Crimson Rose

Chapter 12

Peterson was my mother's maiden name before she married my dad. Or I should say, before she saw my dad's money. Mom didn't talk a lot about her life before dad, Jordan and I rarely saw her parents. Maybe once a year during the holidays when they weren't spending it at their timeshare on some tropical island. I knew mom came from money, it's why dad agreed to marry her in the first place, but damn, I had no idea my mother was an artist.

Apart from being drunk all the time, I remember mom always leaving room for Jordan and I to express ourselves. When I told her I wanted to join the debate team, she whisked me away to buy collared shirts and fashionable blazers. When Jordan first began drawing, mom bought her an exclusive set of Caran D'ache sketching pencils. A set that's only found in Switzerland. I always thought it was because mom was too drunk to pay attention to us, and instead bought us things we wanted. Maybe that wasn't the case, maybe she just somehow knew that we were expressing who we truly were.

Not that I'll ever be able to ask her. After she left we didn't ever talk. She told me she'd call every now and again, but never did. I only ever get a postcard from her last visit with some dumb sentimental message written on the back. I sigh deeply and hunch down in my stool. Painting class is the absolute worst! I have zero ideas and you'd think I'd bullshit something since Professor Whittle is giving us the entire week to start our project, but no, I'm too focused on mom's mural.

"Something on your mind?"

I nearly jump out of my seat as I turn to see the girl sitting next to me. "Just in a creative slump," I lie ever so casually. Sadly, I'm becoming rather good at lying.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," She giggles.

Crystal is one of the few friends I've managed to make that are non-M related. In a lot of ways, she reminds me of Jordan, before all the drugs and alcohol. She's always so cheerful and is incredibly talented.

"Oh, no it's okay, I guess I'm a little distracted."

She smiles, one that shows sympathy rather than politeness. That's one of my favorite things about her, she's so honest.

"When I lack inspiration, I like to look at what's around me."

I arch an eyebrow, returning her friendly smile. My eyes dart over to the easel ahead, and to the boy behind it. He's incredibly awkward, a total people pleaser, and just all over weird. He's awkwardly tall, maybe slightly taller than Xavier, and super skinny. Like he could turn to the side and disappear. Everyone in the studio is aware of his odd behaviors and demeanor, but we all resort to silent stares and hushed giggles.

"Yeah, cause Kooky Korey is such an inspiration."

Crystal's blue-green eyes follow mine as we watch Korey dip his brush into a jar of red paint, then knock it over, splattering himself in red. We both giggle, a little too loudly since we catch the attention of our professor. She shoots us a glare, but carries on with her work.

"Actually I was referring to events or people who are impacting you," Crystal clarifies for me.

I shift my gaze back to the empty canvas in front of me. My lips part, hoping for an idea, but nothing. I think back to the people who have impacted me the most.

There's my father, but he hasn't exactly been father of the year. My absent mother, who I couldn't tell you where she is currently, my dead sister, who never painted people. She only ever stored those in the safety of her sketchpad. Lastly, there's Xavier, but he'd probably find it weird, especially since our friendship is so fragile. 

I frown, how did my life end up like this? In this conscious yet unconscious state of me just existing?

"No need to over-think it," Crystal says, interrupting me from my thoughts. "I always paint the stars, because they're a constant inspiration."