FicWad

We’re Together, Still I’m On My Own

Deep breaths, I remind myself. You chose this. You chose art.
But the school looks so daunting as it looms over me, with no one I know inside. Now it looks so uninviting, like it’s waiting to swallow me. But I’m not leaving. Besides; I don’t have much to go back to.
I steel myself, then walk into the building, preparing myself for whatever is in store for me here. I fumble with the papers in my pocket, trying to find the right one. It would be just like me to get lost on the first day, be late. There’s lots of other people, but I don’t really notice them yet; I’m too focused.
I find my first class successfully, though I walk in right before the teacher. There’s one empty seat. I look at the floor as I walk over to it.
I’m nervous. I’m trembling.
“So. Welcome to the New York City School of Visual Arts.” A male voice says. I look up at last, to see a tall, broad shouldered man, with and unruly beard and glasses sliding down his nose. His voice commands attention, in a way that you want to see who is speaking.
“Good looking group. “ He nods approvingly, and I can’t help but smile.
“I’m not one for the speechs, and you’re not here to listen to me anyhow. Let’s get you doing what you came for. I’d like everyone to draw something they feel accurately expresses who you each are. You have a half hour.” And that’s it. He turns and walks over to a small desk, covered in paper.
I sigh. “Damn.” I swear under my breath. I have no idea what to do.
My neighbor doesn’t seem to have the same block as I do. They pause for a moment, then flaring into action.
I stare at the blank piece of paper. Who I am? I laugh, so quietly no one could possibly hear it. I shut my eyes, trying to come up with something, but ending with nothing. I put the pencil in my hand, hoping my hand will do something on its’ own. It doesn’t. I bite my lip.
I don’t know who I am. I don’t know. How do you express that on paper?
I begin to get an idea. I put my right hand down on the table, brushing my arm against my neighbor as I begin to sketch my hand. I shade all the contours, all the indentations. Technically, it’s good. I sketch a pencil next to the hand, a blank piece of paper. And now what? It feels empty, but I can’t do any better.
My eyes wander and I look over at the paper next to me, curious to see what the person next to me has created. There’s a silhouette of a man, but no man to match it. Broken glass is on the ground, and above the silhouette, there’s a pair of eyes, surrounded by wrinkles. It has a graphic look, not quite a comic, but definitely not intended to be realistic like mine. It’s incredible. And for some reason, I feel a tear forming in my eye.
I can’t stand it anymore, I look up to the see the person who made the picture. It’s a boy; pale, with messy, black hair that falls in front of his face. I can see his jaw, curving down, pointing at the page. Suddenly, he looks at me. I can see his small lips, the sharp nose, dark brows. He has almond shaped eyes; hazel, with a fringe of black lashes. They meet my eyes for a moment, before darting back to the paper.
His pale hand moves swiftly, adding a moon in the sky. He adds shadow, and the night on the page is starless. Just as he finishes a dark cloud, the voice comes again.
“All right, let’s see what you’ve got.” I hear shuffling of papers, footsteps moving closer and closer. The teacher pulls the papers from each of us, putting most of them in his left hand. He stares at mine, then puts it in his right hand, along with my neighbor’s. When he’s done, there are still only two papers in the right hand. He goes up to the front of the class, placing the left hand papers on his desk.
He holds up the other two, and I blush looking at the floor.
“Alright. I’m not gonna tell you who made these. I’m just gonna tell you that these people, they got this assignment. They got the point I’m trying to make. I’m gonna leave these up here, and the rest of you can see if you understand what they mean.” The bell rings then and everyone gets up, to go look at the drawings. I continue on my way out the door. The boy who sat next to me tries to, but he’s stopped.
“Gerard?” The teacher says. The boy looks up from the floor, his way of acknowledging the teacher.
“That,” he jerks his head at the picture. “Was incredible. Very nicely done, Mr. Way.” He nods in approval.
“Thank you.” Gerard says. Then he glances at me, before walking out the door ahead of me.
I stare after him blankly for a moment. Then I shake my head back and forth, trying to clear it, before walking out after him.
Every class after that, I look for Gerard. I’m disappointed in my next three classes; he’s not there. I’m also disappointed that none of the teachers were quite as interesting and direct as the first.
As I walk to my last class, I’m quite ready to leave. I sigh as I prepare for the last class. Fifty minutes. Those fifty minutes are suddenly much more promising as Gerard walks through the door. I’m stunned when he walks over to me, pulling out a chair, though he doesn’t meet my eyes yet. He drops his bag onto the floor, takes a deep breath before looking up at me.
“Hey. I’m Gerard. I sat next to you in the first class. Nice job.”
“Um..hi. I’m Rainier. I just go by Rain though.” I smile at him, pulling my sleeve down before I offer him my hand. He shakes it, though a bit awkwardly.
“You’re incredible. That drawing…” I trail off, still not sure what to make of my emotional reaction to his picture.
“Thanks.” He says, a little color gracing his cheeks as he smiles back at me. “So. Do you like it so far?”
I nod. “Yeah. It was a little daunting, but it’s cool. I’m still kind of settling in. You’re pretty much the only person I’ve talked to all day.” I admit, for no reason at all.
“Same with me.” He smiles again. “I’m not the most social person.”
I shrug. “ I can be, but I’m usually not. Especially if I don’t know anybody. Like here.” I bite my lip as I think of the one thing I left behind I really cared about; my best friend, Thalia.
Gerard nods understandingly. He opens his mouth, but the teacher starts class before he gets to start. He sighs, looking reluctant as he turns to the front.
I don’t really notice anything this teacher says; she seems to be the opposite of the first one. I just look at Gerard, tracing him over with my eyes. He makes me blush a few times when he looks over at me.
At the end of class, he stands up and takes a deep breath. “Do…do you wanna go get some coffee?”
I stare at him in awe for a moment. “Umm…yeah.” I stutter lamely. “Yeah. Like now?”
He nods, lifting up one corner of his mouth.
“Sure. Where do you wanna go?”
He hesitates, looking embarrassed. “Umm…I’m not really sure. I just got here like, three days ago. There’s got to be a Starbucks or something…” He laughs nervously.
“It’s cool. I don’t mind looking around a bit.”
He looks relieved. “Right.” He holds the door open for me when we walk out. I smile wryly when he can’t see. This is unbelievable.
We walk past everyone, out the doors. He looks nervous again as we walk toward the parking lot. We go to the very back and he fumbles with keys as he unlocks as beat up black Nissan. He shrugs apologetically. I smile, walking around to the passenger side and climbing in. The floor is littered with C.D’s and there are roughly five coffee cups in the back seat, along with a multitude of papers and pens. I can see some of the images on the pages; they’re all in dark colors, lots of shadow. As he gets in, he kicks something under his seat that looks like a glass bottle.
Music starts automatically when he puts the keys in the ignition. I recognize the lyrics- Wasting time/ try to hold it all inside/ just for tonight/ on top of the world/ sitting here wishing/ what I’ve become/ but something is missing/ maybe I / but what do I know
I looks at him questioningly. “You like the Used?
He laughs. “Yeah.”
“Me too. This is a great song.”
He nods. “Yeah. On my own.” He looks sort of bitter, like that phrase has a separate, unpleasant connotation.
I listen to the familiar lyrics, mouthing them. Gerard looks at me again with a strange expression, then starts the car and pulls out. He weaves quickly down the streets looking for a coffee shop. He stops the car suddenly, parallel parking in an awkward position.
I look out the window, and sure enough, we’re in front of a Starbucks.
He looks nervously at me. “Shall we?”