Mocked: A Marcel Fanfic

Chapter Three

Chapter Three


I sit dumbfounded after Veronica leaves my table. She struts through the cafeteria confidently, all eyes on her, as she pushes the doors open with both hands. She certainly knows how to command attention. After she's gone, the cafeteria starts up with talk again, Marcel's name being thrown about like some rag doll. I keep my head down and finish my salad by myself.

I get up when my wrist watch tells me I have ten minutes before the bell rings to dismiss everyone back to class. I dispose of my tray and walk out of the cafeteria. Stares follow me until I'm out the door. In the hallway, I let myself breathe.

I make my way to class and prep my desk. It's art class and even though I have no artistic skill, it's a requirement to have a form of art taken. And there is no way I'm taking drama.

The students file in, everyone talking animatedly. Since this is an art class it's a mix of different education levels amongst students. Right before the bell rings Veronica walks in. Something in my stomach tightens.

She winks at me but keeps walking, heading towards the back of the class. I only sit in the front row. It's the only place I can concentrate in class.

"Veronica, why the hell were you sitting with Marcel at lunch?!" I glance over my shoulder at the pixie blonde demanding answers from Veronica. I think her name is Misti. I've only had her in a couple classes back in elementary school.

"Don't worry about it," Veronica laughs, taking her seat. Misti rolls her eyes and sits as well, both of them engaging in a conversation too quiet for me to hear.

Madam Thustle flurries into the room, her long sleeves fluttering about like a butterfly. The grey curls on her head bounce as she steps up to her little podium at the front of the class. Madam Thustle is one of those dramatic teachers, everything she does and says is emphasized by movement. I've always wondered why she didn't teach theater.

"Good afternoon class!"

"Good afternoon Madam Thustle," we all chant back. It's one of the things she requested we do every day.

"I want you to draw with your eyes closed." This old lady could not be serious. Eyes closed? Next she'll probably ask us to draw with no paper.

I sigh and get to work, tying a mandatory bandana around my head to cover my eyes. I try to visualize something to draw but end up just scraping my pencil against the sheet. The only great thing about this art class was that Madam Thustle never failed anyone. She said it was all part of the artist's choice to construct what they make and it was wrong to be graded on it. If it was any different, I'd most likely fail.

After an hour of "creating our masterpiece," Madam Thustle allows us to take down our blindfolds and look at our art. She then walks around and examines them all, nodding here and there. My own artwork looks like a bunch of scribbles. Let's face it, that's exactly what it is.

"Oh!" Everyone in class turns back in their seats. Madam Thustle is by Veronica and her friend, her hand over her mouth. "Magnificent!" Madam Thustle gasps and picks up Veronica's paper, holding it towards the class.

On the paper is a perfectly sketched drawing of students. Their heads down and shoulders hunched. The middle person is sketched more detailed. The slicked hair. The pressed shirt.

Me.

"Vero, you draw so well! Even with your eyes closed!" Madam Thustle exclaims and pats Veronica's head, looking like she just won the lottery. Oh yes, a teachers dream to have a prodigy in their class. "I will keep this, yes?"

Veronica shakes her head, her brown waves falling over her shoulder. "Sorry Madam, I'd like to keep this one."

Madam Thustle looks hurt but she nods, handing back the paper. "Why of course!"

Veronica looks up and straight at me. I realize that she's had the perfect view of my back the entire time. I wonder who else has figured out the people she drew.