✺ 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 ✺- Josh Kiszka

Part 11

This repeated for the next couple of days. We had begun texting more often as well, staying up, asking each other stupid questions and just telling each other life stories. I told him about my mom and how my dad wasn't really present. I opened up to him about many things I didn't think I would tell anyone other than Violet, and I was met with only kind and understanding responses from Josh. He made me feel comfortable.

He opened up too. He talked about his personal life and his family. He explained his funny family stories but also the realistic ones.

On Wednesday, we walked to our third period in the art hall in the far back of the school. We were talking, as usual, then parted ways before the bell rang.

I made my way into the AP art room and sat down. The smell of various art mediums filled my nose. The light sound of fluttering paper filled the almost silent room as the fan blew onto an open sketchbook.

We had just finished our latest project in the class; a painting representing how you want to grow in life. The assignment required oil paint on canvas, which was my favorite medium to use. We had to use the impressionist style, so not as much detail but more blending colors.

My art piece showed an image of a bleeding hand reaching from darkness towards the sun. I had wanted it to portray being able to come out of a dark place in your life and work towards the light.

Our teacher explained how the school would be hosting an art show, presenting art from AP drawing, painting, ceramics, and photography in the cafeteria. She also explained that all of our oil paintings would be displayed for the art show as well.

We continued on with class for the next hour and a half, learning about the next project we would be starting using acrylic paints.

I'm not too fond of acrylic. I thought to myself as I began to stop paying attention.

The class dragged on as we took more notes on the use of acrylic paint and the next style we would be basing our paintings on.

The bell finally rang, and I began to pack my things. My teacher, Mrs. Darby, approached me as I was about to leave. She was a very interesting woman. Interesting in a good way. She was a very 'classic art teacher.' She wore big skirts in all colors and always had paint all over her clothes and arms.

"Hey!" She asked me, "Can I ask you a big favor?"

"Sure, what is it?" I responded.

"Would you be willing to stay a bit after school today and help out with setting up for the art show? If you have other things going on, completely understandable, but it will count as some extra credit towards your grade on the oil project." She added.

That sounds like a deal. I thought.

"Of course," I responded, "After school today?"

"Yes, right after fourth period, just come straight here." She said, handing me a green pass. "Thank you, dear! You're a big help."

"No problem," I replied. "See you after fourth."

Fourth period went by pretty quickly. No new assignments or projects. It was pretty much just a free block that we could use to catch up on any work we may have missed.

When the final bell rang, I gathered my stuff and headed back down to the art room.

On the way, I grabbed my phone out of my pocket and texted Violet that I wouldn't be home for a bit that night so she wouldn't randomly show up to hang out and I wouldn't be there.

When I arrived, Mrs. Darby gathered students' art pieces and began carrying them out to the cafeteria.

"Hey! Would you mind gathering the ones left on the tables there and bringing them out?"

"Sure," I responded, setting my bookbag and phone down on one of the tables that had been put out at the end of the hall.

I began carrying the rest of the canvases out to the cafeteria and placing them on the tables. On the far wall of the cafeteria were four large rolling cork boards. These were used to hang up students' work around the school. They already had pins in them, and all we had to do was hang up the canvases and place the students' names below them.

After putting the majority up, we realized we didn't have enough room. We still had about ten canvases left, and the cork boards were completely full.

"Well, that won't do." Mrs. Darby observed. "Would you mind going down to the end of the art hall and checking the storage closet for an extra rolling board? It's the closet connected to the back of the auditorium."

"Yeah," I said as I made my way back down to the art hall. I walked all the way down to the end of the hall and found the huge double doors with the sign next to it labeled 'storage.' I pushed the doors open and turned on the lights. It was a pretty big room filled with shelves, old desks, cleaning supplies and random crap. I looked around the room for a few minutes but didn't see any rolling boards.

I was about to leave when I heard talking.

Are there other people here?

No, the talking was coming from the back of the storage closet where another set of doors was.

I walked to the back of the closet, around some shelves and over to the doors. A sign read' backstage auditorium on the wall next to the doors.'

The talking had become more distinct, and I recognized one of the voices.

Josh.

I gently pushed the door handle down and pushed slightly, peering through the crack I had made.

It was a pretty small room. A couple of clothing racks were placed in the corner, along with a sewing machine and piles and piles of fabric all over the floor.

On the far left wall, I saw Josh sitting on the floor. He had one knee propped up and the other leg he had flat out along the floor. He was angled to where he was facing away from me, but I could still see most of his face. He had a couple of papers on his lap and one in his hand. His phone was sitting a few inches to his left.

Then I noticed someone next to him, the person I must have heard him talking to. It was a girl I recognized from my second period. Claire, I think her name was.

Right then, my stomach dropped.

They talked  about something I couldn't quite hear, then out of nowhere, she reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, rustling it before leaning into him and kissing him.