Chapter 44: Deadline

Friday

RHYS'S P.O.V.

I have no idea why I even showed up today.

I didn't exactly show up the entire day, though. I only snuck in mid-classes to show up to the last class which is art. This is all because I got another threat earlier from Mr. Teach at 4am when we were on the same convenient store because I couldn't sleep. He said that I'll get a failing grade from him if I don't attend his last session (which is most likely a lie and he'll just give me detention even after I graduate). So, I'm here. And even if this is the only class I've attended today, it's been hell. Long story short, we're back to normal. Except, everyone was still going on yesterday about my situation and they're pining on it the entire time. It's like the mixture of some of the highlighted bullying strategies throughout the years flashed before me throughout this day. And I was here for just barely 2 hours.

One by one, people are reciting their poems and showing their art. One of the poems even mentioned my last name as a metaphor to something pathetic. And of course, there were some name-calling and mocks now and then, but I couldn't care less. All the sounds were just a background noise for me at this point. Like all of them, the events of yesterday are still brushing up my mind as I was staring at the window.

I kept asking myself, 'What now?' over and over and over again but I didn't have a single fucking clue.

It has been raining nonstop since last night, and I'm pretty sure it's getting worse. That's part of the main reason I couldn't hear anything inside because the rain was loud as hell. I think Rose might be right then, a storm could be brewing right now. That conversation we had a few days ago struck me. It's strange how much smarter she can be sometimes, and she's younger than me. Must be a writer thing. She gets smarter so quick and writes much more than before. I scoff to myself. Can't believe I've been trying to protect her all my life but she's clearly a much better person than I am.

My repetitive question now changed to, 'What the fuck have I become?'

"Harrison!"

Someone suddenly yells as loud as the rain. "What?!" I look to my side, ready to snap any moment to whoever called me. But it seems everyone was staring at me silently… even Mr. Teach. I stood up, "Uh, yeah?" Everyone laughs. My eye twitches.

"You're up." Mr. Teach enunciates, "Did you even try to do your homework?"

I look down at the paper on my desk with my poem on it, all ready and prepared. With some hesitation, I take a deep breath before grabbing it, and the painting, and walking to the front of the class. Before I could reach it, someone puts their leg out which almost made me trip, but I catch myself slickly. There were a few chortles and mocks, but I slowly get up and keep walking.

Because of the bullying, everyone made me feel terrified for simply existing. I've always tried to become different sorts of things to try impress them. When I realized nothing ever worked, I gave up and decided to just become my shitty self. So, standing in front of the whole class didn't make me break a sweat. I was getting more used to it, and at this point, I just stopped caring. The only thing I haven't done besides existing to everyone was actually proving myself and showing what I'm capable of.

"Okay, show us the painting first."

I steady my hands and show it to everyone. Suddenly, all their laughs faded as they were staring at the portrait. I was waiting for a jest or something, but the room was mostly quiet while others were whispering to each other. There was one kid fully in denial that shouted, "How much did you pay for that?!"

Pursing my lips, I let the painting stand on top of the teacher's desk. I unzipped my oversized long hoodie and removed it to reveal my basic white shirt. And a lot of different color paints on it along with my arms. After that, everyone was now completely mute, and their eyes shifted back to the painting. Thank God I didn't shower today.

"Fantastic! You truly are an artist. How long did that take, Harrison?" Mr. Teach asks.

I try to remember last night, but I couldn't get an exact measurement. I answer, "All night, I guess."

"So, tell us all about it."

"Oh uh… I mostly used acrylic paint for it. I don't remember the brand… I think I actually got assorted ones. I also used a lot of different brushes, well, is tootbrush considered a bru—"

"Not the process of the painting, Rhys! The purpose of the painting. Tell us that."

That's weird. I don't remember him asking that to the other students. I wasn't really paying attention anyway. But I try to think of a response.

I take a good look at my painting.

It was a simple painting of two hands carefully holding a radiant purple flower emitting light.

And above those hands were a bunch of other withering and bland purple flowers floating on a shallow pond. From a standpoint view, it would look like those two hands picked that special one up. The background was very dark. It was just black. But that unique flower shun warm colors around itself. That flower that was held was very colorful, but was mostly purple.

I probably stared at it for an hour after I've finished it but I didn't know why I did that or even created it. Up until now. Going back to his question, I answer truthfully, "I have no idea. I was completely out of it yesterday. Honestly, I wanted to just give up. I didn't care anymore. Or I thought I didn't. Because something, maybe, came up in my mind and I just had to create this. So, I stayed up all night to finish it. I don't know my purpose for it. But I did create a poem afterwards. Hopefully it makes sense."

The paper was hidden behind the portrait. I grab it and show him that I did it.

"You even did your poem. Let's hear it."