Don't Blame Me: Genius

Figure it out

~Tess pov~
About Seven Months ago

Creaaakkk. I slowly push open the glass door to the crime lab, located in the back of the police station. It's unlocked. Weird. I closed the door behind me and quickly glanced around for humans. It's empty. Big weird. There are a triple dozen microscopes on each counter, four thousand tubes, seven big machines, whirring sounds, and one million files it seems. I know exactly what I came here for.

I moved carefully past each tube and beaker, making sure I didn't break anything. I made my way over to the stacked files across the wall. They were labeled by last name. I was going to stop at my file but I knew I was minimal on time. I pause when I hear the glass door creak once more and I crouch down in place and quickly search through the letter S until I come to Hope's name. They were going to run the print again like she said, but they hadn't done it yet.

Footsteps I hear, and black heels I see going around the same way I came. I instantly threw Hope's file back into its correct spot, and shot around the opposite side of the counter. I'm stuck, while black heels are looking for a file. She rushes out leaving empty handed. I wait at least three minutes then jet out behind her.

——
Present
Wvroom. I heard Hope's car crank up outside. "Fuck, I'm so late," I say in a panic. I rush to put on my crocs, and run into the bathroom to throw my hair into two braids. There's a knock on my bedroom door. "One minute mom," I guess. The door opens as I'm frantically trying to fix my hair. "Cute yoga pants," Hope chuckles, appearing in the mirror view behind me. "Need some help?," she grins. I let her have the brush and comb, and she dampened my hair. She took one strand, looped it around the other, repeating the process. I enjoy the feeling of her hands running through my hair. The tiny tips of her fingers make me tingle.

"Thanks," I smiled through the mirror as she finished the ends of my hair. I turn to face her, grabbing the tools and putting them up. "I look like trash today," I laughed at myself.

Hope joined in with my laugh, "I mean, the yoga pants and crop top bring out the shape you have," her eyes dance, almost undressing me. I give a cheeky grin. "Well here. Always take this with you in case your hair messes up," Hope takes a step towards me by putting her hand on the small of my back. She leans over me onto the sink as she reaches for the comb. "We're late" she winks. I hate her.

——
Friday Morning
Around Ten am

My art teacher walked in with a frown on her face. "Good Morning artists,". Our class had been waiting for her arrival for about twenty minutes. She threw her backpack on the floor beside her desk and sat her coffee cup down. "Sorry I'm late, the teacher meeting ran over," she explained. "Whew, they exhaust me!," she blew out a laugh, flipping back her hair. She put her hands on her hips and took a long look around the room. The whole class sat up on their stools in front of their canvases, paints and brushes lined up, our seating in front of a plastered wall of paintings. I locked eyes with her, and instantly dropped my gaze to the floor.

"You all seem sooo happy today," she flickered her eyebrows. I looked up to see not one dead face.

She was talking about me.

"I had an assignment for you but how about we do this," she rubbed her hands together, grinning as if she was conjuring up a scheme. "I want you to....paint what you're feeling," she told the class.

My eyebrows furrowed and she caught the look on my face. She side eyed me with an acute grin, telling me to chill out. "Grab some brushes, mix the paint, sign it, and put it on the rack".

I was the last one finished, everyone had left for lunch. Everytime I added a color, I would stare at it for about ten minutes. I don't know what to call it now. It honestly just looks like a blob to me right now.