Broken (Edited edition)

State Finals

I'm not able to eat anything solid, I just drink coffee and orange juice. Jack is holding me in his arms as we walk to the car, because he doesn't want me hurting myself. I ask him when he got here, and he just grins at me." I got here about two in the morning, Mark came to pick me up as he was driving to San Francisco. And here we are!" He says, he's all excited for the competition." This will be my first time seeing you draw up close." He says, and I roll my eyes." You've....seen my drawings before though."

"Not when you're drawing them though, this is a new experience for me." I grin at him, and he kisses my head. Jack sets me down in back seat in the middle, and I lean against Wade's arm. We have to take two cars since there are so many of us, and Mark is in the other car. Wade holds onto my hand as Bob starts to drive, Barry is in the front seat while Jack and Wade are in the back with me. I pull out my papers for the competition. Each person has to have their papers of birth, parents, or guardian, who their Art teacher is, and how many years they've been doing Art. Wade takes them from me, and reads them." How many times have you had to use these?" He asks, and I shrug." Numerous times." I say, and he rolls his eyes. I take in a deep breathe, and rub my ribs." You need some aspirin?" He asks, and I nod. Jack grabs a water bottle from the floor, and I swallow some aspirin.

The car's stop, and we all get out. Jack holds one of my hands as we walk over to Mark's car. Barry, Danny, Arin, and Kevin get out of the car with him. Mark takes my other hand into his, and I smile as we walk into the competition building. It's a huge cement building with black and white tiled flooring. The area where we would be drawing was a huge gym with black flooring, brick walls, and had what seemed a glass roof. It was raining again, and we could hear the rain falling on the roof. The judges take my papers, and ask where my mom is." Jail." I say, and the woman stares at me." What for?" She asks, and I shrug." Child abuse." I say. The judge squints her eyes at me, and I look up at Mark." Did I say something wrong?" I ask, and he shakes his head. He moves closer to me, and yanks one of my sleeves down. The Hospital wristband shows now, and also scars and bruises covering my arm.

"This abuse." Mark says, and I snatch my arm away from him. I yank my sleeve down again, and storm off to my post in front of my canvas sheet. Mark sits down next to me, and puts his arm around me." You need to start breaking your shell." He says, and I glare up at him." What if I don't want to break my shell, it's safer in here than anywhere else." I say, and he nods." Yes, but how are you going to make friends if you have a shell?" He asks, and I look up at him." I found you." I say, and he gives me a face." We found each other." He says, and pats my back. He kisses my forehead lightly, and I smile at him." Okay, let's get started." One of the judges says, and everyone grows quiet." Now we're going to be starting now, and all artists will be given an hour to give us their best. The winner will to to the United States Championship in Washington. Artists, begin!"

I take my pencil in my hand, and start working. I make the shape of a pine tree covered in snow in the view of someone behind a window. The sketch has the snow falling lightly on the tree's branches, and there are glints coming off the glass window. I take out some colored pencils that they say I can use, and color the tree with shaded parts, and clean the smudges off my paper." Time's up!" A judge shouts, and I put away my pencils." All the contestants go grab drinks, we'll judge your work for half an hour." The judge says, and we walk out of the gym. The four of us are standing around the water fountain with our support person. The others are older than me, almost eighteen or older. They all stare at me shocked as I tell them I'm the fourth Artist." How old are you?" One of the guys asks, half of his black hair is shaved off, and the part not shaved is covering one of his eyes." I'm ten, almost eleven." I say, but I'm not really sure. I don't know when my birthday really is. My family never celebrated birthdays, we just acted as if it was a regular day. Like growing older wasn't an accomplishment in itself. Another year of living.