"You know. Tristan. Tristan Told." The boy told the principle's secretary for the 3rd time this week.
"Go ahead." She responded and nodded towards the closed door.
"Welcome back Mr. Told." The junior year principle said to him with disappointment shining clear in his voice.
"Oh come on, Tommy, I think we are first name now." Tristan had a smirk on his face while talking, taking everything as a joke. He was a rather tall kid with a lanky build. Tristan had black hair that was long enough to cover his ears but it was messy. His skin was pale and his eyes a dark brown. He wore kind of tight jeans and a jacket over any and all shirts but he normally had the sleeves pulled up. He had a normal looking face, he wasn't super attractive but he wasn't ugly either. He wasn't the best kid, he came from a rough place, but haven't we all. Tristan turned to dark things to help him cope.
"That's Mr. Blew to you." Tristan sat in the uncomfortable, blue chairs in his principals office. "This is the 5th time this week you've skipped classes and this one is repeated more than once."
"I don't need that class to graduate and I didn't even ask for it, why do I have to go?"
"It's a good class and I think you would enjoy it considering the facts." He was referring to Tristan's multiple, left arm tattoos.
"It's stupid. I'm not an artist!" Tristan yelled out of frustration.
"It's either this or chorus." Mr. Blew raised his eyebrows. Tristan stood in defeat, he hated singing more. A large sigh was let out as he began to gather his things and go, late, to his art class.
It was about 20 minuets in already. Everyone was working on the current projects, a collage about themselves. Tristan walked in and was obviously stared at.
"You must be Tristan Told, you're late."
"I was put in time out by Mr. Blew and he gave me a lecture. You know how that goes." She rolled her eyes and went back to walking about the classroom.
Tristan looked around and took the only open seat. The girl next to him was studying a rose that was laid out on the table. She drew a lovely, nearly exact, picture of the rose. Tristan watched her draw, almost in admiration.
"Your rose is pretty cool." But his compliment was ignored. His brow ruffled and he turned his entire body to her.
"Hello?" he said. She tore her eyes away from her drawing and looked to him. She had a pair of earbuds in. Tristan waved to her, she didn't move her hand from her paper and pen, instead she looked him up and down then went back to drawing.
"Hey!" He slammed his hand down on the table causing the girl to jump.
She pulled on earbud out and Tristan could hear the older music playing. "What is your problem?" she yelped.
"I have no problem, you have the problem."
"Well you messed me up and I was drawing in pen."
"Well, you ignored my compliment."
"I don't need your compliment to know I'm good at art. So if you'll excuse me." She turned to put her earphone back in but Tristan stopped her.
"Why are you being so rude to me?"
"You're a bad kid. You skip class, wear your hood on your jacket up and you have tattoos. Skipping class is not cool, wearing your hood indoors is for imbeciles and well, i guess the tattoos are okay because lots of people have them but yours are just there. Do they have meaning? Probably not. So. If you will excuse me." she said sharply putting in her earbuds once more.
"The sailor girl is for my mom, she died at sea. The square with the galaxy inside is for my brother, he is only four years old and he has more imagination then Dr. Seuss. The outline of New York City with the twin towers is for my sister who's birthday falls on 9, September because with every death brings new life." Tristan turned away from the girl and watched the rest of the class. "I don't even know your name and you were so quick to judge."
Tristan and her didn't talk for the rest of class, mainly because she felt bad. Tristan's tattoos were interesting, knowing the story just made her wonder more about this boy.
Finally the bell rang, the girl grabbed Tristan by the shoulder making him turn around "Celeste." He looked confused to her. "My name is Celeste."
"It's alright." He responded looking down on her.
Celeste was shorter then most people. She wore skinny jeans that had holes in them and lived in sweaters, all of them. Ugly, knit, old, new, blue, purple, and she had ones for holidays too. She just really loves sweaters. To top it all off, she either wore Doc. Martins or a pair of vans with the color to match the sweater. Her hair was long, curly and ginger. Of course her face and arms were covered with freckles. The best part about her, her brown and blue eyes. She had heterochromia, her eyes were two different colors. Her right one blue and her left one brown.
Her and Tristan parted ways. In her next class, and the rest of the day, Tristan was all Celeste could think about.
****
The next day Tristan came to class. He sat next to her and plopped a black book between the two of them. He didn't have to say it, she already knew to look through the book.
There were drawing upon drawings. It looked as if he had filled every inch of every page, so far. 20 of the pages of the brand new book were drawn on front and back, some in pencil, most in pen, some were even colored.
"These are wonderful, Tristan. You have a beautiful talent." Celeste said while examining each page. It seemed, the more you looked at them, the more you saw. On the last front and back page, he drew person. Over and over. A study of someone. A girl. "She's Beautiful."
"Most beautiful girl I've ever met. She became my muse, she urged me to draw again but no matter what I drew I could never make anything as wonderful and as perfect as her. She brings me back to Earth and that's good for me, I feel like I have a place with her. I want her to motivate me, I want her to help me." Tristan was staring hard at the book as Celeste turned over the page to look at the back. There on the paper staring back at Celeste were a pair of blue and brown eyes.
"Help me, Celeste."
