Antoine's Curious Collection of Arbitrary Short Stories

The Girl with the Painted Smile

Nothing seemed odd with her before; she's cheerful and a straight A's student. I just don't understand what happened to her. Did she really lose her mind?

Everyone stared at her as she entered the room. A mix of confusion, disturbance and amazement can be seen in everyone's faces. Everyone was silent and it seemed like they were waiting for something. Was it an answer? I don't know. She walked down the aisle not looking directly at anyone. All eyes followed her as she walked. The silence was deafening, no one cared to say a single word. The only thing we could hear is the sound of the rain outside and the steps of her feet as she walks.

We waited for this, but not like this. She passed her group of friends and left their mouths opened. The look of surprise and hurt showed in their faces.

She wore a red polka dot skirt, long enough to hang on her knees, white plain shirt and rain boots that match with it. She carried a drenched yellow umbrella, the water droplets fall on the floor as she walked leaving a wet trail along with her.

Not her style, not her, definitely NOT her. Her hair grew longer until it reached her waist. Her eyes, now, stare at my direction, blankly, like someone took the life out of them. Her skin looks paler unlike before.

She was full of life, never walked past someone without a smile plastered at her face but now it was... it was faked in a literal sense – Sh-she... Did she just paint her face? — I was knocked off from my thoughts when i realized that she's in front of me. Wait no, she's heading to the empty seat beside me. Great. Now, we're seatmates, what now?

She put her bag at the table and hung her umbrella at the back of her chair. She finally sits. I decided to look away and not watch every single one of her moves. I breathe in some air and tried to look at the front of the class.

I realize that everyone stopped gawking at her and started doing their own activities. The attention spans of people today are astonishing. Though, the uneasy feelings are still there. I tap my fingers and try to stop the raging waves of thoughts. I failed.

Where did you go? Why did you suddenly disappear? Why you didn't pick up my call. Why the sudden changes? What is it with your face? Was it a thing? Some trend that you discovered on the place you've been? What is this? Do you find this funny? Are you toying us? Leaving us and going back looking like—Okay, stop. I sigh. I can see, in my peripheral vision, that she's taking something out of her bag. A notebook? She starts scribbling something on it. The professor came and we finally start our lesson. Great, is this all what we've got after you left?

Days passed by and yet she still hadn't talked to anyone. She would just point her nose at her sketchbook, scribbling, sketching. I didn't even know that she likes art. After class she'll walk out of the room and just disappear somewhere. Some say they saw her at the art room eating lunch, some say that she always wander off at the school ground, some even say that they saw her standing at the middle of the field while it's raining. Just standing there?! What the fuck?!

i tried to talk to her, even her friends did, but nothing. We receive nothing, not a word, a change of expression... just a blank stare and a painted smile. I know I shouldn't have bothered her. We're not even friends though we dated before, until she vanished.

I thought she just ghosted me because she realized that she's out of my league but no she also disappeared from her friends, from everything. Rumors and speculation started spreading like wild fire. Some say she was bewitched by her dad's lover, mental, attention seeker, suicidal, some even called her the hermit who comes around. It's funny how people could make up different stories about one person.

I tried my luck once and followed her as she headed to the art room. I stood in front of the door for a while, contemplating the thought of whether to knock before entering her bubbled. i was greeted by silence as i step to the room. She's sitting. I headed to her canvas and didn't bother to glance at me. I noticed that she was murmuring something.

"Hey," i said. She finally look at me and then back to her canvas. "We'll talk again later," she says to it. Whaat?? "You're here," she says calmly like everything's back to normal, when in fact she just talked to a fucking a canvas. "Did you just talk to it?" I said as I blinked. She didn't seem surprised to my question. Nothing, Just a painted smile.

"Do you want to meet her?" She asked. "I can't believe you're really doing this," I say, hands on my hair, surprised. "She's Lucy," she says pointing at the cat that she paints. The way she painted it reminds me of the cat that use to symbolize bad luck. "I tell her my fears; do you want to tell yours?" I-I can't take it all in. "What happened to you?" i blurted out. "What is it with your face? W-what is this all about?" She caressed her lips, "I painted it too." She ignored the first question, "She keeps my secret." She giggled. "You're crazy!" I spit out of frustration.

"People say that art tells a story but it's the other way around, we tell them ours," she says before I could walk out of the room. That's the last thing I've heard of her. I never looked back at her. I let my emotions run over me, I shouldn't have but i did. And that was my mistake. She left again, but this time, she never came back. No one knew what happened and what will happen, no one tried enough to know and she didn't let anyone to. She left as a scar and painted it with a smile, like she did to herself.