A Pencil to Draw with

Chapter 1

Claire lifted up the pencil from her sketch book, hesitating. Her head was starting to hurt. Shaking her head, she stared back at her drawing. A portrait of her father. Putting the point of the pencil back on the paper, she outlined the hair, making it thicker. Her father seemed to stare back at her, and flashbacks entered her mind. Hot tears formed around her eyes, and she threw her sketch book across the room, the pencil dropping from her hand. "Why'd you leave me? Here, with....mom?" 

She slumped, her pillow hugging her back, causing her bed to creak at the sudden shake. Walking across her room, she picked up her sketch book. She sat back on her bed, staring at the portrait again. She stroke her father's face with her index finger, mumbling to herself. "I miss you so much." She fell into silence as she closed her eyes.

"Claire! You're late for school! Whats taking you so long?" Her mother's voice rang through her head. Her eyes jerked open. She could hear her footsteps climbing up the stairs. Quickly, Claire dried her tears with the back of her palm and sat up straight against her bed post, hiding the sketch book behind her back. The door flew open, and there stood her mother in her work clothes. Her mother's eyes flew straight to the pencil on the floor.

She sighed. "Have you been...drawing? ...again?" Claire cleared the lump in her throat. "Why does it matter to you what I do?" Her mother sighed again, rubbing her temples. "It's because I care about you. I don't want you wasting time drawing like your father did." Claire winced at the mention of her father. Her eyebrows furrowed in a mixture of anger and frustration.

She glared at her mother. "Drawing is the only thing that reminds me of dad. If you actually care about me you would understand! And dad did not waste time drawing! He was an amazing art-" Claire jumped, startled. She was interrupted by the slam of her room door as her mother left. "He was an amazing artist," she repeated, muttering to herself. "I'd better get ready. Detention would mean more hours of boredom."

Changing into a dull sweater and a pair of jeans, she slung her backpack over her shoulder and went downstairs. Looking out the window, she sighed in relief. Her mother had left the house to work. She didn't need to be forced to ride the car to school. Her mother usually forced her, even though the school was right around the neighborhood. Walking there was better due to her phobia, ochophobia (fear of riding in vehicles). She walked back into the kitchen. A glass of milk and a bowl of cereal sat on the kitchen counter. Her mother left a note.

Sorry for yelling at you. I know you miss your father. Make sure you eat up the meal I prepared. Don't be too late to school again. Love, mom.

Claire crumpled it into a ball after reading, tossing it aside. She ate the meal prepared, and left the house. If you really love me, why don't you care about my love for drawing? It's the only thing that reminds me of dad.

***

School passed in a blur. Even though Claire was late to school, she managed to sneak into class before the attendance was taken. She didn't learn anything, as usual. Instead, she continued sketching secretly in classes. 

When she got back home, she ran up to her room. She sighed in relief. Another day at school without getting caught by the teacher for drawing in class. Detention would cause her to come back home later, and by that time her mother should be home meaning she wouldn't be able to draw in peace.

She changed into a plain t-shirt and shorts. Plopping down on her bed, she rested her head against the bedpost. She then plugged in her earphones, playing classical music. With her pencil, she started to draw the outlines of a face and body. The ending sketch was a girl in a pink floral dress, standing in a deserted field. Her hair flowed in the wind, and her feet sank into soft grass.

Claire's head began to nod, as the music filled her ears. Her eyes started to droop as she stared at the drawing. Soon her eyes closed, and she could see the  deserted field which she drew in the sketch. It felt so real, almost too real.

She looked down at her hands, moving them about. The soft grass beneath her feet swayed, and the music continued playing. And then she noticed. She was wearing the exact same dress the girl in the sketch was.

Looking back up, she took in her surroundings. Everything seemed so peaceful. She breathed in the air, closing her eyes. "This feels so real...is it..,?" she muttered to herself. It was like real life. Like it wasn't just her daydreaming. She tried walking around, and she could feel the grass brushing against her feet.

I wish my life was like this. Peaceful. Just living in a field, all alone. With..dad.

The sudden sound of a door closing made her open her eyes. She was back in her bedroom, the pencil between her fingers and the sketch book lying on her lap. "Mom must have just reached home. I better go down before she comes up."

Shoving the pencil and sketch book under her pillow, she leaped off the bed and ran downstairs. There sat her mom, sitting by the kitchen counter. She turned around as soon as she heard Claire running down the stairs. She seemed flustered. Claire could have sworn she saw her mother slid an envelope into her purse.

"H-hi dear. How was school?" her mother said, forcing a smile. Claire narrowed her eyes, but she didn't want to seem suspicious. "It was fine. Nothing much happened." Her mother changed the subject.

"Tomorrow I'm going to the office to pick up some papers. And since tomorrow's the weekend, why don't we go for tea after that?" Claire immediately nodded her head no. She wanted to figure out what happened back in her room a while ago. "Why is that? Do you have anything you need to do tomorrow? I don't recall you being busy." Claire pursed her lips in silence. Then she spoke. "I... just don't feel like it. I'd rather work on my school assignments."

Her mother looked at her quietly. "Okay. I'll just... do my work then." A look of dissapointment and relief was readable on her face. Claire raised her eyebrows in suspicion and confusion, thinking it might have something to do with the envelope that her mother slipped into her purse. 

She decided to not think about it too much, shrugging. She ran up the stairs to her bedroom. Sitting back on the side of her bed, she stared out her window. A humming bird flew around the tree just right outside, stopping a few times to look for insects or tree sap. It flew off, having not found any food.

A bunch of things raced through her mind. Why did the drawing felt so real? And why did mom seemed so suspicious?  Claire decided to figure out what happened with the drawing earlier on. If it was real, maybe, just maybe, I could draw father and, and...I  can finally see h-him.

 Father.