Pretty Pheonix

Chapter 18 | Drop It

"Ah—atchu!" I sneeze for the umpteenth time today and internally groan.

"You okay there, Blair?" Ms Day approaches with a box of tissues.

I grab a tissue gratefully and blow into it. "Not really."

"Thoughts about going home?" She suggests, placing the tissue box near my earpiece that has Nocturne op. 9 number 2 by Chopin playing.

A classic to soothe my grumpy mood.

I discard the balled up tissue into the bin and sanitize my hands once more. "I wouldn't dare to miss a day of school."

She regards me with her lips pressed in a thin line.

"...but I will certainly go home if I feel worse." I add afterwards to assure her. She reluctantly nods and walks back to her desk.

I slump onto my stool miserably. Today is Monday and I have a cold, all thanks to Declan. Okay fine, not because of him. Obviously it was staying out in the rain that caused this, but he played a major role in that happening.

That jerk abandoned me when I lent him a hand. The thought just infuriates me.

I plug my earpiece back in and listen to the piano playing to calm down.

You see, in the last year my patience with humans has been... tested to the max. I used to be carefree and collected, but thanks to Victor-ians, I am no longer as patient.

Now I am a rocky boat, that with one wrong move, can (purposefully) tilt and force the boarders into the wide seas for the sharks.

The nicest thing about it all is I don't give a hoot. I grew up in a top secret intelligence agency and was raised to be a secret agent, mercy was the last thing I was taught.

Declan was just lucky I was concerned over my disguise, if not, I'd have fought with him then and there.

Tsk tsk.

I manage to cool down thanks to the music and pick up my brush and paint pallet.

It's currently lunch time and I'm working on my donation artwork. All is going good right now. The melody is rather melancholy but gentle and helps with the emotions I want to put out.

I'm taking my time to put in my absolute best, for what is the worth in giving away art you've created if it isn't valuable even to you?

My canvas displays petals right now, a vast field of blue and white myosotis-scorpiodes flowers and a central rouge carnation that is incomplete. It's allegorical as all artworks are and symbolizes a simple meaning.

Once I'm finished, the message should be clear. After all, the attractiveness of art comes from its meaning and method, not just a superficial appearance. It's similar to writing the lyrics of a song that has no message at all. Can it be considered art? Is it even poetry?

Therefore I must place my heart into my work. I want my passion and hard work to be recognized...

The rest of the day goes by quickly until I'm once again at my locker at the end of the school day.

I flip through my diary and do a little record that I won't be staying back today for art because of work. It's a good thing I finished all my homework during spare time in classes and study periods.