Owen

7 - Spray Paint

7 - Spray Paint

"Why did you transfer all the way here, City Girl?" he asks, his hand still firmly clutching mine. Unlike the younger Owen's hand, it's rougher, and now, engulfs mine completely. "In the middle of the school year, too. Are you bullied or something?"

"My Mom got fired," I answer simply, leaning back against the bench. "She found no reason for us to stay ..." I let my words linger, unsure if I can tell him about the rumors.

"Figures," he says, shrugging. "I can't imagine you being bullied."

"Oh come on," I answer, smiling despite myself. "I get bullied all the time in the city. Like, look at these, these ultra chubby cheeks."

"What about them?" Owen questions, staring straight ahead. 

"What what?" I shoot back. "They're chubby. Didn't I just tell you?"

"I think there's no reason for them not to like those. I think they're cute," Owen says, then suddenly lets go of my hand. I look at him in alarm, but as usual, he covers up his emotions.

"You're in trouble, aren't you?" I mumble, worried about Owen being expelled. Owen stares at me and gives me a please-buy-it-kind-of-smile. One that signifies that you're happy, but you're really not. You just smile to reassure the others around you. One that I've seen many others make, including my very own parents.

"Don't worry," he says simply, trying his best to convince me with his smile. "Anyway, how do you find the province? Is it too bland for your city tastes?"

"City tastes?" I repeat, laughing. He squeezes my hand momentarily, then loosens his hold. His hand still remains on top of mine, and he has a lazy smile on his face.

Owen's the only person I know who can smile like that; like he can't be bothered to show all his teeth, so he just shows a few. Like he can't be bothered to open his mouth fully, but he can't be bothered to close it either. His smile is half-open, half-closed, but is undeniably cute.

"Yes, city tastes. I heard city girls were abnormally picky about everything." He's looking at the sky like it's something new, like he hasn't seen the bright blue width of it in the past. He can't meet my eyes for some reason.

"I heard province boys believed rumors too much," I retort, trying to imitate his smile but failing, so I just keep a straight face. "Besides, I used to live here in the province. We just moved because of my Mom's job. Well, we're moving back because of it too."

"You lived here?" he asks, his eyes slowly meeting mine at last.

"Yes I did," I answer, smiling. "There, at Grandma's place. I used to be a wee bit chubbier, and I always wore frilly dresses. I'm known as Amy."

"Like, my Amy Amy?" he questions.

"I am your Amy," I say, frowning. "How else would I know about her?"

"Uh ... Edrin? Seriously, stop making me think about her," he lifts his hand from mine before putting it inside his pockets. "She's the only thing in the past that kept me sane."

"Kept," I repeated. "Past tense."

"I'm not exactly what you'd call sane now, right?" he says, smiling his trademark smile once more. "I'd cracked. But back then, I really tried, y'know. Even though I kept on failing everyone, I thought, I can't fail Amy. Yeah, I didn't know much about her, but her eyes ..."

I stare at him as he talks about her. About me. He's already closed his eyes, making his long eyelashes noticeable. He really thinks a lot about that day, huh? But me ... I only remembered him when I got back. It makes me wonder. How many days are considered a milestone by another, but just another bland twenty four hours for another?