Silence Beyond Words

Art & Something Else

Norma hates how cruel teenagers can be. How annoying and close-minded. She bites into her tuna sandwich and continues to read the scribbles and insults girls have written on the bathroom stalls.

The tray sits comfortably on her lap as her eyes travel from one corner to the other.

Veronica is a fat fuck.

Manny had sex with Laura because she was a virgin.

Ernie + Julie 4ever!

There weren't as many insults as she had expected. The girls kept it on the low and worried more about letting the rest of the school know that their boyfriends were untouchable and out of their leagues. Norma keeps reading.

Lu was here.

If you're reading this, you're a bitch.

Norma smiles to herself. There it is. How original of them. How unique. Norma's never been friendly enough with anyone to be called a bitch. No one's ever been close enough to decide that sometimes, and only when necessary, she can turn into one.

That's another reason why she's spending lunch hidden from the rest of the cool but mean kids. The disgusting but also tolerable idea came to her after the first week of school in North Dakota. A group of girls saw her sitting by herself during lunch and joined her out of pure spite.

She remembers how the girls stared at her the entire time, neither of them daring to break eye contact. She felt like that rare, albino gorilla in captivity at the zoo. She's never felt more uncomfortable in her life. The next day, she took it upon herself to hide from those vultures. She was safe there. No one could mess with her behind a bathroom stall.

The remaining of her day went as expected. She was able to fly under the radar, shielding herself from the many weird glares she was still receiving. She tried as best as she could to not make eye contact with anyone.

Norma was sure people started thinking she was a fresh student out of middle school. Her attire doesn't scream senior. Her thin figure didn't help either. But she stopped worrying about looks a long time ago.

The day is almost over and she had to congratulate herself from keeping calm and walking through those halls like she owned the school. It's taken her so long to build up that courage, that confidence; she's not bound to let anyone destroy it in just one day.

She finds room 312, art class. There were only a couple of students there, neither one of them turned to look her way when she entered the chilly and vibrant classroom.

There were no desks, only chairs. The chairs were planted in front wooden stands holding blank canvas. There was a tiny table on each one, holding art supplies and a bucket filled with unopened brushes and paint.

'Great,' she mumbles lightly. She wanted to hide from the crowd, not expose herself this way. The last time she took an art class was back in middle school. She remembers how the teacher's only focus was to eat hot cheetos and drink black coffee. She considered it a free class. A free time where she could get started on her homework and get it out of the way before it was her time to go home.

As expected, she found the chair and canvas at the very far end. She settled her things on the floor, leaning the binder against the leg of the chair. Although she could start feeling a bit of pressure are on her chest, she decided to breathe and relax. It shouldn't be that bad.

While she waited for the bell to ring, she took a look around. The ambiance in the room was different from the others. It smells like fresh paint and somehow and for whatever reason, it soothed her.