Living A Miric- Hell (Angels)

chapter 5

After staying after class, for what seemed like forever, I stood against a fence and searched.
“Hello,” I jumped, startled at the sound of the deep voice that emitted. From behind me.
“Oh my gosh, you surprised me” I clutched my chest. George tried to calm me down by putting a hand on my shoulder. The sudden electrical current that passed between his hand to my shoulder zapped me and I jumped back.
“I'm so sorry,” he put his hand out then pulled it back. I could not tell if he was saying sorry for surprising me or for the current, it was all to fast, “hey do you want to sit at my table?”
“Um...” I tried to regain my composure by coughing to clear my thoughts. He just smiled, “um, no I'm looking for my brother.”
“Oh,” he searched over my head, except he didn't need to because he actually knew where my brother was. I saw the way his eyes tried to search even though he stayed on the same general spot, “you mean him over there?”
“Yes I said without turning”
“Are you okay,” he smiled.
“There's something off,” I looked at same and pulled out my phone.
“Like what,” His voice had a hint of worry on his face but showed now emotion. I ignored it and texted Sam to meet me at the open table to his left.
“I don't know. Are you from here?” I started to walk to the table.
“from Arizona? Yes.” he finally answered.
“You seem off from everyone here. Your voice is bolder and I watched your test questions.”
I shook my head,” I'm sorry I've been off since we came here. Its probably just my brain telling to leave my life behind.”
“What do you want?” Sams' rude tone made me look up from my phone.
“Well excuse me, I'm you sister. Mom said to help each other out and that means sticking together.” I looked at the table and calmly spoke, “how did you get that many friends already?” I pointed at the ground of boss and girls. Half he girls looked away when I looked over.
“Because I try to make friends and I managed,” he pointed to George, “who is her?”
“hi I'm George.” he held out his hand to shake Sams' as if he was older than he seems. Sam didn't shake it. “sorry I forgot what teens do these days.” he sighed heavily,
“How old are you.” Sam asked.
“Old enough,” his hesitation raised more more suspicion on his age. I gave his a look of confusion.
“what do you mean old enough?” I asked.
“I'm eighteen and I'm staying that way no matter if you like it or not,” he smiled and I found myself staring at him. I looked away and quietly laughed then sighed, receiving an evil eye from Sam. I have no idea why I was laughing.
“You seem older than eighteen.” great now I think I made an enemy for calling him old I thought.
“Thanks,” he kept his smile but it showed a lot more sarcasm that happiness.
“Your welcome,” I rolled my eyes.
“How exactly do you know him, Crysta?” I turned to Sam.
“ we are in environmental science together,” I heard George puff air from his nose as if he was annoyed.
“is this seriously the only friend you mad? Honestly I would think you would have more.”
“Sadly, yes,”i whispered, putting my head down.
“Sadly?” his loud tone made me look up, “Crysta you  know how many rumors I heard these last classes about you being near him,” he pointed one finger at George.
“Not really,” I looked back at Sams' table of girls. I noticed immediately that they all were looking at me through there peripheral and whispering in each others ears. I thought of that girl in environmental science.
George laugh startles me, does he know about these rumors, I thought.
“People, especially girls, thinks George like you. Apparently he doesn't talk or date anyone. If he does talk its usually to answer a question. Girls are extremely jealous that he is with you.” I clench my fist at the comment
“Look George and I aren't are thing and wont be,” I whispered. George coughed, grabbed my lunch from a box on my pack, and I finally ate, “thanks,” I rested my head in my hands, and as I opened my pack the boys continued to talk about our move. Sam happened to find a way to include me in the middle, so I shook my head to try and keep me away from any more conversation. Luckily he continued without me involved.
I looked at my bag. My lunch was a peanut butter and butter sandwich, chips, cheese, pudding, an apple, which George took, and water that I was glad to have with the heat. It was over a hundred degrees out.
“She especially needs help,” Sam brought me back up. I coughed twice, trying to get him to stop, earning a sideways smirk from George. Sam ignored my whining.
“I'm available to come over to you house after school,” George offered with a smile and Sam nodded with approval. Before I could say the word “don't” the bell rang and Sam left. George and I got up at the same time, which was immediately after the bell rang so I could go catch Sam. Instead I was blocked by a stampeded of students and decided to walk to class. George followed me towards my art class. I sharply turned when I was outside the closed door.
“Why are you following me!” I half growled half whispered through my teeth. He skidded to a stop, almost touching nose to forehead since I was a small human being and he was tall. He looked down and I looked up. Students slowly slug pace walked passed in order to watch me rage at George. I kept my voice low making George try not to smile.
“I have art as well, sweetheart,” I back up a half step so I  have to strain my neck in order to look at his eyes.
“Don't call me that,” I turned and walked into class, leaving George with that stupid smile.
As soon as I turned around when the teacher gave me my seat I hesitated to sit in it. George was going to sit next to me again, which seemed odd to me. Although it kind of made sense since he didn't like talking or being with anyone. He probably used mind control with my beautiful face so he could sit alone.
All girls had eyes on me when I went up to him.
Luckily art distracts me from my outside problems, so when I got my assignments that was made to see how far in art I really arm, I took out my sketch book reserved for this class and planed my piece.
The rest of the class was doing a drawing base on a given subject. I knew I didn't have to do what the class was doing but it saved me from all my brainstorming. My class subject was an animal, my tables subject I picked was a wolf.
I drew a middle aged girl who was petting and kneeling next to the wolf, her hair perfectly waving in the wind. Her hair was strait and black with vibrant silver highlights. The wolf was a beautiful gray wolf with the wind pulling its fur. The background was in a clearing with a pine forest covering in snow. The mood was the only light in the gray scale, graphite picture.
The teacher, ms Karel, walked over as I plugged in my headphones to my phone. She looked closely at my half finished picture and my planed quick sketch in my notebook.
“Wow you're really talented,” My smile soon changed to a frown when I caught George staring at my image. “It looks so realistic,” she pointed to where I started adding value to my wolfs lines, I looked back at her with my smile.
“Years of practice then its not so hard,” she studied the picture a little bit more.
“How long exactly is years?” of course she would ask this.
“I started graphite sketching when I was five, and was really good at it when I was eight. I was painting since I was ten. My first displayed drawing drawing is a sketch of a person sitting at a bus stop bench. T wasn't the best but it made me want to draw more.
Her eyes switch back to mine. She looked like she wanted to ask more but knew she couldn't ask to much.
Finally she depended her mouth, “ I know you do sketches and graphite,”  she looked at my book labeled drawing Diary,' that sat at the corner of my desk, “ but do you color good?”
I stared a the full book, wondering what if I should show her the picture that George saw. Then I thought she would want to see more of my better drawings, so I opened up to one with more like a memory of mine. The picture I opened up o made me almost want to shut it again. Tears threatened to spill out and my nose started itching from keeping them back.
The picture was of a golden retriever laying in a comfy  dog bed next to a fireplace that was lit up. The fire brightened the room while a window showed the black night sky as the darkness in this picture. The golden retriever had its head up staring at Ashley, who was sitting next to me when I sketched this. That Day Ashley tried getting her some what lazy dog to get up when I was sketching her so I kept kicking Ashley in the legs. Just when I finished it banner, the dogs name, got up and lick attacked Ashleys' face. The label at the bottom right of the page said 'Ashleys' Dog Banner' with my signature. Back then, and even now all my labeled names for my art are horrible and simple. I started at the primsma color pencil marks running my hadn't over the fur I colored in one tiny flick of the pencil at a time.
I Looked up at Ms, Karel and saw how in awe she was about the image. People like her may see all the nice blending and color but being the artist I see every little missed piece, wrong line direction, wrong color, and the graphite sketch lines.
“Oh so beautiful, I will be looking forward to your work here,” I shut the book, smiled and got up just as the bell rang.” Keep up the good work, Crysta.” I nodded, waved, and walk out of the classroom to  algebra. Luckily George didn't follow me.

My next class was easy. Back in Texas I was a little further ahead, so everything here seemed simple. The only thing I hated about this class, was that I was put in the middle. Everyone could look at me, even when they turn around then I get in trouble if I responded to them, or they could gossip about me easily. After a while I learned to ignore everyone and paid little attention to the whispers and the teacher yelling at the students to pay attention. My eyes were only on my work.
By the time the bell rang I was eager to see if George would stick to his word and follow me home. At the same time I hoped I could leave before he found my home. He would probably know where I live thanks to Sam.
I pulled into the pick up lane behind a shiny red Twenty – fourteen or so, brand knew, corvette. The boys were at the drivers window, laughing. When they motioned me over I opened the door a crack and hollered to them.
“lets go, I want to go home,” I sighed, “I'm not waiting.”
They both hurried into the back seat, not wanting to upset me or my mom. After they got their seat belts clicked on I started to pull out.
“George is following us home,” I ignore Sam. When I managed to finally pull out of the tiny space between Georges car and a gray minivan, a giant black truck almost squished my car because it was trying to speed out of the space it was in without looking. We both honked our horns. I was mad because I happened to have the right away, since I was already pulled out and on my way.
Sam continued, “ Crysta do you hate George, because at the mention of his name... you just really need to calm down.”
“Sam  fine. It wasn't my fault, he almost ran us over and I had the right away, he didn't.” I looked in the rear view mirror at the giant truck honking at Georges car, apparently not liking  we were doing the speed limit. I smiled and looked back at the road.
The drive home was quiet. Even the radio was off. When I pulled into the drive way I turned off the car and set it in park. I got out and walked inside before the vetted could park in the driveway. Mom stopped me when I entered the living room.
“Did you have a  nice day at school?” I nodded, motioned to my pack, then pointed down the hall, “Of course you have homework.
“I love you mom.” I walked upstairs and locked my door. I set my pack next to my desk and layed down on my bed.
Not even a minute after I closed my eyes...
“Locking you bedroom door doesn't solve problems,” I looked up at George who was standing at the foot of my bed, “By the way I thought u said u had homework, little miss liar.” He smiled.
“How did you?”  sat up and looked at my closed, and locked, door.
“Its just part of me, I know how to lock pick door,” he smiled wider with a hint of sarcasm as he held up a spare key.
Of course I thought, but then why did he re-lock it?
I got up and snatched the key from his hand turning around and throwing it on my desk, “Now its my key.”
“That was rude,” he looked at his empty, open hand in fake surprise. He then reached into his back pocket and pulled out a black and pink rectangular device I recognized almost , “Fine I'll keep your phone, I managed to pick from your pocket when you snatched the key from my hand.” He smiled again and started to look through my personal pictures. It took me a couple late seconds to process what he just did and I got up trying to reach for my phone.

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