Brrring! Brrring! Brrring!
"H–h–hello?"
"Oh! Nate, pick up faster, will you? What if I was dying."
"Why would you call me if you were dying?!
"Don't sweat the little stuff," WHAT THE HELL IS THIS GIRL SAYING! "Anyways, where are we meeting today?"
"Oh, you're right. Wait didn't I tell you? I could've sworn I texted you."
Wait, did I? I got flashbacks and thought back to the days prior. My sickness yesterday. My other days were spent at home alone. To think of it, I don't even remember giving her my number. The last few days since the party have been a blur and I'm missing entire chunks of information from my head. I remember going to a party, meeting Emma, and then I had a mental black out. Everything until I saw Emma under the lamppost is completely missing. Oh, I should respond to Emma.
"Right, right, so erm, meet me at… 10."
"I know 10, you already told me that. You never told me where to go."
"OH! Erm, meet me at Central."
"The school? Oh, that works out. I'm transferring there."
"Oh, I'll have to show you around."
"Right, so don't be late!"
"Okay, I won't. Do you know how to get there?"
"Of course, I do, I'm not stupid"
* * *
"Don't be late," she said. "Of course, I know how to get there, I'm not stupid" she said.
It was 10:15 and I was standing in the blistering heat waiting for Emma.
"Not stupid, my ass. This girl is so prideful man, she could've just asked for directions––"
As I said that Emma came running up to me, struggling to hold onto her purse. Her thin light brown hair flowed behind her, and I could smell the shampoo she used before coming here. Her perfume was lavender scented. She had light make up on–– most likely this "no makeup" makeup look I've seen online. She was wearing a vintage shirt cut into a semi crop top, not being cut high but just above the belly button. Her pants were a sort of frilly pair of shorts. They had stripes along the sides and didn't visibly have pockets, that must have been why she bought a purse with her.
"Wow…"
"Nate! I'm so sorry, did I keep you waiting long?"
"N––no, I just got here." I said, as I looked away and blushed almost using my hand to cover part of my face.
"Oh good." She seemed relieved to know that she was not the only late one.
"So… shall we go?"
"Mmm, lets'"
We entered the main corridor of the front entrance to be greeted by the door man. I showed him my student ID and told him I was showing around a transfer student and after looking me up and down, he permitted me entry. Inside, there was a high ceiling, with chandeliers and concealed ventilation shafts. There was a little bit of an echo as I walked through the halls with Emma trailing shortly behind me.
"So… Emma, what made you want to transfer here?"
"Erm… Well, y'see. Back at my old school, YWP, a few girls really liked to pick on me. I didn't have very many friends, and I didn't get that hot of grades–– not compared to the rest of the girls. Sure, I was good enough to be accepted into that school but that's because before I went there, I had plenty of time to study, being as I was in the hosp–– whatever. That being said, I figured public school would be a lot more fun, less stressful, and more enjoyable than the time I spent at YWP."
"Oh…" I thought to myself about what she said, and it struck me as rather peculiar. I know she was in a hospital, but from what I've heard, there isn't much bullying at YWP. I really was shaken by the fact that such a pretty girl would've been bullied, especially at such a prestigious school.
"How about you, Nate?"
"What about me?"
"Well, you're from Yorkwork right? How come you chose Central, why not North or South."
"Well as you know, there are pros and cons to each school. Central just happened to have the most balanced list. I also had a few people I know going here so I figured it would be best to be here. North and South are both in more City––like environments. You get more one––on––one interaction with the staff, the students are all rather kind, our sports are great, our music program is top notch, we've even had some students succeed as Artist, having their paintings hung in museums. Central is a school that has a lot to offer, and it always has successful graduates."
"Whoa… you… really like this school?"
"Does it sound like that?"
"Yeah… Do you do anything?"
"What do you mean?"
"Y'know, you said that they had all these great programs, I was wondering if you did anything?"
"Oh… I wouldn't say I do anything worth mentioning…"
"Come onnnnn~ stop holding out on me," she nudged me and caught up to me now walking by my side.
"Well… I am in this art club. It's nothing special, just something I do for fun."
"Oooo~ so you're an artist Nate? Y'got anything here? Show me, show me."
"Erm… I do, but it's not really… good. I just do it for fun?"
"Who cares? If I like it, I like it. Doesn't need to be good to you, s'long as it's good to me"
I looked at her and stopped walking. So… that's who she is, huh?
"I can't say I don't agree, but I also wouldn't say that the statement is mature and true to the real world. Example: you spend all night making a presentation–– no better yet, a pitch, let's say you're trying to pitch a product to another company, like you're a saleswoman. Now, in this example, you really like your pitch, you think it's the best thing you've made on your days at this job. Even though you loved the pitch, the other company didn't, and your company ended up losing a sale because of it. Was the pitch still good, I mean, it didn't get you the sale, you're gonna be in hot water with your boss, you might even get fired."
"Yes."
"What do you mean, 'Yes'"
"I'm saying yes, it would still be good. I'm not going to work somewhere that doesn't even like my work. If they don't enjoy it, I'll find a new job. Trial and error. Keep throwing darts at the board until you get a bullseye."
Man… "You really are one interesting girl."
"Why, thank you. I can be rather intelligent at times."
"Well, I guess I'll have to ask you to study with me some time."
"Maybe we should…"
"Y'know Emma, I didn't say it earlier but… you look really pretty!"
"T––t––thank you…" She was blushing as bright as a tomato and got all flustered. She even readjusted her hair behind her ear and came closer to me. I wasn't lying though. She looked absolutely stunning. I couldn't say that to her obviously, but I knew it was the truth and I could tell she put effort into how she looked.
"Alright… I feel like showing you it now."
"Show me…? Show me what!?"
"Some of my art. You said you wanted to see, right?"
"O––oh right, right…"
' * * * '
What the heck! Why did he randomly call me pretty all of the sudden. Seriously, that threw me off so much. Jeez, no I feel all embarrassed. I can feel how hot my face is, I'm probably as red as the flag.
"N––Nate, are we close?"
"Erm, yeah the art room is up the stairs down the hall."
"Oh… okay."
My heart is racing like a race car! Why did that get me so worked up? Sure, I did spend a long time getting ready this morning, I even went out to buy a brand-new bottle of perfume and spent 40 minutes applying makeup, I didn't expect him to notice though! Jeeeeezz, this is so weird. I didn't eat this morning either, I'm starving I really hope that my stomach doesn't rumbl––
"Grrf Rmmr"
OH MY GOD!!!! Did he notice? Did he hear it? HE DID HEAR IT! I can just tell from the look on his face, he had to have heard. I could just about cry right now.
"You okay Emma?"
"Huh, why do you ask?"
"You're real pale right now. I figured you might be sick or something. Are ya' lightheaded?"
"Oh, no no, I'm fine. Let's head to the art room!"
I paced ahead of him, skipping and twirling as I raced him to the staircase and started to head up. I turned around to see if he was with me, but when I looked at him, he was staring at the ground with a strong blush on his face. I wondered why, but he looked really interested in the step, like he was staring a hole through the ground beneath him.
"Y'good Nate?"
"Y––y––yeah, just go up ahead of me. I need to do something on my phone really quickly."
"A… alright, just, ugh, come up when you're ready?"
' * * * '
KYAHH! THANK GOD SHE'S GONE! I was holding in embarrassment the whole time, I had to hide behind a stoic mask just to hide my blush, but after I ran toward that staircase, I accidentally let up. My heart is pounding out of my chest. Oh my god. Why did I say that? Seriously! "...You look really pretty!" WHO DO I THINK I AM? PRINCE CHARMING?
I set up the stairs and tried to calm down. I remembered that the only reason I am acting this way is because I barely have any experience talking to girls other than Carly. "Just enjoy the day, and make sure she has a good time" Those words were spinning around my mind like a carousel round and round and round it went, never ending until it eventually breaks down.
"Hey, Emma, before we go into the art room, I just felt like I should preface this by saying again, I am not good at art. I am not an artist."
"I get it, Alright? I get it already. No matter what you say, you won't be able to change my mind though, if I like it, I like it."
"You're so persistent." I open the door to the art room and walk in, turning on the light. I could see the dust and light particles flickering around the room, the hanging studio lights from above were making a low humming sound and I got annoyed so I turned back off the light.
"Hey, why did you turn off the lights?" Emma asked me.
"Because the ringing is annoying and there are windows, there's enough natural light as is."
I wasn't lying. Our school's art room was gorgeous. A slanted ceiling made of large glass windows, even without the lights, you could see the dust and light bounce around the room as they scurried for a place to land. Our art tables were all white height adjustable desks that could be raised into standing and even turn to be held like a canvas, it must've cost the school its entire life savings. The floor was a polished tile, each tile having a student's artwork painted onto it and preserved with a layer of clear coat. The walls were white and smooth, not like the rest of the classrooms which were mostly brick–– the band, choir, and art room being basically the only exception to the unsaid brick wall rule. On the white walls were shelves stacked with clean paint cans and palettes. Hanging brushes and aprons from the "foods" classroom were also in there, as they could be used for both classrooms–– as long as it was washed properly. I could see Emma standing near the middle of the room, right under a large glass pane. She looked gorgeous as the light leaked in from above, her hair became an even lighter shade, almost blonde now, and she spun around.
"So, Nate, where do you sit?"
"I sit in the corner of the classroom, back left."
"Left from the door or left from me?"
"Look at the board and to your left is where I sit."
"Huh? That was really confusing? Where is the board?"
"Whatever, give me a second…"
I grab my folder that has all my turned in art and put it under my arm. I walk over to her and turn her body toward the back left corner and show her how the desks work.
"Y'see, there's a switch underneath it that allows it to go up and down on command and you can raise it however you want. I sit here because I get not only a top light, but a side light so using the natural light, I can have a better perspective of my surroundings since they make us draw things that are real in class. Like there was this time where they made us draw like an apple, shadows and all. So, like when I drew the apple, my apple, like it had like, erm… here let me just show you it." I pulled the folder out of my arm and took out the thick sheet of paper that had a crudely drawn apple on it. "Y'see, so like, this was my first drawing in this Club. I don't actually take art class because I don't have time in my schedule, but I am in this club to kill time while I wait for my friend to finish practice after school."
The drawing wasn't very good. As I said, it was pretty crude. It's clear that this is the work of a beginner, there are circle lines showing where I tried to form the start of the sphere. There are even chunks of the paper that are almost see––through the way that they were erased so heavily. The thin lines of symmetry I drew throughout the middle. The drawing was nowhere near perfect. And that's because I tried to make it too perfect. An apple shouldn't be a perfect circle. It shouldn't have any imperfections. The apple is the ideal apple. It doesn't represent reality. The deformities. The knicks. The bruises. Things that make apples apples. It took away that apple's individuality. The teacher that ran the art club that year was named Mrs. Arlt.
She told me this after I turned it in, "In this world there are two types of apples. The first type is apples that look perfect, with no imperfections, bright red, juicy, full. The second is apples with imperfections. Apples that know what they are, an apple, but they also know they don't need to fit a mold, they should just be who they are."
That is why even though it was the best looking apple in the club, when I asked for a grade, I was given an F.