I Drew You Once in Art Class

Eighteen

Frank was practically itching with excitement when he woke up the next day.

He had a friend. Unreal.

He threw off his covers and hopped to his feet, a task that normally would have taken 30 minutes. He stepped into his jeans and tugged a CLEAN (Millie was currently banned from his room) shirt on over his shoulders, finishing the look with the same black hat he wore all the time. He was about ready to walk out the door when he had a thought.

A smile creeping to his face, he went to his sock drawer and pulled out his pair of black, fingerless gloves with skeleton hands on them. He hadn't worn them for years; he hadn't had the confidence lately. He stuck his fingers through the frayed holes and was comforted by his old friends.

He went downstairs to find something to eat. His mom was in the kitchen, cooking eggs, her back to the stairs. She didn't normally do that. "Why are you cooking?" Frank asked, making his mom jump with surprise.

"Oh! You scared me. I cook every day, but you're usually asleep so I only cook my own food. Why are you up so early?" Frank glanced at the oven clock. 7:25. Normally he got up at 7:45 and rushed it.

"Just am," Frank replied. Frank's mom gave him a you're strange sometimes look and some eggs. He shoveled them down before slinging his backpack over his shoulder and walking out the door. "Bye mom, thanks for breakfast!" he called behind him, not waiting for her reply.

Friend!