[Hidden with a Smile.]

❷

It's not like I'm complaining or anything, but it'd be nice for once to have that lovely moment when you're sitting down with one of your parents in the morning and eating breakfast, talking about those cute memories and simple questions, giggling giddily.

But,

That's not at all what my mornings are like.

My mornings start with me waking up at 7:00 a.m. and going over to my neighbor's, Ms. Castillo's, apartment. I don't really remember how, but one day, she saw me wearing my old, raggedy clothes and invited me into her house to try on some of her home-made clothes.

She's in her early 40's, but she still has a dream that she's saving up for, I admire her for it. She aspires to open her own small boutique and sell frilly and colorful clothes that'll make any woman brighten up. I've become her personal outfit tester, and I report to her every time I wear a new outfit of hers on what compliments I got on them. So, instead of wearing my old blue jeans and random shirts, since I've become close to Ms. Castillo, I now wear a different assortment of bright, flower skirts with bold leggings, combining with bohemian tank tops and a vest from time to time. There are also occasional fluffy casual dresses that, like the skirts, have nature designs on them.

After Ms. Castillo gives me my outfit for the day, I return back to my apartment and cook a simple breakfast for two. I eat my share and put the rest on a plate for my mother, who never eats it, and so I have to throw it away when I get home. I then put on the outfit I received from my creative neighbor. Then, I go off for school, and on the weekends, I walk around the park just to get out of the house or go to my work.

This morning, it was a Friday. Most kids love Friday, but I loathed them. School was the one place that could momentarily take my mind off of the trouble of paying bills (my mother even refused to pay since she usually slept in strange men's homes), the pain of going to work ( I worked at a Michael's, I loved to look at all the unique arts & crafts items, but having to deal with the manager and annoying customers asking where a specific type of paper is every five seconds,...not so much), and having to find a way to hide all my problems from my close friends.

It's not as if I don't want them to know, it's just, I know it'll cause them to worry for me, I can't bother them with my own troubles. Plus, then they'd feel pity for me every time I smiled brightly, and I can't have that.

Anyways. After I put on the neon butterfly patterned mini hoop-skirt and white sequined tank that seemed to flow in the wind, I stepped out of the door of my apartment and began to walk down the path in the park to my school. The fall wind was beginning to feel crisper, with a bittersweet nip of cold. As I walked down and stared at the multicolored leaf piles near the benches, I saw him again. He was sitting at the same bench he always sat at, completely focused on the sketch pad in front of him.

He's in my class, but I don't know his name, he doesn't really tell anyone it. The teacher doesn't call on him either, so I don't really even have an idea of it. I'm not sure how to explain it, but he had a sort of alternative look to him. He has pitch black hair and softly tanned skin. I'm not sure what color his eyes are, since he's never looked towards me in class or at the park, and I don't think it's polite to watch someone until they look up at you and show them your eyes, which will probably be looking at you with a "freak" stare. He always wore band shirts with ripped or skinny jeans, but he had no piercings or tattoos, which I believe means he must not be trying to just get attention from his look.

I'm not sure why, but my eyes are always drawn to how focused he is while he draws in the park. He has this sort of dazzling aura around him despite his metal look. I enjoy watching him draw from afar, even if I can't see what he's drawing, it's just delightful to watch someone with such passion. I bet with his passion, his drawings must be amazing. I'd like to see them myself, but I wouldn't know how to ask a, pretty much, stranger to show me his sketches, especially when his look just screams "go away".

I watched him for a while before walking on to school, holding my binder loosely in my hand. Maybe it was better I didn't interfere with his drawing time, and I know I can't get involved in anything else right now.

"Anyways, it's not like he would be interested in me, he'll probably think I'm just another bubbly, polite high school girl in his advisory class. To be honest, I don't really want him to think I'm anything else anyways..."

After I thought for a while, I looked back at him, then swiftly began to run down the path to school.

"Oh well, it's nice for me to just see him draw so happily, almost makes me forget all about my worries."