“And point. One, two, three four. Stay, two, three, four.”

I sniggered as I passed a group of bean-pole blondes dipping up and down next to a bench, like it was a ballet barre. They looked so funny, their bleached locks swishing over their tanned faces, obscuring their vision as they went ‘on Pointe’. My dark blue eyes scanned the campus and I spotted my destination about ten metres away from the girls: the art room.

I scooped my shining black hair into a high ponytail with the contrasting purple scrunchie on my wrist. I loved scrunchies; they were so useful when I didn’t want my thick hair dripping into the paint. That’s right, I was one of the ‘arty’ types, but also a newbie as a twelve year-old would be. Apparently I was one of the older 12-year-olds; becoming an official teenager in one and a half months…not that I was counting. Okay, yes I was counting, but my wall calendar was so bright and colourful that I had to start scribbling all over it. I still hated being referred to as ‘bottom of the food chain’ though. That crazy woman better have watched out…

That was the thing with my art, I doodled too much and I loved to create pretty pictures (though mostly just random images). But now, I wasn’t sure what to draw on the sheet of paper that I had just scooped up from the pile indicated by Mrs. Blackwell, my new art teacher. And, in a new school, I didn’t have a designated place. I picked a paint-splattered easel and stacked my piece of paper up against it, but before I started I checked I still had my room key on my person. At my old school, I was known for losing all my things…I just hoped now I would be able to keep my items close by.

A shadow loomed over me.

“Room 20, huh? It seems we’re roommates then.”

The End

3 comments about this story Feed