Bent. | h.s

the 3-day-old pizza.

A/N: Trigger Warning: mention of suicicde (i think)

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since we met i feel a lightness in my step.

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I stand behind the stores register greeting the girl that had just walked in as she strolls through the racks of CDs and vinyl records. Harry is hiding in the storage room but I notice his head poking behind the half-shut door behind the girl and I and angrily shoo him before she notices him. The girl looks up at me and I smile brightly at her, covering my odd behavior. I realize then that I've seen this girl before; her short red hair stands out to me and I start to wonder where I might have recognized her from but before I can think about it too long, the girl is making her way towards me again and I avert my gaze to not seem too creepy. 

"Hi." the red-haired girl smiles at me. She sounds cheerful and looking at her up close, the feeling that I've seen the girl before nags at me even more, and then it hits me. "We have a class together," the girl announces and the memory clicks in my head. I recall having a few classes with this girl last year and one this year but despite sharing a classroom together, I can't for the life of me remember her name. I hope that we hadn't talked before this encounter so I don't seem awfully rude for remembering her well as I return her kind smile. 

"You probably don't know me, I'm Gracie," The red-hair announces, "we've never really talked before, you always hang out at the back," she says, pointing behind her as if we are in the actual studio and she's absentmindedly pointing at my place. "but I've seen some of your work around the studio, you're really talented." 

For some reason I can't find any words to say, I'm stood silently in my spot trying to remember noticing anything about this girl -Gracie, besides her hair but once again I can't seem to remember anything. I notice Harry's head is poking out the door again and I glare at him, a gesture that doesn't go unnoticed by Gracie as she looks behind her in his direction and Harry hides back quickly. I cough loudly to try to cover for the awkward situation I've put myself in.

Gracie is facing me again, her smile is faltering now and she's shifting from foot to foot and I realize that I haven't said anything yet. Great people skills, Cassie, I reprimand myself.

"Hi," I say stupidly, shaking my head. "I mean, yeah, I know you. Gracie, hi, I saw you in class the other day," I stammer, trying to string together a situation that wouldn't seem like a blatant lie. Then, I remember, the mixing corner! We have a mixing corner in the class studio so we could use the, very limited, school supply of paints in case anyone runs out. It's also where people usually go in case they're out of inspiration and need to sneak a peek at everyone else's room, using the paint as an excuse. It's located quite near to where I usually set my easel up and almost everyone goes there. "at the mixing corner!" I say loudly, glad to have found an easy lie. I silently pray that she's not some sort of super-student that always comes prepared with extra paint and never needs to use the mixing corner.

Gracie smiles again and I note that she is one of those people who seem to never stop smiling. Also known as my least favorite kind of people; they always expect you to be so cheerful around them.

"That's right, I saw your flower painting the other day when I was back there, your colors are really good."

"Thank you," 

This time, I'm the one that is smiling brightly as her compliment really catches me off guard; my choice of colors to use is never the thing that people compliment me on. They always think it's too odd and ambitious for someone that is still learning.

"Yeah, it's so refreshing to see someone mix up things up the way you do."

The conversation hits a stop at that point and we're both back to awkwardly smiling at each other.