Glass [ENG]

19. Bright Crayons

"Sacrifice. That's what it's called," Valentia said firmly, finally settling into the back seat.

"It's either that or a dirty, cramped bus ride." Tristan pushed the gas pedal on the green light, grabbing the gear handle and focusing his eyes on the street. "You have to take my word for it, my dear. I'm sober. At least I should be..."

The sun was already hanging slightly over the edge of the trees, just bringing the colors in the sky back to life. Its rays hit us from the right side, already raising the morning temperature. Slightly lowered windows let in still cool breezes, replacing the air conditioning. Because Valentia, from what I learned during the two-minute drive, wasn't going to fix the one in her car.

"Oh please... How many times have they stopped us, with you in the lead, and made us wait so long that we were literally late for everything?" She fought Tristan's hypotheses, deeply accenting the key words.

The Braid laughed, adjusting his strange sunglasses and lifting his head slightly towards the front mirror.

"How long do you have a driver's license? A month? When your time comes, they won't be able to stop us, because you're gonna drive into a police car yourself!"

He was answered with a snort of contempt. Minimally amused by their exchange, I sleepily turned my head to look at the image in front of and around the car.

The sight of nature prevailing over the village was no longer so annoying for me. I did not notice when my dislike of all greenery turned into indifference. It was just part of this town. Its eternal feature. And being here, I started to get used to it.

"I think your phone's ringing."

Tristan drew attention to himself with this sentence, pointing his finger in the direction of my legs, where there was also my backpack-bag. Indeed, the vibrations penetrated its material, even reaching my feet. I bent down to take out the device. And I was going to call back later because I didn't feel comfortable enough around the other two to pick up the phone in front of them.

But when I saw who was calling, the blood drained from my face, and I felt a momentary, crushing pressure in my stomach. The reality of last night came back to me with a vengeance.

It was a call I couldn't turn down.





The sight of children playing in the main part of the Sanctum had never been as exciting as it was right then. Or maybe I just zoned out, barely able to code their laughs and faces. Colorful clothes flashed before my eyes, mixing with each other like crayons on canvas under their feet.

I was unconsciously turning my cup around, which had lost its heat a long time ago. Noticing this movement, I stopped and put my hands next to it. The day after Tristan drove me home, I was sitting right there. At the Sanctum. Because everything had turned by a hundred and eighty degrees in the span of a day. I was back to square one.

I looked away from the kids when the boy ran through the entrance to the accompaniment of a loud bell noise. An orange backpack and a storm of curls fell into the other colors, immediately forming a whole with them.

"You took my spot."

I looked at the large bag lying slightly behind my chair, and then again at the boy I knew well. The tightness in my chess was no longer strange to me. It was just there. Still as bothering as the first time. Benjamin Benston himself had unwittingly made his way into my chest, causing this feeling.

Involuntarily I looked at the entrance and noticed his cousin standing next to it. He took off his black coat and for a random set of events, he had under it his orange, loose T-shirt. In sweatpants, sneakers and with the eternal watch on his wrist, he looked as unusual as well as natural.

I was expecting them because it was a typical time for Benjamin to come to his classes. Or just to meet other kids over crayons and cocoa. So, I didn't know if noon became the most convenient time for me to be there, or I came there subconsciously because of them.

However, when the honey gaze lazily wandering around the room met mine, I began to lean towards the second option.

For a good while, Kendrick stood there, watching Benjamin for a moment longer and making a barely perceptible exhalation, until finally he moved in my direction with a slow, distrustful step. He didn't make eye contact with me until he was standing on the other side of my table, at a safe distance. Then he looked at me blankly.

"You came back with Tristan and Valentia."

Not for long I kept his gaze, because after a moment I shifted my gaze to the window, without turning my head. I felt like I was stuck in a physical suspension, even though emotionally I was going through the exact opposite. I wasn't looking at anything in particular. My eyes were just... somewhere.

"I did."

I managed to hear a slight, tired, another exhalation.

"You haven't slept."

I turned my attention away from the window and focused it on the guy, who was standing in the same, motionless position. I wanted to understand his actions. To understand what he could have meant by asking every question and being in this very place. Right in that moment.

However, the twinkle in his eyes and my strong exhaustion caused by the latest news, which were increasingly working to my disadvantage, made me stop holding so much from saying anything. My supposedly perfect mask started crumbling because I held it to my face for too long. It started to affect what was underneath. The cold began to paralyze what was left of me.

And apparently Kendrick knew that, too. Somehow.

At some point, I started nervously playing with the cup in front of me again.

"I got a call from the landlord."

After a brief moment, I saw Kendrick take a seat in front of me from the corner of my eye. It was a slow and cautious move. I could see that his head was pointed straight at me, so I crossed our gazes, ceasing to fight with myself. He frowned slightly, his elbows rested motionless on the armrests of his chair, and his eyes, a little less tired than before, were looking into mine in concentration and even in understanding.

Despite the recent events that have made air thicker around and between us, I felt like he understood why I got that call. He was at the scene. He saw what I saw. He smelled the same smell. He was drowning his shoes in the same ashes. He sensed the same hostile aura in the air.

And I think I was right, because he took a deep breath and was about to open his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by Benjamin coming out of nowhere.

Of course, I realized the moment I was locked in a child's embrace. The force of the impact lifted the chair for a millisecond, slightly scaring me, but the warmth of the fragile silhouette sent a familiar wave of piece through my body. And closing my eyes, I let it consume me. Knowing what the future held for me, I returned the hug with equal force. Even a short sigh came out of my mouth. I didn't know if it was filled with relief or regret.

"Nice to see you, too."

When he moved away after my words, he gave me a smile that faded right off and unexpectedly gave way to a strong irritation. But he didn't point it in my direction, he pointed it in Kendrick's.

"Josh is here again! Can we go somewhere else?"

I was a little surprised at these words and turned my gaze towards the honey-eyed one, looking for an answer. He was already looking at a group of children, and in particular at one, pale, black-haired boy. He sat a little apart from the others, chaotically using a large number of crayons around him.

I felt a familiar stomach ache.

"He takes other people's crayons and doesn't even use them!"

Kendrick exhaled, debating with himself in his mind for a moment, but finally turned to Benjamin. His expression was resigned and completely devoid of energy.

"Alright. Get your things and wait for me."

And seeing the deep relief on the green-eyed boy's face, I understood. When he ran off to the other children, I looked back at Kendrick, who was wiping his face with his hand. For a moment I considered the propriety of my actions, but in the end, I said:

"That's the boy who hit him."

At my words, he tore himself away from his hand, hesitantly confirming my words with a nod of his head.

A chill filled my stomach as I watched Josh again. No child dared to come within a meter of him. Slouching, dressed in expensive clothes and with an expression that gave away absolutely nothing. He did not encourage, but rather gave a warning sign to others. No one picked on him. No one provoked him. No one was a threat to him.

"Glass."

I didn't notice when Josh's image became a little blurry until I turned my attention to the boy across from me. Even he was smearing. His perceptive, attentive gaze barely broke through the fog before my eyes.

"It's just a kid, Kendrick." I smiled weakly, although I was far from happy.

Without thinking any more, I got up and walked unsteadily towards the canvas. Towards the children. For a moment, the tables and chairs seemed like a maze, making me dizzy, but I quickly found myself next to a lanky silhouette, crouching right in front of it. My thoughts immediately cleared out.

Two dark charcoals turned in my direction. The boy stopped his aggressive drawing, frowning. His hands were disfigured by a few scabs on his fingers. His coolness was so familiar, it hurt me. He was waiting for me to say something.

I looked at what he had drawn, and seeing a picture of a bright, intense sunset over a dark, deep sea, I said:

"You've got some talent."

And at this the boy was only more surprised, and then lowered his gaze to the canvas. When he said nothing, taking another crayon with the apparent intention of ignoring me, I added:

"Someone must have hurt you pretty bad."

That only made him press the object harder to the canvas.

"But I'm sure it wasn't any of those kids." I showed him a group of children nearby. He followed my stare.

Anger was back on his face. But before he said anything, I carefully grabbed some bright color, bringing my hand closer to the drawing. For this movement, he grabbed me tightly by the wrist and I felt that behind this aggression was stress. His hand was warm and sweaty. She was shaking mine involuntarily.

"Don't be afraid," I said, bringing both my hand and his to the canvas.

Rolling his lips into a thin line, he did not oppose.

Then, on a dark, densely painted watercolor, I began to draw an oval shape more strongly. After a while, it started to stand out, and then I added the fins. The boy's injured hand, though still on my glove, began to relax. But it was still on mine. So, he felt how much force I was putting in, so that the light color could land on the dark one.

"See?" I asked, putting down my crayon.

And I think he did. He watched the drawing with an expression of wonder on his face. Emotion crept into his eyes, though he still kept it hidden.

When he didn't do anything or say anything for a long while, I found that there was nothing more I could do. I thought what he saw didn't cover him enough to give him any more clues.

And then he grabbed another crayon and started drawing patterns on the fish I'd drawn, using all his strength. With his strokes, it became more beautiful, full of life. The Black Sea was no longer so empty.

I turned my head towards the children and saw how they looked at the situation. Even Benjamin stood still, holding a packed backpack. His eyes were big as dollar coins, and his mouth was slightly open in surprise.

I nodded at him as an invitation. I saw him hesitate and procrastinate, but he finally moved, walking slowly in our direction. His hands were tied protectively to the straps of his backpack, and when he was standing right next to me, Josh took his eyes off the ground and lifted him to his peer.

As he exhaled, he turned around and grabbed the entire package of unused crayons. He drew it hesitantly towards Benston, who, equally uncertain, reached out his trembling hand and accepted the box.

"Thanks," he said weakly. But I heard he said what he meant.

Josh just nodded. Then he looked at me, giving the stink eye, not quite knowing what he was going to do next, so I nodded myself, giving him a small smile. I felt he was going to do the right thing. I didn't have proof, but I believed it. My intuition led me.

And then Josh turned to Benjamin.

"Can you draw?"

Benston must have blinked a few times before he answered:

"A little bit."

He put the backpack down, in the meantime taking the appropriate crayon and sending me a look full of gratitude, but not entirely relieved of concern. He wasted no time and quickly began to paint the sea in a slightly brighter color. He and Josh unwittingly began to exchange remarks about the length and thickness of the individual elements. The whole room at some point went back to its usual state. The tension was fading with each moment. Even though it was still there.

Then I got up from my knees, gathered my strength, and turned to my table. There I encountered another obstacle.

Kendrick's stare. The one I've been dreading since I first came to this town.

Wondering, but at the same time enlightened. As if he discovered something. Understood. Exposed. The information in his head seemed to flow at the speed of light. His frown was slight, his eyelids were wide open, and the gleam in them was well known to me. But there was more curiosity than ever in that golden glow. More interest.

And I wasn't going to react, but when I got to the chair and grabbed my coat, I heard on my right: "I think we need to talk."

So, I was going to turn to him and ask him about what exactly, but when my eyes fell on him, I understood. The pressure in the chest only got worse. Because he was looking with the same, perhaps more pensive gaze at my chair, or rather at what was just behind it.

My bag.

I looked where he did. I ran my hand through my hair, mechanically fixing my ponytail, and exhaled slowly, though heavily, through my nose. I felt like someone grabbed me by the throat. Like someone put a foot on my lungs.

Finally, I picked up the bag from the floor, put it on my shoulder with some difficulty, and looked up at Kendrick. I was surprised when he put on his own coat.

And I think he sensed my confusion, because he said:

"I mean now."

Panic crept into my soul.

"What about Benjamin?" I asked, looking for any way out of this situation.

With his coat on, he straightened up, his arms crossed on his torso, and with an inscrutable, though still emotionally unstable, gaze, he burned holes in my eyes.

"We're here a lot, and the owner always keeps an eye on him."

But before I could ask him anything else, Kendrick turned away and walked briskly toward the exit, waving goodbye to Benjamin on his way out. He waved back to him, adding an amused expression to his face hidden behind a chaotic cascade of curls.

And then I felt in my whole body and mind that I couldn't back down.

Because that was what I was trying so hard to avoid.

Total destruction of my mask.