The Halo Effect | ✓

10 | stop

E P I G R A P H

❝We're a mess, you and I. But the truth is
you captivate me in ways no
soul ever will.❞

☾ ten | stop ☽

My air force ones scuffed against the asphalt as I paced through the school parking lot. Beads of sweat had formed on the hot skin on my forehead and my curls were probably a frizzy mess because I had no time to tame the beast that is my hair this morning.

If I could have just woken up on time this morning, then none of this would be happening.

I completely slept through my alarm this morning—I don't know how, but I somehow managed to and I am utterly annoyed at myself for it.

Last night I had spent far too much time sitting near the window drawing. I couldn't help the strange feeling in the pit of my stomach when I realised, I drew the infamous Holt Stone's eyes. I think I got inspiration for the storm dwelling in the clouds outside which immediately sparked the thought of the storm ridden eyes belonging to none other than Holt.

His eyes are beautiful, I can't express it enough. Even the drawing—I spent who knows how long creating—doesn't do those orbs justice, not the slightest. It's like seeing the Golden Gate Bridge, in photos it looks like a cliché red bridge that couples take pictures in front of kissing, but in real life you see the extent of it, the true shade. It isn't just red but it's a rusty—almost orange colour.

The point is, photos or art pieces don't always do object or whatever the topic may be—a pleasant job.

I sighed as I walked through the double doors, fortunately being able to make it my locker before the bell for third period went, so I was able to shove my books in there and get out the ones I need for next period.

I bought my sketch book to school today, only because I have art next which is great, but I'll make sure it's safely locked in my locker as soon as my art lesson is over with because I protect that book of drawings with my life. I just don't want it getting in the wrong hands, I don't really like people knowing I draw in general.

I'm not necessarily ashamed of it but I wouldn't go around and openly telling people just because the pupils of Moonvale high have strong, judgemental opinions and I can't imagine the comments I'd get for being a cheerleader with a secret little sketch book.

Stupid, I know but it's just the way it is. Plus, I've got a collection of different drawings covering these pages and I don't want a single soul to see them. .they mean too much.

This book is like the chapters to my soul, my heart, my mind.

As I hug my book to my chest and slowly walk to my art class, I scowl myself for allowing myself to sleep through the first two classes. I missed English and History, which isn't too bad, but it's only the third day, if I miss another day, I don't even know what will happen.

This morning I got up so fast that I almost tripped several times. I had no time to shower, I barely had enough time to tie my shoelaces. I've never gotten dressed so fast.

Luckily Maxen woke me up when he did otherwise, I probably would have slept through the entire school day. He knocked on my door and asked if I'm meant to be at school. I recollect checking the time, the several missed calls from Esme catching my eye as I practically fell out of bed.

Dad's going to kill me if he finds out about my already growing amount of absences.

I need to be far more organised.