Daylight

Brooklin's POV

I’m sitting here in my bedroom and staring at an incredibly blank piece of canvas. It’s so large and....bare. The minutes that I have been standing here have added up to almost two hours. Why is this happening to me? I never have artist’s block. I can usually start on something without even thinking. But today, I’m having trouble. A lot of trouble.

 I don’t really want to give up though. But part of me is sick of not being able to come up with something. And when an idea does spark inside of my head, I end up hating it the longer I think about it, and I just push it out of my mind.

 So I finally decide to take a break. I’m not quitting, it's just a few minutes to catch my breath.

 I flop face down onto my bed and let out an loud and irritated grunt. There is nothing more frustrating then when an artist can't figure out what to create.

 I turn onto my back and start to shut my eyes. But just before they close all the way, I catch sight of my back pack. Jace's green folder is poking it’s way out of it. After a few seconds of debate, I stretch my arm far enough to carefully grab hold of it.

 When I see the painting inside of it, a thought occurs to me.

 What’s the real reason behind Jace doing this for me? There has to be some reason. He couldn’t possibly have done that just to be nice.

 Or could he?

Or maybe it's just a cruel joke him and his possy are trying to pull on me.

 Either way. I have to stop this.

************

He tries to say hello, but all I do is mumble “hey” back to him. And every time he tries to approach me, I quickly retreat. I feel like I am hurting him every time I walk away, but at least this way, he won’t hurt me.

 And if staying away from him is what keeps me safe, then I will embrace that in any way I can.

 The only thing is....he doesn’t seem to understand. It is as if there is something inside of him that refuses to just give up on me. For the past three days, he still tries to make conversation, he still sits at the same art table as me, and he still compliments my artwork.

 Why won’t he just stay away? Everyone else has no problem doing just that.

 I’ve got to stop this. But how?

 Wait a second....

 I know.

 “Jace,” I say as I approach him. He’s just about ready to start tennis practice when I speak to him.

 “Brooklin? Hey! What's up?" He’s got a friendly smile on his face, but I can tell that his tennis partner, Dirk, is beginning to get impatient as we start to make conversation. He’s probably weirded out as most people are.

 So I just decide to tell him straight on, “Meet me at Chaston Bridge today after practice.”

 He looks confused, which is not surprising. Not a lot of people travel to that side of town. “Why?” he asks.

 “Jace! C’mon, everyone else is already warming up!” Dirk calls from the distance.

 Jace motions his hand towards him, his pointer index finger sticking up as if to say “Hold on, just one more second.”

 I don’t want to “interrupt” things any further, so I just give Jace a nod and begin to walk away.

 “Wait!” Jace calls out. I can hear his footsteps rushing behind me. When I don’t stop walking, he gently grabs hold of my arm. I immediately recoil once I feel the touch of his finger tips.

I want to snap and say, “Don’t!”, but I manage to keep my calm.

 “Why do you want me to meet you at the bridge?” he asks me.

 “Don’t ask,” I say. “Just meet me there, okay?”

 His brow is creased. I can tell that he is still struggling with confusion. “Uh, okay. I’ll be there at six thirty. How does that sound?”

 “Fine,” I say, emotionless. Then I am gone.