McGee: Drawn to Life! (Special)

Chapter Twelve

Reader Warnings:
This chapter contains scenes of bullying. Reader Discretion is advised.

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NICHOLAS (Narrating):
[I knew he was upset with me; that much was painfully obvious. However, I never expected him to remain so withdrawn and quiet as he did for the next few days...]

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*That evening, Nicholas came into the study where he had set his sketchbook down on his desk, expecting to see McGee on either the windowsill or on the wood grain of his workstation. However, the sketchbook remained where it was.*

NICHOLAS:
*He sighed and sat down in the chair, looking down at the leatherback book.*

Are you still hiding out, little man?

*A long bout of silence. It was strange, McGee was always the one to give the last word; he'd die trying to be the last one vocalizing. And yet it was so silent you could hear a pin drop, all but for the sound of pots and pans clinking downstairs as Tamara finished putting away the dishes.*

...McGee, this silent treatment isn't going to change anything.

*However, the man sat there for nearly twenty minutes with no sound from the blond before giving up and leaving.*

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NICHOLAS (Narrating):
[I thought he was just being dramatic. Three days of knowing someone for thirty minutes tops aside from their runaway escapade, and I never would have thought--]

*The following morning came, and Nicholas entered the study to find the cubby he had only built for McGee a few nights before was strewn about. The sketchbooks that made up the backstage were closed, and a few of the drawings had been ripped out and crumbled. Nicholas cast his gaze upwards, the sketchbook still on the desk where he'd left it. Had McGee really come out to throw a temper tantrum before retreating again?*

[---that things would have turned so quickly in our lives...]

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*Ellie's night had been not much different than McGee's, but instead of a sketchbook to hide in, she resorted to her attic oasis, her bag falling off her shoulders onto the ground as she went straight to her bed, not so much as removing her clothes and crawling under the covers. Even dinner couldn't persuade her out of bed, Aunt Debra instead brought it up to her on a tray. She sat beside the girl, petting her head in concern as Ellie rolled over and faced her with swollen red eyes. Aunt Debra placed the tray on the ground and before she could even ask the girl what was wrong, two small arms wrapped around her waist as Ellie just sobbed into her. The woman figured it was best to just let Ellie go through whatever was causing her such distress, giving her the one thing she knew she rarely got with her mother; her undivided attention in the form of two strong but soft arms back around the girl, rocking her gently.*

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*The misty rain of the morning felt good on Ellie's still-burning skin. Her eyes were still puffy and a tad swelled. She didn't honestly care that the drops were slowly soaking her hair and clothes; considering she forgot to have a shower, this would have to do. For the first time, Ellie arrived late for school, Mr. Cryder noticed her in the hallway as she slugged herself to her locker while the last students were entering their first classes as the bell rang overhead.*

DERRICK:
Ellie...?

*He slowly approached her, noticing up close that she was somewhere between soaked and damp, a puddle of water forming at her feet as she switched books around into her bag. Instead of scolding her for her tardiness, he was more worried about why she was wet.*

Ellie, you're soaked! Do you not have an umbrella or raincoat?

*His brows knitted; that didn't seem like Debra.*

ELLIE:
*She didn't so much as look up at him as she swung her bag back over her shoulder and shut her locker door.*

I do, but I just like the feeling of rain on my skin...