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“And what possesses you to think that I care if she does?”
“Why would you want someone who is disease-ridden and will destroy your social standing when you can have someone who can make you feel good? So,sogood,” she says as she coyly trails her finger up my arm.
“I should be the judge of that, don’t you think?” I say, jerking my arm away. “I mean, I am my own person. Icanmake my own decisions based on my own findings and observations.”
“But I’m the captain of the cheer squad! I’m perfect in every single way. Why wouldn’t you want to be with me?” Quinn whines.
“This,” I reply.
“What do you even mean?”
“You acting all desperate, loud, mean, and entitled. You think that just because you act all high and mighty and better than anyone else, then you are. What you don’t seem to understand is that when you demean someone, it makes you look mean, unintelligent, and unattractive. I would never want to be with someone who treats anyone the way you treat people.”
“You don’t know anything. You just got here this week!”
“It honestly doesn’t matter when I started living here. I could have lived here my whole life, and I would still think the same exact thing. There is absolutely no reason you need to be mean to people. It costs nothing to be nice. Yet people choose to be mean. People who put others down usually have ulterior motives behind their bullying, so what’s your trauma?”
Quinn looks back at me stunned, like a deer in headlights.
“Well, I guess this is a perfect time to interrupt this discussion,” says the teacher.
That’s when I realize everyone has been listening in on our conversation.
“So, what have you learned from this interaction, class? This is a prime example of Psychology 101 here. Let’s take a look at the situation, shall we?”
At this point, I am starting to tune the teacher out. I’m only taking this class because it was one of the only classes left that had any openings. I don’t need this credit.
CHAPTER8
PAISLEY
Walking into third period,I head to my seat. The guys are already there, and they are both looking at me expectantly. I plop down in my seat and turn around, trying to avoid their gazes. I need to try and avoid them as much as possible.
But the next thing I know, something is poking my arm.
“Here. These are the notes and handouts from second period. You didn’t come out for lunch, so here you go,” comes from Atlas.
I look up at him in shock. I mean, I know that they don’t know me, and I don’t think anyone has said anything to them about me yet.
It’s only a matter of time, though.
I go to say thank you, even getting to the point where I open my mouth, but then I stop myself, remembering where I am.
Words hurt. Words destroyed me before. I don’t want history to repeat itself.
“Thank you. I appreciate it,”I sign to him.
“It’s not that big of a deal. It’s just a copy of everything. It took like a few minutes to go to the library and make a copy.”
I take the papers and put them in my bag and nod in his direction. I send up a silent thank you for these nice little things I’ve been given. I’ll cherish them for as long as I have them, but I know they aren’t going to last very long.
The teacher brings the class to attention and gives a brief description of the different types of art forms and how, throughout the year, the class will explore them to see which one each person gravitates to. I tune in and out of her discussion, as I’ve taken this class before. I have a few that I personally like, but I know I tend to stick to charcoal drawings.
Settling into her discussion, I realize she has changed the subject to the six elements of art and how vital they are to any art form. Line, shape, value, color, space, and texture, all of which we will be spending a couple weeks developing skills in.
“Okay, everyone, since we had our discussion part of our class, please pick up some pencils and draw something that you are familiar with or that you feel you can draw easily. I want to gauge where you are at so I can better help you in class,” Mrs. Dae tells the class.
Grabbing my charcoal pencils, I pull out some paper and contemplate what exactly I want to draw. After I take a few seconds, something finally comes to me, and I get to work on my piece. I start off slow, working on my line work, then putting in the base work. I’ll come back later to put more emphasis on the details. Once I start, it’s like I’m in a trance, and I don’t realize how long I’ve been drawing until the teacher touches me and tells me how impressed she is with what I did.
