Sequel to the Wattpad novel The Age of Aquarius
E.J. Thompson, a reclusive author and former journalist, recalls the tales of four teenage criminals as Brooke King, Caleb Wolfe, and Nessa and Johnny Phoenix had exposed a corrupt billionaire for ille...
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"I think that one of these days. . . you're going to find out where you want to go. And then you've got to start going there."
- J.D. Salinger
Art is like sending a brief message on your pager. Though the colors tell a story, you wouldn't understand the painting at first glance.
But in every masterpiece is a cliche. Think books for example. Whenever you open a book, you usually expect complicated love triangles, predictable plots, a boy becoming the "Chosen One," or a Mary Sue irritating the hell out of the reader.
Sometimes cliches begin when a character has a shitty childhood, ignorant parents, and a gorgeous supermodel boyfriend.
Unlike most people, I don't remember much of my childhood or where I was born. And if I had parents, they would probably avoid you.
It's not their fault, though. Hell, if I were in their shoes, I would rather wear my old headphones, turn on my mom's Walkman, and listen to Kurt Cobain than answer personal questions.
Now, you think I am a melodramatic asshole, but I am only telling it like it is: my generation is constantly bombarded by adults, who force them to decide what they want to be in life.
If kids wanted to be teachers, their parents would warn them that educators don't get paid enough as it is. And if teenagers want to be writers or celebrities, adults would tell them that their dream jobs are too idealistic or immature.
So instead of giving a shit what other people think, I am determined to make my way in the world by getting revenge on my old high school.
Shaking a can of black spray paint, I manage to construct my masterpiece on my old high school building before anyone noticed.
The parking lot was empty. Seniors and juniors sat in class, studying for their winter exams. So the good news is that it gave me time to start redecorating. But the bad news is that I can feel the afternoon sun burning a hole in my olive green hoodie.
After lowering the empty black container in the gray duffel bag, I pick up a fluorescent orange spray paint can then add the final touches to my creation.
Today I am composing a mural of Nathan Blaze—a tall, good-looking popular football player with caramel brown hair, stunning green eyes, a sleek jawline, and his iconic Adam's Apple.
He stood behind a podium, wearing a golden crown that radiated the lights of flashing cameras and adoring fans.
However, on the right-hand corner of the painting, stood four abused women wearing shredded cheerleading uniforms and sullen looks. And while the lights hit on the popular football player, none of them were focused on the women.
But before you ask what I am doing, there is something I should tell you about Spring Oaks High.
Apart from its outdated computers, terrible school lunches, and books that died in the 90s, Spring Oaks High has an outstanding record of bullying.
