Paint You Wings (Jalex)

Chapter 7

Jack's POV

I didn't realize what was wrong with my bag until Monday morning, a few minutes after I lost the battle to keep my hair up and perfectly styled. With the beanie of shame sat upon my lifeless hair, I walked over to my back pack so I could replace my paints with my school materials. 

After gathering everything off of my desk and placing it on my bed, I looked to see if I was missing anything.

 Math textbook? Check. Notebooks? Check. Pencils? Check. 

I opened my bag, only to notice something was wrong... 

"Where are my paints?" I asked aloud to my empty bag. 

I started rustling in my bag, checking every pocket to see if, maybe, six relatively large cans had decided to hide themselves from me. 

Then I remembered. In Zack's rush to get me away from the building owner, I had forgotten to put my paints back in my bag. That was two days ago. They're probably long gone by now.

Great. My spray paints were gone, my hair didn't want to stay put today, and it was a Monday. The frown on my face outwardly expressed what my emotions were going to be like for the day.

--

I decided that today I was going to give Zack the silent treatment when I saw him. All because of him, I was out of sixty bucks worth of paints. 

As I moved closer to the school, he left his normal position against the flag pole, the place he always waited for me at, and fell into step next to me. 

"Mornin'" he casually greeted me.

I was not in a pleasant mood, and it was all his fault. Seeing the calm look on his face seemed to anger me more. 

When I didn't say anything in response, he turned his face towards mine, probably noticing the grim look I was currently wearing. 

He gently grabbed my shoulder, saying, "Hey, man, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

I shrugged his hand off, sending him a glare.

"No, I am not okay," I said bitterly, "Because of you, I left my fucking paints at the wall. Now that tub of lard with hair probably has them and is jacking off to the fact that I can't fuck with his wall."

"Oh, shit." Was his only response.

That just angered me more.

"You know what, Zack? You can fuck off for the day." I yelled, storming away from him and to my first class.

As the day dragged on, everyone noticed the foul mood I was in. I was seen as the class clown, the kid who was never upset, the one who always cracked a joke even when the situation was serious. I was asked by many people, even teachers, if I was sick or if I was feeling okay today. I lied to them all, telling them that I was just tired. I don't think they'd find the same dismay in me losing my graffiti paints as I do. I'd probably get lectured on how graffiti was vandalism and this was a sign for me to stop. Yeah, no. 

Zack kept trying to talk to me throughout the day, but, every time he said anything to me, I would turn my head or begin talking to someone else. 

As soon as I heard that god forsaken bell ring during my last class, I was jumping out of my seat and stampeding my way out of the door. 

"Jack!" I heard Zack yell from behind me, but I didn't pay him any attention. I was still upset with him, thus I was giving him the silent treatment. 

"I always just thought your long legs were just for show, I didn't know you actually knew how to use them, slow down!"he complained. 

Since I was still ignoring him, my response was an increase in pace.

I hoped that my paints were still there. Since I didn't have a job, all of my cans were bought with birthday money or holiday money. And, since it was the middle of February, past the holiday months and four months away from my birthday, I had no chance of getting any new paints. Maybe I could ask my mom for some cash, but we are already struggling a bit with bills this month that I'd feel bad.

The site in front of me made me stop in my tracks.

"Nice paints, J" - AG

Mother fucker. 

"Are you going to talk to me yet?" Zack's out-of-breath voice said from over my shoulder.

I turned my head, giving him a glare and pointing towards the words on the wall. 

He took a moment to read them before pursing his lips into a thin line, probably contemplating what that meant.

"So he..." he trailed off.

"Yes, Zack, that boy I saw yesterday, after you so kindly fucked up my arm, was him, and now he has my fucking paints." I all but yelled. 

The rage bubbling inside of my chest was an unfamiliar feeling to me. I didn't enjoy being angry, but I couldn't stop myself. The match was lit, and the flame was growing. 

Not only did I miss the chance of meeting my Cinderella boy, but now my paints were gone, with said boy. This whole ordeal has become more stressful than I originally thought it would be. And, adding Zack's mysteriously stubborn behavior, my patience was wearing thin. 

"What is your problem with me meeting him?," I turned on him, waving my arms to get my point across, "You've been my friend since we were in kindergarten, you're not going to be replaced by someone I don't even know!" 

He looked down and kicked the ground.

"That-that's not what I am afraid of," he mumbled, still not looking me in the eye, "He just doesn't seem like a good perso-"

"That is a bullshit excuse and you know it. What is the real problem?" I asked angrily.

Again, I received no reply. Zack's eyes remained glued to the ground and his lips remained shut. 

I let out an angry grunt, leaning my back against the wall before sliding down the wall, my ass hitting the concrete with a soft thud. 

"What are you doing?" he asked. 

"I am going to sit here and wait for my Prince Charming to whisk me off of my feet." I said with sarcasm.

"Are you really-" he started.

"Yes, really. Stay if you want. Because, you know, I'm not forcing you." I said venomously. 

This may not be the way I wanted to meet A.G., but I wanted my paints back more than anything. They're what gives me that few minutes of reprieve. A sense of color in my otherwise black and white life. 

I pulled out my phone to check the time. 

4:32

After looming over me for a few moments, Zack finally let out a huff and slid to the ground next to me.

Thus the waiting began.

~runs_on_coffee