Beneath the Boardwalk (Alex Turner) COMPLETE

8 {obscene drawings}

Art could be beautiful, art could be ugly, but at the end of the day, it was still art. Art class, however, was a whole different story.

Matt had been taking another art course, but transferred when he found out I was in this one. I felt terribly guilty about even considering him as the one who put the note in my bag. I mean, it obviously couldn't be him. Why would he be putting notes in my bag, especially under the wrong initial? It wasn't adding up. Something wasn't adding up. 

I decided to text my ex. Never a good decision. However, I needed to approach him about the notes. It looked like his handwriting and I could tell by the swoops in the lettering. It gave me a bad feeling in my mouth as I pressed send on the text. If it was him, then maybe the note I'd get after today would reference the text somehow. 

No response.

But at the end of class, there were no notes. And somehow that was just as disturbing as it was a relief. 

Matt and I got lunch together and ended up having a decent conversation about shows we liked. It was finally good to relax, but my mind was still distracted by yesterday. Who was Turner? What was this secret life he kept running off to? I'd made a terrible decision, walking into that auditorium and not leaving. I was afraid it would haunt me. 

I talked about how Jamie was doing with his new job. He was an odd character. Very particular about the things he wanted to do. He wasn't that bad at drawing however, with was a blessing to be honest. I was hard seeing him replace Julian. 

When it was getting closer to English class, I was reluctant. Could I skip? 

Something nagged at the back of my head--no. I'm not that kind of person. Turner may not want to see me, but that didn't mean I couldn't focus on studies. All I had to do was get though this semester. I'd avoid eye contact. It didn't matter that I could practically still taste the ash in the air from a couple days ago, it didn't matter that I still felt the scent of... I'm sidetracking. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and sighed.

* * *

"How's all of your Shakespeare reading going?" Turner drawled, his heels clacking on the stage. There were a few mumbles. Oh crap, I didn't even pick one of his books. "I expect you to have at least half read as of now."

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and looked up at him. He was tapping the Tempest. "Anyone care to share what they've read so far?" I watched the way he moved while running his hand through his locks, trying to decode anything. But it was pokerface. "No?"

He flipped through a few of the pages and stayed quiet for a beat. "Well, I guess I'll just have you all write a few jotted down notes for the next fifteen minutes on your play. Make it insightful. I don't want obscene drawings on it like the last time," Turner shifted his jaw, staring at one of the boys in a jersey.

Then he sat back down at his desk, feet propped up on the table, reading a book I couldn't seem to see what the title was of.

I mentally panicked. I haven't even started! How am I supposed to write anything? Should I make it up--maybe Turner hasn't even read all of Shakespeare's works. But at the same time, he'll know, wouldn't he?

I waited in unbearable silence as Turner collected everybody's notes. When he came up to me, expecting a page, an unsettling feeling anchored down my stomach. He paused when he saw I didn't have anything. I was too intimidated to look up.

"Where are your notes, Greene?"

My heart raced. "Sorry--I didn't know we had to have started reading the book yet... haven't really had the time." 

He's squinting slightly. "Right," he licked his lips unconsciously, peering down at me. "Maybe it'd be easier to get work done when you're not busy following people around," he whispered.

I opened my mouth, then closed it.

"Then I expect you to finish your play in the next two days."

"That's unfair! A whole Shakespeare play in two days?"

"Or you can choose to fail the assignment, either works, darling." Turner smirked. "You can come in for extra help in the mornings, I tend to be here. Maybe we can arrange something another time. For now, we should move on to the lecture."

And so, he did. I waited until the lecture finished, why the sky was blackest of the black, and watched students filter out one by one, and watched Turner poise himself on the desk as he stared at me, expecting me to leave as well.

I didn't leave.