Seventeen is the age that decides who every young soul is destined to be with forever. Dating back to Neanderthals, humans have always felt this natural pull to the other half of their soul. Made to make sure that the human population is reproducing...
it was brought to my attention last chapter that i forgot to put that the perspective changed to sophie's, although i did imply it. in case i forget again in the future, please look at the banner color of the chapter. red is keefe, and green is sophie. if you forget whose color is who, head back to the cast chapter. the colors match with the aesthetics i made for each of them. hopefully that simplifies things.
i'm actually pretty proud of this chapter. it's a lot of words, and pretty focused. i put a lot into this chapter, and i think it turned out well. guyssss they're gonna meet so soon AHHHH
have fun reading, loves xx
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Earlier the same day...
K e e f e S e n c e n
I strode into art class, confident as always. My Hair looked good, my confident aura filled the room, and I was in art class. The only thing that could possibly beat this would be finding out that I didn't have to live with my father anymore or finding my soulmate.
As usual, when my gaze flickered around the classroom on my way to the seat, I noticed girls giggling. They nudged their friends, who ran fingers through their hair, pulled their shirts down, and bit their lips seductively. Normally, I would shoot a lucky girl a wink and grin, but after finding my soulmate and feeling so nauseous, I wasn't in the mood. Boys watched me warily, all too aware of the threat my popularity posed to them. Some of them looked to me with admiration, some with disdain.
I was about to take a seat, setting my things down on my desk when someone caught my eye. Dirty blonde hair filled my vision, and I recognized the girl – Sophie – that I'd brought to the nurse's office.
A part of me felt bad that I'd never realized I shared any classes with her. Then again, girls were girls. I had connections but didn't really know anyone that wasn't at least a semi-pop.
Should I go over to her to talk to her? The thought crossed my mind just as Sophie got up and made her way over to the paintbrushes. I followed, planning on getting a word in with her while I grabbed my own brushes, even though I hadn't planned on painting that day. I just felt that weird pull to this girl.
It was crowded by the paintbrush bucket, and I somehow managed to brush hands with every person as we all reached for more paintbrushes in sync.
The nauseas feeling in the pit of my stomach subsided, and I forgot all about paintbrushes with a start. Soulmate?
To my disappointment, the art teacher yelled for us all to sit down so that she could give instructions before I could scan faces, and everyone retreated into the crowd of students sitting down at desks.
I was so close. Frustration etched its way all over my features, replacing the nauseous feeling's space.
The art teacher started talking, and instead of listening the way I normally did, I got out my pencil, opened to a new page in my sketchbook, and started drawing something random. Right now, I could care less about techniques and rule of thirds and crap.
I thought as I drew, not bothering to take notice of what I was sketching onto paper.
It took a good ten minutes of me being lost in my thoughts before I realized what I was drawing.
I'd drawn four people on my paper, three mirroring the angry positions Valin, Stina, and Maruca had taken up. They faded into the background and were just about as defined as the walls I'd drawn. Other than their positions, I wouldn't have known who they were, as I had managed to leave the features on their faces out.
In the foreground, a girl dropped towards the ground, bruised and beaten. Her body slumped with exhaustion, almost welcoming the floor she was going to land on. Her messy hair pulled back into a ponytail reacted to the motion, the tips of it pointed skywards.
There was something so raw and vulnerable about the scene. I couldn't figure out why I had drawn it of all things. Normally, my subconscious thoughts would make their way onto paper – I would understand what they meant, though. I didn't understand this.
Sophie. Why had I drawn her?
I wasn't able to save her. I didn't catch her when she had fallen. Was that it?
Trying not to be too obvious, I studied her from a distance. Even now, the blonde looked exhausted, slightly hunched over her desk as she ran her paintbrush across her paper.
I wanted to understand why she popped up in my thoughts so often. Why I dreamt of her. I didn't have an explanation for any of it, so far. She was a stranger to me. Albeit, an intriguing one, but a stranger, nonetheless.
I tried to catch her eyes, but she didn't look up in my direction once. She appeared to be deep in thought, and the bell ended up ringing before I managed to get anything from her.
Determination surged through me. I would talk to her at lunch or something. I just needed to check up on her and understand this for my own sake.
