Bad boy bestfriends with good girl

the beginning of the horrible end

It was a masterpiece of a true genius. Every careful stroke, each alluring line; it was perfect. Absolutely perfect. Not one flaw in sight. It was placed in the middle of the table with a light shining over it. The MC person was announcing it the best painting of the year. Everyone was applauding and congratulating a girl who was wearing a red dress with a large smile.

It was only a dream though, a mere unrealistic fantasy. There was no possible way for it to happen. If they were even o display my paintings for only a minute, I would probably faint of surprise. Don't even mention winning the whole contest.

That art contest was held once every two years. Entries from people all around the world would pour in. Most of them were from beginner artists (like me), but there were a couple professionals that would submit a piece or two sometimes. And if those people did, I wouldn't stand a chance. The possibility of me winning would be the ratio of one to a couple hundred thousand. But I still kept on trying—year after year after year. I didn't know why, but I did. And now, with the deadline for the submissions was looming close ahead, I was anxious because frankly, I hadn't even thought or drawn one single thing yet.

That was exactly why I was bent over on my desk for the last couple hours, trying to sketch out something, anything. So far, I had come up with a beautiful landscape, a cherry tree, and a lovely old Victorian house, but nothing had really stuck. For goodness sake, I even drew a little boy carrying an ice cream cone! Why couldn't I figure anything out? Groaning with frustration, I crumbled up my current drawing and threw it into the trashcan. "What is there to draw?" I yelled, aggravated.

"What about a half-naked me? I could model for you." I heard a smug voice saying. Turning around, I saw my best friend (and the most annoying person in the world) sitting on the edge of my bed with indeed, no shirt on. Groaning inwardly again, I simply threw my pencil at him.

"No! Of course not. Go away Ethan or put a shirt on! Do you know what my mom will say if she sees in you here like that? She'll think we had sex or something," I hissed. I tried to keep a serious and irritated look on my face, but I can't help letting out a small smile. It's weird how he can annoy the crap out of me yet make me smile at the same time.

"Yeah, I know, I know. But I just wanted to drop in. You know, to say hello? But since someone's ob-viously in a really bad mood, I think I'll just leave now," he replied, giving me a salute before getting ready to jump out of the window.

I rolled my eyes and grinned, but didn't try to stop him from leaving. He was always like that; coming and going as he pleased. "Well then, I guess I'll see you later! And by the way, for your info, I am not in a bad mood!"

Turning back to my desk, I suddenly knew what to draw. Just leave it to him to give me inspiration.

"So did you figure out what to draw yet?" Ethan asked, munching on some of my m&m's.

It was the next day, during the lunch period. The two of us were sitting together, underneath the big oak tree in front of the school. According to the principal and the school rulebook, we weren't supposed to be out there, but we did it anyways. It was one of those violations that no one really cared about considering that the teachers were even sitting outside.

I nodded, chewing a bit of my granola bar. "Yes, I did in fact. I'm currently in the process of drawing it, but I think it should turn out alright."

He grunted before popping more of my m&m's into his mouth. "Damn, I never realized how good these things are. Do you think you have anymore at your house?"

I rolled my eyes, but nodded. Since his parents were basically nonexistent, I took it upon myself to make sure he was properly fed and got most of his meals, which usually consisted of some form of junk food. I still wonder sometimes how he manages to stay so healthy by just eating potato chips and cereal every single day. "We have a whole box. Come after school to get it?"

I knew he was going to come over at some point today (he always did) anyways so there was basically no point in asking, but I did anyways.

"I actually can't make it today. Got something with the gang. You know, beating up some trouble makers?" he joked, attempting to smile. But he was looking surprisingly skittish and his eyes wouldn't meet mine. I knew him better than this. Something was wrong.

"Are you sure?" I asked, suspicious. He always told me what was going on in his mind. It was weird of him to keep something back from me.

"Yeah, absolutely positive. See you tomorrow." Getting up from the ground, he walked back into the school building quickly. Raising an eyebrow, I simply shook my head before getting up and following him.

He'll probably tell me later, I thought.

Ethan didn't tell me later, but by the lunch period the next day, I had already forgotten about the awkward incident. My head was fully submerged with the painting and only the painting. He knew this full well so he gave me space and didn't bother me at all during the whole entire day (which I must say is a little weird for him). Now that I look back on it though it seemed like he was purposely ignoring me or just really really busy that particular day.

Instead of sitting with him outside at lunch that day, I actually stayed in the cafeteria with my other artsy friends. They, of course, also submitted pieces to the art contest and we spent the whole lunch period talking about the entries and giving each other tips and critiques.

It was altogether very fun, but I began to worry a little about Ethan. Would he get into any petty fights? What about his lunch—did he have something to eat? Did he get into any trouble? It was weird how I always worried about him like a mother. Maybe it was because in the past, bad incidents had occurred when I wasn't with him. Glancing at the clock and seeing that I had a couple minutes left, I excused myself from the table and went outside to look for him.

Reaching our normal spot underneath the oak tree, I was surprised when I didn't see him. That was really strange. Besides his sketchy gang friends that skipped school most of the time and me, he didn't really have any friends at the high school. So where could he have gone?

Looking across the expansion of the field and not seeing him anywhere, I began to worry if he had actually gotten into a fight after all. Sucking in my breath, I racked my brain for all the places an Ethan Woods could possibly go. If I knew him well enough (which I did), he could only be in two places during lunch: here (which he definitely was not) or his friend's van smoking some weed (where I hoped he was definitely not). Hearing the bell ring, I let out a sigh. The searching would have to wait till later.

Oh where, oh where could he be?