Like Mother Like Daughter

Chapter 31

I was over at Tom's house the night before prom, sitting on his bed, trying to teach him how to draw. We just started with simple things like dogs and chickens. He wasn't good at the floppy dog-ears though.

"Uh-no; no, no, no, no, no, dogs don't have beaver tails for ears, Tom," I chuckled and handed him the eraser. He huffed.

"Why can't I draw a person?" he asked. I gave him a look. "And I'm not referring to stick person," he said. I huffed and ripped out another sheet of paper from my sketchbook.

"Alright, draw me," I demanded. Tom seemed to freeze in place.

"On second thought, I'll stick to dog ears," he said. I chuckled.

"It's alright. Everyone is capable as art but everyone learns with their own pace," I said.

"How long did it take you?" he asked.

"About seven, my dad enrolled me in after school art lessons behind my mom's back. She thought I was at violin lessons. It helped when she dropped me off, because the music building was three doors away from art school," I replied. Tom chuckled.

"That makes sense that your dad would do that. Do you play violin?" he asked.

"No. No god no. I cut my index finger who knows how many times trying to wind up those damn strings," I replied. Tom tried re-drawing the dog's ear again. "Hey, that's better. You see, you're way better than stick figure level," I said.

"Thank you," he replied, his eyes never left mine. I sighed and started to put my papers away. Tom picked up my ink pen.

"What's this for?" he asked.

"That is a tool used in temporary tattoos. It’ll come off with olive oil," I replied. Tom had a coy smile plastered on his lips as he inspected the pen.

"You want to try don't you?" I asked.

"Very much yes," he replied and handed me the pen. I pulled up his sweater sleeve to reveal his forearm.

"So don't move, or it'll end up looking like your little sister used you as an art project," I said. Tom scoffed.

"Uh-yeah because that-that-that would be pretty bad, especially at school and stuff..." he said. I cocked my eyebrow at him.

"Oh my god," I laughed.

"What?" he asked. Sally used him as a human canvas!

"When did it happen?" I asked.

"I'll tell you about it some other time, just draw something," he replied.

"Yes sir." I replied and started sketching a flock of birds from the middle of his arm to the tip of his elbow. Tom pulled his arm away and inspected the birds carefully.