Ghost Girl

Haunt # 11

Haunt # 11

.~*~+~*+~*~.~*~+~*+~*~.

I gave him a furtive glance habang tinatapos namin ang project sa Expressionism. Nasa loob kami ng homeroom and binigyan kami ng time to put finishing touches sa painting namin.

Wesley and I created an abstract portrait of a girl and a boy. Instead of faces, we painted a variety of color, blending them with different strokes.

Actually, medyo hindi ako makapaniwala during the times na ginagawa namin ang obrang iyon. Why? Eh kasi sa totoo lang, I didn't expect him to take this project seriously eh. Ewan, I had been biased lang siguro talaga and siguro I underestimated him. Kasi akala ko just because he's in a band or something, puro pagkanta o pagtugtog lang ang alam niya. Akala ko puro pagpapasikat lang ang alam niya, especially with all that fame and popularity. Okay, okay, I admit it's wrong. I shouldn't have judged him. But anyway, I was so surprised to see him working on it seriously. At sa totoo lang eh medyo nahiya ako upon realizing na nag-inarte pa akong maging partner siya.

He suddenly glanced at me. "Bakit?"

I blinked. "Anong bakit?"

"Bakit ka nakatingin? May hindi ka ba nagugustuhan sa finishing touches ko?" tanong niya while holding up a brush and gesturing to the painting na kailangan na naming ipasa maya-maya.

I shook my head. "Wala, wala. I mean, huwag mo na lang akong pansinin."

"Puwede ba 'yun? Hnidi puwedeng hindi kita pansinin," he said, leaning closer to me. "Ano, may ayaw ka ba sa ginagawa ko? Puwede mo namang sabihin eh."

Napalunok ako as I moved back a little. Hindi ko alam kung bakit kinabahan ako bigla or something eh. "Hindi, wala talaga. Pinapanuod lang kita."

His eyes seemed to change their expression. "Pinapanuod mo ako?" he asked in a tone that depicted... a cheerful vibe, maybe?

I nodded. "Yeah, I was just watching you paint," I answered, shrugging. Tumango siya. His expression became lighter than it usually is at ewan ko kung bakit. "Tapos ka na?"

"Tapos na. Wala ka na bang gustong idagdag? May iilang minuto pa tayo," he said.

I shook my head. "Wala na. Okay na ako," sabi ko.

We stared at our finished product for a while before he spoke again. "Kapag binalik ito ni Sir Pluma, puwede bang sa akin na lang ito?" he asked.

I turned to look at him. "Huh? Bakit? Anong gagawin mo diyan?"

"Itatago ko."

"Bakit mo naman itatago?"

He gave me a curious look. "Hindi mo ba tinatago ang mga binabalik na plates sa'yo?"

I shook my head. "Maiipon sa bahay."

"Anong ginagawa mo sa mga plates at paintings mo?'

"Depende. Minsan pinamimigay ko kapag natuwa ako sa kalalabasan, pero minsan tinatapon ko."

"Tinatapon mo?" he asked incredulously.

"Oo nga," I said, rolling my eyes.

"For an artist, you seemed uninterested in building your portfolio," he said, smirking.

I shrugged. "Eh aanhin ko naman kasi 'yun? Collections? For what?"

"Hindi mo ba gustong tingnan ulit ang mga iyon at makita kung paano ka nag-improve sa bawat obra na inilikha mo?"

"Hindi ako interesado sa ganoon eh," I said, shrugging again.

"Gusto mo ba talaga ng Fine Arts?"