MY FANTÔME SWEETHEART (12 Official Chapters, SLOW UPDATE)

MFS 11: Sweet Little Amy [English Version]

There were many things that happened since Rose was alive again. It's still a mystery to me. Michael was not answering me whenever I ask him about it. "Someone might hear it" that's what he always tell me even though there was just the two of us talking to each other. He doesn't even tell me who he was referring to and it seems that he has no plan to tell me even just to whisper it in my ear.

"Maybe you can write it and then give it to me?" I suggested.

"No," that was his only answer as he organizes his laboratory apparatuses in his room.

"Text or e-mail it?" I added.

"Brother William..." and he gave me a sigh. "...it can't be. The first time I told it to you, I wish you have listened." Oh yes, the day that I was staring at Rose while she's cooking, I wasn't listening to Michael. And I covered my face with my two hands. "That person was smart, I mean, smarter than before," and that was all he told me.

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This was our last class for the day. There was a bench at the middle of the classroom and our professor placed different kinds of flowers there. We began to setup our canvas and painting materials and circled around the model. Our painting class was one of the expertise of Rose, professors have showered her praises and her works were being liked by many.

I took hold of my painting pallette and started to mix oil paints. After a while, I started painting. It was quiet, too much silence that can almost deafen you. All I can hear was the licking sound of my brush on the canvas. I look at the model, remembering the curves, size and colors then paint, that's all I do in this class. And our professor will repeatedly say, "You can look at the model in a different aspect. It's just a pattern. The perception of the artist is important on what he'll paint."   But I want to take my painting literally, and of course I'll make it beautiful and Rose will be a part of this art. I was lucky that she's in front of me behind those flower models.

After a few moments, the professor started to take a look of our works. She's an old woman who wears eyeglasses and seemed to be strict. I can hear her say, "Don't you know how to mix colors, Mr. Perez? And look your paints were dripping from your palette. You're messing the floor."  She never ran out of comments. And here she goes, I know she's at my back. I stopped painting. "Good job. You're putting you're emotions on that painting. I can see your love." LOVE? Is that literal because of the girl on my painting?

Then she continued checking our works until she stopped at Rose's back. She wiped her eyeglasses and wore it again. I know that Rose's works were truly amazing but I think Maam's reaction was too different this time. Her eyebrows met and she drew her face near at the painting as if looking at it carefully. Then, she looked at the model. And because our classmates got curious, they peek at it and murmurings started.

"Class, please keep quiet! Continue your work! Don't meddle with your classmates work. Focus!" Ma'am loudly said that echoed in the entire room.

 After the 3 hours, the class has already ended and it was time to go home. Rose and I was the last one to leave the room. It's good that we don't have any club meetings to attend. I carried Rose's bag and we walked on the hallway. We pass through the faculty room and the door suddenly opened. Mrs. Estrella, our painting class professor, went out.

"Miss Cruz, I noticed that you've changed your preference in your painting today," she said as she held of her eyeglasses.

Rose was just looking at her.