It Rains on Weekends

Chapter 6

A flash in the right direction (the past)

I met Jace a year before I met Judge.

He was tall for his age, at just 8 year's old he was already 4 foot 8. Right now he's 6 foot 2. He had curly blonde hair, his long locks becoming little swirls of gold near the ends.He had his hair longer then, a little ways past his ears.His eyes were a startlingly bright blue, almost offensively beautiful to some.

I met him on complete accident . You see, after that little ( just being labeled as such to not ruin the moment when in actuality it was a huge event) episode with my mother, I became susceptible to panic attacks.It usually happened when I was separated from my mother for too long, because I hated having her out of my sight for the fear of losing her.So, I was usually absent from school, then taken out completely after I freaked out during a science presentation where someone was discussing the process of decomposition.I started to get home schooled, rarely leaving the house except for when my mother had errands to do.My mother worked from home, she was an author/illustrator, and when she wasn't taking care of me she was either writing or sketching.I would usually watch her, and because of that, I drew very well for my age.I was able to draw birds and flowers in great detail.

One day, my mother threw down her pencil and shoved the blank pieces of paper off of her desk.I had been sitting next to her in her study, watching her work on a new installment for a children's book called "Big bear, Little Bear."

"What's the matter?" I asked, my eyes wide.

"Nope. I can't do it.I'm not feeling it." She sighed, running her hands through her hair.

"Huh?Not feeling what?Why can't you do it??

She looked over at me, the hint of a smile on her lips. "This book.I'm not feeling it, my dear." She tapped on the tip of my nose. "I don't have the right inspiration."

"Inspa-what?"

"Inspiration."

"What does that mean?"

"It's.. huh. It's basically something that makes you want to do something, or at least makes you feel like it." She shrugged. "If you want the actual definition then look it up."

"Alright." I said, heading towards the computer in the corner of the room.

She grabbed onto my sleeve, stopping me. "No, wait." She said. "Look it up later.Let's go out and do something."

"Do what?" I said, turning around to face her.

"Hmm.." She mumbled, thinking. Then her face lit up, a lightbulb lighting up above her head. "A new park just opened up down the street.We can walk there together." She took a handful of blank paper and two pencils in her hands."We can sit on a bench and do some good, ol' fashioned sketching together."

"Then you'll get some insparashun?"

"Its inspiration honey.And yes, I think it would."

"Alright.As long as I get to be with you."

She smiled. "I'm flattered."

And with that we were off, our coats slipped on and clipboards with papers and pencils in our hands.My mother wore a thin burgundy jacket, some ankle boots, a pair of green sunglasses, and black leggings.She had her amber hair identical to mine, tied up in a messy bun.To me, she looked like a teenager, a person way too young to sit and sketch at a neighborhood park with a girl in a daisy jacket and bejewled pants.But there she was, a girl who looked like she belonged more at a sorority party than a park, holding my hand.I admired her.