FicWad

"So, I understand you're name is Ci?" the school counselor asked me. My mom had just moved me here and the first thing she did was throw me into counseling. Just like my old school did.


"Yes," I said, looking over at the man. He had very feminine smile, eyes and face, which really contrasted against his manly figure. But I guess his face were so feminine because his job was to give off a motherly appearance, so it would get suckers to tell him whatever he needed to know to 'help them.'



Well,that didn't fool me.


"How was your old school like?" he asked me.

"Hell."

"And why?"

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"Why not?"

"Because I dont trust you and if you think that you can break me down, and get me to spill everything to you, you're wrong, kind sir. I can read people like a book, I know people."

"Well, I guess that makes you very mature for your age." he said, looking taken aback by my statement. He whipped his glasses off, "I think we're getting somewhere."


"No, we're not." I grabbed my bag and walked out of the counselor's office and down the hall. It was almost the end of the day, and all I had left to go was lunch and to classes, what fun.


I stepped out of the therapist's room and started lazily down the hall way towards Art Class. Being new to this school, upon arrival, I had asked for a tour that way I wouldn't have to be dragged around by some kid who wanted to show me where everything was. I already knew thanks to the tour.


Slipping into art class, I took a seat in the back and sat down with my knees propped up, holding my sketchpad directly in front of me. I fixed my glasses and started doodling. When the teacher walked in, everyone went, "Ahhhhh." I looked up to see what the commotion was about and it was the teacher.


He had shaggy black hair, combat boots on, skinny black jeans, a leather jacket, a button up black shirt with a black tie. He was turned around writing, "Mr. Way." on the chalk board.

He turned around and said, "What's with all the awes?" he has perfect hazel eyes and he looked no older then any of us.

"They all think you're gorgeous." I spoke up, but not lifting my eyes off my sketchpad.

Mr. Way laughed and said, "I doubt that very much miss." and he smiled at me. This sort of creeped me out.

"Now this year, we are focusing on history's great artists." Several groans erupted from the class. Mr. Way laughed and then a few girls giggled, I could tell this class was going to be very annoying.


"Now, I'm going to hand you each a picture of an artist.I want you to tell me their name and what style of art they create." Mr. Way walked around the room, giving each person, including myself a picture of an artist. He then went back to the front of the room.


"Young lady at the back." I adressed her, "Who is your artist, and what art does he create?" Mr. Way smirked at me.

I looked up at him, and he was smirking at me. Smirking. That creeped me out a little and I looked down at the picture and examined it for a minute, "Andy Warhol and he makes that stupid Pop Art stuff." I said, laying the picture down on my desk and looking to the side.


The girl beside of me got Salvador Dali, and it was a rose garden scene but she was looking at it like she had never seen a piece of art before. I liked Salvador Dali....


I looked back up, waiting to hear what Mr. Way had to comment, and I noticed everyone was looking at me, but when they noticed that I had noticed them staring, they turned their attention back to Mr. Way, (who was still smirking at me.)

"Correct. Well done. And what might your name be?" Mr. Way asked me.


"Ci," I said, bringing my knees back up to hold my sketch pad as I kept doodling. Thank God, the teacher left it at that and went onto someone else. I started drawing a grave yard with a girl and a vampire like that.

"Whats this?" I heard the girl's voice from beside of me and she ripped the sketchpad from my hand. "This doesnt have anything to do with the lesson and it's really stupid." My jaw locked up and I squinted my eyes a little, that's what I always did when I got mad.


"Give. It. Back." I growled from my seat.

"And If I dont....?" My therapist restricted me from getting into anymore fights like at my old school....

"What's going on?"

"She's drawing stupid pictures!" the girl laughed. I felt my face get hot and I just kept in my seat. The girl gave the sketchbook to Gerard and she sat back down, smiling at me.

"This is really good," Mr. Way said to me. "And you," he said, looking to the other girl, "Any more problems with you and it's detention."


Mr. Way went back to the front of the class, "You," he said to the girl, with disgust in his voice. "Whose your artist?"

I put my sketch pad in my bag and listened to the girl beside of me. "Salvador Dali and I guess he does landscape shit and what not." I looked up at the girl beside of me, what a rude bitch.

Moving my bangs out of my eyes I sighed and turned to face the chalk board that was behind Mr. Way, but that got kind of annoying to stare at so I just tapped my hands on my thighs.

At the end of the class, I walking out the door, when Gerard stopped me. "Ci, c'mere." he said in a nice tone of voice.
"Uhm, ohkay." my shirt collar seemed to be getting tighter and tighter around my neck, or maybe that was just my nerves. I swallowed and shifted my bag onto my other shoulder and walked back to his desk.

"Yes, Mr. Way?" I asked, trying to look anywhere else than his gorgeous face or his pretty hazel eyes. I opted for his desk, I kept my gaze there.

"That drawing was really good," he said, meeting my eyes. "Where did you learn to draw like that?" he asked.

I looked straight into his eyes, refusing to blush or even crack a smile, "I taught myself." I told him, putting my hands behind my back, "I've been drawing since I was seven, I can just look at something and draw it."

"That's a really good skill to have." he smiled at me, "Can I see that picture from earlier?"

"I'd love to, but I have to get...." did I really want to tell him? He was a teacher, "I have to get to the counselor's office for therapy." I said, shifting my bag over on my back and looking out the door. I was already five minutes late.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you can go if you want." I turned around to leave the room, but he spoke again, "And Ci?" I turned back around to face him, "I'll keep it safe and sound, don't worry." I assumed he meant my therapy lesson.

"Thanks," I smiled at him and left the room.

I sighed and walked down the hallway to the counselor's office, once in, Mr. Jenkins looked up at me, "You're late, Ci, take a seat."

"Mr. Way kept me after class, to ask me where I had learned to draw," I told him, sitting down and waiting for the therapy to commence.

"Oh, ohkay, then. How was you're day." he asked.

"It was fine," I sighed.

[After Therapy]

I walked out of the counselor's office and down to my locker. Every other student was gone now, probably home, sleeping or watching TV while I was always stuck here, an hour after school let out on Monday's, Wednesdays and Fridays, and it also forced me to walk home everyday.

I opened my locker and shoved my bag in it, but took my sketchpad out first and shut the locker.

When I turned around, Mr. Way was there, "Hey, Ci, how are you doing?"

Damn, what was with this teacher? "Fine..." I said, looking over at him. Should I ask back, Mr. Jenkins always said that was a good thing to do, "How are you?" I asked, but it didnt come out sounding right. It sounded kind of annoyed and aggravated. It wasn't because of Mr. Way, it was because or Mr. Jenkins and my parents and stupid, stupid counseling that I didnt want to take.

"Im good thanks," he said as he walked me down the hall and out of the school, things kept quiet on the way down. "Would you like a ride home?"

I looked up at him when we walked out of the school and into the parking lot. He was standing next to really nice black trans-am. "Do you want a ride home?" he asked. That was really creepy, but he was a teacher. I was supposed to be able to trust teachers, right?

"Uh....sure."

He opened the door for me and I got in and then he went around the other side, got in the driver side and started the car, "So where's your house then?"


"Hardwicks Avenue," I told him, looking around his car, it was really nice. My sketchpad lay in my lap. I looked out the window, noticing the scenery. New Jersey was really pretty, in some parts that is.

Looking back inside the car, I wondered where we were. I never took notice when I Was with my mom.

When we were on the street, Mr. Way asked, "Which house?"

I pointed to the house down the street, "That one on the left," I told him, as he drove on. He pulled into my driveway, "Uhm..so thanks..." I said, getting out of his car and closing the door back as I started to walk to my porch.