Drawn to Love

“I can’t stand you!” Jack, my worst enemy shouted. “Do you always have to win, Marie Ditty!”  Rolling my eyes, my arms crossed across my ample chest.  His normally perfect black hair flopped around, his green eyes green with envy.  His slender hands crossed his chest which was rising up and down rapidly.  Dark green paint dripped down his black jeans, speckles of paint dotting his face.  

“First off you make it easy.” I retorted coolly, picking up the dropped can of paint. “I can’t stand you either.  It is your fault we are in this stupid detention anyways.  If you didn’t try to-”  His eyebrow cocked, a snide sneer curled on his lips.  My ears dreading what I was going to hear next, certainly something that would cut deep.  

“You were the one who got me first!” He screamed, waving his arms around wildly. “Of course I needed to strike you where it hurts.  If I don’t bring home perfect grades my parents will disown me.  Now this will be on record, and Harvard won’t want me anymore.”  Tears welled up in his eyes, his guard melting away.   Instant regret softened my hard face, knowing just how he felt.  

“I don’t even want to go to college.” I admitted sheepishly, setting the can down. “I just want to write creative stories, and eventually a novel.”  My fingers smoothed down my black sweater dress, my copper eyes looking into his.  My long wavy brown hair tickled my cheek, sadness dimming my pale face.  A gentle smile spread across his face, soft chuckles tumbling from his lips.  

“I see.” He said, stroking his chin. “This is going to sound crazy, but I love to draw anime characters.  My parents always say-” Rolling my eyes, my body relaxed.  The small dark janitor’s closet felt even smaller, but a quiet place.  

“Art doesn’t pay the bills.” I finished while playing with my hands. “You are smart enough to become anything you desire.  Too bad they can’t see me on the inside.  I am all well and good with getting the best grades I can, but I simply want to create.”  He stepped closer to me, his worn brown boots stepping on my boots.  His minty breath was on my face, his finger tracing my cheek.  

“Let’s scrap this whole enemy thing.” He suggested excitedly, barely holding his smile back. “Let’s work together and make a manga.  Come with me.”  My heart skipped a beat, his fingers wrapping around mine.  The white light of the hallway blinded me, his hand pulling me into the nearby art room.  Paint was splattered over the white walls, clay dried up on the metallic counter.  Soft rock floated around the room, the room emptier than a store on Christmas day.  His hand stopped at a blue locker, unlocked it.  His face flushed scarlet, an anime version of me floating to the concrete floor.  Confusion contorted my face, unsure what to think.  

“Is that me?” I stammered, backing up. “Do you like me, or something?”  His lips parted to speak, but his parents stomped into the room.  Anger burned on their tired faces, disappointment dulled their eyes.   The older version of him scrunched his nose in disgust, his gray suit just grazing his body.  His mother in her perfect red cocktail dress and tight black bun tapped her foot impatiently.  The clock ticked loudly in my ears, praying that my parents weren’t here yet.  They all hated each other with such discontent. 

“I told you art will get you nowhere!” His father bellowed, picking up the picture. “You are going to Harvard.”  His fingers trembled with blind fury, the paper ripping into a million pieces.  Tears formed in Jack’s eyes, his fist clenching.  His mother’s skeletal hand ripped him away from me, their dress shoes clicking away.  Gathering all of the little pieces, I slid them into a nearby bag.   

“What was all that about!” My mother screeched, shoving me to the chilly cement floor. “Why were you talking to that boy?”  Her skeletal finger wagged in my face, her black striped suit quivering with all of her anger.  Her copper eyes looked crazed, sickening my weak stomach.  

“That boy’s name is Jack!” I protested, struggling to stand. “I am not going to college, not now or ever.”  Daggers might as well be shot from her eyes, her face growing ever darker.  A sharp sting stung my cheek, her hand slamming into my cheek.  Hot salty tears fell down my cheeks, sobs wracking my body.  

“Fine.” She retorted, flipping her short gray hair. “You are no longer welcome in my house.  Just go live with your loser dad.  His art has gotten him nowhere.”  Internal pain wracked me, her red heels clicking away.  Collapsing into a ball of tears, a migraine started to form.  The dull aching pain distracted me from her sharp tongue.  Fifteen minutes passed, my dad in his blue plaid shirt and dirty jeans rushed to me.  At this point there were no more tears to be had.  

“Ignore her.” He exclaimed, waving his strong hands in the air. “I believe in you my dear.”  A soft chuckle tumbled from his lips, his thumbs wiping the tears from my eyes.  His copper eyes looked deeply into mine, a crooked grin dancing across his face.  

“I love you, dad.” I said, resting my head on his shoulder. “Can we go home?”  Nodding, he helped me up.  His black car was running in front of the school, the exhaust smoke twisting about in the wind.  He opened my door and bowed.  A large smile danced across my face, only allowing myself to feel a tiny twinge of joy.  Plopping down, my hand clicked my seat belt.  The engine roared to life, the tires squealing out of the parking lot.  Trees flashed by my window, music played in the background.  Relief washed over me the moment my father’s black a-frame was sitting in front of me.  Trees circled the home, birds chirping all around me.  

“I have an ad to design.” He uttered, hugging me.  His brown shoes hopped into the home, his gray hair bouncing about.  Sighing, I climbed all of the stairs to my loft upstairs.  White walls met at the point above me, oak stairs twisted to the left of me. Mismatched furniture dotted the oak floor, a familiar smell wafting from the kitchen.  Rolling over, my purple messenger bag fell to the floor.  The bag of the ripped up paper rolled to my feet, my trembling hands picking it up.  A piece of cardboard sat next to me, a light bulb appeared above my head.  Excitedly, I ripped open the bag onto the red bedding.

Hours passed, the picture slowly coming together.  Pride brimmed my body, the picture now together again.  Wonder brightened my eyes, the anime girl smiling back at me.  My heart dropped, remembering that he didn’t get to answer me.  

“Do you want a frame?” My father inquired, climbing up to see me. “Did you do that?  That is impressive.”  Warmth washed over me, his body plopping down next to mine.  My face flushed scarlet, noting the frame in his hand.  It was my father’s handiwork.  He framed pictures all day long.  Oftentimes, I wondered what it was like looking at people’s memories.  

“It is this boy I kind of always liked.” I admitted awkwardly, holding the picture close to my chest. “His dad ripped this up.  Also I will take that frame.”  Patting my head, he kissed my forehead.  

“Okay.  Please go to bed.” He hummed playfully, his eyes twinkling. “You do have school tomorrow.”  Nodding, my bed squeaked as I flew onto my back.  Sweet slumber wrapped her arms around me.

My dad waved, his car leaving me standing there in my black blouse and red plaid skirt.  Jack rushed up next to me, his parents glaring in my direction.  Suitcases flew from the trunk, sadness dimming his face.  

“If you don’t want Harvard, we don’t want you.” His mother insulted him, waving him away. “Go be a bum.”  Tires squealed as the town car pulled away.  Horror gripped his face, tears forming in his eyes.  My heart shattered into pieces, watching him pick up his stuff.  

“You okay?” I dared to ask. “I have something for you.”  His eyes met mine, his lips parting to insult me.  Silently, my hands wrapped around the black frame my father let me use.  Trembling anxiously, my hand held out the fixed picture.  Shock froze on his face, my mind gauging his reaction.  He leapt up and wrapped his arms around my waist.  Other students whispered, all eyes watching us.  His minty breath was inches from mine, his lips pressing against mine passionately.  Time melted away, leaving only us.  No longer did the other students matter, or our whole rivalry.  Pulling away, both our faces flushed bright scarlet.  Students gathered against the brick fence which surrounded our school.  

“I love you, and always have.” He confided, holding me tighter. “Do you at least like me?”  Held breath and intense eyes waited for my answer.  My lips pressed his in response, the crowd cheering as if I had just scored the winning basket.  My heart was pounding out of my chest as I pulled back.  

“I do.” I answered shakily. “I promise to never let you go, Jack.  Even if that means you are sharing my door.”  Giggles erupted from our lips, the shrill school bell ringing.  Our hands intertwined, both of us ready to start the day.