The Broken Smile The Brightest

Chaper 3

"Ms. Conti, will you be taking your sketchbook home?" My art teacher, Mrs.Murphy asked, and half the class looked at me. I nodded numbly, praying that no one near me would report what I was drawing.
They have this thing, reporting, where we could basically ray on someone for 'unsafe' or 'depressed' or 'suicidal' behavior. If that happened, you were monitored more closely. Another mistake, and you're to the 'special' school, my friend.
What I was drawing wasn't even that bad- just the view from the top of a tall building- but with the right filter, it could be the view of a girls final moments.
I slipped the leather bound sketchbook into my backpack, which had been inked over with designs and quotes to the point where it was hard to tell what the original color had been.
Counting the seconds until I was let out of prison, I stared numbly at the clock.
Tick-tick.
Tick-tick.
Tick-tick.
Finally, the slow, drawn out beep from the so-called 'bells' was heard, signaling the end of one battle, and the start of another.
At a normal school, there would be chaos. Kids running, kids getting shoved to the floor, people laughing loudly. But here, there was dead silence. We all walked slowly to our destination, busses or cars or out to school doors to walk.
Me? Well, I meet up with Brady, Sophie, and usually...That's not important
Today, only Brady raises a hand in greeting.
He had dark hair, that was a little longer than it probably should've been, but it looked nice on him. He had usually bright blue eyes, but today they were darker, like a clouded sky waiting to rain.
Sophie led the four-no, three- of us away from the hellish building, her heeled combat boots making a dull clacking sound on the dirty concrete.
We should be laughing, at least smiling. School was over. Our parents wouldn't be home for a few hours. We could actually do stuff for once. But what was there to be happy about? Nothing.
And besides, the free time could just be another one of us gone.
So we walked silently, kicking at stones and messing up ant piles, walking through the neighborhood full of fake luxuries, and even faker people.