Life Imitates Art

Part 2 - Back to the Comfort Zone

The foolish fiend doesn't even know who I call when I need picked up. Mum and Dad are way too busy, even though they do care about me. No, it's my slightly older sister who comes to collect me in tough times instead. She's 17, and a lot like me in many ways. She's not the type to go out partying and is way more likely to be found at the end of a good book than a noisy club. In all the time we have had alone with both of our parents in such demanding jobs, we have grown closer and closer to the point where I would genuinely say that we are friends. And since those have been near impossible for me to come by – at least locally – it would likely make her my best friend by default.

Her number is one of the few saved to my phone. The only thing I'm likely to be interrupting is her studying or reading.

"Hey Tessa. You in school?"

"Nah. Remember, the heating died at the girl's school. They're fixing it by Monday. What's up? You not in school?"

"I am, but I need to come home. Bryn knocked me out in the lunch hall."

"Yikes! Are you alright now though?" Her initial response would sound sarcastic to most, but I can feel the genuine concern as she says it.

"Yeah, I'm vertical and breathing as Dad would say! But Mr Carsley has said I can go home early."

"Well why not if the offer is there, right? It's the least you need after having been sparked out! I'm just going to the car now. Catch you soon!"

"Thanks sis, see you soon." At least someone is on my side. While I silently wait in the office for Tessa's car to pull up, I browse through the drawings that remain in my sketchbook. While I look at the girls on the pages, Mr Carsley's words burst into my thoughts like putrid abscesses in my brain. Why would he question my gender just because I like to draw female characters? A lot of men have created famous women in media. It's not like everyone who ever draws a girl somehow wants to be one, right? Nah, it's a silly observation from a strange man who doesn't understand the art I aspire to create.

In a complete juxtaposition to the pretty drawings in the book, Tessa pulls up in her silver Nissan Micra. It's quite old. Mum and Dad didn't want to buy her a luxurious car for her first one. Once she has more experience behind the wheel, they mentioned the possibility of upgrading her motor. But she has grown to like Minnie the Micra – her name, not mine. I tend to call it 'the car' most of the time. It's true what they say – if you name something, you will grow more attached to it and that effect doubles when you take the name from the most persistently appearing and prominent media brand in the world.

"Get in loser! We're going shopping!" Tessa's clearly excited about something, but what do we need to buy? I pull the handle on the passenger's side door and take a seat beside my sister, popping my backpack in the footwell.

"What do we need from the shops?"

Tessa's reply is a loud laugh, followed by some condescending yet friendly taunting. "We're not actually going shopping. It's a quote from a movie."

"Ah I see. Not one I would watch I assume?"

"Probably not your sort of thing, no. Anyways, how was school before the whole 'KO' thing?"

"It was going alright. Same old same old, just trying not to let the other boys wear me down."

"Aw my poor little bro. You'll be alright once you hit your growth spurt. They'll be cowering from you!"

"Ha! I doubt it. This might just be as tall as I'll ever grow."

"Nah, you've got longer to go yet. Remember how short I was just two years ago? You'll keep growing!"