FicWad

“Artists must be sacrificed to their art.
Like bees, they must put their life into the sting they give.”
~Ralph Waldo Emerson


I frowned. Something wasn’t right about my drawing. The drawing itself looked beautiful, not to be conceited. I worked all 6th hour on part of it to get a head start this hour. It was nearing the middle of 7th hour and I was finished with my drawing. I just couldn’t figure out what exactly was missing. It was a close up of a woman’s face and she was crying. It was done in soft and hard leaded pencils, a touch of a charcoal pencil and neatly shaded. But something looked off. I glared at the picture and chewed on my already abused bottom lip. I tapped my pencil on the desk and sighed.

“Try a bit more shading under her lower lip and along the hairline right there. Then maybe make this part of the eye a bit darker to make the eyes stand out.” A voice said next to my head, causing me to jump. A pale hand came forward over my shoulder to indicate the places mentioned. I turned slightly and looked up. Axium looked down at me, amusement in his icy grey eyes.

“When did you get here? Where were you in second?”

“I’ve been here for a good…five minutes, watching you huff and puff over that drawing. You’re very good.” He said, with a smile. HE sat down in the seat next to me.

“Thanks.” I muttered and went about shading the areas Axium pointed out and darkening parts of the eyes. He was right. It looked much better. Now I definitely was finished with it.

“So…second hour?” I reminded him, after I put my drawing in the back along with the few other finished pieces.

“Oh. You know how it is with new students.” Axium said. I nodded.

“So, what are we working on exactly? The teacher tried explaining it, but I didn’t quite understand. She kept getting distracted, which didn’t help much.”

“Did she give you a word?”

“Yeah. Time…”

“Okay, so you’re supposed to draw the word. Something you think represents it. I got sorrow.” I explained. Axium nodded and pulled out a sketchpad. I shook my head and got up, retrieving a piece of the weird paper the teacher wanted us to use. It was a small canvas, I suppose. I handed it to him.

“Ah.” He took the canvas-thing and began drawing, rather quickly. I watched in silence, as the rest of the class talked quietly amongst themselves. The teacher was in a full-blown argument with her aid about whether Van Gogh was better than Picasso or not. I voted for Van Gogh. Axium’s face went through many expressions while he was drawing. Pure concentration, happiness, frustration, back to concentration, amusement, contentment, frustration, concentration. The bell rang and I looked down at his canvas-thing. The beginnings of an old mans face, its squinted eyes staring back up at me, had made itself home on the canvas-thing.

“Wow.” was all I could say. He grinned and put his in the back of the room. We gathered our stuff and waited for the other students to exit the room before leaving ourselves.

“So, do you ride the bus?” Axium asked.

“Yeah. I live about a twenty minute drive from the school, but it takes about thirty minutes or more to pick up the rest of the kids.” I replied. We fell into a comfortable silence. Just as I was about to go my way, towards the buses, Axium grabbed my wrist.

“Wait!...um…Come over to my place? It’s about a fifteen minute walk. I made my mom promise not to pick me up…um…it’s just…I don’t have many friends, and I assumed we were friends and well…um…It’d make my parents happy to see I made a friend, you know?” Axium fidgeted and his eyes darted around.

“Sure.” I reveled in the surprised look he gave me.

“Really!” his face lit up and he grinned big. He grabbed my hand and sat off at a fast pace in the opposite direction of the buses.

“I don’t have any friends at all, besides you.” I said quietly once we were about three minutes away from the school.

“How come? You’re a pretty cool person.”

“I grew up here. I had a lot of friends up until I was ten.”

“What happened?” Axium inquired. We still held hands, our fingers weren’t interlinked. It was a completely friendly gesture and he swung our arms back and forth. I bit my lip a moment before replying.

“My dad died when I was ten. He had taken me to the County Fair. My mom had to work, so it was just he and I. It was fun, up until someone pulled out a gun to shoot somebody. Everyone went berserk, running, screaming. I don’t remember much of that. I got a broken arm and banged up pretty bad. My dad managed to hide me in a booth. Before he could hide himself, he was shot. I don’t know if it was from a stray bullet or on purpose. My dad died, right in front of me.” I scoffed and chewed on my lip furiously.

“That sucks.” Axium said. I blinked and looked at him. It was my turn to be surprised.

“What?” he asked.

“You’re the first one to not say sorry.” I said. Axium shrugged.

“I don’t apologize for things I didn’t do. And I figured you’re tired of people telling you they’re sorry. But why don’t you have friends?”

“I pushed people away at first, so they eventually stopped trying.” I explained. It was silent again and Axium turned us down a driveway. He opened the door to his house and released my hand.

“Mom, dad! I’m home!” Axium called.

“Oh. Axium sweetie! I’ve been worrying about you all day! Are you okay?! I missed you!” a short, stout woman came around the corner, moving quickly and hugged her son tightly. Axium patted her shoulder awkwardly. A man just as tall as Axium, but much more muscular, stood in the doorway that led into what I assumed was a kitchen or living room. He remained silent, but studied me. He had sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. I stared right back, not breaking his gaze until Axium tugged my arm. Apparently, his mom had released him.

“Mom, Dad, this is Mika. She’s a friend of mine from school. She helped me out this morning and we have second hour, seventh hour and lunch together. I asked her to come over.”

“Oh! Hello dear! It’s nice to meet you! Axium never brings home friends. Well not that he’s had a chance really!” she laughed and a smile split her face. I got the feeling she was forcing it a bit, but shrugged it off.

“Your parents know you are here, correct?” Axium’s fathers deep voice caught my attention. I shook my head.

“No sire. But my mother doesn’t mind. She works a lot, and is never home, really. She doesn’t mind what I do, as long as I stay out of trouble.”

“And your father?” he inquired. I shifted and Axium was about to reply, but I interrupted him.

“Dead, sir.” I said stiffly. Immediately, Axium’s fathers’ eyes softened and I had Axium’s mother clinging to me, petting my head and fussing over me. It was a bit creepy. I wasn’t used to so much attention.

“Oh, you poor thing! And look at how skinny you are! Come, come. I made some cookies yesterday!” she took my hand and led me through the doorway Axium’s father was standing in front of. He moved aside and minutes later, all four of us were sitting at the table, eating cookies and drinking milk.

“What classes are you taking this year, Mika?” Axium’s mom asked. I swallowed a mouthful and cookie and took a sip of milk before replying.

“Most seniors only take 2 classes unless they are behind on credits or have time to kill. I have time to kill, so I take seven classes, just like the underclassmen do. I take Photography, Government, Calculus, Sociology and Psychology, then I have lunch and an eighteen minute study hour, then Creative Writing and Advanced Art.” I listed off the top of my head.

“No business classes?” Axium’s father asked sternly.

“Um…no…I…um.” I furrowed my brow and opened and closed my mouth a few times, but no other sound came out. Next thing I knew, the three of them were laughing at me. I scrunched up my face and looked at Axium.

“He was joking.” Axium chuckled. I bit my lip and stared at the table top, a slight pink dusting my cheeks. I knew I was blushing, I could feel it. I wasn’t used to being teased. I scratched my wrists under the table. I felt awkward. Here I was, sitting in the house of some one I barely knew, chatting with his family. Was that even normal? I think Axium sensed my awkward nervousness. He stood up and said,

“Mom, Dad, I’m gonna show Mika my guitar. She’s really into any type of art, especially drawing and music.

“Please?” I threw in. And just like that, we were excused and heading up to Axium’s room.

“How’d you know I liked music as much as drawing?” I asked.

“I didn’t. It was just to get us out of there. Mom can be a bit clingy…”he explained. I nodded. We reached the landing and walked down the short hall. He opened a door and let me in. Axium’s room was smaller then mine by a few feet, but still pretty big. It held his queen-sized bed, in a corner, on the floor much like mine was. He had a dresser, a bedside table, a TV, a bookshelf, and, what I would call, a music corner. There was a desk with a laptop, but the shelves had a lot of CD’s and CD holders.

His guitar was by his desk, on a stand. There was an amp, which went to about mid-calf. He had another guitar, with no strings, hanging on the wall. Sheet music was also scattered on the desk, and a few were on the bed. His walls were painted a deep green. He had a cream-colored carpet and a couple posters. One of Marilyn Manson, another was a Phantom of the Opera movie poster, and the last was a band I didn’t recognize, but the guitarist to the right looked familiar. Axium came up beside me.

“My old band. Mom took the picture and dad had it turned into a poster – he works in a graphics company. He designs websites, but knows how to do many other things. I was friends with the drummer of the band since childhood. The other two were only in the band to be in it. They were twins and outside band practice, didn’t want anything to do with Zeke and I. They were…pretty close to street rats, I suppose. The girl, Vix, died in a gang war and a few days later, her brother, Valen, killed himself. So, our band was no more. Zeke got a scholarship to a college he’d been wanting to attend. He moved to Europe. I talked my parents into letting me attend public school.”

“That’s cool. Well, not the twins dying and the band breaking up, bjt that you were in a band and had Zeke.” I glanced at Axium and he was giving me a look I couldn’t read.
“Want to hear our music?” he asked. I nodded enthusiastically. Axium walked over to his closet. He dug around before coming out with a box.

“Mom used to record rehearsals and a few gigs that we did.” He opened the box and selected a tape. He put it in the VCR – who even had those anymore? – and turned on the TV. After a moment, guitars were shrieking, drums pounding and Vix’s voice filled the room. We watched the first rehearsal on the video in silence. A minute into the second one, I softly said,

“She’s really good.” I didn’t even have to pay attention to the lyrics to hear her pain and sorrow. The impact was even stronger when I listened to the lyrics.

“The best Zeke and I auditioned.” The tone of Axium’s voice made me look over. He didn’t notice at first, so I watched him. He watched the screen with such a longing I almost felt the need to look away. But then, he noticed me staring at him, and it was gone, replaced by a mask of happiness. I frowned slightly.

“Do you know how to play soccer?” he asked, suddenly jumping to his feet and shutting the TV off. He went back to his closet and got out a soccer ball.

“Um…kinda.” I replied slowly and stood up.

“Great! Let’s go outside!” Axium exclaimed, excitement gleaming in his eyes. I shook my head and followed him, amused at his childish behavior. The backyard was missive. There was a pool, hot tub, and trees I didn’t recognize that gave off a strong sweet smell. When I asked Axium about them, he called them Sakura trees, or Cherry Blossom trees. There was also quite a large expanse of flat grass beyond the patio.

For nearly two hours straight, Axium and I ran around, kicking the ball and occasionally laughing. His laugh matched his soft voice, something between a giggle and a chuckle. At one point, I noticed Axium’s dad fire up the grill on the patio and his mom bring out some lemonade. I stopped to watch them, finding it interesting, even as they lightly flirted. Axium came up beside me.

“What’s up?” he panted. I looked over at him. He was sweaty, the August afternoon heat getting to him. I was sure I wasn’t any better off.

“Nothing.” I stuck my tongue out and stole the soccer ball. We played around another ten minutes and then we were called to dinner. We ate outside, on the patio.

“So, Mika, are you staying the night?” his mom’s voice said hopefully. I looked at Axium’s dad, who busied himself with his dinner, and then at Axium, who was looking at me curiously. It was completely up to me.

“Why not. Tomorrow is school though. I’ll need clothes.”

“Non-sense! You and Axium both are so skinny, I’m sure you could wear his clothes. He is only a tad bit bigger.” Axium’s mom grinned from ear to ear, and her eyes gleamed in the fading light.

“Thanks, Mrs.” I said, taking a bite of the juicy steak.

“Just call me Amanda.” his mom said. I nodded. After that, Amanda simply talked to her husband, sensing that I wasn’t going to talk much more, and that her son was getting irritated by her constant stream of questions. Once dinner was over, Axium and I helped with cleaning up, and his dad (whom I was allowed to call Rich) told us to wash the dishes. We finished quickly and headed outside.

“Where are we going?” I asked, since Axium had yet to tell me. We were walking through the Sakura trees, and Axium’s step had purpose to it.

“Viola! My trampoline-star gazing-sometimes bed-thing!” He spread his arms, gesturing to a large trampoline in a small clearing between the trees. It was littered with Sakura petals, most of which we brushed off onto the grass. We jumped on it until we were tired, talking about things that didn’t make much sense and were of no importance. We formed a close bond that night. Axium was the first, and closest, friend I had ever hoped to have. We fell asleep on the trampoline, lying on our backs with our hands clasped tightly together. It was a happy night. The best.