THE THRESHOLD EFFECT

02 | world

two.

. . .

One class I absolutely loved was art. I loved art because I could go to art high as shit and my drawings would reflect my mental state. Not sure how the teacher didn't catch it by now, but shit, if I got to do the two things I loved with no issue, I'd take it.

Art was subjective. Art was a window into what Hell was like. 

Art was pain. 

Art was hell.  

Art was a physical representation of the pain that colonized my body and soul. And sometimes, the pain was so fucking intense, I did not want to live.

That's where the drugs came into play. In a life where everything was spiraling out of control, they helped me regain my grasp on my sanity.

I tried keeping an aloof personality, but truth be told, I was in pain, but also so so lonely. I wanted a friend group with other girls. I wanted to do typical teenaged things, but the way I presented myself, it was no wonder no girl wanted to befriend me. No one wants to fraternize with the druggie loser, but that's the narrative I presented and that's what everyone ran with.

Might as well own up to the goddamned rumors.

That, and the fact that every girl thought she had a chance with Mateo Delgado, mortal enemy of mine, equaled a friendless Willa. I shook the thoughts from my head, thinking about what-ifs did nothing productive.

"What's that supposed to be?" His voice brought me out of my reverie. Speak of the devil.

I loved art; unfortunately, this was one of the many classes I shared with Mateo Delgado. I did my best to stay out of his goddamned way, but this boy did everything he could to be in mine.

"I'm doing the assignment?" I rolled my eyes, readjusting the grip I had on the pencil in my hand. Art was my safe space. I wasn't going to let an encounter with him ruin that for me.

"Nah, nah," he leaned closer, "it looks really good." I looked at him through narrow eyes, trying to assess whether he was serious or just playing a cruel joke on me. I couldn't help but focus on his cologne— it was subtle, but strong. It was oddly comforting.

Wait what? That was strange. This was Delgado... nothing about him was supposed to be 'comforting' to me. Chalking it up to the weed, I shook my head to clear my thoughts.

"Uh, thanks," I muttered, not wanting to engage with him any further. We had an explosive argument literally hours ago and he wanted to pretend like it never happened? No thanks. I wanted to get lost in my drawing, why the hell was he still talking?

He looked at my face for a second longer, and it looked like he wanted to say something, but a second later, his expression changed.

"Keep it up, Willa."

I nodded, disengaged in the conversation, whether it was the weed or the ambiance of the class, I let it go. I put my headphones in and resumed my drawing. My shitty Walkman was surprisingly working well, and I was not going to mess with the technolog. Besides, this hot and cold relationship with Mateo was confusing and I wanted no part in it. The children of past lover are destined to be mortal enemies. I would do well to remember that.

I didn't comment on it, but Mateo's eyes occasionally flickered up to me and my work. A part of me was exhilarated at the feeling but another, larger, part was cautious. I did not need to carelessly open Pandora's Box.

As I was working, the art teacher made her rounds, checking on each table and group. I loved her. Her feedback was amazing, and her personality was so inviting and warm. She was my favorite teacher here.