An ex-couples rivalry for the spot as student body president becomes even more convoluted when two new, unexpected candidates enter the race. Chloe and Preston team up, each vowing to get one member kicked from the competition-- but when they both e...
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Emily Banks may as well have been a ghost. I asked around to try to find out more about her, but even the few bottom-dwellers I asked couldn't help me. Lunch only had about ten minutes left and I was still empty-handed.
Why was I even doing this dumb errand? Yeah, I wanted to beat Chloe, and narrowing the voting pool would obviously make that more likely. But going along with her stupid plan felt so submissive, and even if I told this girl nicely that running would be a bad idea, it still felt slimy.
I was almost ready to give up on the whole idea when I saw it. I was passing through the art hallway, which was covered in posters just like the rest— except for one spot, where a display case was built into the wall. Maybe the absence of political propaganda was what caught my attention. Whatever it was, I slowed to a stop to see what was inside and was instantly drawn to one of the paintings perched on the shelves.
The scene was rainy and grey, with splashes of warm streetlights against the road. Autumn trees lined the street, shading the few houses placed near the sidewalk. It wasn't like the other more amateur canvases that surrounded it. Maybe I didn't know much— or anything— about art, but I knew that I liked it. My eyes trailed to the small white card next to it, with a name and title printed in bold letters: Emily Banks, Untitled.
So she took art, or painting, or some class that was in this hallway. I figured that was a good enough place to start. I strolled over to the closest door and head inside, the smell of paint hitting me like a wall. The classroom was filled with long, dark tables spread in rows, each with their own stool— most of them were empty, except for one in the back corner, where a girl sat. Dark hair cascaded around her face, hiding her features as she looked down at the sketchbook she was drawing in.
I turned my attention back to the front of the room, where a middle-aged woman I'd seen in the hall a few times stood from her desk, grabbing a lanyard from the clutter and placing it around her neck. She didn't seem to notice or care that I'd entered the room.
Before I could head over to ask her if she had an Emily Banks in any of her classes, she spoke. "Emily, I'm going to run to the bathroom and then see if the copy machine got fixed yet. Do you mind watching the room until I get back?"
My head swiveled back to the only other person in the room, who was now looking up at the teacher with large brown eyes. She gave a single nod, and a plain, "Sure," before her eyes trailed to me. Her gaze snapped away in an instant, focus returning to her drawing.
I stepped out of the teacher's way as she headed out into the noisy hallway. The sounds of lunch seeped into the room, until the door closed behind her and a thick silence cloaked it once again.
I felt nerves stir in my stomach, not only because this was bound to be a very awkward conversation, but because from the short glance I got of Emily, I could tell she was really, really nice to look at.
