Mr. I Don't Smile

01. intruder

01. intruder

Ciera

I don't know why art speaks to me more than anything else. I had tried different hobbies growing up but only two stuck. Cello and painting. I loved to play that instrument because music had always been the thing to calm me down after multiple arguments with my family. And when music didn't work, I painted. The emotions I felt transferred onto the canvas and I finally felt like I could express myself.

No one understands the art though. Just like they don't understand me.

I was finishing up an extra credit project I was doing for art class and decided to get up early this morning to do it. I didn't realize how long I'd been doing it because, by the time I look at the clock, it's time for me to leave. I thankfully already ate but don't have time to change my paint-splattered clothes.

I really have to set an alarm.

I run down the stairs at full speed and have to deal with a mini heart attack when I miss a step. "Clara, can I catch a ride with you?" I ask my sister who is grabbing her bag.

"Why? We never go to school together," she says. It might be weird to everyone else that two sisters who live together and attend the same school don't drive there together but it's normal for us.

"Because I can't carry everything. I just need to put my painting in your car and—"

"Hell no. Do you think I'm risking the chance of my car getting dirty because of you? The seats are leather."

"I'll put it in a bag and your car won't be affected at all."

"No, Ciera. It's not my fault you don't have a car." She twists her keys around before leaving the house. Her words echo in my head, just like every belittling comment my family makes.

"It's not my fault you don't have a car."

How dare she? She knows Mom and Dad only bought her a car and not me. I've been saving up to buy one of myself but still need at least 2,000 more dollars. A car for Clara but walking for me. A college account for Clara but saving for me.

I shake off the toxic thoughts. There's no point in complaining about things that will never change. I slide my phone out of my back pocket and call one of my friends, Maddie instead. "Are you at school yet?"

"Just pulling inside the parking lot. Why?"

"Can I get a ride?"

"I thought you said cars make you sick which is why you walk instead." Ah yes, the countless lies I tell my friends so they don't hear about my struggles at home.

"I'd rather have car sickness over being late."

"Okay, I'm coming. I'll be at your house in a few minutes."

"Thank you! You are a lifesaver." I trust Maddie, I truly do. She would risk herself being late so she can help me. I've known her since middle school and she's a loyal friend. She knows me and my family aren't close but she doesn't know to what extent. She doesn't know about the love they have for one daughter and the hatred they have manifested for the other. And I don't want her to find out. I don't want the pity.

A car horn honks a few minutes later, meaning Maddie is outside. I throw my backpack into her back seat and set the canvas down. "Oh, wow you're getting better. That's pretty," she compliments, motioning to the watercolor painting. "Is it supposed to be a forest?"

"Yeah, but I made it blue. You know the color represents wisdom and I figured it would make a cool meaning. Saying trees hold knowledge because they've been around for so long."