Supernova | ✓

chapter nine

all rights reserved copyrighted 2016

chapter nine

For two weeks everything was the same. I would scoot my easel a little closer to Blue during school, and I would sit a little closer to Blue. And it wasn't until that fateful Friday morning, that I found myself putting my easel next to the boy. Everyone around me stared at me as though I had lost my mind. I had heard that even in class no one dared to sit near him, no one dared to disrupt whatever day dreams he was having and no one dared to look at the sketch book that he had. It was a lifeline to him, oxygen that would go into his lungs and I knew how that felt. And that was why I sat my easel next to him and then went to the Art aprons a few feet away from us. I picked it up and put it on, without facing him and I expected to turn around and find that he had moved my easel back to its original place.

I was breathless when I turned around and discovered that Blue hadn't moved my easel back. He sat at his stool with his apron on and his eyes focused forward. I knew that he wasn't waiting for me, but in a way he was. I smiled faintly, went to the front of the classroom, picked up my canvas and headed towards the back of the classroom. I sat down my canvas and plopped myself down onto my stool all the while feeling as though my blood had never run and traveled through my body quite as fast it was doing so right now.

I wondered if he could hear it. I wondered if he could hearty heart racing in my chest, see my fingers shaking and seeing that I was licking my lips because they were dry. And if he could he didn't show it, because he reached his hand forward and picked up his paint brush. I let out the breath that I was holding, and flinched when I found that it was loud and demanding his attention. I flickered my eyes over to him and found that he had a half smile that was amused, as though he found the aspect of me holding my breath to wait and see how he would react humorous.

And I fought the urge to reach my hands up and cover my face. I knew that my face was the truest bright red that it could ever be and I knew that one could look at my face and know that they had never seen a hue that was quite as red as mine. And I turned my head forward again and looked down at my paintbrush. I wondered if I truly was going to paint next to him, us both painting as though we were friends but we weren't.

And when I started to paint, I found myself painting next to a boy that was as misunderstood as me and I never found myself more relaxed.