Off The Deep End (On Hold)

Chapter Three

School on Monday came too quickly, as usual. The day breezed by, but not without my fellow classmates antagonizing me to no end. I was simply sitting in my fourth hour art class, doodling in my sketch book because I already finished all of my projects, when a hand shot out and pushed my open water bottle over, the cold liquid spewing all over my sketch book and myself. I made a disgusted, surprised sound and looked up to see a guy named Justin: my main tormentor.

“Oops,” he said looking seemingly innocent. “My hand slipped.”

I stared at him in disbelief--not that I was the least bit surprised that he’d sink this low, but simply because the cold water was now all over the front half of my body. My surprised look soon turned into a glare and I wondered why he was still standing next to the tall table I sat at.

“Oh well,” he continued finally. “It’s not like you were really drawing anything good anyways, right?”

I felt my throat close up a bit, tears starting to form in my eyes and my bottom lip quiver slightly. Then, the rage hit and I swallowed the lump in my throat, blinked back the tears, and bit my lip. Before I could retort anything witty, he shrugged and continued to the back of the room, uninterested in me any longer. I reverted my eyes down to my soaking wet sketch book, the nearly complete portrait of Blayne now smeared and bleary. I sighed, looking down at my soaked shorts and white tank top. Great. Now I’d have to go the rest of the day like this unless I changed into my gym clothes. I pulled out my phone and texted Georgia to ask her if she had any spare clothes here at school.

“No phones, Evie,” Mr. Spencer scolded me.

“Oh, I’m just--” I started to explain but he cut me off.

“Put it in your pocket or it’s mine until the end of the day,” he warned.

I sighed and slipped it back into my soaked pocket. Great. I heard some girls behind me snicker at my suspense. I swallowed and jumped down from the stool I had been sitting on, taking my sketchbook with me as I went. When I got to the front of the room I asked Mr. Spencer, “Can I go to the bathroom?”

“Sure, sure,” he said, now focused on the portrait he was doing of some indian girl that sat in the front row. I don’t think she even noticed he had been drawing her.

On my way out the door, I stopped by the trash can and scanned the room for Justin. When our eyes met, my lips formed into a tight line, I turned my back, and tossed my sketchbook into the trashcan with a loud thump. Every single thing I had worked on this entire semester: right down the drain because of him. I proceeded down the hallway, not looking back, and made my way to the bathroom. Once in there, I pulled out my phone and swiped at the lock screen to see Georgia’s reply saying, “Yeah I’ve got a pair of jean shorts and a t-shirt in my locker. Go ahead and get them.”

By the time I went to her locker, got the clothes, went to the bathroom and put them on, the bell rang, signalling the end of fourth period, and I made my way to lunch. The rest of the day flew by in a haze of unhappiness and supposed ‘learning’. Let’s just say I was thankful to god by the time the last bell rang.

I get home around four and pull up the driveway to my house. I park behind my dad’s Ford Focus, grab my bag off the passenger seat and head inside my house.

“Evie?” My mom calls from the kitchen when I walk in the door.

I kick off my shoes and push open the door to the kitchen. “Yeah?”

“Call your brother and tell him to pick up dinner, your dad and I are going to a church dinner and will be out late,” my mom says, pulling a pan of brownies out of the oven and putting it on the stove. The kitchen door opens and Pierre walks in wearing a pizza sauce stained t-shirt and khaki pants. He walks over to the fridge and pulls out some dish Mom made. “Hey!” My mom grabs it out of his hands before Pierre can attempt to take the cling wrap off. “You’re ordering dinner, this is for the church dinner.”