FicWad

Sup? Okay here’s the next chapter :L I don’t think anyone cares though, ‘cause I didn’t get any reviews :( I feel sad :( and can someone please give me feedback or constructive criticism? Or both? :D I really don’t mind, I just want to know that people are reading this :L anyways….see you down below :D

I sat next to Gerard in art. Everyone had come to lesson in time, but the teacher wasn’t in the classroom yet.
Pupils took this as an opportunity to sit on their desks and have group conversations. I wasn’t talking to Gerard or anyone else, mainly because Gerard wasn’t talking to me. Everyone kept glancing back at me while they spoke; they were obviously talking about me. Just because I was the new kid. Why am I always a new kid? I hated moving from one place to another, let alone moving schools. Now, being in a different country, it feels worse. I'm going to find it very difficult to contact my friends from England and my money was slowly running out. I’d only spoken to them once a week for the last 3 weeks, since I’ve moved here, and that was using some credit thing in a shop.
Gerard brought me out of my thoughts. “Our art teachers usually late.” He said, trying to start a conversation.
I sighed. “And she’s gonna be the reason I don’t get a decent grade at the end of the year.” I rolled my eyes. I needed to get good enough grades in almost every subject so I could get a job or go off to college. I didn’t want to stay at home for the rest of my life.
“Well, she’s a good teacher.” Gerard mumbled. “She actually cares about her students. It’s only the start of the year and she’s already telling us how to improve on our work and setting up extra lessons after school.”
This set of an alarm in my head. Extra classes after school meant that I didn’t have to go home as early. I decided I’ll find out about the classes later. “Wow, a teacher who cares. That’s an improvement from my last school.” I stared at the floor in anger. No teachers bothered to ask me what was wrong when I was in England. I’d get into fights, try and start fights, been spotted drinking and smoking in school uniform, teachers saw the results of my self harm, yet no one bothered to ask what was wrong. I was only offered counseling, well, was basically forced to do so, but the teachers didn’t even give me a reason why or seem worried. I didn’t like counseling, nosing people trying to figure out what was going on inside my head? I think not.
I heard Gerard say something to be, once again brought me out of my thoughts.
I looked up at him wide eyed; trying to figure out if he was actually talking to me. He was looking at me expectedly. I shook my head, figuring out how to talk again. “Sorry, what?”
Gerard chuckled, “I said, what was wrong with your old school?”
I tilted my head back, breathing out ah ‘oh’. “They jus’ didn’t give to shits ‘bout the dumb kids.” I said, shaking my head.
Gerard frowned. “And were you one’a the dumb kids?”
I rubbed my left eye, nodding my head. “Yeah” I sighed out.
Gerard frowned deeper. “What's up with your eye?”
Shit. I was trying to set off a false impression of myself, not seem like and aggressive person, but someone knowing I’ve got a black eye doesn’t help to show people that I'm not violent.
I turned my head away, not facing him and my left eye nowhere near his eye line. “Nofink.” I mumbled.
“No, seriously, what’s happened to it?” he questioned as he leaned over to me.
I lifted my arm up, blocking anyway of this kid from touching me, pointing a finger. “Don’t fucking touch me.” I said coldly, facing him. I hated people touching me without me knowing. I then felt a bit guilty when I realized how rude I sounded, but I couldn’t help it, I told him it was nothing.
He leaned back in his seat, looking timid. He mumbled an apology just as the teacher entered the room.
She was a short woman, with shoulder length curly brown hair. She had a floral scarf tied around her head, keeping her hair away from her face.
“Sorry I'm late. Right class, I hope we’re all fresh and ready to create wonderful pieces of art this lesson,” she said, cheerfully, smiling widely.
Everyone grunted in response, apart from Gerard, he sat there and didn’t make a noise.
The teacher sighed. “Well, even if you’re not fresh and ready, you’re still going to create magnificent art pieces for me.” Her smile never left her face.
Everyone set their equipment up. I did the same.
Once we were finish, the teacher spoke again. “I want you all do give me a piece of artwork which best describes you. You don’t have to tell me how it represents you, but you’re going to have to explain on paper what your artwork is describing.”
I sighed. I didn’t know what to do. I had an idea of just leaving my piece of canvas white, boring and nothing much to it. I know I couldn’t do that. I just stared at the blank white canvas in front of me.
I turned to Gerard. He had already started, his pencil pressed against his canvas and concentration planted across his face. I didn’t want to ask him what he was doing; he looked like he didn’t want to be disturbed.
I sighed again and turned to look at what was in front of me. Nothing. A plain white piece of canvas waiting to be drawn or painted on. I picked up a pencil from the stand beside me and almost drew a semi-circle. I looked at the stand with all my equipment on beside me. I didn’t have a rubber. I didn’t want a rubber. I had decided that every mistake you make on a paper could lead to something different and abstract.
I looked back at the canvas, an arch draw on one side of it. I got an idea. I drew half of an apple. It look was smooth on the one side that I had drawn. I shaded it in, showing the green and red, but only using the grey graphite in the pencil. I narrowed my eyes at it. I wasn’t sure if what I was about to do would look right. I didn’t want the teacher to think I was crap at art and had only picked it to fill up my timetable. I enjoyed art. It was a way of expressing myself, other than music. I didn’t play music anymore. Or write music. I only listened to it. Just listened to songs that made me feel better.
I stared at the canvas again. My pencil hovered over the canvas, deciding whether or not to go with my idea – I just had to remember that I didn’t have a rubber to erase my mistakes. My pencil hit the surface and roughly, yet neatly, made its way on and off the canvas.
I finished the other side of my apple. It was rotten. Shriveled up and disgusting. I shaded it in again, shading in the creases, emphasizing the folds.
I stared at it. It still wasn’t finished. If it was meant to describe me, there was definitely something missing. I wasn’t black and white; well, almost not black and white.
I picked up a paintbrush and dipped it in the pot of water I had on the stand. I then lightly brushed the red water colour in the paint pallet. I lightly brushed it onto the canvas, on the fresh side of the apple. I brushed it along the darker shaded bits, but only a small section of it. I then did the same, but with green.
I looked at my canvas. There was a streak of colour on it, red and green. It still wasn’t finished. I thought it might have been finished after I added that little bit of colour, but it didn’t fully describe me. I decided to have a background. The background was loads of different colours. The colours made loads of different blurry shapes.
Now, I was finished.
I looked at my piece of art. It described me because I had two sides to me. I as young, yet I felt like I was old and worthless. I wasn’t a plain person, my life wasn’t simple, hence the black and white, so the coloured streak showed only a little bit of my life, the bit people knew, or thought they knew. The people around me made me who I was today, so the coloured background represented them, finishing off my piece of art.
I wrote something similar to that on the back of my canvas, finishing the task.
I didn’t get a chance to see Gerard's, he was finished before me.
“I don’t get it.” I heard someone say behind me. It was Gerard.
I turned around. “You’re not meant to.” I teased.
“Oh fine.” He said, looking down. I wasn’t sure if he was messing, but I didn’t want to explain to him what my work was about. I simply stuck my tongue out at him. He breathed out a laugh, rolling his eyes.
I picked up my work and put it on the side, where everyone had put their work once they’d shown the teacher. I didn’t show it to the teacher; I couldn’t be bothered to do so.
The rest of the day went on boringly. I wasn’t in many of Gerard's lessons for the day, only art, English and history.
I saw him at the end of the day, standing at the gates. I watched him. He looked like he was waiting for someone; I soon found out that he was. As a boy, almost the same height as him, with brown hair and glasses approached him; he turned around and started to walk. It must have been his brother, he told me about him while we were in English. I think he said his name was Mikey.
I wasn’t fair behind them, but I didn’t want to call out to Gerard, he looked preoccupied in a conversation with Mikey.
I just slowed down my pace, moping down the road. I took out the cigarette pack from my pocket and a lighter. I took a fag out and lit it, inhaling the smoke. I didn’t want to go home. Hopefully my step-dad wasn’t home yet, that way I could go in and out quickly. I just prayed I wouldn’t see him until tomorrow morning, asleep on the couch.
“Stacie!” I heard Gerard call my name.
I looked up from my thoughts. “Hey.” I mumbled, taking a drag from my cigarette.
He stopped walking and so did his brother, waiting for me to catch up to them.
“This is Mikey, by the way.” Gerard ruffled Mikey’s hair.
Mikey whacked Gerard's hand away. “I can mess up my own hair, thank you.” He said, glaring at Gerard. He then looked at me and smiled. “Hi.”
I gave him the ‘sup’ nod. “Y’alrigh’.”
“Which way you headed?” Gerard asked, lighting up a cigarette.
I jerked my head in the direction ahead of me. “Down that way. I dunno what the road’s called though.” I shrugged.
Gerard nodded. “So are we.” He said, blowing smoke in Mikey's face.
Mikey moved away and coughed heavily. “What the fuck, Gerard? That’s not funny. I have asthma.” Mikey punched Gerard in the arm.
“Gerard, that ain’t funny.” I said seriously.
Gerard sighed. “I'm sorry Mikey, will you forgive me?” Gerard mocked.
I laughed when Mikey replied with ‘no” and walked ahead of us.
I turned around and took another pull from my cigarette, breathing the smoke out from my nose. I checked my watch, it was almost 4. If I was right, my step-dad would be home at around 4:30. I didn’t have much time if I wanted to get out before I could run into him.
“Erm…I need ta get home. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” I asked, looking up at Gerard.
He smiled. “Yeah, as long as I'm not ill, you’ll see me.”
I smiled at him. “Cool. Bye then.”
I thought he was going to hug me, but I turn around, not feeling comfortable with people hugging me.
“Bye.” Gerard called.
I waved my hand in response, not bothering to look back. I started to lightly jog down the road, getting to my house.
Once inside, I ran upstairs to my room and through my bag on my bed. I ran into the bathroom to get washed and reapplied my eyliner.
I went back into my room; I put on a hoodie and held my zip-up hoodie in my hand. I grabbed a full bottle of vodka from under my bed and some roll ups. I stuffed the roll ups into my jean pockets with some money.
I headed out the door as fast as I could and walked to the park, where I would get drunk and stoned to drown out my sorrows, just like every other night.

Sooooooooooooo did y’all like it? Please review, I’d hate ta think I'm wasting my time with no one reading this :( so yeah cheers for reading :) x