Book One- The Arts Trilogy: Paint Splatter

One

A child of paint.

**************

Delilah Cotta was not your average girl. Fisrt off she had always hated her unnatural looking eye color. It was almost yellow and had dark splotches in them. She hated making mistakes,just like her mom. She hated that the only thing she was good at was being different. Even though her art teacher droned on and on about her craftsmanship, her talented gift. The other people in her class never appreciated anything she did. The girls teased her because she never wore dresses or skirts, the dudes thought she was 'wrong in the head' because she never drooled over them. She always wore her sandy-light brown hair down in her face, an attempt to draw less attention to herself. That method didn't seem to work. Someone tossed a paper onto her desk. There was a picture of them stabbing someone. With arrows pointing to bleeding body saying 'You' and the person who was stabbing had an arrow to say 'Me'.

She looked in the direction the drawing was thrown from. She frowned.

" Derrek, I hate to be rude but this," She pointing at the paper. "Is shoddy work. Maybe if you tried..." She droned off as her hand grabbed a pencil and minutes later was the most realistic drawing of someone being murdered. So realistic, and lifelike. It looked more alive than the people in this classroom. She showed the paper to the kid and watch as he gasped in awe,disbelief, and a hint of admiration. She could barely grasp her victory she felt the drawing being snatched out of her hands. Her teacher, Mr.Sovolosk, looked over it, laid it down on her desk, walked to front wrote something and gave Delilah a pass. To the guidance counselor.

*************

" Now, Delilah..." She took a breath." I can't say I am not very disturbed by this picture, so I am going to have to call your mother."

Mrs.Leserdun was the counselor for the school. She was a older woman with tight curly hair and a pinched face. As if she had a permanent fresh lemon taste in her mouth.

Delilah groaned at this news. She couldn't help but think about the fact she's been practically living in the counselor's office!

" Mrs.Leserdun please don't call my mother! What I told you was true! I was just helping a classmate!"

" Very, well...but if I see you in here again-"

"I know, I know! Well see you later! Well no, but you know what I mean! Bye!" She tried to stand out of her chair gracefully but managed to hit the floor. She brushed off her sweatshirt and smiled sweetly, then proceeded to leave the room.

**********

Well Mrs.Leserdun didn't keep her promise. Delilah found herself sitting in her living room with her mom towering over her.

" Really, Deliliah? Really?"

"Mom I -"

"I don't want to here it! Just...please try your best to stay out of trouble. Okay?"

" Okay." She said slowly. Her mom just dropped it so quickly.

"Love you to bits and pieces sweet heart." She kissed her daughter on the cheek and turned to go to bed.

"Love you too mommy..." Delilah was now worried about her mom. What didn't go unnoticed was the unusual slouch if her mother's shoulders and the tiredness in her eyes...

********

"Okay everyone! I'll read off your buddy names so we can head out to the art museum!"

Everyone groaned at this news. Delilah thought they were too old to have buddies but she wasn't complaining. She had been good for the past two weeks this was her reward.She droned off until she heard her name.

"Delilah and Andrew."

She glanced over in his direction as he walked over. He was about as tall as her and was really skinny. He wasn't really musclebound and had almost black hair. Pretty decent looking. They got on the bus and began the trip. They sat by each other.

"Hi." She said lamely. It was considered a curse in her class to be partners with her.

"Hey." He said, " I like your eyes they're very beautiful." She thought he was joking. She and everyone else thought her eyes were hideous. He took out his sketchbook and began drawing.

" Whatcha drawing?"

"Stay still. I'm drawing you."

She sat. Nobody had ever wanted to draw her before. Unless it was in a threatening picture. By the time they got to the museum he was just finishing his work.

"Done."

He showed her the picture.

"Wow, that's amazing Andrew!"

" Not nearly as good as anything you've drawn..." He said modestly.

" What are you talking about? This is just as great!"

" Well, since you like it so much you can keep it!" He tore out the picture neatly and handed it to Delilah. She put it in the front of her sketchbook. They were walking around the museum asking the occasional " Hey what's the answer to number five?" or " Are you bored?"

Eventually Delilah drifted away from the sea of people. Andrew following behind. She found a beautiful painting of thunderstorm over the sea. As if she felt some magnetic pull she lifted her hand and touched the painting. But instead of pulling back her hand melted into the painting. Becoming the paint itself. She tried to pull away but something held her. She felt a sharp pain behind her eyes. She looked to see if anyone could see but nobody was moving, not even Andrew. She then felt a lot of spinning and fell on something hard and was drenched in water. She sat up to find herself on a boat. Not just any boat. The boat from the painting.

She heard shouting of the crew and saw them running across the deck. She looked out in fear and bewilderment. She couldn't believe her eyes. She was in a painting. The question though was how to get out. She was beginning to panic. None if the crew was paying any attention to her. She wondered if they could see her at all. She then saw a hand reaching for her. Almost on instinct she reached out grabbed it. Wind whipped past her and she was soon back in the museum. As if no time had past she was standing by Andrew. Except her face was wide with horror she covered her mouth and ran. She ran out of the museum and down the street. She ran because she was afraid. Because when she looked at the painting again. You could see her bright green jacket and hair whipping in the wind. She felt as if a part of her was gone. A new part of the painting.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞