Getting to Know the Bad-Boy (ON HOLD UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE)

Chapter 1

   "Lyric, the paint you requested's in the office, run down and grab it. Don't forget a pass!" Mrs. Reckard, the school's art teacher, shouted from the kiln room. 

   "Okay!" I yelled back. Mrs. Reckard was definitely my favorite teacher. She was laid back and hilarious and an incredibly talented artist. I grabbed the stuffed bear dressed in a hippie outfit, which Mrs. Reckard considered a pass, and ran to the office. I'd been awaiting the paint's delivery for a few days now and couldn't wait to start my project. 

   The school's secretary rolled her eyes upon my arrival and handed me the two cans of paint. "Ah, Lyric, here," She said.

   "Thanks." I laughed and opened the paints to assure that they were the correct ones before heading back to the classroom. After inspecting them thoroughly I put the lids on, probably too loosely, and then ran to the artroom. Before the door swung closed I heard the secretary yell something about running in the halls but I ignored her commentary. I turned a corner and before I could stop, I collided with a someone tall in a leather jacket. The paint lids sprung off on impact and the paint splattered onto the leather wearing victim. 

   "I am so sorry." I tried to apologize, when I got back up. 

   Case, the school's "badboy" glared at me and said, "Yeah, you are." 

   I snapped, blurting out the first thing that came to mind, "Dude, don't be such an asshole it was an honest mistake, damn. Now, I have a project to attend to, but I probably don't have nearly enough paint to finish now." 

   "You act like that's my fault. Pretty sure you ruined my leather." He groaned. That's when he looked my dead in the eyes. Anyone else would have run under his intimidating glare but something about his deep green eyes kept me in my place.

   "I- I have to go to class." I blurted, grabbed the pant cans, and walked back to class to avoid further incidents. I heard Case huff and stomp off to class behind me.

   His eyes were all I could think about. They were so piercing and deep. It was like looking into an emerald, and really taking in it's beauty. Have you ever been left breathless because something was so beautiful and magnificant? Well, it's like that only his eyes were like drowning. Like, when you swim in a river and you want to give into the pulls of the current but at the same time you don't want to get sucked in. They were so tempting. On the other hand, it was Case. The boy notorious for dealing drugs behind the school, and smoking in the bathroom on the second floor. The boy that every girl lusted after, but was scared to really go for. The guy I'd wanted nothing to do with since grade school.

   "Lyric, what happened to all the paint, you have like half a bucket in each?" Mrs. Reckard said snapping me out of my thoughts.

   "What, oh, sorry. I ran into someone in the hall and it spilled on them." I said, setting them on the table, "I'll just make do with what I have."

   I grabbed a large canvas and set it on one of the oak easles. The paints were blue, kind of cerulean blue, and green, like emerald, like Case's eyes. I couldn't think straight, so without even sketching I grabbed a paint brush, a few other paints from the cabinent and started working on my "masterpiece." 

   "If you want, you can put your iPod on the speakers, I'm really in the mood for some music." Mrs. Reckard suggested.

   "Alright." I agreed. I searched my bag for my iPod, unlocked it, and set it on the dock. I clicked play and Arabella by Arctic Monkeys resounded through the classroom. Mrs. Reckard had no students for two periods and I had back to back study halls and the art right after so she let me come down here and work on projects, hang out with her, or what ever we wanted to do until art.

   I tapped my foot to the beat and picked up a paintbrush and some tan paint. I didn't have any idea what to paint so I just did whatever felt right. I then grabbed the black and started to make a thin outline of something. Lips, maybe. I added some white and then some more black, the paint strokes lining up with the beat of the song. After about twety miutes the bell rang, interrupting my "mojo" and I looked at the canvas. It was starting to look like nothing really, but I continued anyway. Afterall, I had another fourty-five minutes before I had to clean up. I focused my attention to the music again, and reached for the green paint. I filled in some of the white space with the green and then mixed some blue into it. I continued painting the unknown work as I listened to the words of Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High, also by the Arctic Monkeys. 

   "I'm really digging this vibe." Mrs. Reckard said from her desk, where she tapped a light pink mechanical pencil along to the beat. The tapping stopped and I heard her chair roll across the floor, and then the spring popping noise it makes when someone gets out of it, which meant she was either coming to look over my shoulder or continue something she started earlier. Almost like a cofirmatio of my assumption, her feet made slight thuds on the ground as she approached, "Wow. This is pretty amazing, are they your eyes?" She asked.

   Eyes. That's what I'd been painting the whole time. I stared at the painting I'd just finished, hoping to understand what exactly led me to paint such a thing, until I realized who's eyes they were.

   "No. I have no idea who's they are. Just some random inspiration I guess." I shrugged.

   "Well, it looks amazing, as usual. Mind if I hang it up in the showcase?" She asked. 

   I thought about letting her have this painting as well, but instead I answered, "I think I'd rather take this one home. I'm kinda digging it." 

   "Alright, let me know if you change your mind. Oh, by the way, there's an art show coming up, for apparently "the best-of-the-best" and I figured, if you wanted in on it, you could easily win. There's like a Five hundred dollar cash prize for first place, so I guess it's pretty serious." Mrs. Reckard suggested.

   "If I have some free time I'll start something, but my horrid art teacher just assigned some lame self-expression art project so I might be caught up on that one" I said, sarcastically.

   Mrs. Reckard winked, and  replied, "I heard that art teacher's a real bitch. She's a totaly drag, like shoes."

   "Totally" I smiled. I picked up the paintbrush and added a few finishing touches and then set the finalized painting on the drying rack. Mrs. Reckard grabbed some clay and started sculpting something. I figured I'd start the 'Self-Expression Project' for class and continue working on it in art class next period. 

   I kept asking myself, in my head, why in the world would I paint Case's eyes?