This One Time at Art Camp

The art project

"I remember when we broke up- the first time-. . ."  I sang softly with my ipod as I doodled, probably one of the most annoying songs ever, yet strangely addictive. It was only the beginning of art and quite honestly Taylor Swift has a much more bearable voice than Mr. Honda now a day.

            "Weeeee-eeee are never ever ever getting back together," a new voice, the voice of Stryder now sings into my ear in an over played vocalization. His face was nearly two inches away from my ear drum, holding my little m'm ear bud in his hand. "Nice voice, felt like harmonizing with you."

            My cheeks burn red as my mouth threatens to drop, was I singing that loud? I can't even form words I'm so embarrassed. I mentally slapped myself repetitively, but sadly it did no good. I could tell myself a million times, it doesn't matter what he thinks of me, but I can never believe it, for some odd reason I care.

            There are obvious reasons why he is the most beloved boy in the school, and it's not just because he is tall muscular figure, dark skin and hair, or that God simply put him together in a way that would make even the straightest of men do a double take, it's also because of his very charismatic personality that seems to make girls faint like in the movies, swooning I think might be the word. I'm sure I would swoon too, if I even had a chance with him, which would be one in a million. He has the choice from head cheerleader to the student body president, why would he want little old me?

            "Now class," Mr. Honda called out, settling everyone down. I never thought I'd be so happy to hear one of his lectures. "We have been working on principles of the face, such as shading, angles, and proportion, and as I promised at the beginning of this unit, today is the day of the test, turn to your partner and sketch out their face."

            "Would you clarify partner?" I asked, raising my hand timidly as I felt thirty sets of dagger eyes, plotting my doom.

            "Well Zoe, you are the lucky one to be partnered with Stryder." Mr. Honda smiled though any happiness behind the smile wasn't there, "any further questions." And before I can ask to switch he throws his arms into the air signaling the beginning.

            Drawing faces, a talent that was gifted upon me at an early age, but now looking over into the blue eyes of Stryder, I possibly forgot the first step.

            "Am I that ugly?" Stryder asked me with a teasing smile. If I were to answer that question honestly it would probably go as the following, 'no, if there was something ugly about you I'm sorry that would just mean I would be blind or that I had no taste at all in men.' There was no way I could possibly say that out loud though, even if it's true. The perfect mess of dark brown curls covered his head, melting into his sheer sun kissed skin, a combination that made his intensely blue eyes glitter with captivation, but even if he had none of the previous, his lips would still have me imagining what it would be like to kiss him. It didn't help that he smelled devine as well or that his athletic build had a seductive allure that could make old ladies hearts stop.

            "Umm no, I'm sorry I make weird looks when I'm trying to draw," the words rush out of my mouth in a mess, I felt like one of those stupid fan club girls.

            "It's ok, I've noticed," he winked at me. It must be embedded into his DNA to be a flirt, so I couldn't let what he says get to me.

            In response I just roll my eyes he's too umm what's the word, oh right, out-of-my-league to ever EVER notice me, ok it's not a word but it's still true.

            Once I start to actually sketch I'm lost in the world my paper and pencil create for me, and before I know it the bell excusing all the entrapped students to their freedom of a Friday afternoon rings loud.