What Is Left Behind

1.3

Art used to be one of my favorite subjects, but now the once bright room seems dim and dull.

"Miss Black, it's so good to see you again." Mrs. Jenkins spoke in her normally bubbly tone. "Can I talk with you for a moment?"

Normally this would not be a problem, but they stared. They knew who I was - who my family was. They knew more about me than I knew about myself.

Whispers. They always whisper.

"How are you, Mrs. Jenkins?" I greeted her without meeting her eyes.

Eyes hold pity. Eyes hold sorrow. I don't want either.

"I'm well. I was going to ask you the same, but I know you probably answered that enough today." Mrs. Jenkins had a kind smile; she always had a kind smile.

Out of all the teachers here, she was the nicest. She saw me as Allie Black, not someone's little sister. I once asked her about it, and she told me she was the youngest out of six. I could never imagine having any more siblings, but I also once could not imagine having any less siblings.

"I looked over the projects you did at home, and they were great, as always, but I want you to know my door is always open to talk."

I saw this coming.

My normal art style as she said was colorful and full of life. I painted what I saw and that was the brightest part of my life. This last project, I used charcoal and did the same as I always did. I drew what I knew and maybe that wasn't what I did last year, but things change. Lives changes.

"I'm fine. Just trying out a different style this year."

Mrs. Jenkins looked down at her desk where she had some of my sketches. Rough and dark. They didn't look very pleasant compared to last year's work. She noticed I was looking and put them back in the folder.

She fixed her face thinking I did not see it, but I saw her eyes.

"Well, I am all for exploring different art styles." Mrs. Jenkins was back to bubbly. "Just know I'm always here, Mrs. Black."

"I know." I wanted to add, so was every other teacher she had class with.

"So, you are at table four. I have paired everyone up this year. You will be doing your own work, but this gives everyone a desk partner, you could say. A chance to meet a new student."

I glanced over my shoulder at table four. An easel covered my partner, but I prayed I got who didn't know me. This was the last thing. My favorite class to be ruined by unwanted question.

"You will be with Beckett Allen." Mrs. Jenkins' voice snapped me back to her. She was holding out a cover apron with her knowing smile. "Today we are starting our painting project of what we sketched earlier. I'll be looking forward to this style you are trying."

I mumbled a thanks and took my apron. I didn't want to go to my table, but I took the steps to the right corner where my partner had already started.

I'll be honest. I avoided looking at Beckett Allen, turning my back to him as I put my backpack down, put on my apron, then I went to the art supply area. It would be a lie if I said I couldn't find the stuff I needed. They were right in front of me where they always were, but I didn't want to face my partner.

After this class I would have lunch and I could meet up with Isadora, then after lunch we had the same history class and the same gym class. I just have to get through these next forty-five minutes.

Maybe I should call my mom. Maybe today was too much. Every watching, all the whispers. They all knew how I felt, but I didn't even know how I felt. It was all very confusing. Maybe I just needed to find Wells. Or Isadora.