Sticks and Stones

Chapter Seven

I could see Malakai, holding hands with someone. He was wearing all white, and the other person, black.

            A black dress—it was a girl.

            I wasn’t sure who it was, but it hurt my feelings, her being there. I looked down at my own attire and grimaced. I was in the outfit that I had worn to the party, the blood still there and everything. I tried to walk towards Malakai, but I was stuck in my place. My voice was suddenly off, and my vision was beginning to go blurry. The two people in front of me—who were they again? —Approached me quickly. The girl in the black dress leaned down close to me, her glossed lips and blonde hair recognizable now.

            Rachael laughed a sick, twisted laugh and put her mouth close to me ear.

            “He’s mine now, bitch.” And then just as she stood up, the ground was gone, and I was under water, trying to breathe and reach the top before I drowned.

            Their two figures murky, hugging figures above the water.

            I woke up from my dream, gasping for air. Sweat made the tiny little hairs cling to my forehead and the back of my neck, feeling damp and nasty. It was just a dream, I thought to myself, climbing out of bed and stepping instantly into the shower. I quickly got ready and raced down to the warehouse, which is where the mural was being held. I had borrowed my fathers car, and had rushed out in such a hurry that I only had time to eat half a piece of toast.

            Malakai was working all day today, so he couldn’t come work on his half of the mural. I reassured him that I wouldn’t look at his side, and he didn’t completely believe me. So, it was no surprise when I walked into the warehouse, finding that he had stopped by early to leave a giant gray sheet over his half.

            I laughed out loud, surprised at how it sounded. I hadn’t laughed like that in so long. Smiling, I set down my portable radio and turned it on, letting Beethoven’s Moonlight Sanata fill the room. It echoed and I laughed again, drowning in the piano notes. I grabbed my paint and brush, getting to work.

            The strokes I made with my brush were pieces of art in themselves. Each was unique, telling it’s own story. I wasn’t sure how much time had gone b y when I finally stopped, looking at what I had done.

Of all things, I had drawn a beach. 

            The water was a dark cobalt blue, the moon in the sky shining off of the water, leaving it with little streaks of white. In the water there were two silhouettes of people—one a man, one a girl. They were holding hands.

            I knew what it represented. I knew who the people were, and I knew where and when it had happened. Of course, I had been there. But looking at it made me smile a small, unexpected smile. Looking at that small man in the painting made my heart ache. I closed all of the paints and folded up my smock, collecting my radio and leaving the two small people in the darkness.

                                                            ***

            As a volleyball smacked me in the head, I finally spotted Kai.

            He laughed and ran over to me, embracing me in a hug and touching lightly where the volleyball had hit. I stood, rigid and unresponsive to his touch. He had never hugged me before; he must’ve been in a good mood. I finally wrapped my arms around his chest and could feel his hot skin underneath his thin t-shirt. It was all muscle, and it made hugging him awkward. When he pulled away, he was smiling even bigger.