Twisted (title pending)

Twisted ((Chapter Six))

**I love this chapter XD Sorry. Just thought I'd say that. Their conversations were fun to write. Plus the flashback made me cry. (I'm serious. I'm still tearing up.)

Anyway! I'll let you get back to the story!**

Chapter Six:

Don’t get me wrong. I was ecstatic that we were partners. But I couldn’t help but think of what would be waiting for me at home of we even got to be friends.

Plus I didn’t want to hurt myself like that when he would eventually ask someone else out. It would be hard enough as someone he didn’t know, much less a friend of his.

“Hey,” he said. “You missed most of his lecture. Come on, we need to get a table.” I saw that everyone was pairing up, sitting across from each other at tables. Arianne was stuck with one of the most annoying guys in school- Lucas, the most perverted jock ever to walk the earth. She caught my eye and grinned. I sent her a warning look- a don’t-make-it-obvious-I-like-him look. She nodded and turned back to Lucas.

I turned back to Brandon.

“Right. Yeah. I didn’t hear most of that,” I said apologetically. “I’ve been spacing out a lot lately.”

“We’re just starting a painting unit,” Brandon said. “Jeff wants us to figure out how to paint human faces for ourselves so he put us into groups. We have to try to paint our partner. Pretty lame, huh?”

I sucked at doing humans in painting or drawing so this would be like double hell for me. Could I get chocolate chips with that?

I realized just how weird my sense of humor could be.

“Very,” I said with a smile. “I have no idea how to draw a person realistically, much less paint them.”

“Me too,” he agreed. “My last try was in sixth grade. It looked like a messy caricature.”

“That’s pretty bad,” I said with a laugh. “Mine just look like cartoons. So, what are we supposed to do to start?”

“No idea. Let’s just do something that looks like we’re busy being productive. Maybe mix some colors or something,” he said with a grin. I laughed.

“Brandon, you’re a lot more of a slacker than I thought.”

“Can’t say the same to you.”

I stuck my tongue out at him and went to go get some paints, surreptitiously looking around the class. Good. None of them looked like someone who would run and tell Corrie or Anne about me being partnered with Brandon. Then again, appearances can be deceiving.

I found a clean palette and squirted some random colors on there, hoping I would be able to explain to Jeff- that’s what our teacher insisted on us calling him- why I had purple on the palette when Brandon was wearing nothing resembling purple.

Eurgh. Purple. Suddenly I had a flashback to the night of the accident.

Sirens were blaring and I had just been carefully lifted out of the mangled car. I was waiting for them to get my daddy, too. I had been so innocent at eight.

“Where’s my daddy?” I asked one of the adults, tugging on his sleeve. He didn’t notice me, as he was talking rapidly to someone, saying long medical-sounding words I didn’t understand.

Nobody noticed me as I walked up to the car to get dad. This was scary. We had to go. The front door was wide open and I looked in. It was dark, but what I saw didn’t need light.

“Daddy!” I screamed, tears streaming down my face. He was slumped over the steering wheel, not responding. Still.

His tie-dyed purple shirt- the one I had proudly made for him- was stained with something dark. It was slowly spreading over him, and I knew it was blood.