Sweetheart

                Cole

                “What do you mean it’s due tomorrow?” I asked my best friend Mayla.

                “Mrs. Sello said it was due on the 16th. Today is the 15th so, I’m guessing that tomorrow will be the 16th. Well, to put it in laments terms, it’s due tomorrow.” Mayla said with a wide grin on her face.

I just glared at her. Our friendship was based on sarcasm so I wasn’t pissed about her attitude. I was pissed because I was looking at a void of color canvas with only my crudely drawn sketch of a wolf’s head covering its blankness.

I slumped back in my chair trying to recall Mrs. Sello ever saying such a thing but I came up empty. The project was for my advanced intermediate art class, and Mrs. Sello expected a lot of me and graded me hard. I wasn’t by far the best artist in the class but for some reason Mrs. Sello always pushed me hard and always wanted me to go the extra mile. I understand that all teachers want their students to do their best but I just couldn’t do that for every single project she assigns. It just wasn’t possible.

Mayla looked at me “What are you going to do?”

                “Crawl in a hole and die!”

Mayla just laughed, not taking me serious. But right now that actually sounded like a fantastic idea. I smirked.

                “Well, I can tell you one thing for sure; you won’t be seeing me in class tomorrow. I can’t take work off tonight, so I guess I’ll just go to the art studio and work on it during school hours.” I shrugged my shoulders.

I looked at my watch and noticed I was going to be late for my waitressing job if I didn’t get a move on. I said my good byes to Mayla and got into my old run down Chevy. I was thankful that the project was due tomorrow because that meant that the art studio would be empty.

At my school we had two places to meet for advanced intermediate art, one was the small cramped class room, where we would learn about technique and other famous artists. The second was an actual art studio that my school rented out. The art studio was only a block away from the school, so on studio days, instead of going to the classroom; we would walk down the block (rain or shine) to the studio and actually paint or draw. Those days are my favorite but god forbid you couldn’t remember if we had a studio day or a class room day.

I walked into the quite studio early the next morning. No one was there; I had the studio all to myself. My smile couldn’t have been any bigger. I walked to the back easel, my easel, with my canvas in one hand and all my supplies in the other. I turned on the radio, blasting the music until I thought my ears would bleed, just the way I liked it.

I looked around the studio, it was different with no one here but me. The big windows lit the studio up so bright there was no need for artificial light. The studio floor was covered in dried paints of all different colors and sizes. I loved this studio; I loved it more than any other place in the world, other than my swing in the park. Sense I was a senior and in this cretin art class, I had keys to the studio. It was opened to me whenever I wanted it. And I will admit that I abuse that ability to my full extent.

I squeezed out gray, white, black, and brown paint onto my pallet and started mixing and blending the colors until I had different shades and tones of all of them. I took my brush and started to make my wolf come to life.

Ryder

I can’t believe I’m back…I never thought I’d be looking at this god forsaken town again. Driving down the main street I looked around at the unchanged buildings and shops. Not a thing has changed in the two years I’ve been gone. I wonder if the people I left behind have changed or if they are like the town and stayed the same.