Fighting the Disquiet

13

"You remember your first love because they show you, prove to you, that you can love and be loved, that nothing in this world is deserved except for love, that love is both how you become a person and why."
― John Green

After spending hours on Google and reading a bunch of Reddit forums, I decided that it was all due to stress and lack of sleep. Because it hasn't happened since the night of that party. No voices. No weird dreams. Nothing. And it's been a month. I spent the last three Fridays attending the football games with Scott, Decker, and Taylor. Of course, Amy and Summer were there too, but they were on the field with the cheer team waving around their pom-poms and doing flips and stuff.

Don't say I told you so, but I've decided that I'm friends with them. They're actually pretty cool and seem to be really nice as far as I can tell. Even, Decker. Obviously, I'm not going to like get too attached, because like anything could happen, but for the time being it's nice having people to spend time with again.

I'm currently sitting in painting class staring at a blank canvas. We're meant to be sketching out the piece which will be used as our mid-term. It's supposed to be a mixed media piece where we have to use two or more different types of mediums in our work. I looked around the room and saw that everyone was already beginning to work making me even more frustrated.

I sigh and change the song playing in my AirPods. I pick up my graphite pencil and start to draw. I realize that I'm drawing the outline of a face, which is one of the things I got really good at drawing the last two years--portraits, so I keep going.

I'm startled when someone speaks over my shoulder. I didn't hear what they said so I turn as I pull out one of my earphones.

"Sorry, what'd you say Mr. Moore?" I ask looking up at him.

He's stroking his greying beard with his hand as he stares at what I'm drawing.

"A self-portrait," he nods, pushing his glasses up his pointed nose as he leans in closer to my canvas. "You know, I was never good at drawing myself. Could never quite get my nose right."

I chuckle softly imagining him trying to draw his large pointy nose and glance back at my canvas. I hadn't intended to draw myself but I guess the face did resemble me.

"Well, very good then. Don't stop now," he says straightening up and walking over to the person next to me.

I push my earphone back in and I am about to adjust the corner of one of my eyes with my pencil when the bell rings. I sigh and drop my pencil in its case on the cart next to me. I return my class materials to my cubby in the back of the art room before heading outside. It's funny how time passes when you're so focused on something. I head towards the building where my locker is located so that I can drop off my textbook when someone calls my name. I turn to see Taylor standing outside of a classroom with a big camera draped around her neck.

"Hey, Taylor," I wave as I walk up to her.

"Hey, so my model bailed on me. Can I use you?" she asks almost as if it's not really a question or that she doesn't expect me to say no.

"Wait, what? What do you mean 'use' me?" I ask skeptically.

"Oh, well, I've got to do this shoot for my school assignment and the girl that was going to model for me can't anymore so I thought you could fill in," she explains in a rush.

"Can't you use Summer?" I ask looking around as if she would magically appear.

"No," she grumbles, "she's got cheer practice with Amy."

"Well, I don't know. I've got homework and stuff," I say hesitantly.

"Please, I'll owe you," she says, looking up at me from her mascara-coated lashes.