Dots and Zeros [Completed]

6. Sam

'Tada,' I say. 'Can I put it here?'

I look at Isa with the jar of water in my hand.

'Sure, right there in the middle,' she says.

The class is chaotic. But it's the good kind. A little over twenty students are in a large room on the top floor of the school building. Large floor to ceiling windows let in tons of sunlight. It's the perfect place for creating just about anything.

Isa immediately told me to take the chair next to her when I walked in fifteen minutes ago. The same teacher from yesterday gave a quick overview of the year and what we are expected to make. After that everyone did their own thing.

I started sketching random stuff in hopes of finding... something. Isa started creating a color palette. At this point, she has all the colors on her paper.

I sit down in my chair and put the jar between us. We share a large table. Her side is filled with different papers and paint. My side is only a sketchbook.

'How's the unpacking coming along?' Isa asks.

I smile lightly.

'The same as yesterday.'

'No progress?'

'None at all. Honestly, I'm not gonna do it. I fixed my room. Mom can do the rest.'

'And she hasn't yet?'

'No.'

I bend to the side to grab my bag from underneath my chair. I take my phone out to look up reference pictures of hands. My biggest nemesis. No matter how much I practice, they're never quite right.

'She worked late yesterday,' I continue. 'On her very first day.'

'That doesn't sound good. Did she get home very late?'

'Nine.'

'That's not great. But that's not every time, right?'

'I hope not.'

She hums, and dips a brush in the water. We do our thing in silence until she continues the conversation.

'How about your dad? Can't he help unbox stuff?'

'Not if he isn't there.'

'Oh, sorry. Have they been divorced for long?'

She stops moving her brush and looks to me. I don't want to make eye contact with her because it's not that serious. I don't want pity or anything. I simply don't know any better.