| We did as she said, and as we walked, I noticed a few faces I knew, such as Bridgit�s. We were a medium-sized class, but people were hurrying to leave, so the number dwindled. Soon I was the only one left near the door, but I didn�t want to leave, because I had lunch next, and I did not know where I would sit. Ms. Ford gave me a smile, so I filled my heart with her present, and creeped out with the dim music trailing behind me. I trekked down the stairs to the cafeteria. This year, I got to eat first lunch, so that meant finding a seat, being kicked out, finding another seat, then another, and so on, until I found the table for outcasts. After a hard morning, I was tired, and I decided to sit down where I wanted to sit. Well, I had decided that, but then out of obedience, I entered the cycle of moving around. Before long, I found an empty table in a back part of the cafeteria. A few flies in a spider�s web hung in the corner where I sat. The table was creaking and rusty when I sank onto the bench attached to the table. I pulled my brown bag lunch out of my backpack, and unrolled the top. Looking closely, I spied a brown, mushy banana, and an empty sandwich bag. Apparently my mom had forgotten to finish packing my lunch in her hurry to get to work. Now more miserable, I gathered my grade �f� lunch and book-bag, and walked up to the trash compactor in the middle of the cafeteria. I disposed of the pitiful brown bag, and left the room. My hands softly closed the solid metal door behind me, and I began to wander around the school. Soon I found myself nearing Ms. Ford�s room. I supposed in my inner conscience that it was now some form of a sanctuary for me. As I neared the door, my steps grew softer, and I creaked open the door. No one was inside, so I walked freely into it. My eyes caressed every table, every paper, and every marker. My hands drifted over the counters and brushes with a small feeling of ecstasy. Without any signs beforehand, the door opened and Ms. Ford came in. My shoes almost left my feet in my shock. She smiled and asked what I was doing. �I�m just looking�honestly!� I cried shamefully. �Wonderful!� her milky voice poured out with a grin as my head pulled up. �Art is about looking and creating what we see, you know.� �Where are you supposed to be?� was what I expected her to say, but she never asked me. We continued to talk about what art was, and she quoted some famous artists to prove her opinion. While she talked, I imagined a wispy white shadow following her body, and she looked angelic. Then, I distantly heard the tone for the end of lunch, so I nodded a frantic goodbye and danced wistfully out of the room. Somewhat lethargically, I looked at the schedule I had put in my book-bag, and I saw a lovely round of gym would be next. At least I had Mrs. Murrow, who was known to let girls out of class if they pleaded the �time of the month� issue, or the �just broke up with the boyfriend� situation. When I walked into the gym, I found a spot on the lower bleachers away from people and put my stuff down. The first week of gym was always especially boring with buying uniforms, assigning lockers, and checking to make sure students had the right teachers. I sat looking around the mustard and pea green gym sporting the beaver mascot. People all around me were chattering about their new crushes, what new computer games had come out, and trips to the beach. I had always loved the beach, but living in Ohio meant little time for it. The only time I went was when my father still lived with my mom and me. It was the best time ever, but he left a month afterwards for some girl he met while in NYC on a business trip. The minutes glided slowly around the clock, and soon the period was over. To my amazement, I realized this was last period, and I had finished a whole day safely. Afternoon announcements came on, and I waited for them to finish before I could leave school. Then I heard an actually exciting announcement�there was an art club meeting after-school for all interested students, headed by Ms. Ford. My mom was at work and would not be worried, and I live right near the school, so I figured I could walk home after the meeting. I went up to Ms. Ford�s room after the final bell echoed. There were a few people already there, all sitting at the same table, and they were looking just as eager as I felt. They were an odd assortment of piercings, makeup, bright clothes, and even preppy clothes. I sat at a table in the corner by myself, and looked around. In a short time, Ms. Ford bounced through the door, closed it, and clapped her hands together. �Wow! Five members this year! I am so happy!� she sang. �But Ms. Ford, wouldn�t you want more than just five?� asked the boy with a sweet voice and a body covered with piercings. �I want interested, enthusiastic members. Quality, not quantity,� Ms. Ford explained. She then handed out all sorts of pens, pencils, pastels, papers, clay, scissors, and more to everyone. Her only instructions were to be creative. I took my tools and created my mind, Out of my hands came a clay bottle I painted black with a poison symbol on the front. Papers looking like fire spilled out over the top, and a drawing of my head was placed amidst the flames. I was involved in my work, and did not even notice when the other people came over. They had obviously been in art club before and knew each other, but I was someone new. We all stared at my work silently, and then a preppy girl spoke up. �My name is Penny. Where did you get your idea?� Even though just Penny spoke, I knew they all wanted to know. �School, my friend leaving, stress,� I said, not knowing how they would respond. They nodded and sat down at my table. They picked up their tools, and we created. We created art, including the most important work of art: our friendship. |
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