My Works

I'm Here Too [2]

Henna

Lunchtime.

Cheap/manufactured/uneatable/talking/people/friends/popularity/hierarchy.

Me/alone.

The steady hum of the three-thousand five-hundred and ninety-two students all talking at once, was drowned out by the delightful music playing on my ipod. Ah music one of my salvation, if only  music could be the solution to all of this worlds problem, and create lasting peace

 I sat alone, as I always did, on my regular lunch table, at the back of the cafeteria. An isolated section where nobody ever  seemed to tread- Although I was the meek exception. The odour of day old mac n’ cheese lingered off the two  trash cans knowingly placed behind me.

It was in the most of the students intentions to sink their food into the cans from the other side of the room, to their well-planned dismay, the food would often fly off trajectory and eradicate me in the process.

All around people seemed to get along with one another in way that had never been clear to me. My brother, Beau, on the other hand was in a different mindset at this school. He sat at the front, out of way from trash cans and the flight paths of daily specials. He was the King of the cafeteria, and more often than not it would be his poster-child-for-Chlamydia-queen who would lob the occasional hamburger. I peeked up from the corner of my book, to steal a look at the ‘happy couple’. They kissed with a deep passion that resembled pay-per-view at a motel.

She saw me.

Incoming.

I put my head down and clench my eyes shut anticipating the collusion.

Impact. To my left shoulder.

I felt the cold of the beef-tupelo- that was hardly made from beef- sink through the 100% hemp cotton of my shirt. Why must she throw the discarded cooked meat from an innocent animal that did absolutely nothing to deserve it?. Laughter erupted in the cafeteria close to the source The thing is popular people can do things like that. You know why? Beucase they’re popular, and they’re popular because they can get away with stuff like that.

 I kept my head down fearing the gaze of people around me, I flicked today’s lunch special off my shoulder. The bell rang, naturally I would be making my way to English, but I didn’t fee like being in the presence of Ms. Zarpas and all of her riveting speeches on women’s involvements in Shakespeare. Instead I escaped to the schools greenhouse, that was attached to the back of the art studios- the school found it as an easy way for the art students to seek inspiration. This was mostly true but mostly I found sweet solace in the art studios, and on a cold day like today I found even more solace within the warm confines of the greenhouse. The glass roof above was blacked out by ominous clouds that delivered the heavenly waters that fruited the earth. I slipped off my shoes to step on to the pebbled pathway; I found a peacefulness comfort in the lush greenery that seemed to calm me instantly. The ran my hand along the green leaves and petals I let out a long sigh. At the very back of the greenhouse, where I had left it was an easel and canvas displaying a half- watercolour picture of an orchid.

I studied my hand work on the easel before picking up a coral coloured pencil to finish off my work.

I slipped my iPod back into my ears listening to a duo from Australia, Angus and Julia Stone, they were really good and painted pictures in my head that dreamed about copying out on canvas.

‘Goodbye to my Santa Monica Dream…’

I was completely immersed in my music and the colours that were spilling out onto the canvas that mirrored the delicate petals of the orchid right down to the slightest blemish on a leaf.

I jumped a figured appeared behind the canvas, the body of a male. Boy? No, it was a young man. He was 24, that I knew for a fact. Harper Tanner was his name. He was the art teacher who had started just this year. I had grown fond of him.

“Henna? Aren’t you supposed to be in English?”

I continued to move my pencils over the canvas, “I didn’t feel like it today, I wanted to finish this. Isn’t it beautiful?”

Harper moved around the side to stand behind me looking at the canvas, he sighed “Ah yes, it is a magnificent work of art, be careful when outlining the petals, they’re delicate. So be delicate with your pencil.” He reached out and placed his hand over mine, his skin of soft and set of Goosebumps on my skin at his touch. “You have a real eye for beauty, Henna” he guided my hand and his over one of the petals on the canvas. He was closer to me now, his other hand wrapped around my waist. I felt like the wind escapes my body all at once, like this sudden intimacy was an effecting my lungs more than me.

I craned my head backwards, and leaned up towards him. He bent his head down and lightly brushed his lips against mine…