Katherine's Journal · Erick Brian Colón

Entry Two

March 11th, 2016

Hey, again Erick,

I grew up loving the smell of spray paint.

Our garage was like a home to plenty of boxes with spray paint cans sitting in them. I don't know why exactly I came to like the stench so much since it's pretty bad to inhale. But I do know that I'm not the only one that has developed a great liking for it. Lots of us tend to love the smell of some of the most oddest things--at least I think so.

So when I was walking down the hall to third period, with the usual thought of you racing through my head, my nose immediately detected a small gust of a familiar plastic and chemical aroma. My hurried pace suddenly became sluggish, my head motioned in different directions in search of the factory that was fabricating one of my most memorable childhood scents. The pace at which I was carrying myself started to limit my chances of arriving to class on time.

And then your friends walked into my view. Loud and rowdy is how they almost always carried themselves but not you. You were quieter but not oblivious to the girls who from time to time stole your attention away. You were sometimes excluded from your group but they wanted you there after all. You paid no attention to their conversations but you kept an ear out listening to them anyways.

Except you weren't with them this time.

The four boys came stumbling out of the corridor that led to the gym and a few other classrooms, looking all messy.

Where were you though?

The small smeared stains of blue paint stuck on Joel's cheeks like magnets on a fridge. Richard's white shirt had been soiled with golden paint streaks that ran down all across the front and back. In each of their hands, Chris and Zabdiel held a can of spray paint occasionally aiming it at each other or towards your other two disheveled best friends.

Unluckily for them, the vice principal then showed up at the scene and the 'Shit-we're-fucked' look enhanced on each of their faces. They should have already known that Mr. Shecklar monitors the halls so damn strictly. He's always on the lookout for trouble and he's always standing still with his long, thin arms crossed, with no emotion displayed on his tired face, his 6'5 figure intimidating most students.

Afterward, your friends were escorted to the main office, Mr. Shecklar behind them making sure they all moved in the same direction of their punishment.

The bell rang through the building signaling class had just started and I was still standing aside curious as to where your friends had gotten a hold of the paint.

I was late for class. My attendance had been perfect until now. No doubt I had to get a move on before I actually got in deep trouble for being tardy.

As I made my way to class, a voice calling out my name stopped me once again in my tracks. I looked back in the direction I was leaving from only to see the Leadership class struggling with a new shipment of craft materials. Boxes and more boxes. Rolls of colored paper and more boxes.

Melanie, a fellow classmate of mine who I rarely ever spoke to, pleaded that I help her carry some boxes to the art room. I figured I didn't really have anything to lose. I was already late so I decided to give in to her offer.

I walked back in her direction and her face began displaying a sign of relief when she saw me coming towards her and the other few kids in her class.

Denis, a boy whose name I had only learned from Toby because she had developed the hugest crush on him last year, almost dropped a small box of clay in my arms. Though it was small, it was deceiving. It was fairly heavy and I wanted to drop it back down on the floor because it was beginning to crush my fingers.

I followed two others into the corridor of the gym, almost heaving because of the massive weight I was carrying. The spray paint smell only got stronger as we went in further into the hall. It seemed like the chemical-laced smell was the only thing I was breathing in. My lungs had no idea what was going on.

When we walked by the gym I was immediately taken aback.

This is where you were.

This whole time.

You wore a spray painting mask that hid your nose and mouth. You stood on plastic wrap that was laid down on the gym wood floors and your clothes still remained spotless, unlike your friends'. Blue gloves protected your hands from any excess paint.

You were busy bringing a work of art to life and I should have known.

I sped walked into the art room and set the heavy box down where the rest of the clay sat. Since the gym and the art class were basically right next to each other I could hear the commotion coming from the other side. I got curious and stepped into the gym myself to see what all the fuss was about.

"Dude, Erick, that's looking great so far, man!" One of the few boys surrounding you complimented.

The way you responded was by giving a thumbs up. You were so concentrated on your piece that you couldn't steer your eyes away from it.

The two boys headed back out leaving me behind. I couldn't be in the same room as you for this long, at least willingly I couldn't. I started walking back out trying not to even show a hint of interest in what you were doing. I wanted to get out of there but then again I wanted to stay. I wanted to tell you how perfectly you had coordinated the school colors into your mural. I wanted to keep on watching you work your way around the font that appeared before your eyes. I wanted to ask you where you had learned how to draw such beautiful graffiti.

You were so good at it.

I didn't completely leave the gym. I still stood just outside the double doors, watching from afar. I then came to realize that your friends must have been messing around with the bottles of paint before walking out and getting caught. I assumed that you didn't pay them much attention because your mural for the school was filled to the brim with exquisite detail and it wasn't even noon yet. From seeing you work diligently on your project I could tell you were just so dedicated to the things you found most interest in.

If only you could find interest in me.

Hopefully yours someday, Katherine