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Chapter 32

A/N: Sorry about the late update, again. School just started back up, plus I have volleyball and I'm trying to figure out how to balance everything, again. Haha! 

For now, I have to sleep in my living room. My dad has been working on fixing my room since I got home a few days, ago. He took me to the store, yesterday, to pick out new paint colors and we're going to a few furniture stores, this weekend, to pick out new furniture. Everyone still thinks the fire was caused by faulty wires, but only Henry and I know the truth. And when I got back to school, the other day, my locker was covered in cheesy "Get Well Soon" Hallmark cards and notes about how "We should hang" from people that I'm not friends with. I didn't even know half of the people that left cards or notes.

It pissed me off that people were using my accident to seem relevant and like they actually gave a shit. I check all the cards for money like I do with birthday cards and when they came up empty, I burned them and moved on to the next one.

Now, I sit in art, completely bored with nothing to do. I finished our newest project when I got home from the hospital and I don't know what to do for a quarter project, so I'm just sitting in the back row with my head on my desk.

I feel a tap on my shoulder and look to see who it is. It's the teacher.

"Why aren't you working on something?"

"Don't have anything to work on."

"Sketchpad?"

"Done."

"This project?"

"Done."

"Quarter project?"

"Don't have any ideas, so I'm brain storming."

She grabs my sketchpad and flips it open to a blank sheet. "Start drawing something."

She walks off and I roll my eyes, but I listen. I try to decide whether I want to do a 3-D project or a 2-D project. And if I go with 3-D, what do I want to use? Clay? Plaster? Paper Mache? Wood? If I go with 2-D, would I do a painting or a drawing?

I start doodling on the paper, hoping to come up with something. After about twenty-five minutes, I had a couple scribbles that didn't mean anything, a couple snowflakes and smiley faces, and a pair of angel wings.

Angel wings. I could use that. I stare at my doodle, hoping that if I stare at it long enough, an idea will form in my head. Luckily, something did. I started to think of an angel falling through the air. I want this project to be 3-D. A sculpture.

I flinch, my face contorting in disgust as a memory comes to mind. When I was walking to Gemma's, a while ago, and on the way, I came across a dead bird on one of the corners. It hadn't been there for too long, maybe a day or two, and I just walked passed it thinking that death happens all the time, it's normal, keeping my distance. But there was something about the position of its wings and the rest of its body that gives me some ideas on how to position this falling angel sculpture.

Her head will be back with her hair hanging down, one leg will be went down slightly while the other one sticks up slightly with the foot pointing out, her arms will be at her hanging down, her back will be arched, and one wing will be slightly more open than the other. It'll be beautiful.

I feel a tap on my arm and I'm pulled from my thoughts. I look over to see Henry standing beside me.

"What?" I ask, my voice cold.