Chapter 3

29 more days to go....

The next day, Mr Henderson gave us details on the beauty of writing and poetry. The way he spoke fascinated me. I've never really liked English or any subject for that matter but he made it seem so easy. He broke it down into tiny pieces, making sure everybody understood.

Rainer made school seem effortless. He passed all his subjects while living a life of partying, football and gaming. I, on the other hand, would study for 2 hours straight and the highest I could achieve was a C minus. A C minus!!

Rainer would score straight A's without even trying. No doubt, he had a photographic memory. Incredible, isn't it? Yeah. He was amazing

"Let me ask you guys a question" Mr Henderson said” who is the greatest writer of all time?"

All hands shot up, including mine. This is an easy question. He made his class simple and interactive. Usually, I would doodle away till the end of class but I'm actually interested.

"Yes Ruby?" He called me out

"William Shakespeare" I answered

"So you think. Ha! You're wrong"

Everyone whispered in disagreement. Who could it be then?

"The truth is, there is no correct answer to that question. There is no greatest writer of all time. It is all a matter of opinion. To you, Shakespeare could be the greatest but personally I prefer Marlowe. Never heard of him, have you?"

Everyone shook their heads

"Of course you haven't. In the city of the blind, the one-eyed man is the king. How can you name Shakespeare to be the greatest writer when you haven't read the works of other magnificent medieval aged writers, such as: Cervantes, Mark Twain, Durante Degli and so on. Your choices are only limited to what your mind knows." He explained "Janet" he called on a girl in front.

“Yes sir?"

"Who is your favourite musician?"

"Beyoncé, duh. She's the best"

"Great. To many of you, you may say she's the best, blah blah blah, but have you ever thought about the thousands of people who have better vocals and are better dancers. The problem is, they just haven't been recognised. Beyoncé is a Legend, no doubt about that but there are other people out there that could do better. It's all a matter of opinion"

A boy raised his hand up

"Yes Simon"

"I'm sorry to interrupt your talk and all but what does this have to with today's lesson?"

"Great question. All I'm trying to say is, there is no bad writing guys. It is all a matter of opinion. What is appealing to me may be disgusting to somebody else. Bottom line, most writers feel insecure and that affects their writing. Don't read someone else's work and feel discouraged or feel you're not good enough. For example, maths is a universal subject. 1 + 1 equals 2 everywhere in the entire universe but English is not. Grading papers is a matter of the marker's opinion. Sure there are rules but the person's perspective must always come into play. Do your best. Ask people to read through and if you don't get it right try and try again. Is that understood?"

Everyone nodded. Wow. I never thought of it that way at all.

He walked down the rows as he explained. He captured our attention with little effort. He didn't have to try too hard. Everyone looked at him. We were all eager for what he was about to say next. It wasn't just about his incredibly good looks. It was obvious he had a passion for this.

"Let's go back to our exercise of yesterday. Get a piece of paper and write about a challenge you had to overcome. Let's go"

I stared down at my book in fear. Embarrassment washed over me when I remembered what happened yesterday. How I tore up the papers and shoved them into my bag. How I ran out of class like a scared nine year old girl.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. The Contact was warm. I had the sudden urge to relax into the person's touch.

I looked up and saw it was Mr Henderson.

"I understand you might be going through a lot" he said "You have to try. You can't run away from your problems forever"

I blinked away the tears. Maybe I can try to run away from my problems.

I didn't say anything though. I sat down and stared at my empty book. I stared at it till my tears soaked the page.

*

The next class I had was art. I felt happy and relieved. This is a class I can relate to and do well in. Rainer and I used to paint together all the time. It was our way of bonding.

Everyone in this class had their canvas and easel set in front of them, paint brushes ready in our hands. We were just 12 students in this class which is great. The fewer the better for me. It felt less suffocated than the others.

Our teacher is a woman by the name; Miss Rose. She physically defined art. She was dressed in a pink shirt tucked in a blue skirt and purple heels. It seemed like she put her art into her fashion as well. Her outfit reminds me of a rainbow, a very colourful rainbow. Her hair was in a chin length bob. She had a positive spirit which you could feel when you entered her class. I think the cool teachers might be the highlights of the school.

"Art is freedom" Miss Rose stated "It is not meant to be forced. Art is a means of escaping problems. There is no limit to what you can do with just a paper and a pencil. Play with colours. Let your feelings come alive. Unlike other classes, I cannot tell you what to do in here. Let your emotions guide you. Begin!"

I stared at the blank canvas.

Blank.

That was when I realised our future is blank, just like this board. We don't know what our future holds. Our life is a blank canvas; we are the paint brushes and the choices we make at the paints. We are the designers and artists of our lives. We decide how we want our life to go. The thought of it dawned on me all of a sudden. It scared me

I held the paintbrush tightly in my hand and gulped. I looked at the white canvas.

I never knew white could be such an intense colour until now. It blinds you with its perfection. It is the colour of purity they say and it is true. Your life is as white as this blank canvas. On the day we are born, we are as pure as pure can be till we paint it wrongly and cover it with our Darkness

I felt dizzy. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths

*flashback*

"La la la la" a thirteen-year-old me sang as I painted on my canvas.

Rainer and I were painting in my room like we usually did.

I stopped to admire my almost finished painting. It was a painting of a lost girl in the woods. I smiled to myself in pride. I became better at drawing over the years. It was something my brother and I loved doing together. It helped us bond.

Come take a look Rain" I said excitedly “You’ll like it"

"Shhh!!" He hushed me from the other end of the room

I looked at him in shock. Did he just hush me?

"Rude" I snapped

He didn't pay me any attention. He pressed his ear to the canvas and closed his eyes. His breathing was slow and heavy. I bent my head to the side in confusion.

"What are you doing?" I asked him

"I'm listening"

I laughed

"Listening to what exactly"

"Listening to it. It will tell me what to paint"

"Don't be silly! It's just a canvas"

"That's what you think. Nothing is just the way it is Ruby. There is more to this life than what it seems. Art is more than what meets the eye. You have to attach yourself to what you love to truly understand and perfect it"

I blinked in shock. Is he running mental?

You see, my brother is what you can describe as weird. He thinks deep, deeper than kids his age should. He has always been different. Kids his age watch Disney channel and play games. He would spend his time watching Nat Geo Wild, memorizing the works of Shakespeare and Googling weird stuff like 'where do we go when we die?'

He was just thirteen yet he spoke like he was 30. He lived in a self-delusional world. He was always extremely happy for no reason. I love him with every bone in my body but his behaviour scared me.

"Mum!" I called. Luckily my room door was open so she could hear me

"Yes?" she answered from her room

"Rainer's running mad!"

"That's just the way he is honey!"

That really is the way he was

He sighed and detached himself from the canvas.

"W-what did it tell you?" I asked him

"It told me to draw a tree"

"You've lost it" I whispered

He looked at me intensely. His pair of green eyes meeting my blue ones.

"No I haven't. One day you'll understand"

He was wrong. I never did understand, even to this very day.

*end of flashnack*

I opened my eyes. The canvas was still blank. My vision became blurry with tears.

Oh Rainer! If only I understood you better back then, you would still be here

I was wrong in the past. You're not mad or weird. No. You were special. Too special for this shallow world to comprehend.

I closed my eyes and pressed my ear against the canvas, just like Rainer did. I breathed slowly and concentrated for the canvas to speak to me

1 minute

2 minutes

3 minutes

Everywhere remained silent

Nothing

I heard nothing