Cracking Zeenath

September 7th, 2015

      I walked into my art class today and sat down at my regular desk, avoiding looking at people. I'm not in the mood to make friends anymore. I need the space. Too many people remind me of someone else, and it kills me inside. No one usually sits next to me, so it works out fine. It's not like the teacher expects us to do art in groups anyway. It's only drawing and painting.

I sat down with a thump in my chair, making it squeak a little against the tile flooring. Looking at the board, I sighed. Oh great. We're doing still-lifes. I hope it's easy...

      In the middle of my reverie, I heard a thump as someone dropped their bookbag into the chair next to mine. I looked beside me with surprise. Damian stood next to me, taking out pencils and a notebook before placing his bag on the floor and sitting down. He studied the board for a second before giving a short nod and opening his notebook and immediately starting to sketch out the set-up the professor had put out for us.

     I stared at him. What. Where'd he come from? I studied him for a second. His eyebrows were furrowed in a look of concentration as he moved the pencil against the paper. He sat back in the chair, propping up the notebook against the corner of the table to keep it up as his eyes moved from the set-up at the front of the room to his rendition periodically.

      He stopped for a second, his pencil freezing mid-stroke and I whipped my head back to the front of the classroom with a jolt. No need to sit there until he finds out I was staring. I felt his eyes on me for a couple seconds before he went back to his work..

I let out a slow breath, and leaned forward to prop my head up with my hand as I waited for Dr. Talin to introduce the lesson for the day.

I hadn't enjoyed art class back in middle school, and I guess some things never change.

------------------

I came back to the dorm after classes and put my things down beside the door before walking over to the living room and collapsing face-first onto the couch. I heard a laugh as Clara walked over to me.

"You dead?"

I made a noise against the couch. "Mmph. I wish."

"What's wrong?" I felt her sit down beside me, and took a second to revel in how she possibly managed to balance her butt on the nonexistent space left over by me.

I turned to face her, not moving from my position. "Nothing. Just art. I can do everything but art. I suck."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh please. I'm sure you're not that bad. You're just too hard on yourself," she said, patting my shoulder.

Then she hit me. "Oh!"

I cried out in pain, and looked at her. "Why'd you hit me?"

She ducked her head a little, and looked sheepish. "Sorry," she giggled. "I got a bit excited."

I raised an eyebrow. "What's up?"

She stood up and starting walking back to the kitchen. "The three troublemakers invited themselves over for dinner today," she called back at me.

"But it's a Monday," I huffed.

She looked at me over the top of the counter. "Yeah, but no one has classes tomorrow, so it'll just be fun. Come on," she pleaded.

"Sure," I said. It's not like it's in my place to reject them. I barely know them yet.

The Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum came together, followed by a very somber Mad Hatter. Without the hat.

They burst in the house right when Clara and I were getting the table ready, bringing a tornado with them. Tweedle Dee started talking first.

"Heyyy!" she cried, twirling around the living room before falling onto the couch.