Honest || h.s.

Composition

Harry.

I'm nervous for art class today, but I got to skip Mrs. Green's class again, thanks to Regina in the office.

"Thank y-you, Gina," I say with a little wave as the bell rings, heading back into the school hallway.

"No problem, dear! Let me know if you ever need anything," she smiles up from her computer, her poofy eighties-style hair bouncing with the move of her head. She reminds me of my great aunts.

I smile softly and hug my sketchbook as I make my way towards the art room. I usually spend art class hanging around in the office or the library, drawing my own things, but today I wanted to try again.

Ms. Blanco looks surprised to see me back in her class. I stop at her desk, feeling the color rise in my cheeks.

"Em..." I begin, feeling my voice thicken. My eyes fall to her desk. I force them back to her gaze. "Where shou... should I sit?"

"Nice of you to join us," her Spanish accent is warm, friendly. "There's a few seats available, sit wherever you like. We're using pastels today!"

I nod politely, twisting around to look at the room. I'm conscious of the oxygen filtering through my lungs. The floor in here is smooth and white. It's better than the carpeted halls, and probably easier to clean. I step around a cluster of high-rise tables and chairs, moving to stand at the back of the room until the students all sit and I can have an idea of where I should sit in the particular dynamic. I vaguely hope that I can sit by Skylar, but I know it's a far hope. She's probably surrounded by people in here, now that word has gotten around that she's a rising artist.

I pull at my sleeves, watching as a redhead girl strolls in, attached at the hip to her punk rock boyfriend. He's got bright green hair today, but I feel like I've never seen him twice with the same hue on his head. I smile awkwardly as they see me, and the guy's mouth twitches into a grin. They both kind of wave, but fall silent and sit in their seats without saying anything. I know my story has been passed around school several times, and it faded as newer gossip came in the next day, but people still look at me weird. I feel a dark pit enter my stomach. Maybe this wasn't a good idea.

The room slowly fills with students, and when the warning bell rings, ten more stream in one after the other—Skylar among them. I brighten instantly, but stand fidgeting awkwardly in my place, hoping she'll see me. I can't move my feet toward her or open my mouth to say something. Nervousness floods my blood stream. I feel my breath pick up, become raggedy.

She takes a seat alone at a table, and a girl with thick, curly blonde hair soon sits beside her.

"You would not believe," says the blonde girl, "what the U.S. president is doing now..."

I cringe slightly, but find an amused smile on my face.

"Do tell," Skylar's just as amused, pulling out her sketchbook. She glances around, and our gazes touch briefly. I straighten, a smile forming over my mouth, but her gaze sweeps past me, and I deflate.

Oh...

But, in a double take, her eyes snap back to me, growing wider. "Hey!" She's instantly beaming, and jitters invade my chest, almost like a panic, but nicer.

She waves me over, so I pick my way through the sea of chairs and tables and sit across from her. My ears are undoubtedly a scarlet shade.

Her blonde friend smirks interestedly. "Oh, hi Harry."

"Hello," I mumble, glancing at her with guarded eyes. I've never really spoken to her, and don't even know her name, actually. She's the smart girl in the honor's club who doesn't involve herself with social drama of any sort, and we only have one or two classes together. She obviously knows about my little episode with Mrs. Green. I can tell by the way she shuts her mouth and glances at Skylar with question in her eyes. Skylar, on the other hand, completely disregards the tension, which I want to hug her for.