too young for this

chapter 4 | sketchbook

At home, I threw my backpack onto my bed, untying my dress, and letting it fall to the floor.

I shrug on an oversized Sesame Street t-shirt in its stead and slump into my pillows tiredly.

Stretching to my nightstand, I picked up my cassette tape, and put on my chunky headphones. I could probably use the pair as earmuffs, with how much they warmed up my ears, but nonetheless, I loved music.

It was the heart of the solution to all my problems, or rather, I should say, music was my escape; my Eden.

I couldn't play an instrument or so much as sing for the life of me. But, hell, could I memorize lyrics and recite them.

Somethin' Stupid fills my ears, lulling me onto a path of infinite odd thoughts and ideas.
I look blankly around my room, letting the environment etch its pretty pictures in my mind. My room.

I never really had a room be just mine till I moved in with Mari. I was always sharing.
Living with my parents before they died was a time when I put my faith in the devil. I would hurt myself for the people who asked me to, if only to gain the smallest amount of validation. I crave it now in school too or from my friends.

I need praise. It feeds me with momentary pleasure and a feigned sense of pride.

It swells up inside of me and then, after the second of bliss finishes, it shatters in front of me. But I still cherish its smithereens. Gather them in my hands, cutting my flesh if only to feel something.

I remember how it felt when I showed my mom the handstand I learned how to do at school, on the drywall of our confined apartment. She looked at me with a small smile and said, "Good job, Milli."

It's sad to think that might be the only good memory I have from my childhood. Everything else was filled with curses and pain.

I try to repress all of the negative parts but whenever slivers from my past show up I'm filled with sadness and most of all: anger.

The thought of Jamie enters my head suddenly. I'd forgotten that I took his sketchbook home. I hurriedly unzipped my backpack, taking it out.

It's a black book with loose papers protruding. It's probably very bad to snoop, but I can't help it.

I take one in between my fingers carefully, removing it. Etched on it are sketches of swans, a pair. They touch their beaks together as well as their chests, the soft curve of their necks forming a heart.

A smile crosses my face as I look at the sketch on the other side of the page, of two people, chests and foreheads pressed up against each other, their eyes closed as if they were focusing on listening to the simple thumps of their hearts together.

It's such a gentle image of love and trust; intimacy.

I study the two drawings a second more before slipping my fingers to the top of the page, turning it gently so as not to tear the paper.

I open the book near the end and there are two pages filled with many hands, doing various things.
One holds pearls, which fall off the string they were strung loosely on. Another holds a delicate flower between the tips of their plump fingers.
Two other hand's intertwine fingers and from such a simple image, the affection between the two seems to radiate off their skin.

The page after shows a girl with short cropped hair beaming enormously, the tips of her smile almost touching both lobes of her ears. It seems as though it should be an exaggeration but also strikes me as if it wouldn't be so far from reality.

I wonder who it is. Possibly just some model from a magazine. Or could it be someone Jamie loves?

His art is truly so beautiful, and the drawings convey all the emotions of a lifetime. Some fill me to the brink with an unexpected joy while others make my face crumble. They conjure an endless amount of questions from me.

I flip to a page of big loopy scribbles over top of the eyes of a boy, whom I suspect to be Jamie himself. His lips are dragged upwards in a tight lipped smile, though the image projects a sort of suppressed frustration—or even a sadness.

My face is wrought in a scowl. What made him feel this way?

Beside it is the sketch of a girl, with big eyebrows, knit together in expression and a mocking pout resting upon her lips. Long locks of dark hair tumble off both of her shoulders in soft ripples.

I reach the last page, which has words inscribed in messy handwriting; "Our eyes met. She resembled dark chocolate and smelt like lilies."

The phrase is so random, and yet, it fits quite well in a book like this. I can't help but smile, wondering who this is for.

Though, it feels too private.
I close the book quickly. I really should've respected his privacy.

I place it back in my bag quickly, zipping it up.
I hear Mari's light footfall in the other room and shortly after, the turning of a doorknob.
After giving one fast tap on the wood, she walks into my room.

I roll my eyes, "The point of knocking is to wait to be invited in, you know."

"I guess," she shrugs, sitting on my bed, "but I'm bored."

"Okay..." I say taking out my headphones, thinking of something to do.

She suddenly leans towards me, taking something from beside my leg. "What's this?" She asks.

In her hands is the paper with Jamie's drawings of the swans and people. I groan; how could I have forgotten it?

"It's so beautiful. You didn't draw this, did you?" Her eyes widened as she spoke, "It's someone else's, isn't it. There's the signature; JL."

"No it's not mine," I say, reaching for her to hand it back.

"Who gave it to you then?" she asks. She holds onto it a second longer before slowly giving it to me.

"No one." Which is true. "I found it." Partly true.

"Who drew it?" There's a suspicious smile on her face.

"A boy from my class," I say, pausing momentarily, "I think."

"Well, tell him it's very, very gorgeous."

I nod, "I will."

I will.

Hi!!
The next chapters are getting exciting ;)
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Love you all, niviena <3