At my old school, I was safe. I always knew where I belonged in the crowd. I was different, there was no other way to put it. In the sea of barbie doll look-alikes, I stood out like a sore thumb. All black attire, matching hair and blue eyes. I was pale from all the time I spent indoors rather than at the beach partying. I would rather sit in a corner, with a book or my sketch pad in hand. I was adored by my teachers because I studied and paid attention. I got good grades and was in the top ten percent of my class. My art teacher fawned over me, pushing me to enter competitions and showcase my work. She was always smug at the end of it all when I walked away with wins and praise. I didn't much like the attention, but I couldn't say that it didn't fill me with pride when people saw and loved my paintings and my sketches. They rarely understood what the meanings were, but that wasn't the point.
The summer before my senior year brought all that ease crashing down. My parents decided to take a drive after a night of partying, and as a result, wrapped their car around a light pole. I should have been more upset, I cried because they were my parents, but to say we were close would be a lie. I had never really been close to them, though they had always made sure that my needs were met and anything I wanted was attained. They never criticized me or pushed me, they would just praise my accomplishments and go back out to party with the elite members of a certain club or group.
My uncle was the opposite. He wasn't around much but we talked constantly, either through email or phone calls. He would visit as often as he could but, it wasn't the same when he was gone. I admit that I saw him more like my father than my own. He was the one to put a paintbrush in my hand, the one to encourage me to keep going when I felt like I was floundering. He accepted me and all my weird quirks with a warm smile and a hug. When my parents died, he came over from the states and helped me pack up everything. We gathered all my things and a week later we were stepping off a plane to my new home. America. The land of the free or so they say. I had never been. My own sweet home in London had been the only place I had ever really known, I didn't travel much with my parents once I was old enough to stay home with the staff.
He had taken a step back from his company and decided it would be best to spend the next year with me. I would eventually go off to college or off to a studio apartment filled to the brim with all of my art supplies. I wasn't supposed to have access to my trust fund yet, but he went ahead and gave me a good chunk of the money that would come out of it. "A grief advance" he called it, making us both laugh sadly. He had lost his only sister, my mother, but I think we were both struggling with the same issues. Somewhere between grief and an inappropriate level of indifference because of the estranged relationship we all had.
"I hope you end up liking it here. I know there is going to be a good amount of culture shock for you." My uncle told me in his faded accent. He had lived here in the states for most of his adult life. "I know when I got here, it was nothing like what I had seen in movies or shows. It was odd and complete bonkers." He laughed and I smiled.
"Well, if I hate it, which I doubt I will, then I can always run back to London or…well I guess I can go anywhere, can't I? I don't have any other ties except you. I can always come back to see you whenever I want." I told him, with a nod.
He nodded back. "You are entirely correct, sweetheart. I will always be here when you need to come home. I am thinking you will find this place to be home or hoping I suppose." He looked uncertain. I reached over and patted his hand.
"Not to worry Uncle. You know what they say about home, its where the people who love you are, so I guess as sappy as it is, I already am home." I gave him a grin and made a face. I was never one to be all that sappy. I saved my emotion for my canvases. It made him laugh and we settled back into the seats of the town car, him fiddling with his phone and me checking out the sights of the city. I suppose I should have expected my uncle to be in a major city but instead he decided to be just on the outskirts of a town he called Ashville. He blended in better than most people, looking casual in either jeans and a t-shirt or sprucing up in a fancy suit and tie. He could blend in wherever he wanted.
"Uncle? School starts here soon doesn't it?" I asked him, he nodded, "What would you say if I asked you to put me in a public school? I know there is a private one here but… well, we both know I have never fit in much with all of the other kids. I feel like…since we are both starting over a bit…maybe I could see how the other half lives. I haven't been as inspired lately and everything I have read about tells me that maybe I might find something that interests me with people who are more like me." I really didn't want to go around the rich stuffy kids that I had been around my whole life. I wanted to be around people who would see me as more, people who would see past my last name and my family's accomplishments. He seemed to be thinking it over and he finally nodded after a moment.
"I suppose if that is what you really want, dear, we can look into that. If it isn't to your liking, we can always put you in the private school. I can't say I am comfortable with the idea, entirely, but if you think it will make you happy then it's well worth a shot isn't it?" I smiled and nodded.
When we pulled up to the house, I was pleasantly surprised. It wasn't a massive mansion but an upscale beach house. Settled right on the beach itself.
"The area isn't as great as I would like but, I figured that being here on the ocean would be something that we could both enjoy. I know you aren't one for fun in the sun, but at least it would be a beautiful scene to wake up to every day. I've also noted some kids around your age here, so maybe you could make some friends before school starts up." He told me as we walked up to the sidewalk. It was a beautiful home, all the windows were shining and open, allowing the warm breeze to filter in. Once inside I loved it even more. It was a cozy feeling but obviously modern. All the walls were a rich cream with older and darker wooden floors making them seem lighter. The furniture was also comfortable, but no doubt came with a price tag on them. The kitchen was modern and open, the sliding glass doors took up the whole back wall, seeing out into the ocean. He grabbed my elbow and led me outside and off to a garage looking structure that was pretty close to as big as the house itself.
"the reason I knew this place was perfect, aside from the beach, is there's a studio apartment over the garage. I just knew it would be a perfect place for you to put your studio. Do you want to see it?" I smiled wide and nodded as he led me up some stairs on the side of the building and into the apartment. It was blank for now, all white walls with a little kitchenette and a bathroom off to one side but the rest of it was a rather impressive sized room. I looked out the windows and saw another view of the ocean.
"It's perfect!" I told him, tossing my arms around his neck. "Thank you, Uncle. Thank you so much!"
I couldn't wait to get my supplies up here and start the process of getting all of my works displayed. I could see it in my mind, and it filled me to the brim with joy and excitement.
"Let's go see the rest of the house, shall we?" he told me with a smile on his face that matched my own. I couldn't wait, but even if it had just been this… I would have been happy forever.
The next few weeks were a little rough, adjusting to life in the states was harder than I thought. Just getting my sleeping patterns regulated was a complete pain. Once I got that down, it was the heat that bothered me the most. London was never this warm and it rained so much that you would never notice. I ended up having to go buy clothes specifically for the heat of this place. I even bought a swimsuit so that I could attempt to gain a small tan over my practically glowing white skin. It didn't work. I mostly just burned to a crisp with my attempts. So, I ended up hiding in my new studio, setting everything up and making sure it was perfect. It takes some effort to get it there. It was hard, given that the space was so large, and I had so much less than I had thought I did. The room my parents had given me was much smaller and had been filled to the brim with supplies. I caved and bought a couch and a chair, some other odds and ends to fill the left-over space so that I could have a place to sit when I got tired of painting. I bought a speaker system so I could put my music on. Finally, a week before I was set to start at my new school, I had it just the way I wanted. Sounds of the Sick Puppies blared from my speakers, the windows all opened as far as they would go so the summer breeze could come through.
I sat down at my canvas, set up so I could look out over the beach, and stared at the blank canvas. I could see the image I wanted start to fill my head and I got to work. I sang along with my playlist as the angry musicians sand out their pain and rage. I looked out over the beach and I saw a few people sitting around on towels. It looked like three guys all sitting around with surfboards laying around them. I looked out to the surf and then back to them. I shrugged and went back to painting, but I was distracted again as I could hear their laughter filtering over the wind and I gritted my teeth, turning the music up more and trying to focus on my painting.
"RAINE!" I heard my uncle's yelling and I cringed, poking my head out the window.
"Yes, Uncle?" I asked with a wince at his face. He must have been trying to yell at me for a little while.
"Could you please turn it down or at least find something more agreeable to my old ears? I can feel it vibrating the house." He told me with a twitch at his lips showing he wasn't too angry. I leaned back in and put the music back at its original volume.
"Is that better for your old ears?" I asked him, popping my head out again.
"Yes, much better, thank you. I don't like to impose on your creative genius sweetheart but… there's only so much I can take when my contacts overseas are wondering who is yelling in the background."
I laughed and I shook my head. "Please tell France that I am so utterly sorry for my tastes in music."
"It was Russia, thank you, but regardless…. Just keep it down till later on, then you can blare it all you want…" he started to turn then stopped "Or at least until ten o'clock, this old man needs his sleep."
He turned then and took notice of the guys on the beach and then looked back to me. "Why don't you go to the beach, make some friends dearest?" I was already shaking my head.
"Oh no, Uncle, the beach in the daylight is not for me. Remember two weeks ago? I looked like I had been dropped into a deep fryer. I am still peeling. No thank you. Besides. I am right in the middle of a piece. You know I can't just walk away." I smiled at him. "No, go on with you, back to Russia, Old Man."
He muttered something under his breath, and I grinned, pulling my head back into the window. I looked up at the beach, seeing all three eyes on me. One of the boys struck a hand up and waved at me. I waved back and went back to my canvas.
The boys on the beach stayed all day and I managed to ogle them a lot more than I should have. One was tall with a beautiful physique you would only see in the magazine ads, he had long dark hair that was tied back away from his face. I couldn't tell his eye color, but I imagined it to be dark. The second was just as tall with dark hair, though his was cut shorter and hung to his jaw bone. His body was much the same as the first. All muscle and no fat to be seen anywhere. The third was blonde, his hair was also long, tied up in a messy bun on the top of his head. I normally hated that look on men, but for him, it worked so well, he was leaner than the other two but still in great shape. They were all tanned and seemed to glow in the sunlight, like gods of the sand and surf. They surfed for a while and then came back to lounge on the beach for a while. I pulled out a second canvas, abandoning the first piece, and I started to paint. The urge to capture them was intense. I could only give vague outlines, but I was determined. I chewed on my lip and I snatched my sketchbook and a beach bag from my table, and I walked out onto the beach while they were out on the water again. I found a place that was far enough from them that I wouldn't be a bother, but close enough I could see them better. I had taken to wearing a bikini under my clothes since it was so hot out, sometimes in my studio, I would strip down to my shorts and a bikini top. It was acceptable attire if what I had seen from the kids here in America told me anything. I stripped off my shirt and laid it down on the sand. I slathered on some sunscreen, desperate to avoid another sunburn, tossed on some sunglasses and I settled in and started sketching the ocean. I added in the three figures out on the water, but it lacked any of their details. It seemed like it took forever but they finally came back out onto the water and they all collapsed onto their towel laughing and joking with one another about one of them wiping out on one of the last waves. I must have missed it. I stealthily looked over at them, and flipped to the next page, sketching out the first one, the long dark haired one. I captured how his long ponytail stuck to his muscled back. I sketched how his muscles seemed to wrap around his bone structure. I was moving on to the second one when I noticed they were all glancing over at me as well. I went back to my sketch of the ocean and tried to focus on the way the waves looked when they crashed against the sand, rather than the three men on the towel near me.
I must have really zoned into the ocean because I never noticed anyone walking up to me until I felt some water drip onto my shoulder. I looked over and then up, sure enough, there was a dripping wet man above me