DAY SEVEN PART THREE
"Whatever, Adam." I said, rolling my eyes, trying to pass off my irrational hurt as irritation. It seemed to work, and I pushed my way through the hallways to Art, though I knew I would see him there, too, and he would be right next to me again.
It bothered me that Adam was keeping something from me, but I was doing the same. It just hurt when he did, because we normally told each other anything and everything, and when he was evasive the way he was today, I knew something was up.
I was grateful that Miss Taylor was a teacher that after she was done talking for the day, or if it was just a work day, would let you listen to your iPod while you worked. She had warned us the day prior that we would just be working on our sketches today, so I immediately plugged both of my earbuds in and drowned out the hussle and bussle of the classroom with some Paramore, perfect for my angsty mood.
The soft charcoal in my hand flew across the page in wild arcs and cross-hatches. I wasn't even sure what I was drawing, I just was. I hardly noticed when Adam sat down beside me. The music only added fuel to the fire, and the anger provided a purpose and a passion to my sketch. I could somewhat see what my arcs and shading were turning into; an ocean, abstract and angry in a storm. I purposefully added twists in the waves and a cliff and seafoam to the picture, now that I knew what it was.
It wasn't long before I felt Adam's gaze on me. It wasn't like I wasn't expecting it, though. I didn't look up to meet his gaze, because that felt like it would be giving in. Plus, I was still working hard to fight the irrational feelings of hurt when I thought of him, most likely caused by my outrageous curiosity towards what he was hiding from me.
She stormed off to Art after rolling her eyes at me, though she knew we had the next class together. I took my time getting there, giving her her space, even if I didn't know exactly why she needed said space. By the time I was walking into class, she already had headphones on, volume so high it had to be hurting her ears, because I could hear the heavy bass line of Paramore pouring out.
I respected her silent request of being left alone and walked over to the bin that Naomi, Addison and I shared for storing our sketchbooks and charcoal. I sat down beside Naomi, being careful not to break her steady concentration and make her even more mad at me.
I twisted the charcoal around and around between my fingers, waiting for an idea to come, as I could tell Naomi's had, her wrist jerking at random angles all over her paper, almost in rhythm with the crazy drum patterns in her ears. She didn't give any notice that I was watching her, at least, none that I could see of.
And then I suddenly knew what I was going to draw. My hand that held the charcoal seemed no longer attached to my thoughts, moving on its own accord. The soft heart-shape of her face appeared on my paper, then her eyes, lined with long lashes, almost closed with concentration, her tiny little nose, a white tooth biting down on her lip, which was turned up a little at the corners. That caught me by suprise, her wild, angsty music clashing with the peaceful expression on her face.
Slowly, the rest of her came into my picture. Her dark waves cascading down her back, her artist's hands grasping her charcoal. I was so deeply immersed in my drawing now I did not notice that Naomi had looked up at me, or that Miss Taylor was behind me.
"Adam! That is a magnificent drawing you have there. Might I ask who the girl is?" Miss Taylor asked, her suprise almost insulting.
Naomi continued to stare at me, a flicker of an unknown emotion in her mesmerizing eyes.
"Uh....." I hesitated.
"OH! I see who it is!!! It's Naomi darling, isn't it?" Miss Taylor exploded behind me. Naomi's eyes widened with what I could only assume was shock.
"Yeah....." I mumbled.
"It does her justice more than a photograph would, Adam. Good job." Miss Taylor said, walking away.
Naomi then said something I never expected.
"Let me see." She said softly, smiling widely at me, looking genuinely happy.
I handed her my open sketchbook and....