The Artist

Anything

Spike

I STAND ON the unfamiliar crowded hallway with lots of unfamiliar faces when I spot just the person I want to see – Alexander Lux – coming to me. How he spots me so fast, I have no idea but it may be the fact that I'm the only junior here. Just a hunch, you know?

"Hey, what brings you here?" He says, leaning opposite me.

I'm about to answer when Steven comes in as well, followed by Rick who actually voices what I've been waiting to say for a while, "You know a junior said a senior would visit a junior historic event?" He scoffs, "like that would ever happen."

I don't say anything yet. This guy has never liked me since when and now is no different when he ignores my presence completely.

Steven adds, "if he wanted to be popular, he could've been our slave or something, you know?"

Steven, I've realised, is that he's doesn't care whether I'm here or not and always treats me like I'm too irrelevant to even be disliked. Alexander shakes his head, then nudges me, "atleast you'd never do anything so stupid."

I shrug, "I'm glad you like my invitation." He shakes his head, looking at me in a sort of offensive way. Rick snorts and Steven looks as if he's about to step on me.

"you know," I go on, "we've hung out for some time now and I realise that we've come to the end of our relationship. It's not me, it's you."

I walk off to the bathroom and wash my face and walk back downstairs.

Juliet waits for me at the bottom of the stairs and we walk off to the bleachers and I take out my note book and draw to her how I really feel.

When I'm done and show it to her, she says, "your drawing really has improved. You're almost as good as your mom…" we both cringe but my reason is because I don't like myself being compared to her. She cringed because my mom is horrible to her.

"Tell me what happened." I look around then back at her and lean in. "I would but you hate keeping secrets."

She scoffs, "I do not!"

She does. And here's why. "You get guilt-ridden and stress takes a toll on you. You can be ashamed of it or own up to it."

She huffs, looked away. I continue, "you're like a bottle waiting to explode if you don't share those secrets."

I give her an example. "How about for a fact that before you came along, nobody could even name the cologne I use for a daily basis?"

She stands up and puts her hands on her hips. "Bye, Spike." I wave to her when she turns around and walks up the steps, fuming all the while.

A few short seconds and I taking in what's infront of me. The soccer field looks very much like a professional stadium, made for the European premiere league or something.

I take out my journal. My dad got it for me in Moscow and I've been using it since I got into this dumb school.

I start scribbling.

Date: Today.

My life sucks.

Scratch that.