Seventeen-years-old Luna Haley Grey is a shy, awkward little nerd who's idea of a good time is drawing and reading comic books. But after a friendship blossoms between her and South Cross's handsome star footballer, Garrett Carson, her life is turne...
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Caution: kinda cheesy cute scene ahead ;)
Jayden told me I look pretty today. I was surprised because Jayden isn't one who's generous with compliments and to be frank, I feel self-conscious hearing it-like I need to act differently for some reason.
It's probably due to the fact that I'm wearing my older brother's sweater and the only pair of leggings I own. The sweater is a little big for me and goes all the way to my thighs.
This morning, I thought that it's a good idea because I'll feel all cozy and warm.
Now, I realize the fatal flaw of wearing over-sized clothing during Art Club. Because we are painting today, I found myself keep having to push the sleeves of the sweater up my arms when I paint.
I can't even concentrate on the portrait of Superman that I'm making. The ends of the sweater are now tainted with specks of paint albeit my best efforts of maintaining their dignity.
By the end of Art Club, my Superman didn't even look like Superman and the ends of the moss green sweater are a mess. It pricks my sanity just by looking at them.
I know Rigel wouldn't mind. He outgrew the sweater already. But I can't. It annoys me too much. So, I rush to the sink as soon as our president, Indiana, told us that we could leave.
After turning on the tap, I begin murdering the sleeves with water. But the paint won't budge. Unfortunately, it's too late. The stains have set. But because I'm stubborn, I keep rubbing the stains with water mercilessly.
Until Jayden walks up to me. "Luna, stop. Your sleeves are soaking wet,"
"I need to get the paint out,"
"They're paint. Unless you want to rub rubbing alcohol on your cute sweater then they won't come off," Jayden explains, as if I'm a little girl who can't understand logic.
"Why won't they come off?" I shout, annoyed.
"Hey, relax," Jayden says comfortingly, before putting her arm around my shoulder. "It's just paint. You get paint and clay and oil on your clothes all the time. It's the unwritten agreement of being an artist. Isn't that right, Poppy?"
"Yeah! I mean, I just got this beautiful orange stain on my blue shirt and I'm rocking it!" a soft child-like voice squeals from behind us.
I turn around to see the bubbly face of Penelope Wyatt. I laugh.
I can never stay moody whenever Poppy is around. Just seeing her face is enough to make me feel okay again.
"Yeah, you're right. No one's gonna notice them anyway," I say, smiling. "Hey, how about we go to Bilbo's for some froyo after this?"
