Names In The Night [COMPLETED]

Chapter 3

Authors note:
I'm writing this during class because I'm bored.
The translation of the poem is
"you do not know me
my face is hidden by a white mask
that is all you can see
there is no personality
only the mask, so pretty and dull
made blinding by the moon full"
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I woke up with a pang in my head and aching joints. I lifted my head up to check my watch. It read 5:49. I left the cold bathroom and, after I grabbed my backpack, I walked downstairs. It was still dark outside, and the only light was the lamp I accidentally left on in the kitchen. I opened the fridge to get some food, when I heard a snore coming from the couch. I whipped my head around, convinced there was someone else in the house. It was only my mother, who apparently crashed on the couch after getting home from work late last night. My heartbeat slowed and I reluctantly grabbed a piece of cake from the fridge. I hadn't eaten since breakfast yesterday.

My stomach felt like a gaping hole in my body.

I guessed one piece wouldn't do much. I sat down at the kitchen table and did my remaining homework as I ate. I finished my homework at 7:17. I didn't really have time to change into cleaner clothes (my clothes surprisingly didn't get very dirty from yesterday) so I just put on makeup and walked to school with the clothes I had on. I listened to Motionless In White on my walk to school, which happened to be one of the artists on my 'Fuck You' playlist. I got to my first class and sat down in my seat in the very back row of the class. I instinctively pulled my sleeves down, even though they already covered my bandaged arms. After she collected the homework I let my mind wander for the rest of the class. In fact, I didn't pay attention in almost any of the classes I had before lunch. Except art. When I walked in the art room door, Ms. Degas was lying spread eagle on the middle of the floor. She was staring up at the ceiling, not blinking. I said, "Ms. Degas?" which brought her back to earth.
"What? Oh, hello Ivy. You can start working on your sketch. When your finished, I'll show you how to use oils."
"Ummm, Ms. Degas?"
"Yes?"
"I'm not really feeling the sketch. Can I start over?"
"But it's so beautiful. A bird that's free of a cage, without limits." She paused for a moment and continued, "I guess a mood can change. Do get a new canvas to sketch on, if you must. I predict one day you will want to return to the bird. Just set it on my desk. I have some more clean canvases in the supply closet." I set my books down on an empty table and scanned the room for the supply closet door. It took me a moment to find it, for the walls were cluttered with artwork of all kinds. Eventually I found it and walked inside, searching for a canvas that was the right size. I found one that was big enough for what I had in mind underneath a stack of letters. I picked up the letters and set them down on the table. I grabbed the canvas by the sides and walked out of the supply room and to my table. I had a perfect imagine of what I wanted to paint in my mind. I started to draw out what I desired. The graphite lines were curved and then straight and curved again. If I didn't like something I erased it and drew it the way I wanted. I burned through it and finished drawing 15 minutes before the bell rang. I got up and showed it to Ms. Degas, who was still lying on the floor. She sat up to get a better look at my work. "Ooh, I love it."
"It isn't too controversial? I was worried that the principal-"
"Oh, to hell with what he thinks! It's the epitome of creativity. The raw emotion, the fear! It's beautiful and terrible and heart-wrenching! I've never seen anything like this from an artist your age. It's utterly remarkable."
"Thank you. I was wondering if I could stop right here and continue working the next time I have this class."
"Of course. In fact, you are dismissed right now. Go ahead onto lunch." I bowed out and left the art room, clutching my books. I poured my heart and soul into that sketch. I was looking forward to bringing it to life with color. As I was on my way to my locker, the bell for lunch rang and students came pouring out of every door like angst-ridden flood waters. My heartbeat sped up as I saw Marcus approaching, his eyes trained on me.
"Look, I'm surprised the emo came to school today. We thought you'd be hanging by your neck on a rope. Are you wearing the same clothes you wore yesterday?" I walked faster, and he shouted after me, "Where do you think you're going?" My legs broke into a frantic run. I sprinted down hallways and around corners until I was sure I wasn't being followed. After putting my books in my locker, I walked to the lunch room. I made my way over to Andy's table. He was listening to music while he ate lunch, just like he was the day before. I sat down and lay my head down on the table. I stared out of the window and at the rest of the school. I started to see how many people I could count.
One.
Two.
Ten.
Fourteen.
Twenty.
A tap on my shoulder disturbed my counting people and I looked up. Andy was staring at me without his headphones in. His face had that look that made you know he was waiting to ask a question. Eyebrows slightly raised. Eyes open a little more than usual.
"Hey, Ivy?"
"Mhm?"
"Umm, are those the same clothes you were wearing yesterday?"
After a long pause I said in a soft voice, "Yes."
"Okay. And, um, why are your sleeves pulled all the way down? It's hot outside."
Another long pause. "No reason."
"Oh. Okay. And why do you never eat at lunch?" Lie.
"I eat a big breakfast." Another lie. After a moment of silence between us, he followed up with, "Do you want a ride home?"
"What?"
"A ride home. I noticed you walking to school today and you look kinda tired, and I just, I dunno, I have a car and stuff and I was wondering if you wanted a ride home."
"Oh. Yeah, I'd like that. Thank you, Andy."
"You're welcome. Anything for a friend." A friend. I was Andy Biersack's friend. I was generally unaccustomed to this whole friendship thing so I was hoping that I wouldn't screw it up like I usually do. I liked it, the idea of friendship. The whole thing sounded very warm and... close. Knowing my reputation he'd hate me by the end of the semester. I sighed aloud. At least it will be good while it lasts. We spent the rest of lunch in silence and parted ways when the bell rang. In Language Studies our teacher made us recite a poem in French that we wrote last night. I just made something up in my head at the last minute. I was called up to present. I walked up to the front of the class and said,