Finally Found You

16: Red Paint

Gavin

I looked at the text for a long time. I kept zooming in on the picture, trying to take in every part of the drawing. It was but a silly kid’s drawing, yet I loved it so much.

And then a thought nagged absently in my mind: what about Zane?

I had never felt so conflicted in my life.

On one hand, I was thinking about how stupid I was for thinking I’ll ever find someone in the sea of millions.

On a different note, I did find him.

But why was I not as excited as I expected myself to be?

A major part of me wanted it to be Zane.

“Andre Herrera, if you’re gonna eat in my class at least do it discreetly,” Mr. Whitman snapped, breaking my reverie. I couldn’t pay attention to the class when I was too occupied with my dilemma.

Madeline jumped up my desk after the bell rang. She sat on my desktop, her hair falling in curls against her back.
“Hey handsome,” She said flirtatiously. I hated when she did that.

“Hey,” I said monotonously. We hadn’t talked since her stupid little party and stupid little prank.

“I’m still mad at you for not going through with the plan,” She was mad at me? I had to laugh.

“Your plan is a criminal offence,” I stated matter-of-factly.

She hopped to her feet as I got up to leave. “Well,” she sighed, “I may have gotten a little carried away with it, but that Muslim had it coming for him,”

My head went up in flames. “You have got to stop using people’s religion as an insult. Worship who he must, let him live his life in peace,” I was debating dropping Madeline out of my life at this point.

“Sheesh, calm down tiger,” She walked by my side to our next class, “it was a joke,”

“Well it wasn’t funny,” I didn’t even try explain how that was not a joke at all.

“And since when do you care for him that much?”

“I don’t know what you mean, but I care for him just as I do for any other person,” Did I, though? What were you doing to me, Murad?

“Oh, come on, Gav,” she clung to my arm; another annoying trait. “I’ve known you forever, you have a special liking to him,"

I ignored her for most of our way to the gym. But right before we got there, she asked me who am I taking to the dance. I didn't answer.

"Oh come on," she dragged the 'on' way too much. "if you wanna take me all you have to do is ask," she added, catching me off guard.

Dance? With Madeline? I never thought about it, to be honest. "I'll think about it," I said last, scanning the gym for Zane. I did it every time, knowing fully well he had art.

I walked into the locker where Casper and Lester were in deep conversation.

"Hey guys," I said sullenly, dropping my bag next to my feet.

"Wow, who died?" Lester asked, always eager for knowledge.

"My mental health," I sighed a deep one. "I'm drained,"

"Casper can relate," Lester gestured toward him.

Casper was quick to elbow him in the ribs. Casper wasn't much of a talker in general, but he seemed like he had so much to say.

"I just hate that I didn't get to apologise to Kent Sinclair before he got transferred. I made his life a living hell, and now I can't even say sorry," and with that he left the locker room.

Lester fixed his left shoe. "He'll be okay." he said, jogging onto the open gymnasium.

Following the boys out, we started what would've been a boring routine. Then I spotted Zane in the bleachers and everything about the class changed.

I ran towards him and his face broke into an uncharacteristic grin. He had a sketchpad and a couple pencils in his lap and boyish fun in his eyes.

"Mrs. Parks is ill," He answered before I asked. "and the sub is ill too, and since it's just art class they let us go home,"

"Well are you lost, then? Because this isn't home," I joked. He seemed in a good mood.

"I decided to call the gym home for a little bit and watch some TV," he teased. I liked this version of him. He was always too cynical and angry, it felt good to see him unwind.

"Well, don't change the channel because I heard the next show is captivating," I trudged back, leaving him beaming.

"No one likes a show off." he called after me.

Then Coach Grayson's whistle fired, and we were in a long line waiting for our signal to start running laps.

I was more energetic than usual, feeling like I needed to impress Zane. I wanted him to like me. To see me in my element. I was a sports person, and I wanted to show him that I felt on the field what he felt in a canvas.

We weren't so different, him and I, and I wanted to show him that I knew what to do in here.

Every now and then I'd look his way to see if he was enjoying himself. For some reason I was taking it upon myself to keep him entertained, despite him being here anyway.

And I couldn't help but wonder if he were here to see me. A small part of me wanted that. I wanted him to be here just to watch me play, and only me.

My reverie and day dreaming was broken by coach Grayson. He wanted us to form teams for some game I didn't care about. I started to feel dumb thinking about Zane.

I was feeding a farfetched daydream. He may have come for me partly, but I couldn't be the only reason for him to be here.

As we played coach's boring game- occasionally interrupted by Noah screaming from the bench- I noticed that Zane was no longer paying attention to the field anymore. He was engrossed in his own mind, lost in the sketchbook of his, where neither I nor the school existed, his mind the only place commanding the scenery in his eyes.

I had half a heart to leave the game and go watch him weave pictures from his imagination onto paper. I suddenly realised how great he was at what he did. The canvas we fixed was an absolute masterpiece. I had never seen water look so real in a painting, yet still look like it's painted.

A ball smacked me in the face, rendering me dizzy and sprawled on the gym floor.

Great. I made an embarrassment of myself in front of the one person I was trying to impress. But it didn't matter because he wasn't watching anyway. My eyes scanned the bleachers before I could even decipher what had happened.

He wasn't even there.

He left the gym. I was lowkey thankful he didn't see the mess I was, yet it stung that he didn't wait for me to finish, despite having no reason to.

I just hoped he would.

Madeleine waved her hand in my face to see if I were conscious, but all I saw was her arm, swaying left and right in my vision, with something stuck to her sleeve: red paint.

A/N: hey guys, I hope you're enjoying the story and the frequent updates.

This isn't a long book, but there should be a few more chapters to come.

Have a great weekend!

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More soon x.