Chrissy Moone

Chapter 1

I started Ohio Educate Together on the 18th of September. I walked through the doors, a big grey cloud hovering over my head. Its made it's self comfortable there for 11 years. The smell of fresh paint flooded through my body. I coughed loudly, stumbling towards my locker and plonking my books in. I pull my sleeves right down so none of my bruises or scars show. I let my long blonde hair fall over my face, hiding my shyness. I fix my beanie on my head and pull down my jumper. I feel a soft tap on my shoulder and turn around, wiping all emotion from my face. Its a girl, shiny black hair, chocolate eyes, coffee skin, slanting cheekbones, big smile.

"Hey! I'm Dahlia! You new here?" She seems like a friendly person, so I give her a flicker of a smile.

"Um.. I'm Chrissy, Chrissy Moone. I'm 15. I have to go now." I say flatly. I give her a nod and reach up to get my books. I'm annoyingly small. My sleeves fall down and she catches a glimpse of my bruises.

"OMG! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU'RE ARM?" She shrieks. I stammer that I got in a fight. When I came to Ohio last month, I took all my worries and memories of Adrian Porter. I wasn't allowed call him Dad. I put them all in a imaginary bottle, and stored them at the back of my mind, a place called "Do Not Go Near" I pretended none of it ever happened, put it behind me, made a fresh start. But I can still see him striding towards me with a chain, him swinging it wildly. Him saying "Oh Chrissy, you never learn" and that grin, oh the yellow toothed grin, and then it turns into anger, and he starting hitting me hitting me hitting me. Of course, the bruises and scars remind me enough all day. I stumble away, shaking, I have got to stop having flash backs. But I've probably been mentally scarred.

Aunt Faith has tried to get me to a therapist, but I always just stare blankly at them, refusing to spill any feelings. Feelings are called feelings for a reason, it isn't called talking, its feeling, which is thinking about it inside, not letting it out. Dahlia showed me to my class. This school is super small so there's only one classroom per year. The third year classroom has Mr Edwards, who has dark hair curling in front of his eyes, little bits of grey here and there. His eyes are filled with a sea blue, little dashes of dark green around the pupil. He's around 37 my guess is, but half the school adores him. He gets us all to sit and announces that English is first lesson, so I've got to go get my English book. Why they have lockers in a one class per year I don't know. When we're all seated, I take the chance to observe my classmates. Dahlia explains to me all the names and what type of gang their in, like geeky or popular or crazy or rebel, etc. I write it all down in my notebook so I can sketch some people at home. Sounds like something a stalker would do but I've got to practise to achieve my dream.
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Popular :
Lydia, Brown hair, green eyes, pale
Brandon: Messy black hair, brown eyes, dark skin.
Jewels: Blonde curly, blue big eyes, middle complexion.
Justin: Gorgeous brown eyes, shaggy dirty blonde hair, lightly tanned skin, a real contender for sketching.
Claudine: Dark brown ringlets, blue eyes
Geeky ☺:
George: Blonde long hair, huge green eyes.
Marcus: Black hair, brown eyes, tanned
Penelope: Sandy wavy hair, brown eyes
Ellen: Brown hair, green eyes.
Goths☺:
Jade: Black hair, dip dyed green, blue eyes
Kendall: Sandy hair, purple streaks, dark eyes
Paten: Black hair, dark skin, brown eyes
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Approximately 12 people, including Dahlia , not much at all. Not concentrating at all, I circled the ones I would sketch. I couldn't decide. They were all so beautiful, unique, all in there own way. They were all different shapes and sizes, so perfect. I decided to draw them a few every night, maybe squishing them in at Art time, after homework of course.
First night: Jade, Ellen, George, Claudine, and Justin. Justin's would be amazing. I was looking forward to drawing the first people. A whole hour had passed. The bell went to go outside and I had a rush of people come up to me. Everyone kept asking questions and I was trying to answer them all, but there was so many, so many. A boy with shaggy blonde hair pushed them aside.
"Hey hey! Leave the poor girl alone! Enough questions!" he ordered, letting all the popular gang moan and whisper about him, standing up for a shy loner with cancer. No wonder my dad hated me, I'm so... Weak.
"Hey, Chrissy, isn't it? I'm Justin, and.. Well.. Um... Do you need someone to show you around?" he asked, his eyes searching mine, for any sign of emotion.
"I-Ill be fine... I'll go now, I don't want to embarrass you" I stuttered, fixing my beanie and walking away. I heard him call after me, running after me. I turned around and saw he had tripped over, sketches all over the floor. I rushed over, then clutched my heart. The cancer was giving me a little stab. Justin gathered his sketches, and ran up to me. I leaned against the wall, steadying myself, then slid down to the floor, shaking and shivering.

He knelt down beside me, and held me close, murmuring that it will be fine. I caught a glimpse of his sketches. They were of a pale girl with blonde wavy hair, beanie clutching her head, a frown, big black jumper. Me.
"Is that.. Me?" I question. Justin scratches the back of his head, clearly embarrassed.
"You're... You're a good person to draw" He replies bashfully. I feel myself smile.

"I like drawing too" I whisper "I was about to draw you, you seem good to draw as well" He grins at me.
"Are you OK now?" He worries, concerned.
"Yeah... Just sometimes my cancer wants to give me a good kick up the ars! I'll be fine though "
"Chrissy, maybe we can hang out sometime?" Justin asks, fiddling with his thumbs. I nod, smiling. Then I wipe my smile away and walk away, saying "Talk to you later " over my shoulder.
***
After a school day of hanging out with Justin and discussing art, I get drawing. Its been a good day