I was blushing. Then there was a squeak beside me and I realized that he was sitting down on the stool beside me. I glanced out of the corner of my eye, but he paid me no mind. Pulling out a couple of notebooks and a pencil.

" Ok class, let's get this year started. So I hope that you've had a wonderful first day so far and that your senior years' have started out well. For anyone that may not know me, you shouldn't be in this class," she paused as a couple people giggled, " But in case any of you have forgotten me over the summer, my name is Mrs. Longo and I will be your art teacher this year. You may be wondering why I would have all you pick numbers instead of having you sit whenever you want like every other year, but I do have a good reason. Art has a lot to do with each artist's individual experiences so it's always good to hear about peoples', other than your friends, lives. So now I want you to look at the person sitting beside you." She stopped to let us do that, but I didn't move neither did my table mate.

" Many of you have never met before. Many of you probably didn't even know the other existed, but that doesn't mean that you can't get along. That doesn't mean that you can't learn anything from each other. Which brings me to the reason for the seat assignment, the person sitting next to you will be your project partner for the rest of the year. And don't even think about switching seats because I know where you're all sitting. It also brings me to this year's first project , you all will have to take a picture and paint a portrait, in your style, of your partner in their favorite place; you also have to write a paragraph explaining why the person said it was their favorite place."

The whole class groaned and I could hear a few people facepalming. I didn't react to the assignment on the outside, but on the inside, I was screaming. Don't get me wrong I love portraits, but I hated having to work with other people. Especially the person sitting beside me who I'd already embarrassed myself in front of. I started to fidget with my pencil and shake my leg on the rung of the stool.

" Quiet down everyone...this is a lot, I know, especially for those that really have no clue who they're sitting with, but it won't be for nothing. This will be due at the end of the first quarter and whoever I believe captures the best likeness of their partner will get to pick the final portfolio topic while everyone else is assigned one. Now you have the period to talk with your partner and figure out how you are going to do this," she announced before sitting down at her desk and continuing to paint the canvas in her easel.

I squeezed my pencil tighter and stayed completely still, hoping that he wouldn't start up a conversation. I glanced at him again and saw that he was sketching something. I couldn't see what it was, but he seemed pretty concentrated so I went back to sketching. I had absentmindedly started the outline of calla lily when I walked in the room, but in the rest of my classes, I had also sketched a couple different species of flora. I continued to detail the lilies until I noticed that my table mate had stopped sketching and was now looking at what I was doing. I kept going, not giving away that I noticed he was staring.

" Do you only draw flowers?" He asked suddenly causing me to break my pencil lead.

" Um...no I like to draw lots of kinds of flora and fauna and I also really like portraiture when I can find a subject that I think is particularly striking," I replied quickly.

" So this project is basically meant for you then?"

" Yeah, I guess so but there are a lot of people in this class that are good at portraiture. It was one of the main projects last year, but it was a self portrait instead," I said, pinching the skin of my thigh to get my hands to stop shaking.

He didn't answer, he just went back to intently searching whatever it was. I pulled out another pencil, but couldn't go back to sketching. I trapped butt of the pencil on my sketchbook a few times before turning to face him and opening my mouth to speak.

" What about you? What do you like to sketch?"

" Landscapes, things in a classroom when I'm bored, but mostly just random things that pop into my head," he said looking up to look me in the eye.

" Can I see what you're sketching right now? I mean it's only fair; you saw mine," I asked, hopefully sounding nonchalant.

He didn't reply again but pushed his sketchbook toward me with a smug smile. As his hands got closer, I could see black paint on his fingers and under his finger nails probably from whatever he was painting this morning. I looked away from his hands to his book when he pulled them back. He had sketched Mrs. Longo's coffee cup with a cooky looking cat on it, one of her candles, and then my pencil case that was shaped like an apple. I pushed his book back to him and looked back down at the table not knowing where to go from there. This was the longest conversation I'd had with anyone at school that wasn't a teacher.

" You don't talk much do you?" I blurted out without thinking; I blushed immediately.

" I don't find the need to fill empty space with words that don't mean anything, but are just there to get rid of silence. If I have something meaningful to say I will but other than that yeah, I do keep pretty silent." He replied never picking up his head.

The bell rang before I could say anything else to embarrass myself and he got quickly throwing his books randomly into his bag. I collected my stuff slowly and probably wouldn't get up till everyone else left. Right before leaving, the stranger whispered.

" I like your hair down better."

I blushed immediately as red as a firetruck. He left right after and I couldn't help thinking back to this morning. So he had seen me...Goddess why did I have to be such a clutz!