"Do you believe in love at first sight?" Barney asks the sniffling brunette.
She glares at him.
If looks could kill, Mitch thinks to himself, Barney would be dead right now.
"No." she said, clearly wishing that she could just get her ice cream & pay for it.
"Well, then. How about we meet up tomorrow?" Barney asked.
The brunette let out a laugh & shook her head. "Sorry. That line just won't work on me. & I think my cookie dough is melting."
She took her ice cream & walked out of the door, humming to herself.
"Ouch!" he yells at her, placing a hand on his heart - or where it's supposed to be, anyway.
Barney turns to Mitch & says, "That's my Dream Girl. She's going to come back, I'm sure."
"Whatever you say, Barney," Mitch says sympathetically while patting him on the back but Barney shrugs it off.
"What about you? Where's your Dream Girl?" Barney asks.
Mitch raises an eyebrow, causing Barney to say, "Hey, man! Don't be cynical on love."
"Please don't touch me." Mitch says.
"Hey, don't you wanna pick up your phone?"
Mitch shrugs & says, "Please. I bet it's my sister trying to boss me around for a ride or something."
"You sure? It keeps ringing nearly every five minutes."
"That's my sis."
The guys keep silent for a while until the brunette returns.
Mitch is very sure that Barney would have a coronary right there & then.
"I told you she'd be back!" Barney whispers excitedly as he reaches for the chocolate mint flavor.
"Mitch? Why are you still here?" the brunette asks.
Barney looks back & forth from the brunette & Mitch.
MItch looks at her & says amusedly, "Because my shift doesn't end till 3pm?"
She shoots him her Death Glance & he laughs. "Relax, Anna! Geez. Can't take a joke?"
"You know each other?" Barney blurts out.
"Well, yea. Through James. Have you visited him yet?" She turns & faces Mitch. "I'm on my way right now."
"Why are you visiting him? In case you're oblivious through the chemistry between Shanice & my uncle..."
"James, this isn't funny! How can you joke about your uncle?"
Wait.
"We are talking about James, aren't we?"
"Who's comatose, Mitch! Didn't your parents call you or anything?"
& suddenly it seems that Mitch's world fall apart.
James... Comatose...?
He rushes to his phone & sees his sister's name on the top of the list, his parents' name following below.
"Tell the Boss I'm off." Mitch says over his shoulder.
"Hey!" Barney says but Mitch didn't have time.
He runs out the door, dragging Anna, ignoring her muttering ("Serves you right for not picking up the phone calls.").
Wednesday 6 February 2008
"Her social skills were just as good as her fish"
"&-& the minute I-I got to his house, h-his maid tells me..." Shanice lets out a loud sob.
"Tells you what, Shan?" Anna asks.
"That James is in a coma!" she wails.
Anna squirms in her seat. If choosing between taming a wild bull while wearing a red shirt or comforting someone, she'd choose the bull.
Her social skills were just as good as her fish - no, her fish are better.
"I'm sure he'll be fine. He's young. Comatose patients his age usually gets better," Anna says lamely.
"R-really?" Shanice sniffs.
"Really," Anna assures her.
"Thanks, Anna. You're the best."
"Har." she says.
"No, really. You always think so badly of yourself. But you're really better than that."
"Wish Mr & Mrs Bom my regards," Anna says.
"Bye,"
"Bye."
Anna hangs up the phone & finds a tear in her eye herself.
Shanice is one of her closest friends & so is James. Shanice is practically an older sister to her!
Meaning James is her brother-in-law.
"What's wrong?" a deep voice asks.
She looks up. Way up.
"H-Hi, Colin," she stammers.
Anyone would stammer. By sitting down just makes Colin Turner possible the KL tower!
Being a six foot two is an impressive feat at the mere age of fifteen.
"I have a friend," he says. "Who keeps repeating the question how are you until the person tells the truth. So. What's up?"
Anna smiles again then heaves a sigh.
"It's just my friend. He's in a coma."
Colin keeps silent & puts his hand on Anna's.
She looks up questioningly & sees something - something - in his green eyes.
So, really, who could blame her for kissing him?
But not a real kiss. Just a quick kiss on the lips.
Before Colin could say/do anything, Anna gets up & says, "I'm sorry." before running off, leaving Colin hopelessly behind.
Anna couldn't think of one place to go.
But what other option could there be for a miserable experience than ice cream?
"OK, ice cream parlor, here we come," she said to herself.
"Tells you what, Shan?" Anna asks.
"That James is in a coma!" she wails.
Anna squirms in her seat. If choosing between taming a wild bull while wearing a red shirt or comforting someone, she'd choose the bull.
Her social skills were just as good as her fish - no, her fish are better.
"I'm sure he'll be fine. He's young. Comatose patients his age usually gets better," Anna says lamely.
"R-really?" Shanice sniffs.
"Really," Anna assures her.
"Thanks, Anna. You're the best."
"Har." she says.
"No, really. You always think so badly of yourself. But you're really better than that."
"Wish Mr & Mrs Bom my regards," Anna says.
"Bye,"
"Bye."
Anna hangs up the phone & finds a tear in her eye herself.
Shanice is one of her closest friends & so is James. Shanice is practically an older sister to her!
Meaning James is her brother-in-law.
"What's wrong?" a deep voice asks.
She looks up. Way up.
"H-Hi, Colin," she stammers.
Anyone would stammer. By sitting down just makes Colin Turner possible the KL tower!
Being a six foot two is an impressive feat at the mere age of fifteen.
"I have a friend," he says. "Who keeps repeating the question how are you until the person tells the truth. So. What's up?"
Anna smiles again then heaves a sigh.
"It's just my friend. He's in a coma."
Colin keeps silent & puts his hand on Anna's.
She looks up questioningly & sees something - something - in his green eyes.
So, really, who could blame her for kissing him?
But not a real kiss. Just a quick kiss on the lips.
Before Colin could say/do anything, Anna gets up & says, "I'm sorry." before running off, leaving Colin hopelessly behind.
Anna couldn't think of one place to go.
But what other option could there be for a miserable experience than ice cream?
"OK, ice cream parlor, here we come," she said to herself.
Tuesday 20 November 2007
"... not the time for it"
The following scene is in a residents' elevator, ten minutes after the previous scenario...
Adam whistles as he rocks back and forth on his feet.
He stares at the elevator screen, hoping with all his might that the elevator would stop at a certain floor and a certain person would enter.
21, 20, 19, 18...
The elevator screen flashes those numbers.
"Come on, come on..." Adam urges the screen to pause at his new favorite number.
'Yes!' he screams in his head when the screen flashes 16 with a typical elevator beep!
A blonde girl enters the elevator. She freezes when she notices the dark-haired guy, whistling away.
This is not what she wants. It's just not the time for it.
Ivy's grip on her violet sling bag tightens and she prays to God for a miracle - to glue Adam's mouth shut.
She does not want to put up with him.
"Serious face," Adam smirks.
She ignores him and looks forward at the screen.
'Why's the elevator going so slow? Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up,' she thinks to herself, chanting those two words in her head and heart.
Adam looks at Ivy's blonde hair sweeping her back.
'What's up with her? She's crankier than usual,' he thinks, confused.
Then he notices that Ivy's shaking. Her shoulders, her head - her entire body is just shaking.
Adam's first instinct was to hold her in his arms and ask her what's wrong.
But he knows that he'd either get slapped or sued - or probably both.
So he decides to go for another option - turn up his cockiness a higher notch.
"Boyfriend broke up with you?" he says.
Ivy winces at that sneering tone of his.
'I don't need this right now,' she thinks to herself.
She cringes when she lets out a loud sob.
"How long was it? A week? Two?" Adam asks.
And that was it. She can't just take it anymore.
Ivy turns around and Adam faces, not that cheery blonde he joked around with a few weeks ago, but a distraught-looking teen, runny mascara and nose leaving very unflattering trails on her face.
But it isn't that that caused Adam to take a step back - it's that anger burning in her eyes.
"When will you ever shut up? No, no breakup." Ivy lets out a bitter laugh. "I wasn't even taken! My uncle's in a coma, okay?"
God may not have given the right miracle but it's a miracle, nevertheless because the minute she says the last word, the bell rings and she runs out of the elevator as fast as her legs could carry her.
Adam whistles as he rocks back and forth on his feet.
He stares at the elevator screen, hoping with all his might that the elevator would stop at a certain floor and a certain person would enter.
21, 20, 19, 18...
The elevator screen flashes those numbers.
"Come on, come on..." Adam urges the screen to pause at his new favorite number.
'Yes!' he screams in his head when the screen flashes 16 with a typical elevator beep!
A blonde girl enters the elevator. She freezes when she notices the dark-haired guy, whistling away.
This is not what she wants. It's just not the time for it.
Ivy's grip on her violet sling bag tightens and she prays to God for a miracle - to glue Adam's mouth shut.
She does not want to put up with him.
"Serious face," Adam smirks.
She ignores him and looks forward at the screen.
'Why's the elevator going so slow? Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up,' she thinks to herself, chanting those two words in her head and heart.
Adam looks at Ivy's blonde hair sweeping her back.
'What's up with her? She's crankier than usual,' he thinks, confused.
Then he notices that Ivy's shaking. Her shoulders, her head - her entire body is just shaking.
Adam's first instinct was to hold her in his arms and ask her what's wrong.
But he knows that he'd either get slapped or sued - or probably both.
So he decides to go for another option - turn up his cockiness a higher notch.
"Boyfriend broke up with you?" he says.
Ivy winces at that sneering tone of his.
'I don't need this right now,' she thinks to herself.
She cringes when she lets out a loud sob.
"How long was it? A week? Two?" Adam asks.
And that was it. She can't just take it anymore.
Ivy turns around and Adam faces, not that cheery blonde he joked around with a few weeks ago, but a distraught-looking teen, runny mascara and nose leaving very unflattering trails on her face.
But it isn't that that caused Adam to take a step back - it's that anger burning in her eyes.
"When will you ever shut up? No, no breakup." Ivy lets out a bitter laugh. "I wasn't even taken! My uncle's in a coma, okay?"
God may not have given the right miracle but it's a miracle, nevertheless because the minute she says the last word, the bell rings and she runs out of the elevator as fast as her legs could carry her.
"... those idiots who just got their license"
Shanice hates traffic jam.
And she is stuck in one right now.
'God,' she thinks. 'Please, please don't make this longer than it would be.'
Just because she (finally) got her driving license, does not mean she is a patient driver.
The line moves, but just an inch.
Shanice is at the brink of pulling her hair out and scream but she quickly remembers old Mrs. Bom, her driving teacher and decides not to.
It's like being in a race and the fastest is at a snail's pace.
After what feels like an eternity, the traffic clears up. Shanice hits the pedals and she zooms off, hoping that she makes it just in time.
There's a lot of things going in her mind right now but all her thoughts are focused on one - James.
A number of cars sounded their horn at her but she doesn't care.
Suddenly, an ambulance whiz past her.
She shakes her head, thinking about the poor careless fool.
"Probably one of those idiots who just got their license," she says to herself.
...
Mrs. Bom holds her son's hand with an iron grip.
"Don't die," she sobs. "Don't die."
She would never forgive James for leaving her. It's bad enough her alcoholic of a husband passed away just twelve months ago.
She doesn't want James to do the same.
Mrs. Bom is a woman at the peak of her fifties and is known for her patience and calm composure.
But at that moment, she feels like a different person. A stranger.
Anger, frustration, disappointment, sadness, anxiety... All these feelings are rolled up into one and buried deep within her.
She doesn't know whether to yell at her unconscious son for being so careless to drive when his energy was at the minimum.
Or perhaps she should cry, beg to wake up, out of the sleep that could be so easily mistaken for death.
Mrs. Bom decides for both.
"James, I told you not to drive. I told you. Now look where you are! In an ambulance."
At the last word, her voice breaks and she begins crying all over again.
Suddenly, the hand in Mrs. Bom's death grip move.
Just his fingers trying to release from his mother's.
"J-James? You're alive!" She hops in the ambulance and is about to hug him (in an equally tender grip as before) when the nurse stops her.
"M'am, please," he says.
James says something softly.
So soft that suddenly everything sounds thrice its volume ; the clattering of the IV, the hushed whispers of the driver and the other nurse.
"What is it, James?" she asks anxiously.
And he whispers again.
"Shanice."
After that, his hand goes limp. His eyes closed.
& then, it's just a blur of people yelling, "Code Blue! Code Blue!"
And she is stuck in one right now.
'God,' she thinks. 'Please, please don't make this longer than it would be.'
Just because she (finally) got her driving license, does not mean she is a patient driver.
The line moves, but just an inch.
Shanice is at the brink of pulling her hair out and scream but she quickly remembers old Mrs. Bom, her driving teacher and decides not to.
It's like being in a race and the fastest is at a snail's pace.
After what feels like an eternity, the traffic clears up. Shanice hits the pedals and she zooms off, hoping that she makes it just in time.
There's a lot of things going in her mind right now but all her thoughts are focused on one - James.
A number of cars sounded their horn at her but she doesn't care.
Suddenly, an ambulance whiz past her.
She shakes her head, thinking about the poor careless fool.
"Probably one of those idiots who just got their license," she says to herself.
...
Mrs. Bom holds her son's hand with an iron grip.
"Don't die," she sobs. "Don't die."
She would never forgive James for leaving her. It's bad enough her alcoholic of a husband passed away just twelve months ago.
She doesn't want James to do the same.
Mrs. Bom is a woman at the peak of her fifties and is known for her patience and calm composure.
But at that moment, she feels like a different person. A stranger.
Anger, frustration, disappointment, sadness, anxiety... All these feelings are rolled up into one and buried deep within her.
She doesn't know whether to yell at her unconscious son for being so careless to drive when his energy was at the minimum.
Or perhaps she should cry, beg to wake up, out of the sleep that could be so easily mistaken for death.
Mrs. Bom decides for both.
"James, I told you not to drive. I told you. Now look where you are! In an ambulance."
At the last word, her voice breaks and she begins crying all over again.
Suddenly, the hand in Mrs. Bom's death grip move.
Just his fingers trying to release from his mother's.
"J-James? You're alive!" She hops in the ambulance and is about to hug him (in an equally tender grip as before) when the nurse stops her.
"M'am, please," he says.
James says something softly.
So soft that suddenly everything sounds thrice its volume ; the clattering of the IV, the hushed whispers of the driver and the other nurse.
"What is it, James?" she asks anxiously.
And he whispers again.
"Shanice."
After that, his hand goes limp. His eyes closed.
& then, it's just a blur of people yelling, "Code Blue! Code Blue!"
Tuesday 14 August 2007
Unreal 1
Orchid Lavenders is a model wallpaper girl.
You know the type: sweet, caring, smart.
With chestnut hair curling down to her back, glimmering green eyes & pink lips moulded into a smile, Orchid is simply the loveable girl-next door.
She, with her straight black hair gently resting against her shoulders, blue eyes usually outlined with the latest make-up in deep contrast with her ruby red lips fixed as either a smirk or a scowl.
Most people worship her out of awe or out of fear.
The others make it clear that they simply hate her.
On one Language class, the teacher, Mrs. Zelda, assigns the students a new project.
Ignoring the class’s loud groan, she begins to list down the partners.
Mrs. Zelda continues until four students remain without partners.
‘The horror.’ Liz thinks to herself as she says, “Hey. You.” to Orchid.
A few minutes slowly melt away & Liz still isn’t finished with her phone call.
Orchid stops walking & peeks through a door, a source of a girl’s sobs.
Either Liz is too occupied with the crying or she’s ignoring Orchid as usual, Orchid naturally starts to comfort Liz. She can’t just leave someone crying.
“Pssst… Have you heard? Orchid & Liz made a truce.” a girl whispers to her friend.
“No!” her friend exclaims.
“Yes! It’s all over the school! In fact, Orchid was sitting with Liz today at lunch. Oh my God, where have you been?”
The picture perfect girl which makes old ladies coo, “Now why can’t you be more like her?” to their grandchildren.
With chestnut hair curling down to her back, glimmering green eyes & pink lips moulded into a smile, Orchid is simply the loveable girl-next door.
Everyone loves her - except for Elizabeth ‘Liz’ Janet, the exact opposite of sweet Orchid.
& also a perfect example for the term to judge a book by its cover.
Her attitude is just as lethal as her looks.Most people worship her out of awe or out of fear.
The others make it clear that they simply hate her.
The two girls never crossed paths - but when they do, Liz would smirk at the sight of Orchid in one of her trademark flowing skirts.
“But,” she says, interrupting the class’s excited whispers, “I am assigning the partners.”
“Hmm… Lets see… Mr. Jerry May be with Ms Sheela.”
“Well, you lucky four May choose your partners.” Mrs. Zelda says kindly.
Liz looks around & resists the urge to scream. Her only choices of a partner are Jerry Garcy, a nice boy but notorious for his, um, “unique” odor, Memry Lace, the queer goth girl & last but not least Orchid Lavenders, Ms Goody-Goody Two Shoes.
Silently acknowledging the (rather rude) calling, she walks over to Liz.
& that, dear readers, is how it all begins
q
Orchid swings her legs around, wondering what phone call Liz is having.
‘Must’ve been an urgent one,’ Orchid thinks to herself & shrugs it off. Orchid decides that she better find Liz to finish off the project.
She doesn’t want to fail Language class, after all.Orchid stops walking & peeks through a door, a source of a girl’s sobs.
“Um… Liz?” Orchid says uncertainly as she enters the room with small steps. “Is this a bad time? Maybe I could come some other day.”
“What’s wrong?” Orchid asks, sliding down next to the crouching Li.
A few minutes pass by before Liz begins to talk (in the English lanuage).
“He… H-he d-dumped me…” Liz sobs.
“Who dumped you?” Orchid asks, rubbing Liz’s back soothingly.
“A-Adam. We’ve been t-together for… F-for three months!” Liz wails.
‘Well. Three months. It sounded as if it was a long relationship,’ Orchid thought.
“That’s my l-longest relationship. Like, e-ever!”
‘Then again…’ Orchid keeps note.
“Well, then. It’s his loss for dumping you! You’re one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever known & not only that, you’re smart. Don’t deny it. You know you’re smart but you just pretend you’re dumb.” Orchid says in a matter-of-fact tone. “& to whoever girl he goes for, well, good luck to her!”
“W-why are y-you being so n-nice to m-me? I’ve never been nowhere nice t-to you!” Liz sobs.
“Well, everyone deserves to be nice to.” Orchid smiles.
& just when Orchid passes one of her infamous kind smiles, Liz decides that Orchid really means it.
“Well, everyone deserves to be nice to.” Orchid smiles.
& just when Orchid passes one of her infamous kind smiles, Liz decides that Orchid really means it.
~
“Pssst… Have you heard? Orchid & Liz made a truce.” a girl whispers to her friend.
“No!” her friend exclaims.
“Yes! It’s all over the school! In fact, Orchid was sitting with Liz today at lunch. Oh my God, where have you been?”
& it goes on & on.
Just as the two gossiping girls continue their, well, gossiping, their subjects past by - Orchid & Liz chatting merrily about a boy named Ryan.
End of Unreal 1
Friday 6 July 2007
Love, the sweet
[Editor's Note]
Sorry. I didn't create this story but it's so sweet that I MUST put this story here! Cheers =)
One day a gal asked:
why do you like me..?
why do you love me. ?
HE answered:i can't tell the reason.. but i
really
like you..
SHE: you can't even tell me the
reason..
how can you say you
like me?
how can you say you love me?
HE: i really don't know the
reason, but i
can prove that i love you.
SHE: proof? no! i want you to
tell me
the reason. my friend's
boyfriend can tell
her why he loves her but not
you!
HE: ok..ok!! ermmss..
because you are beautiful,
because your voice is sweet,
because you are caring,
because you are loving,
because you are thoughtful,
because of your smile,
because of your every movements.
the gal felt very satisfied with
his
answer.
unfortunately, a few days later,
the gal
met with an accident and became
commatosed. HE then placed a letter
by
her side, and here is the
content:
darling,
because of your sweet voice that
I love
you...
now can you talk?
no! therefore
i cannot
love you.
because of your care and concern
that i
like you..
now that you cannot show them,
therefore i cannot love you.
because of your smile,
because of your every movements
that i
love you..
now can you smile? now can you
move?
no, therefore i cannot love
you...
if love needs a reason, like
now, there is
no reason for me to love you
anymore.
does love need a reason? NO!
therefore, i still love you...
and love doesn't need a reason...
"sometimes the best and the mostbeautiful things in the worldcannot be
seen, cannot be touched, but can
be felt
in the heart"
love doesn't need a reason...
it's something
you can feel burning inside your
heart and
waiting to explode of love...
please...
never ever ask someone why
they love u...
love is nature and
without
love the world is nothing but a
piece of
crap.
so everyone love the world
and
also love ur loved ones...
Sorry. I didn't create this story but it's so sweet that I MUST put this story here! Cheers =)
One day a gal asked:
why do you like me..?
why do you love me. ?
HE answered:i can't tell the reason.. but i
really
like you..
SHE: you can't even tell me the
reason..
how can you say you
like me?
how can you say you love me?
HE: i really don't know the
reason, but i
can prove that i love you.
SHE: proof? no! i want you to
tell me
the reason. my friend's
boyfriend can tell
her why he loves her but not
you!
HE: ok..ok!! ermmss..
because you are beautiful,
because your voice is sweet,
because you are caring,
because you are loving,
because you are thoughtful,
because of your smile,
because of your every movements.
the gal felt very satisfied with
his
answer.
unfortunately, a few days later,
the gal
met with an accident and became
commatosed. HE then placed a letter
by
her side, and here is the
content:
darling,
because of your sweet voice that
I love
you...
now can you talk?
no! therefore
i cannot
love you.
because of your care and concern
that i
like you..
now that you cannot show them,
therefore i cannot love you.
because of your smile,
because of your every movements
that i
love you..
now can you smile? now can you
move?
no, therefore i cannot love
you...
if love needs a reason, like
now, there is
no reason for me to love you
anymore.
does love need a reason? NO!
therefore, i still love you...
and love doesn't need a reason...
"sometimes the best and the mostbeautiful things in the worldcannot be
seen, cannot be touched, but can
be felt
in the heart"
love doesn't need a reason...
it's something
you can feel burning inside your
heart and
waiting to explode of love...
please...
never ever ask someone why
they love u...
love is nature and
without
love the world is nothing but a
piece of
crap.
so everyone love the world
and
also love ur loved ones...
Friday 29 June 2007
Rose Petals In A Jar
It scared me that my imagination field was slowly fading away.
Everywhere I went, I'd at least hear one adult talking about that kid who could be the future Picasso of our century - their words, not mine.
I have never once complaint & whined, "What about me?" even though I'm already a blooming 16 year old, the true age of teen rebellion.
My mom was encouraging me to breathe art. That's what single moms do, right?
Support their kid, partly out of guilt, & in their free time, date strange men?
Which was how I ended up at this school for the talented generation.
Don't get me wrong. I love my mom for, you know, thinking of me & all.
But I couldn't help feeling... A little offended.
I may not be a freaking kid Picasso but I'm good at what I do.
I know that.
I found the teachers very perky - way too perky to teach the beautiful works of the arts.
I could still remember that special day.
I was on my way to my favorite class, sketching.
Pottery, glass painting, sculpting weren't exactly my thing.
All I needed was a piece of paper & a pencil & voila!
I'm all set.
Which kinda explained why I was so busy doodling in my sketchbook, my most precious possession - even more precious than my hand phone (which is officially missing) - that I managed to bump into him.
I remembered the first time I took him in. He was a true work of art, the first thought that came to mind.
I mean it.
Light, sandy brown hair slightly ruffled with a total contrast with those beautiful hazel eyes.
You know the kind. The kind which sometimes look greenish, sometimes brownish..
His lips was one of the first features I was slightly attracted to. It looked as if it was always fixed in a permanent scowl but when he glanced at me, that first time, he smiled.
"Sorry! Oh God..." I said as he got up.
I had to lift my head to see him.
He was, I noticed, tall.
Very tall.
That & he had the broadest shoulders I had ever seen.
It was as if someone had molded him to perfection, as lame as that sounded.
He held out his hand for me & I reached out for it.
Not only was he incredibly, well, hot, he was also very strong.
As if pulling up a girl who weighed 52kg single-handedly was no big deal.
I was so dazed with all these obvious observations about him that my inky pen made an inky stain on the sleeve of his hoodie.
"Dammit! I'm sorry! God, I don't know what's happening to me today. Seriously." I muttered & made a vain attempt to fix his shirt.
& I really didn't. I was not the clumsy chick who petered over guys.
I was too occupied with the sketching.
"Nah, it's okay. It looks cool actually." he said, his voice deep & low.
He examined the ink stain with fascination.
I looked up & knew that he was right.
The black ink stain gave a contrast with the gray hoodie & it also looked like a splat! so it did look cool, in a way.
"So... Lemme guess. You're a sketcher?" he smirked, his hands casually in his jeans pocket.
I smiled at him. "Is it that obvious?"
He held out his ink-stained sleeve & pointed at my notebook I was clutching with a smile on his face.
"& you're on your way to sketch class?"
I nodded, dumbfounded. How did he know?
"& you're a detective?" I asked as we begin walking to our class.
He smiled. "Hmm... Detective Nick... I like it."
Oh, so he's Nick?
Why was he name so familiar?
"Mr. Nicholas & Ms Elizabeth. nice of you to join us." the sketch teacher, Mr Nobleson said.
"Pleasure." Nick bowed & sat down a desk behind me.
So began the lectures & so-called inspiring pep-talk about the beauty of art.
It wasn't like I'm not agreeing to all of this. It's just that the way he said it.
Mr Nobleson has that voice which just seemed to drone on & on...
I mean, seriously. There should be some sort of law, stating that boring guys are not allowed to talk about something as... Well, something as delicate like art.
Finally, after what seemed like eons, he gave us our assignments.
That was a toughie. Though Mr Nobleson was a pretty boring guy, his assignments are always interesting.
Anyway, there were so many things which made me ponder.
He gave us a week to finish it.
As soon as he dismissed us, Nick came by my side.
"So, if I recall, you're a sketcher." he said casually.
"Mm."
"So sketchers have a phone & an e-mail add?"
I looked up & saw him peering down at me.
Smiling, I grabbed his right hand from his pocket & wrote it down.
"lizbeth_arty@inspired.com?" he smiled even more.
"Hey, at least you'll know it's me." I smiled back & walked away.
The first thing I did was switching on my computer - a Mac, of course.
I was doodling nervously like mad on my notebook - odd, wispy swirls with little flowers blooming stage by stage.
You should know that whatever I drew was reflecting on how my mood was.
So I was a little thrown aback when I saw that... Romantic drawing.
Normally, if I was in an okay mood, I'd draw waves lapping at sand, or maybe even grass, I forgot.
Or if I'm angry I'd draw flames spikey, playing with the smoke in the wind howling with rage.
Whatever. You get the picture.
But why was I drawing little flowers with the swirls, which I'm guessing were leaves?
I didn't have time to think of that because I heard the sound of the beloved ding! of my Mac Messenger signed in.
The first thing I saw was a pop-up window which read :
'smokesintheair90@freemail.com has added you to his/her list'
Obviously, I clicked the 'Add him/her' option because I knew it was Nick.
Hmm... Wait... If he was born in 1990, that'd mean he's...
Ding!
A convo window popped up in my face.
I smiled. It was Nick.
Blurred Mirrors says : Hey
Liz - Rose Petals In A Jar says : Hey
Blurred Mirrors says : Rose petals in a jar?
Liz - Rose Petals In A Jar says : LOL yup. That... Well, it's a dream
Blurred Mirrors says : Of rose petals in a jar? Hmm... Not your boyfriend?
Liz - Rose Petals In A Jar says : Boyfriend? What boyfriend?
Blurred Mirrors says : So... Rose petals in a jar?
Liz - Rose Petals In A Jar says : Yup
Blurred Mirrors says : Care to explain that to me in... 5 mins?
Liz - Rose Petals In A Jar says : Not now?
Blurred Mirrors says : Nope I can't run that fast
Liz - Rose Petals In A Jar says : LOL
Wait... Did he just ask me out?
Okay, Liz. Keep your cool.
Blurred Mirrors says : See you at the Avenue Park
You cannot send any messages as he/she appears to be offline.
You have no right to laugh at me when I say that that was most probably the first time I was meeting a guy alone.
I mean, asides my dad but that was when I still loved Barney the purple dinosaur.
I threw on a dark purple long-sleeved shirt, my favorite scarf & beanie & I was off.
As I was running, I saw Nick sitting on a bench casually, talking to an adult figure next to him.
He looked up & saw me walking towards him.
He said something to the adult after signing something & saying goodbye. I plopped down next to him.
"Hey." he said.
"Hey. Who was that?" I asked.
"Um, some guy." he said, waving his hand.
Was it my imagination or was he... Blushing?
"So... Care for a walk?" he said chivalrously.
"That'd be nice." I said.
"Why rose petals in a jar?" he asked me after a minute of silence.
"Want the full story or cut it short?" I asked.
"We have a whole park to walk around. Take your time." he said, casually slipping his hands into his pockets.
I smiled at him, which I thought stupid since it was kinda dark if not for the full moon.
"Well... I had a dream." I said after taking a deep breath.
"You said that."
Why did he sound so amused?
"Just promise me that you won't laugh." I warned him.
He nodded.
"I was walking. Running. Whatever I was doing, I was moving around some empty place. Suddenly, it was raining rose petals."
I shot him a glare just in case he was pretending not to laugh but actually he was already smirking.
He wasn't. His face was so serious, so still.
"There were so many." I continued, encouraged by him taking me seriously for once. "So many soft petals falling about from the sky. & I had a thought to myself, why waste such beauty when one could capture it? So I had du out a jar & ran everywhere, trying to collect the most rose petals."
We stopped walking. We were a few feet away from the gate.
"You can stop laughing now." I said, still not looking at him.
I took in a deep breath before mustering all the courage I had to look at him.
He was deadpan serious. He was even thinking about what I said.
I didn't know why but my heart was just, like, filled with something. Something I can't describe in words.
I never had someone taking me so seriously before. Usually, they'd think of me either as:
Everywhere I went, I'd at least hear one adult talking about that kid who could be the future Picasso of our century - their words, not mine.
I have never once complaint & whined, "What about me?" even though I'm already a blooming 16 year old, the true age of teen rebellion.
My mom was encouraging me to breathe art. That's what single moms do, right?
Support their kid, partly out of guilt, & in their free time, date strange men?
Which was how I ended up at this school for the talented generation.
Don't get me wrong. I love my mom for, you know, thinking of me & all.
But I couldn't help feeling... A little offended.
I may not be a freaking kid Picasso but I'm good at what I do.
I know that.
I found the teachers very perky - way too perky to teach the beautiful works of the arts.
I could still remember that special day.
I was on my way to my favorite class, sketching.
Pottery, glass painting, sculpting weren't exactly my thing.
All I needed was a piece of paper & a pencil & voila!
I'm all set.
Which kinda explained why I was so busy doodling in my sketchbook, my most precious possession - even more precious than my hand phone (which is officially missing) - that I managed to bump into him.
I remembered the first time I took him in. He was a true work of art, the first thought that came to mind.
I mean it.
Light, sandy brown hair slightly ruffled with a total contrast with those beautiful hazel eyes.
You know the kind. The kind which sometimes look greenish, sometimes brownish..
His lips was one of the first features I was slightly attracted to. It looked as if it was always fixed in a permanent scowl but when he glanced at me, that first time, he smiled.
"Sorry! Oh God..." I said as he got up.
I had to lift my head to see him.
He was, I noticed, tall.
Very tall.
That & he had the broadest shoulders I had ever seen.
It was as if someone had molded him to perfection, as lame as that sounded.
He held out his hand for me & I reached out for it.
Not only was he incredibly, well, hot, he was also very strong.
As if pulling up a girl who weighed 52kg single-handedly was no big deal.
I was so dazed with all these obvious observations about him that my inky pen made an inky stain on the sleeve of his hoodie.
"Dammit! I'm sorry! God, I don't know what's happening to me today. Seriously." I muttered & made a vain attempt to fix his shirt.
& I really didn't. I was not the clumsy chick who petered over guys.
I was too occupied with the sketching.
"Nah, it's okay. It looks cool actually." he said, his voice deep & low.
He examined the ink stain with fascination.
I looked up & knew that he was right.
The black ink stain gave a contrast with the gray hoodie & it also looked like a splat! so it did look cool, in a way.
"So... Lemme guess. You're a sketcher?" he smirked, his hands casually in his jeans pocket.
I smiled at him. "Is it that obvious?"
He held out his ink-stained sleeve & pointed at my notebook I was clutching with a smile on his face.
"& you're on your way to sketch class?"
I nodded, dumbfounded. How did he know?
"& you're a detective?" I asked as we begin walking to our class.
He smiled. "Hmm... Detective Nick... I like it."
Oh, so he's Nick?
Why was he name so familiar?
"Mr. Nicholas & Ms Elizabeth. nice of you to join us." the sketch teacher, Mr Nobleson said.
"Pleasure." Nick bowed & sat down a desk behind me.
So began the lectures & so-called inspiring pep-talk about the beauty of art.
It wasn't like I'm not agreeing to all of this. It's just that the way he said it.
Mr Nobleson has that voice which just seemed to drone on & on...
I mean, seriously. There should be some sort of law, stating that boring guys are not allowed to talk about something as... Well, something as delicate like art.
Finally, after what seemed like eons, he gave us our assignments.
That was a toughie. Though Mr Nobleson was a pretty boring guy, his assignments are always interesting.
Anyway, there were so many things which made me ponder.
He gave us a week to finish it.
As soon as he dismissed us, Nick came by my side.
"So, if I recall, you're a sketcher." he said casually.
"Mm."
"So sketchers have a phone & an e-mail add?"
I looked up & saw him peering down at me.
Smiling, I grabbed his right hand from his pocket & wrote it down.
"lizbeth_arty@inspired.com?" he smiled even more.
"Hey, at least you'll know it's me." I smiled back & walked away.
The first thing I did was switching on my computer - a Mac, of course.
I was doodling nervously like mad on my notebook - odd, wispy swirls with little flowers blooming stage by stage.
You should know that whatever I drew was reflecting on how my mood was.
So I was a little thrown aback when I saw that... Romantic drawing.
Normally, if I was in an okay mood, I'd draw waves lapping at sand, or maybe even grass, I forgot.
Or if I'm angry I'd draw flames spikey, playing with the smoke in the wind howling with rage.
Whatever. You get the picture.
But why was I drawing little flowers with the swirls, which I'm guessing were leaves?
I didn't have time to think of that because I heard the sound of the beloved ding! of my Mac Messenger signed in.
The first thing I saw was a pop-up window which read :
'smokesintheair90@freemail.com has added you to his/her list'
Obviously, I clicked the 'Add him/her' option because I knew it was Nick.
Hmm... Wait... If he was born in 1990, that'd mean he's...
Ding!
A convo window popped up in my face.
I smiled. It was Nick.
Blurred Mirrors says : Hey
Liz - Rose Petals In A Jar says : Hey
Blurred Mirrors says : Rose petals in a jar?
Liz - Rose Petals In A Jar says : LOL yup. That... Well, it's a dream
Blurred Mirrors says : Of rose petals in a jar? Hmm... Not your boyfriend?
Liz - Rose Petals In A Jar says : Boyfriend? What boyfriend?
Blurred Mirrors says : So... Rose petals in a jar?
Liz - Rose Petals In A Jar says : Yup
Blurred Mirrors says : Care to explain that to me in... 5 mins?
Liz - Rose Petals In A Jar says : Not now?
Blurred Mirrors says : Nope I can't run that fast
Liz - Rose Petals In A Jar says : LOL
Wait... Did he just ask me out?
Okay, Liz. Keep your cool.
Blurred Mirrors says : See you at the Avenue Park
You cannot send any messages as he/she appears to be offline.
You have no right to laugh at me when I say that that was most probably the first time I was meeting a guy alone.
I mean, asides my dad but that was when I still loved Barney the purple dinosaur.
I threw on a dark purple long-sleeved shirt, my favorite scarf & beanie & I was off.
As I was running, I saw Nick sitting on a bench casually, talking to an adult figure next to him.
He looked up & saw me walking towards him.
He said something to the adult after signing something & saying goodbye. I plopped down next to him.
"Hey." he said.
"Hey. Who was that?" I asked.
"Um, some guy." he said, waving his hand.
Was it my imagination or was he... Blushing?
"So... Care for a walk?" he said chivalrously.
"That'd be nice." I said.
"Why rose petals in a jar?" he asked me after a minute of silence.
"Want the full story or cut it short?" I asked.
"We have a whole park to walk around. Take your time." he said, casually slipping his hands into his pockets.
I smiled at him, which I thought stupid since it was kinda dark if not for the full moon.
"Well... I had a dream." I said after taking a deep breath.
"You said that."
Why did he sound so amused?
"Just promise me that you won't laugh." I warned him.
He nodded.
"I was walking. Running. Whatever I was doing, I was moving around some empty place. Suddenly, it was raining rose petals."
I shot him a glare just in case he was pretending not to laugh but actually he was already smirking.
He wasn't. His face was so serious, so still.
"There were so many." I continued, encouraged by him taking me seriously for once. "So many soft petals falling about from the sky. & I had a thought to myself, why waste such beauty when one could capture it? So I had du out a jar & ran everywhere, trying to collect the most rose petals."
We stopped walking. We were a few feet away from the gate.
"You can stop laughing now." I said, still not looking at him.
I took in a deep breath before mustering all the courage I had to look at him.
He was deadpan serious. He was even thinking about what I said.
I didn't know why but my heart was just, like, filled with something. Something I can't describe in words.
I never had someone taking me so seriously before. Usually, they'd think of me either as:
a) The freak stuck in her own little, itty-bitty world of doodles
or
b) The joker Liz
But never someone who had thoughts.
That was what Nick made me feel. A person who has ideas.
& he was the first one to listen to it.
"I'm not laughing." he finally said, gravity pulling him back down to planet Earth.
I gave him a half-smile.
"Actually... That was really unique. Rose petals in a jar... I like it." he finally smiled.
My heart was beating so fast, probably because, well, he listened.
"You know what I thought that sentence meant? At first?" he asked me.
"Hmm?"
"I thought it meant you were trying to trap love inside. Or maybe keep it for yourself, so that if you ever felt a little heartbroken, you'd take another piece to mend it. I dunno. Now you don't laugh." he said, giving a small laugh.
I thought about that.
It was good. I mean, if you looked at it in another perspective.
Rose does represent love if you knew the secret languages of flowers.
"I'm not laughing." I said since I realized he was peering down at me.
We were walking silently once again until he asked me, "How come I haven't seen you around before?"
"Mmm... Just transferred." I shrugged. "It'd be hard to miss me, you know." I joked.
"I know." he said, his voice soft.
So soft I had to turn around & was trapped at the depth of his greenish, brownish eyes, so hypnotising.
I was in a trance, not noticing the wind getting mercilessly stronger.
"Hey. You could catch a cold." he said & took off his scarf & wrapped it around my neck.
One hand was on the scarf, the other placed at the small of my back.He pulled me closer & the next thing I knew, we were kissing.
For the past few days, I began hanging out with Nick.
Okay, maybe 'hanging out is too casual of a word. Maybe the right word here is, well...
After school, he'd walk me back to my house, kiss on the front porch.
If we had enough time, we'd walk around the park & talk about, well...
About nearly anything.
Growing up.
& I even admit, to a certain point, that I was feeling a little too envious towards the mysterious kid Piccasso
I haven't laid eyes on his-slash-her artworks, but I have met his-slash-her fans.He told me that his parents keep pushing him to the limit, to be better than he already was.
I was kind of shocked to hear it because he was brilliant in art - if you had taken a look at any of his artwork, you would be satisfied enough.I had voiced out my thoughts but he merely smiled, which only made me kiss him even more.
Those days were pure, utter heaven.
Until one day. The day.
We were walking in the park, as usual.
By then, the sky was already brimming to a dark indigo for a night sky after the sunset.We past an elderly man, who, I noticed, stop in his tracks as Nick & I passed.
Nick turned around to the man & said, "Yes, may I help you?"
He's so polite.
"Yes." the man said - well, no, he sort of panted. "I was wondering... Aren't you Nicholas Landon, the boy painter?"
I was very tempted to say Well, Duh because Nick was the best painter I had ever known.
But I kept my mouth shut as I felt his hand clamp tight over mine.
"You know... The one who was on the news the other day? Oh! Remember? You had an interview in the Daily Dateline newspaper? What was the article again...? Ah, Miracle Kid Painter. The future Picasso!" the man said, getting excited by the minute.
& that's when it hit me.
That's when an invisible puzzle just suddenly appears in front of me & solve itself.
That was why, I realized, Nick looked, sounded so familiar.
I read that article a few days before I met him.
I still remembered my fits I threw in my room silently.
It wasn't because I saw him in my dreams, I thought in my head.
Ha! No, it's because he was the boy from my nightmares.
He's the freaking kid Picasso.
I snatched my hand away from his the minute his grip on mine tightened.
Not only that, I ran away.
Not even bothering to give a quick glance at his face.
I avoided contact with him for nearly 3 days in every possible way of communication.
I screened his calls, blocked him online, got my mom to tell him that I was busy when he called the house phone.
On the third day, my mom entered my room to 'borrow my comb'.
A sign that I have come to recognize that she wanted to have a 'talk' with me.
"Anything wrong, Lizzy?" she said just as she reached the doorway out of my room.
& just when I looked at my mom's face, seeing the hint of concern painted all over her face, it all came out.
Everything.
About how familiar he looked to me, even though I knew that I had never seen him before.
About us talking.
About how hurt I felt when I found out who he really was.
Finally, when everything - & I do mean everything - was out in the open, my mom did something she hadn't done for a long time.
She hugged me, telling me to cry it all out.
Which I did.
Having your heart broken, I thought, was one thing.
Going to school with a broken heart was another.
Although my mom had shown me the caring, therapist side of her, she didn't let me get off the hook.
I still had to go to school ("Broken hearted or not." my mom added).
I didn't want to go to school. All I wanted to do was just stay at home & sketch.
Probably something fiery, I thought.
As I was walking down the hallway to my locker, I was already picturing how my doodle would turn out.
Probably a tinge between furious spikes & gentle lines.
& it'd be a shade of gray. A normal shade.
I could imagine it as a serene, gray sunset, the wispy lines the clouds, the spikes the lines of the setting sun.
I was so dazed of the picture I beautifully pictured that I didn't realze that I had already opened the locker door.
Just as I reached for my text books (yes, there were text books for art schools, like The Visual Arts & History of Artworks), something caught my eye.
A jar.
I already knew what it was before I even looked at it but I took it out anyway.
It was a jar filled with...
Rose petals.
Tears were stinging my eyes but I didn't want to cry.
Not in public, anyway.
God, that'd be embarrassing.
Along the jar, there was a sticky note stuck on the front of the jar.
Captured beauty.
See ya in class.
- Nick
Well, even though I was still ticked off with him, I couldn't help but grin.
The guy could still joke around even if he knew he was in hot water.
I kept the jar inside my back pack, don't ask me why.
As a keepsake?
"Class, settle down. Class." Mr Nobleson's voice drawled.
I blinked & looked at the doodle I, well, doodled.
Wow, was the first thought that popped into my head.
What I saw was something... Well, something different.
No wispy lines.
No furious spikes.
No blue - um, so to speak - waves.
Nothing.
I can't exactly describe it but what I saw there on that paper was a blank.
Don't get me wrong, there's definitely some doodle on the paper.
But it was just so void of emotion. It's just...
Empty.
But I didn't have the time to find out what the doodles told me of my moods since Mr Nobleson banged on the table for silence.
The class settled down a few minutes later & he asked primly, "Well, who would like to present their project?"
Project..?
What proj-
Damn!
The project.
The what inspires you most project.
Dammit, I forgot!
All because I was hanging around with Nick.
Speaking of the devil, he entered the room at the exact moment & quietly sat down behind me.
I tried to ignore his presence.
Um, in vain.
"Any volunteers? Anyone? No? No one? Well then, we sh-" Mr Nobleson cut himself off, which meant that he found the volunteer.
The brave soul.
"Ah, how very kind of you, Mr Nicholas." the teacher said & sat back behind his desk.
I turned around so quickly that I could have sworn I heard my neck cracked.
Yet it didn't hurt.
His face was filled with that normal scowl of his but when he looked at me, the scowl momentarily vanished & he winked at me as he walked his way to the front of the class.
He winked!
Ugh.
I was so disgusted with myself when I felt all excited that he winked.
At me.
"& the one thing that inspires me the most..." he said mysteriously as he slowly opened his masterpiece.
The room was silent until I gasped.
It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.
What I could make out was the back of someone - a girl, obviously since the hair was very long - & she seemed to look far away.
The artist managed to paint in all the fine details, such as the imperfect hair, frizzy at all the wrong places & even the way her elbow jutted out of the desk.
It was so brilliant. So beautiful.
& that was when I realized why he was such a genius.
Such a kid Picasso.
It wasn't because of his talent, the minor details filling the page - well, I mean, it is but partly.
Mainly, it was because of his passion.
His passion to paint. That's why he was so well-known.
That piece was just filled with so much passion that you could already tell at one glance that it was effortless for him.
Mr Nobleson took of his glasses in amazement & patted Nick on the shoulder, compliments flowing from his mouth like a flood broke from a leaking dam.
I couldn't help but notice the wince within Nick's smile.
The dismissal bell rang.
As I closed my locker door just to have a quick peek at my jar, I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw Nick's smirking face from nowhere.
"Hey." he said.
"Hey." I said. "I liked your artwork."
He shifted his gaze uncomfortably.
We were already walking out of school.
"Now I guess I know why you're the kid Picasso." I admitted as he kept quiet.
"Ngh." he grunted.
"I don't understand why you couldn't have just told me."
"Because! You talk about him as if he was your sworn enemy. I don't want to be your sworn enemy. I want to be-"
"Excuse me?" An elderly man said as he peered up to Nick's face.
"Are you Nicholas Landon, the child prodigy?"
"Yes. Yes, I am." Nick said politely, but in a snappish kind of way.
"In fact, I'm not only the great child prodigy, I also happen to be with one of the most brilliant teen artist. See this girl next to me? She happens to be the world's greatest sketcher of all time! I could show you her artwork one day, sir."
& with a nod, he left the poor guy & we were walking ahead.
"You were saying?" I said quietly, trying my best not to laugh.
"Oh? Was I saying something?" Nick asked.
I swattered his shoulder.
He was so sweet, so cute, so talented.
So unbelievably perfect.
"Thanks. For that." I muttered when I remembered the previous scene.
"Aw, it's nothing." he said uncomfortably.
Guys always get uncomfortable whenever called 'sweet'.
They also get uncomfortable when around weepy women.
Yes, I was about to cry.
"You're my Picasso." I smiled as he bent down to kiss me in the park.
I'm now doodling on my notebook while chatting to Nick online.
He's typing nonsense.
Sweet nonsense.
Guess what?
My desk is practically full.
I mean, what with all my sketches - not to mention with the dozens of sketches Nick drew - along with an equal amount of jars filled with rose petals, only in different colors.
But my most favorite & precious treasure?
The portrait of that girl, staring out with his tiny signature on the right-hand corner.
See ya in class.
- Nick
Well, even though I was still ticked off with him, I couldn't help but grin.
The guy could still joke around even if he knew he was in hot water.
I kept the jar inside my back pack, don't ask me why.
As a keepsake?
"Class, settle down. Class." Mr Nobleson's voice drawled.
I blinked & looked at the doodle I, well, doodled.
Wow, was the first thought that popped into my head.
What I saw was something... Well, something different.
No wispy lines.
No furious spikes.
No blue - um, so to speak - waves.
Nothing.
I can't exactly describe it but what I saw there on that paper was a blank.
Don't get me wrong, there's definitely some doodle on the paper.
But it was just so void of emotion. It's just...
Empty.
But I didn't have the time to find out what the doodles told me of my moods since Mr Nobleson banged on the table for silence.
The class settled down a few minutes later & he asked primly, "Well, who would like to present their project?"
Project..?
What proj-
Damn!
The project.
The what inspires you most project.
Dammit, I forgot!
All because I was hanging around with Nick.
Speaking of the devil, he entered the room at the exact moment & quietly sat down behind me.
I tried to ignore his presence.
Um, in vain.
"Any volunteers? Anyone? No? No one? Well then, we sh-" Mr Nobleson cut himself off, which meant that he found the volunteer.
The brave soul.
"Ah, how very kind of you, Mr Nicholas." the teacher said & sat back behind his desk.
I turned around so quickly that I could have sworn I heard my neck cracked.
Yet it didn't hurt.
His face was filled with that normal scowl of his but when he looked at me, the scowl momentarily vanished & he winked at me as he walked his way to the front of the class.
He winked!
Ugh.
I was so disgusted with myself when I felt all excited that he winked.
At me.
"& the one thing that inspires me the most..." he said mysteriously as he slowly opened his masterpiece.
The room was silent until I gasped.
It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.
What I could make out was the back of someone - a girl, obviously since the hair was very long - & she seemed to look far away.
The artist managed to paint in all the fine details, such as the imperfect hair, frizzy at all the wrong places & even the way her elbow jutted out of the desk.
It was so brilliant. So beautiful.
& that was when I realized why he was such a genius.
Such a kid Picasso.
It wasn't because of his talent, the minor details filling the page - well, I mean, it is but partly.
Mainly, it was because of his passion.
His passion to paint. That's why he was so well-known.
That piece was just filled with so much passion that you could already tell at one glance that it was effortless for him.
Mr Nobleson took of his glasses in amazement & patted Nick on the shoulder, compliments flowing from his mouth like a flood broke from a leaking dam.
I couldn't help but notice the wince within Nick's smile.
The dismissal bell rang.
As I closed my locker door just to have a quick peek at my jar, I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw Nick's smirking face from nowhere.
"Hey." he said.
"Hey." I said. "I liked your artwork."
He shifted his gaze uncomfortably.
We were already walking out of school.
"Now I guess I know why you're the kid Picasso." I admitted as he kept quiet.
"Ngh." he grunted.
"I don't understand why you couldn't have just told me."
"Because! You talk about him as if he was your sworn enemy. I don't want to be your sworn enemy. I want to be-"
"Excuse me?" An elderly man said as he peered up to Nick's face.
"Are you Nicholas Landon, the child prodigy?"
"Yes. Yes, I am." Nick said politely, but in a snappish kind of way.
"In fact, I'm not only the great child prodigy, I also happen to be with one of the most brilliant teen artist. See this girl next to me? She happens to be the world's greatest sketcher of all time! I could show you her artwork one day, sir."
& with a nod, he left the poor guy & we were walking ahead.
"You were saying?" I said quietly, trying my best not to laugh.
"Oh? Was I saying something?" Nick asked.
I swattered his shoulder.
He was so sweet, so cute, so talented.
So unbelievably perfect.
"Thanks. For that." I muttered when I remembered the previous scene.
"Aw, it's nothing." he said uncomfortably.
Guys always get uncomfortable whenever called 'sweet'.
They also get uncomfortable when around weepy women.
Yes, I was about to cry.
"You're my Picasso." I smiled as he bent down to kiss me in the park.
I'm now doodling on my notebook while chatting to Nick online.
He's typing nonsense.
Sweet nonsense.
Guess what?
My desk is practically full.
I mean, what with all my sketches - not to mention with the dozens of sketches Nick drew - along with an equal amount of jars filled with rose petals, only in different colors.
But my most favorite & precious treasure?
The portrait of that girl, staring out with his tiny signature on the right-hand corner.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
