Mute

2- The Project

Anna's P.O.V.~

"Take your seats, please." A young Korean woman simmers down the chatter in the classroom. Her hair was pinned up with two thin sticks. She wore a pretty lilac blouse and black dress pants. "Welcome back students! I'm Ms. Yang." She announces from the front of the room, "I'll be your homeroom teacher this year. I'm a laid back girl, as most of you know. This is a free period to do what you want, whether its to catch up on work or text away on your phones." Looking around, there's a few kids already on their technology and ignoring her presentation.

"Oh! Can't forget to introduce our new student, Miss. SinClair!" I felt all eyes land on me as Ms. Yang claps her hands together excitedly.

"You're name is Claire?" A girl with braids asks me as she chewed loudly on gum. I shake my head no.

"Last name Sin-Clair, first name Anastasia." The teacher confirms for me, and I'm eternally grateful. People waved and a few said "Hi, Anastasia."
All I could give in return was a nervous smile and an awkward wave back. Some may call it the first day jitters, I'll let them think that for now. Before I become a social experiment. The room filled with conversation and I feared I was the new topic.

Time went by seemingly slow for a 15 minute period. I tapped the pencil rhythmically on my withered sketchbook, wondering what to draw. Slowly, my head turned towards the beautiful boy from earlier in the hallway, sitting across the way from me.

Harry's eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he stares deeply into his book. Seemingly lost in the words on the page. Inspired, I stole quick glances. Hopeful to go unnoticed as I began to sketch his side profile. I can't refrain myself from biting down on my lip as he brings his thumb to his mouth, wetting the pad to skip the page. I was adding texture to the curls that swoop his forehead when I accidentally drop my pencil. It rolls under my desk, causing me to bend down underneath the table to retrieve it.

When the bell rings unexpectedly, my body jerks and I ended up stupidly bumping my head on the table. Soft chuckling was heard from behind me. I turn to see no one other than Harry Styles, smirking with a book in hand. As I looked closer, I come to realize he's holding my sketchbook. And it was wide open.

I stand abruptly, but couldn't say a thing. Great. Now he'll think I'm a creep. Just as I thought it couldn't get more awkward than this, he decides to speak.

"You know, this is really good." His deep voice echoes through the now empty room. I fiddle with the hem of my sweater awkwardly. He most likely just said that to be nice. As if he read my mind, he argues, "I meant it, Anna." My mouth parted at the nickname I've only heard my mother and grandmother use. "Honest." My eyes anxiously met his gaze, his lips pulled into a welcoming smile.

"Nobody has ever drawn me before. Even if someone did, I think this would have to be the best." Harry passes me back the brown leather journal which I snatch from him quickly in embarrassment. He chuckles softly at my temperament. I couldn't even look at him.

"So you have art with Malceri next?" He asks, taking a folded up piece of paper from his pocket. I nod in response. Speaking of art, we're about to be late to it.

He picked up my bag from the floor and swung it onto his back in one swift motion. "Well, let's get going." Harry took me by my wrist and began to run. His long legs made him take longer strides, which made me put in more effort to keep up. We foolishly pranced down the corridor with his hand linked to my arm. Thank the lord nobody was in the halls and doors were closed. I wonder if we could get in trouble for this. Though I'm more worried about being late to a class on the first day.

Harry stops suddenly in front of one of the classrooms. Too quickly for me to stop as well. I accidentally bump into his side, and end up stumbling forward, falling into him. Large hands rushed to meet my waist, while my hands automatically grip his shoulders to steady myself.

"Woah there. Sorry, my fault." He rushes, scanning me over as if he was expecting damage. "Are you alright?" Worry-some emerald eyes searched mine. I stifle a small giggle and shake my head to assure him I was fine. I felt as if he looked at me as if I were fragile doll and he was afraid to see my porcelain crack.

It was cute.

The classroom door of Malceri's opens before he could question me further. It's funny how I just realized we arrived at our destination. A man, who I guess goes by the name Malceri, stands in the door frame.

We were still holding onto each other.

I glance at Harry, who clears his throat awkwardly and lets go of me. My face sulks for a second. I shouldn't be upset at all.

Only two seats are available, which so conveniently were next to each other. I exhale and sit; dropping my bag next to me. I felt Harry's company as he scooted in the chair. When we were settled, Malceri gave a not-so similar introduction of Ms. Yang. He's an older man possibly in his late 60's, wearing bulky specs, a old red cotton flannel, and blue overalls. I can't help but think of Geppetto from Pinocchio when I look at him.

"Today I'll be introducing our first project of the semester." A choir of kids groan, a few cheered excitedly. "You guys don't have to start it today, but I would like you guys to start planning and writing down your ideas." He spoke while taking a piece of yellow chalk from a box on his desk- which was also in the front of the room.

"So, you guys may remember back in elementary we always were asked what or who we wanna be when we grow up. When you were younger some answers would be a ballerina, policemen, or teachers. But now as we stand here as graduating seniors, I'd like you all to take a moment and really think, 'Who do I want to be?' With that said, take out your notebooks and brainstorm. Then when you've decided I'd like to reflect an image of yourself being-doing that said hobby, career, you name it. You may use pencils, paint, or even use pastels." Malceri wrote some instructions of the project on the blackboard.

Someone you want to be, I thought.
These things have dawned on me but have I ever dawned about commitment? I don't know what job I want but I'll do what I do know. With a click of my pen, I quickly jotted down three ideas onto the corner of my paper.

• Social person.
• Happy person.
• A respected person.

I press the pen against my lips while I battled about which topic to choose. I started to point out to myself the pro's and con's of choosing each one.
A long time of decision making, I picked my first choice. A social person. I'm the complete opposite and no one really knows the reason why.

There is no reason for me to speak. There's no one to confide in, no one to trust. I've built up walls not to keep people out but to protect what I have left. If I were still communicative, I might not be going through this lifestyle. This doesn't crush my hope though that in the future someone will break that barrier.

I circled my selection and began sketching what came to mind. I drew a side view of an girl- who's supposed to be myself -in the center of the paper. After drawing the frame of her head, I started adding the facial features. Beginning with the nose, than the lips. I shaded the tip of my nose with my fingers. I decided to draw the mouth hanging open, planning to write things I would want to speak aloud in the background. Seeing there was only a few minutes left of this period, my hand rushed to finish up drawing the ear. Though I wasn't completely done, I was somewhat satisfied with the result.
My attention wandered to Harry who was still into his artwork. I wondered what he would do for the project. What kind of person did he want to be?

Harry must've felt my eyes on him- he moved his arm to cover his paper and was the first to get out of class when the bell rang.