You're a Masterpiece (BOOK 1)

Chapter 2

AN: helloooo, loves!! don't be a ghost reader <3

Art wasn't surprised to find out that they were classmates with Shade.

Art had a hunch that they would be around to see him more often than they'd like. They were feeling that specific tug in their chest while making their way back to the Auditorium yesterday. They've been grumbling about stupid fucking Shade Flaurante with his stupid fucking pinkie promises and his stupid fucking middle finger.

And, well, they just knew deep in their gut that he'd be... a significant person for this school year.

The moment Art walked into their classroom the next day—the formal start of the school year, introduction to academics and teachers—they grinned.

Good morning, Shade Flaurante.

Shade looked at them. He simply stared for a moment before the dread settled in. Art waved right back, raised an eyebrow, and pointed a finger gun at him.  He sighed heavily and shook his head, going back to... whatever it was he was doing.

Art sat at a vacant chair at the left side of the classroom, third row, nobody on their left side, and in the direct path of the cool breeze from the air-conditioner. They didn't have a seatmate for whatever reason, which meant they had no one to bother and no one to get-to-know. So, Art just sat down and... watched everyone.

Of course, there was the giggling mess of girls and gays. Art supposed they could get closer to them if they wanted to. It looked like they knew all the gossip and the latest trends on whatever the fuck. They also looked like they retweeted bad, stolen quotes from Twitter about staying positive and loving God. And, you know, they looked like F21 enthusiasts and Starbucks coffee lovers.

They were the ones Art could approach for a good time, for someone to understand their interest in makeup and love life. But as Art eavesdropped—which wasn't difficult, they were nearly yelling—Art realized they were only talking about one boy: Shade Flaurante.

Art scrunched their nose when they heard his name for the fifth time. They glanced at him. Art supposed that they could see the appeal—rough, bad boy, honor student, and swimmer. But, Jesus, that was it! He looked... alright. Just alright. Cookie-cutter. Too pretty. Too cool, no other personality.

So. Goodbye, potential friendship.

Art shifted their focus. There was the quieter, introverted group made of the outcasts and misfits—who looked like they lurked on the chaotic parts of stan Twitter. It was harder to eavesdrop on them because they had the common sense to keep their words to themselves. But they talked about books and anime, along with a dash of mommy issues and daddy issues. They were a good group and Art could probably stay with them for the start of the school year before they started to branch out.

And, of course, there were the gamer boys. Art was surprised that they were a separate group from the jocks... But the gamer boys were loud and also obnoxious... The more Art watched them, the sadder and more try-hard they looked. Art guessed these were the cool-kid rejects that formed their own coalition to, well, get through it. Or they were the incels. They weren't sure.

And then there were those boys.

Shade, much to Art's surprise and dismay, seemed to be a part of this clique. He sat with the insufferable jocks and the rowdy boys, and Art even saw Chase with him. Art noted that he was the quiet one in the group. He was just on his phone—despite his insistence yesterday to abide by the no-phone rule—as his friends laughed and jeered. There were five of them—Art didn't recognize the other three—and Art was disappointed to see Chase be the center of attention. He was the fuel of all the jokes—bad gay jokes, dick jokes, sex jokes, and teacher jokes.