Between the lines

Chapter 5

Madison sat cross-legged on the steps outside school the next day, sketchbook balanced on her lap. She wasn't really drawing—more like scribbling random lines while her mind wandered.

All she could think about were the murals. They weren't just decorations anymore; they were starting to feel like a story. A conversation.

"Still obsessing over mystery painter?"

Madison looked up to see Evie standing over her, a crisp packet in one hand and a bored expression on her face.

"I'm not obsessing," Madison said, flipping the sketchbook shut.

"Sure you're not," Evie teased, plopping down beside her. "It's all anyone's talking about. Mr. Jenkins even mentioned it in assembly this morning, remember?"

Madison sighed. "He called it 'an epidemic of vandalism.' Like, chill out. They're literally the best thing to happen to this boring town."

Evie snorted. "True. I mean, look at this place. Llyndarren's claim to fame is a Tesco Extra. The graffiti's the only thing giving it personality."

Madison couldn't argue with that. "Do you think the artist's from around here?" she asked.

"Duh," Evie said. "No one's driving from Cardiff to paint this dump."

Madison smiled faintly. "Yeah, I guess."

By the time school let out, Madison's curiosity was fully spiralling. She took the long way home again, eyes scanning every wall, every alleyway. She wanted to find something new, something no one else had spotted yet.

She turned a corner onto a quiet street and froze. There it was—a new piece.

This one was darker than the others. A figure stood on the edge of a cliff, silhouetted against a stormy sky. It wasn't as colourful as the previous murals, but the emotion behind it was raw and undeniable.

Madison stepped closer, her fingers itching to pull out her sketchbook.

"That one's my favourite so far."

She jumped, spinning around to see a middle-aged woman walking her dog.

"It's got real depth, doesn't it?" the woman said, nodding toward the mural. "Makes you think."

Madison managed a smile. "Yeah. It's amazing."

The woman gave her a curious look. "You're not one of those reporters, are you? We had someone poking around yesterday, asking if anyone knew who was behind all this."

Madison shook her head quickly. "No, just... a fan, I guess."

"Well, you're not the only one," the woman said as she tugged on her dog's leash. "Whole town's buzzing about it. Good luck finding out who they are."

Madison watched her walk away, her heart racing. She wasn't the only one trying to figure it out—but she wanted to be the first.

That night, over dinner, Madison's mum brought it up, her tone sharp as she cut into her chicken.

"Have you seen all that graffiti around town?" she asked, a hint of disapproval in her voice.

Madison's fork hovered mid-air. "Uh, yeah. Why?"

"It's a disgrace," her mum said, shaking her head. "The council should be doing something about it. It's not like people come to Llyndarren to see paint splashed on walls."

Madison felt her chest tighten. "But... it's not just random paint. It's art."

"It's vandalism," her mum countered. "If someone wants to make art, they should get a canvas, not ruin public property."

Madison looked down at her plate, her appetite fading. "What if it's not ruining anything? What if it's making the town more... alive?"

Her mum sighed, softening slightly. "I'm not saying it's all bad. Some of it is quite striking. But if they really cared about art, they'd find a way to do it legally. What they're doing now? It's selfish."

Madison clenched her fork tighter but said nothing. There was no point arguing. Her mum saw the world in black and white—rules were rules, and anyone breaking them had to be in the wrong.

She excused herself as soon as she could, retreating to her room and pulling out her phone. She stared at Ryan's name in her contacts for a full minute before typing out a message.

Madison: What do you think about the cliff mural?

His reply came almost instantly:
Ryan: Heavy. But kind of perfect, right?

Madison: Yeah. It's like they're trying to say something, but I can't figure out what.

Ryan: Maybe it's not about figuring it out. Maybe it's just about feeling it.

Madison read his message three times, a strange warmth blooming in her chest. She didn't reply right away. Instead, she flipped open her sketchbook and started drawing.

She didn't know what she was creating—just lines and shapes and textures that felt right. But for the first time, she wasn't just trying to copy the mystery artist. She was trying to find her own voice.