The Artist

4

My fathers' words flow as my hand floats across the page. Making shading here and there, following my fathers' description perfectly. I'd say that this is a great time between him and I, except for one little detail. He's drunk. His words are slurred so it forces my mind to desperately catch onto the words he slur-says. Alexander hasn't appeared once since coming into my room, helping me realize what was just a dream; I'm assuming he knows that dad is drunk so he just keeps away. 

When I'm finished, I look down at the page finally. My eyes had been closed the entire time so I couldn't judge my work, and I only opened them when he told me to shade. My chest tightens almost immediately and allow a shiver to crawl down my spine and back up, leaving the hair on the back of my neck standing up. It's my mother. She's smiling and lifting up a songbird that has a broken, bandaged wing. The sun is ever so dark in the sky. 

All the life that I usually feel when I draw or paint, leaves my body in just that first glimpse. 

"Wowwwww. Loo' jus' like her." His voice is like a sharp knife cutting the first layer of my skin. Torturous; only this type of torture is the mental kind. 

This is the very first time he's been out of his study or room when he's drunk so I'm not sure how to deal with the situation. I think about calling for Alexander but I already know that I can't do that. Alexanders' anger will get the best of him and I'm not going to be the stimulus to cause them to fight. Instead, I take it upon myself to get him to a room. Even though I don't know any of the rooms in the house, I lean on my fictional dream for guidance. I take him to the attic. 

Even though my heart is raw, my biceps are still pretty hard when I force up the into the open trap door. Once he's in, I drag him (with him yelling obscenities and calling me names) to the wall farthest away from the trap door. He groans and falls to the ground but I don't pull him back up. I retreat silently, numbly, and pull the door shut. 

I don't tell Alexander he's in the attic, I just go back into my room and close the door. I didn't retrieve my sketch books and I don't feel like going back down to get them. Not with the picture of her on the first page, for I have no doubt my sanity will slip and I'll break down. I have to keep strong during the day, night is when I can start to lose my grip, and it's only that time that I can truly think (remember) her. 

Curled up in my bed, I have no point but to sleep. But my nap from earlier made sure I wouldn't get sleep for at least another eight hours. And that sucks. Tomorrow is my first day of school too and I have a feeling that I'll need all my brain for it. 

My thoughts wind around the days to come, the past starts to come up but I quickly force myself to think of something else. I take out my phone and stare at the screen for a while. The background picture is of a tiger, like the one I imagined in my dream. A liger but without the lion factor. As a tear rolls down my cheek, I throw the phone across the room only to hear a satisfactory break of the actual phone. It's not too long before I force my imagination to let loose and let myself get lost in an imaginary world. A perfect world.

*            *             *

 The school before me is huge! It's a building that's built from white bricks. The roof is black. Four long windows, floor to ceiling, are in the front. Between the windows are two pillars and a marble, double door a bit back from the pillars. Concrete steps lead the students up into the building and metal railing encases the sides of the steps. 

I gulp and look back at my father. All the memory of what he called me yesterday is gone but his eyes hold some kind of pain when he glances at me. It only flichers through his eyes for a couple seconds before disappearing though. I think that might be because I look a lot like mom in this outfit. 

I glance down. I'm wearing a black sweatshirt that has I'm a Slytherin in green italics. The green is outlined by silver. My hightops have been exchanged for ones that I bought a while back that actually have the Slytherin logo on the heel. My skinny jeans are a dirty, white color. My hair is laying untouched down my shoulders since my hair is naturally straight. I didn't bother with make up. 

"Good luck!" He smiles and drives off.  

My heart drops and I'm pretty sure Alexanders' does as well because he side steps so he's closer to me. We don't move an inch forward, we just take it all in. The kids walking glance our way more than the average passerby but it's either because we're new, or we look pretty much identical. 

I sigh. Better now than later, I think to myself, we don't want to be late. I start walking ahead with Alexander trailing closely behind and cross the cement within a minute and a half. Inside the building, people have at least arms length from the next person. The hallways is wide and lined with burgundy lockers that aren't cut in half like the ones at home. I can see that everyone has their own cliques and I wonder if I'll be in one of those in a few months or if I'll be a loner. 

It's obvious that the office is to the right, so we go in right off the bat. No lingering to look around. We go straight in and since there's no one at the desk besides the secretary, we walk right up to the counter. The man is young and quite handsome; his hair is cropped short and he has the most prettiest olive skin tone. He wears a black suit and white tie. "Comment puis-je vous aider?" 

"We don't speak french." I say flatly, my eyelids threatening to droop from lack of rest. I was up all last night thinking between the piano piece and my mother. 

A grin spreads across his face. "Good, I don't like speaking french. How may I help you?" It's an American accent but I don't question why he lives in France. 

I return the smile stiffly for it's the first smile I've managed in a while. "My brother and I are here for our schedules." 

His brown eyes flicker with realization as he rolls his chair to pick up a grey, corded phone. He holds it up to his ears and says in english loudly, "Hello, ma'am. Could you bring down someone to  escort the two newcomers to the English-speaking unit of our school?" he pauses. "Thank you!" After placing the phone back in its' cradle, he looks back at me. "In our school, we have one two classrooms for each grade level since the American students are only of a handfull. We have two kids coming down to escort you both to your designated classroom." 

Almost as if on que, the door behind us opens and closes. I turn around to find two kids staring back at me. They're both boys and it's obvious which is for Alexander. He's dressed in black, he's lanky, and he has a somewhat bored look on his face. His skin is white and his eyes are hazel. The one beside him is larger, more built in the chest area. He's quite tall and his skin radiates a nice golden glow. His hair is dark and curly, only about three inches long. His eyebrows look like they've been shaped but not plucked and his eyelashes are long enough to touch the eyebrow above them. His eyes themselves are a pretty emerald color that come out even more because of his turquoise, green color. He wears a white long sleeved shirt underneath the green tee and his legs sport faded blue jeans. 

"Jack." Alexanders' voice pulls me from examining this guy and I realize I'd been staring. 

I blink and look over to Alex with an expression. "Yes?"

"This is Eli," The handsome guy gestures to the boy next to him. "I'm Liam." His accent is thick but it's easy to understand him. "Lovely to meet you both." He shakes Alexanders' hand and when I go to shake his hand, he take my fingers and presses the knuckles against his lips. 

I look down at my shoes and when he's done, shove my hands into my pockets. "Nice to meet you too." I reply softly. 

Eli and Alexander are out the door now and Liam holds the door open for me. "Shall we?" His eyes twinkle with excitement like Alex's did in my dream. 

I nod and go through the door to start my day at this new school.