Boarding School for Giants (G/T)

Part 24

Joey remained silent during the entire lunch period. The bubbly group of giantesses who welcomed us with open arms to their table had plenty to say to fill in the empty space. They were still exhilarated from their victory over Drake, the jerk that was universally hated among the girls. All the noise and attention was a bit overwhelming for me, but fortunately the giantesses were respectful enough to keep their hands to themselves, unless I gave them express permission to touch or hold me. I allowed them to satisfy their curiosity once I became more comfortable, as long as they were gentle. I was still a bit shaken by the events of earlier, but I recovered quickly. I was gradually growing accustomed to the wild ride that inevitably accompanied being surrounded by giant people hundreds of times my size.

I hated seeing Joey in pain like this. I wanted to comfort him and tell him everything would be alright. However, I couldn't lie to him; I didn't know if we would have a happy ending after all. The incident that had just occurred highlighted my predicament and cemented the nagging belief that I wasn't safe here. Why was life so horribly unfair and cruel? Bitterness and rage seeped into my heart like a terrible poison.

Lunch passed by faster than I expected, and before I knew it Joey was corralling me into his hand to take me to my third period class, the class that due to extenuating circumstances I had yet to attend. He seemed deflated and dragged his feet as he moved.

"Where's your next class at?" Joey asked wearily, sounding far away, like he was drifting into a void.

"Uhh... room 3. It's my elective class, art," I replied.

Joey stopped. "Really? I'm in that class." His voice was monotone, dead, devoid of feeling. He continued walking. When we made it to the classroom, Joey gently deposited me in one of the human seats and claimed a giant desk adjacent to mine. I was comforted by his presence, as morose and distant as he was. He slumped down in his chair and fingered his bruises with one hand. They were a distasteful, ugly reminder of an undeniable truth. He was clearly in pain—just as much an emotional pain as physical.

Other giant students filtered in around us until the bell signaled the start of class and the art teacher strolled in. She was an odd giantess, with untamed frizzy hair and dressed in bright, eccentric colors. She passed out sheets of thick, quality art paper to the students, until she got to me. Cocking an eyebrow, she left to rummage through her supplies and returned with a sheet of paper my size pinched between her fingertips. She carefully laid it on my desk, making an effort not to crumble or crease it.

"Nice of you to finally join us," she remarked dryly.

"It's good to finally be here," I answered with a canned response.

She went to the front of the room to address the class. "Today we're doing portraits," she announced. "I want you to pair up with another student. First half of the class, one student will be the model and the other will draw them. Then, you'll switch roles in the second half. Any questions?" Nobody said anything. The students broke away in small groups and began sketching each other. Joey and I were more than happy to work together. Joey collected me in his hand and tenderly set me down on his desk close to him. He had perked up a bit from his despondent mood when he heard we'd be working together.

"I'll draw you first," I decided. Joey struck a casual pose and observed me with his chocolate eyes while I sketched him. I enjoyed drawing but I wasn't especially talented. I drew large, filling the entire page, with the hope that Joey would be able to see my work. Drawing from my skewed perspective, staring up at Joey's chin, was challenging, but I managed to churn out a sketch that was at least proportional. I made liberal use of my eraser to fix the minor flaws and added some basic shading.

"Time's up," the art teacher declared. "Go ahead and switch."

Feeling slightly embarrassed by my mediocre art skills, I presented Joey with his portrait. He removed his glasses and moved his gigantic eye right up to the page, squinting to make out the details.