He stopped next to me, noticing my probing gaze at the woman's painting.
"You think it's good?" he asked, pointing at the painting in front of us questioningly.
"Uh… yeah. Good." I flashed my crooked smile.
"Her name is Larissa." His gaze shifted to the canvas. A warm gaze that makes me envious. Ugh, who is this bastard named Larissa? Marcel must have liked it. I will curse any girl named Larissa who manages to take Marcel's heart.
"Three years ago she died from falling off the cliff she was climbing."
Spontaneously, all kinds of swearing that was hanging from my tongue were pulled back into my stomach. I blinked my eyes many times.
As bad as I am, you're worse at swearing at a dead person, Daph, my alter ego shakes her head.
"Sorry..." I whispered apologetically.
Marcel brought his index finger closer to the image of Larissa's face, gently stroking it. Then, his gaze turned to me. His eyes scanned my appearance from the top of my head to the toe of my shoes. "Sorry for getting you dirty."
"This is art." I gave a short laugh. And yeah congrats Daph, you're going to be humiliated by the rest of the Graham Bell High School students for seeing a pathetic creature like yourself in such a mess. I looked in the wide mirror to my right, observing my super messy appearance as if I had just been hit by a volcanic eruption whose lava was made of oil paint. There are red, blue, and orange in some of the strands. I ran a hand through my hair, realizing my messed-up state.
"You don't have a spare uniform in your locker?" he asked.