Making Art With The Bad Boy

Chapter Three

"Geez, who died?" Naomi asked rhetorically as I washed the dishes, my phone squeezed between my shoulder and ear. 

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I asked if you thought we'd ever find love and you replied with "no." I mean I was kinda kidding anyway but still, you seem pretty down. What's wrong?"

I hadn't realized she'd asked me anything, my mind was too busy daydreaming. My thoughts hopped from one thing to another. From fantasizing a love with my favourite fictional characters, to remembering that sad look in Noah's eyes earlier. I just couldn't stop thinking.

"It's nothing, I just got distracted while washing the dishes." I assured her. I would've told her about Noah at the cemetery, but I didn't feel like prying into his business. For all I knew, he was meeting a cult of devil worshipers in hopes of becoming America's Next Top Satanist.

A/N: Wanna be on top? *Cue ANTM theme song.*

Or I guess it would be Canada instead--considering that's where we lived. 

"Gross, I'm getting second-hand soggy food fingers just thinking about it." She made a disgusted, shivering noise and I rolled my eyes although she couldn't see me. 

Loud knocking sounded from the other end of my phone and I heard Naomi sigh heavily. 

"That's Jake, I better go open the door before he decides to break it down." She groaned. I could hear her bed springs squealing as she pushed herself off of it. The knocking sounded again and Naomi screamed at her brother to wait, causing me to cringe away from the phone's volume. 

"Ugh, I gotta go. He's gonna be hangry if I don't feed him immediately." Her voice sounded agitated and I imagined her brown eyes rolling as she ran a hand through her hair. 

"That's alright, Nai. I'll text you later." I removed the phone from my shoulder and hit END, watching the time of our phone call, 45:33, disappear. Forty-five minutes and thirty-three seconds. Just enough time to wrinkle all my finger-tips and permanently injure my aching back. 

I wiped my hands dry and drudged towards my bedroom. Luckily, I had no homework, but my body seemed to know that too and insisted I rest for as long as possible. I flopped onto my bed, the mattress jiggling beneath me, and closed my eyes to relax them. 

Suddenly, I was at the cemetery. But it was larger, grayer. Scarier. 

I was standing barefoot, my dish-soap stained tank top quivering in the breeze. I could feel the wind on me, but I couldn't hear it. I opened my mouth to speak before I heard leaves crunching under two big feet, walking straight at me. I turned sharply towards the noise but there was only darkness. Whoever was there was hidden in shadow. The footsteps sounded distinctly male and they continued until they were on the other side, as if the person had walked straight in front of me, ignoring my presence. There was only enough light to tell where I was, but recognizing the cemetery wasn't at all comforting. I didn't want to be in a graveyard alone. Although, I guess I wasn't alone at all, was I? Not with big foot walking around me. 

I found myself walking towards the man's footsteps, my body moving subconsciously. He was leading me deeper into the forest, his footsteps echoing inside my head. After what seemed like hours, I finally stopped walking, irritated by this man's directionless path. He must've stopped too because I didn't hear anymore footsteps. 

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice like that of a phantom, goosebumps rising on the back of my neck. 

The footsteps sounded again, slower this time, and they were approaching me rather than receding from me. My heart sped in fear but I remained planted in my spot, the grass beneath me dented underneath my feet. A shape broke through the forest and a man stood some ten feet away from me, his tall build slumped, as if he were upset. His head rose slowly from the ground, his brown hair dull in the low-light, and his eyes rested on mine. I gasped and stumbled backwards, my mouth hung open in fright as I backed away from the man in front of me. As I watched in fear, the man slowly shrinking as I hurried away, he pulled a gun from his pocket and placed it underneath his chin..

I woke up with a gasp as a car outside my window popped and restarted. I recognized the sound as the gunshot from the dream. Or nightmare I should say. Lying on my stomach, in the exact position I flopped in earlier, I rose my head slightly to look out the window at the end of my bed. The sky was black and my room was unlit, suggesting I'd fallen asleep for quite some time. I couldn't tell what time it was exactly because the hours were shorter in the winter, but I estimated it must've been around eight or nine past morning. 

I rolled onto my back, groaning from the ache, and sighed heavily, groping my bed for my phone. I grabbed the cold device, a product from the forgotten, open window, and turned it on, the screens glow strikingly blinding. I had a couple unseen messages, mostly from Naomi, and had received an invitation to this Friday's hockey game. This game was particularly important compared to all the others. The Rochester Ravens were going against their arch nemesis, The Cheshire Cheetahs. 

The Cheshire Cheetahs were a group of big, intimidating, and mean teen-aged boys who resembled giants more than humans. They were well-known for their ferocity and the Ravens often got defensive when playing against their team. Plus, there was almost always a fight when both teams played each other and that's partially the reason why so many people attended the game. Of course, not that it came as a surprise, but Noah was often involved in these fights, never backing down when challenged. He recently got re-accepted into the team after his last fight (Coach Clark really couldn't afford to lose such an amazing player) and he was recently warned to keep his head low or he'd be thrown off the team for good. 

Closing my phone, I tossed it to the side and got up from my bed, shuffling to turn the light switch on. The face of the man in my dream stayed with me after I woke up and I couldn't help but feel like I'd known him from somewhere. He looked familiar, with his brown hair and sad eyes, but I couldn't place a name to his face if it cost me my life. I shook my head from the dream and went to wash up in the bathroom, deciding I'd might as well get ready for bed. I still didn't know what time it was, I didn't bother checking on my phone, but my body was aching for rest so I decided to give in. Besides, knowing Ms. McCarthy, I wasn't going to get two nights of no homework in a row. So, I figured I should use the time wisely and in that case, it meant rest. 

After I washed up, I flopped back into my bed, wiggling under my covers and sighing contently. 

I had no other dreams that night.