sunflowers

◯ chapter one ◯ (new & improved!!!!)

   I arrived at the art room several minutes before the bell rang and found my normal table right away. The dreadful plastic chair was as uncomfortable as always as I plopped down and fished my worn copy of Peter Pan from my backpack.

'Hook,' he called, 'have you another voice?'

Now Peter could not resist a game, and he answered blithely in his own voice, 'I have.'

'And another name?'

'Aye, aye.'

'Vegetable?' asked Hook.

'No.'

Mineral?'

'No.'

'Animal?'

'Yes.'

'Man?'

'No!' This answer rang out scornfully.

'Boy?'

'Yes.'

'Ordinary boy?'

'No!'

'Wonderful boy?'

To Wendy's pain the answer that rang out this time was--

     Someone suddenly tapped my shoulder and I jumped just a tiny bit. "Sorry to interrupt your reading but is this seat taken?"

     I shook my head, trying to think if I'd heard the voice before, and pushed my stuff, which was spread across the table, out of his way. "Sorry, no one usually sits beside me." I must've pushed my stuff a bit too far because my back pack and half of its contents clattered to the probably dirty floor. I really should zip that thing more often.

     I got up from my seat, apologizing to the stranger, frantically trying to feel for and clean up the mess that I made. The boy cursed under his breath and, before I could get to the puddle of my belongings, he collected it all into the back pack and put the pack onto the table.

     "Oh, gracious. I'm so sorry. It's just...I'm just.. I- I can't-."

     " Don't worry about it, it's alright," he said over the sound of a chair being scraped across the floor for a moment. I nodded and felt behind me for my discarded chair, finding it only when the stranger guided my hand to the cool, hard plastic. I muttered my thanks and sat, careful not to miss the chair, which would be mortifying.

     The boy hummed in response and began rustling around with something on top of the table. I shrugged to myself and, trying not to think of the fact that everyone in the room is looking at me, returned to my reading.

To Wendy's pain the answer that rang out this time was--

     A small thud sounded against the table and was then followed by what sounded like pages being flipped quickly. He, the mystery stranger, made a small sound of happiness. I put my finger back onto my book, just about to continue reading, when he asked me one of the strangest questions I've ever been asked.

     "Can I draw you?"

     I felt my eyebrows shoot up. "Umm, why? You want to draw me?" I laughed lightly, thinking this was a little joke.

     His sounded extremely serious when he said, "Why are you laughing? I'm serious, I really want to draw you."

     I could feel my eyebrows furrowing. "Um, I suppose I don't mind...only if you tell me why you want to draw me."