I Have To Share A Room With This Strange, Delinquent, Gorgeous Boy? WHY ME!?(1)

13) I Have To Share A Room With This Strange, Delinquent, Gorgeous Boy? WHY ME!?

A couple of days had passed, and Rocket was finally letting my leave my bed and walk around like a normal person. My head injury was fully cured. I would be going back to school the next day.

“I’m going out” Rocket stated nonchalantly, leaving the room.

“Don’t say goodbye then” I rolled my eyes.

Bored, I jumped out of bed and started searching around the room for something to do. The first thing I grabbed was my laptop, but no one was online, I had no news updates and no interesting mail apart from spam, so I turned it off. There was absolutely nothing on the TV, as usual, so I decided that I was going to watch a DVD. I had quite a large DVD collection, and there was some in there that I hadn’t watched in a long time. When we had moved to California, I had put all my DVDs in a box under my bed, so I laid down on my stomach and squirmed not so gracefully underneath my bed in search of the DVD box. I’ve always enjoyed watching movies, therefore my collection of DVDs was quite extensive and rather varied.

What I found instead of my vast DVD collection was a box of school supplies (Pens, pencils, notebooks, calculators…you get the idea), a box of books, a box of video games, a random sock, and Rocket’s old cuddly Spyro the Dragon toy.

My eyes fixed on Spyro for a moment, and a wave of nostalgia swept me back to the day I first met him. I picked up the toy with my right hand and held it close to my face. It felt soft. And despite spending four years under my bed, it still smelled like Rocket.

Eventually, I put it back down, and crawled out from beneath the gloomy depths of the underneath of my bed. So my movies weren’t there. Another possible hiding place for the box was on top of my wardrobe, so I grabbed the chair from the desk and pulled it up to the side of the tall white armoire. This was one of the main disadvantages of being a small person, you have to stand on stuff to reach any tall places. Luckily, I had become quite skilful in the field of standing on things and reaching, as I’d had much experience at it.

All I found on top of the wardrobe was a few more books and an old pop tart wrapper.

The only other possible place in my bedroom that the DVDs could have been was underneath Rocket’s bed, so, using the same crawling method as before, I delved under there. I found a couple of pairs of shoes, a book and his school timetable. No DVD boxes.

I was about to give up, when I noticed something lying right at the far corner of the room under the bed. I crawled closer to it and saw that it was a small, A5 sized notebook. Once again, I gave into my curiosity, something I should really stop doing. I made my way back out from under the bed, as the light under there wasn’t really sufficient enough for me to be able to see what was inside the book. I turned open the first page, and gasped in amazement.

There, on the paper, was a full colour, amazingly accurate and hauntingly beautiful landscape portrait of the beach outside of our house. At first, I was wondering whether or not it had been cut out of a magazine or photograph, or printed off the computer. Put the pencil lines were very real. I flipped over to the next page and saw an impressively realistic portrait of two people, a man and a woman, smiling, with their arms wrapped around each other. This had been sketched in pencil. The next eight or nine pages were all filled with amazing artwork. I seriously doubted that this book could have belonged to Rocket, but, it was the one I had seen him scribbling in before. It must have been his. Each drawing was just as good as the last, possibly even better, and he clearly had an outstanding talent. An outstanding talent that was completely hidden. The final picture shocked me more than any of the others. It shocked me so much, that I almost dropped the book and burst into tears. It was a portrait. Pencil sketched. But not just any portrait. It was a portrait of me.Looking at the paper was like looking in a mirror. He had drawn me perfectly. But why? Why would he do that?