I rub my sweaty hands across my jeans, willing myself to calm down and check the time. It's about an hour before school starts for the day. Unfortunately, I had to wake up early for my appointment with the guidance counselor. The small space I'm waiting in is splattered with motivational posters. I close my eyes and lean my head against the wall.

So much for a fresh start.

That's when the door leading into the waiting room is pushed open and in walks Blake. The nervousness that I was fighting returns and I let out an internal groan. Of all the people it had to be one of Cynthia's friend to walk in. He squints his eyes at me before taking a seat beside me. "Audrey, right?" I nod and keep my eyes trained on the clock. "What's up?"

"Nothing much. Just had to wake up earlier than I normally do. To get to this appointment." Crap. I'm rambling.

"I know what you mean." He then pulls out his phone and plugs in his headphones. Okay, so he didn't want to talk to me. Both his and Cynthia's phone numbers are still in my contacts but I didn't text them yet about the stupid project. From the corner of my eyes, I watch Blake. He has his eyes closed and his head pressed against the wall. I wonder what he's doing here.

Wait. Is he listening to what I think he's listening to? Slowly I lean my head to the right to hear the song better. He's listening to Stop Crying Your Heart Out by Oasis, one of my favorite bands. I had grown up listening to the music my mom listened to when she was my age. That had led me to have a slightly different taste in music than my friends. Before I can stop myself, I say, "You like Oasis?"

Blake pulls out one of his headphones and gives me an annoyed look. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"Oasis? You like them?" I say, pointing to his headphones. I mentally slap myself. No, Audrey, he listens to that band in order to torture himself.

Blake's face softens and he gives me his crooked grin. "Yeah, they are one of my favorite bands."

"Really? Me too. Well sort of. My mom really loved them and got me to listen to a few of their songs and I think they're pretty good. My all-time favorite...." I go quiet and clamp my mouth shut.

"Your all-time favorite?" Blake asks, arching his eyebrow. "Well, what else do you listen to?"

My mouth feels dry and I can't pull away from his intense gaze. "Mostly stuff from the 90s," I mumble, wanting to elaborate but decide to stay quiet. Great. Someone might actually have the same taste in music as me but he's part of Cynthia's crew. Blake's eyes widen slightly and his guarded look falls away but only for a second. As soon as he opens his mouth to respond, his phone buzzes and he frowns.

"Perfect," he mutters.

"Is everything okay?" I ask.

"I thought Josh wasn't going to have the party this year," he answers, his eyes still glued to his phone

"What party?" I try to remember if Josh had mentioned anything to me. He didn't. I wonder if Josh's Dad had agreed to have to party at his house. It's highly unlikely.

"You don't know?" I shake my head. "Josh throws this back to school party every year. It's this Friday." He looks up from his phone and gives me a confused look. "Don't you live with them?"

"Yeah, I do." I keep my mouth shut after that and check the time again. A wave of silence falls over us and I feel nervous. Not wanting the silence to swallow me whole I ask, "So what are you doing here?" It's a stupid question, one that I personally wouldn't even answer myself but there is something about Blake that puts me on the edge. A girl pulls open the door to the adjoining office and nods at us before she leaves the tiny space.

"The lady is asking for a Blake," she says over her shoulder.

He nods and pulls on his backpack, giving me a smile again he says, "Don't worry about it." Blake slips inside, leaving me alone with only the sound of the clock to keep me company. I wish I hadn't forgotten my phone at home or my aunt had confirmed the time I was supposed to meet with the guidance counselor.

It isn't long before Blake appears from the closed door, his eyes dark and fixed straight ahead of him. As he passes past me, I think he's going to ignore me but then he says, "She's calling you in."

Turns out that Mrs. Gupta is pretty easy to talk to. At first, I was taken aback by her thick glasses and frazzled hair but she was kind, funny even.

"So, what are your plans after high school," she asks, looking over her glasses.

"I always liked kids and that's why I wanted to be a teacher for the longest time. But recently I realized that I wanted to work with people on a deeper level. Maybe as a social worker." I shrug. She opens her mouth to respond but the shrill sound of the bell cuts her off.

"Well, you better scurry along. You know how school is, you come to school, nothing spectacular happens. You miss one day, there are at least seven fights, The Weeknd drops by and your nemesis is killed by a dart." The ways she states it, with such a matter-of-factly and cool attitude, makes me laugh.

***

"Isn't there like a party at your house on Friday?" Tamara mumbles, frowning at her 'masterpiece'. She'd painting a penis. Mr. Ackley is sitting behind his computer, a smile plastered on his pale face.

"Yeah. I heard. You're going to get in trouble for that," I say pointing at her canvas. My hands are covered in charcoal, the medium I had chosen for my assignment.

"What? Since when is artistic expression bad?" She shakes her head at me and then sticks out her tongue. I know she's not taking the assignment seriously. I'm actually not even sure if she likes art. Tamara pulls out her phone and snaps a pic of her painting. "Anyways, how's it like living with one of the hottest guys at our school?"

"Josh is my cousin, Tamara," Making a disgusted face, I go back to my drawing. It's an image of Aryan with his arms wrapped around Emily. When I found out that Emily was dating Aryan, I figured that the best thing to do was to accept it. There is no point in holding a grudge against Emily. She is my best friend.

"Right. I've been meaning to ask you. Why are staying with them?" A weight drops in my stomach. There would come a time where I would have to talk about it.

"Something happened," I say, not really wanting to share anything, not wanting her to feel sad or to pity me. Tamara steps away from her canvas and raises her pierced eyebrow at me.

"The hell that supposed to mean?" Her confusion fades and is replaced with realization. "Crap. I'm sorry. What happened?"

"My mom passed away." I pause and look at her from the side of my eyes. "A stupid...accident." But it wasn't an accident, maybe a "wrong place at the wrong" time moment, but it sure wasn't an accident.

"Wow. That sucks. I'm really sorry for bringing it up." She goes quiet for a few minutes before she says, "You're really good at drawing." Tamara doesn't bother asking who the people are. I think she is afraid of what I might say.

"Thanks." Mr. Ackley is making his rounds and I feel nervous for Tamara. "So, do you want to come over on Friday?"

She shrugs her shoulders but doesn't say anything at first. "I haven't gone in years to that party and that won't change anytime soon. Sorry." I remember what Josh said about Tamara but push it aside when the teacher comes to a standstill behind me.

"Beautiful. You captured young love perfectly." He moves on to Tamara's painting and takes in a sharp breath. "Not funny Tamara. Please stay back to paint that over and start again."

"But you said we could use any medium to draw whatever we like," she argues.

"I know but this is...." he closes his eyes and lets out another breath. He is probably thinking that he doesn't get paid enough to deal with this. "Just please paint it over during lunch."

Before she can say anything, I gently tap her shoulder and say, "She'll do it, sir." He gives me a nod before moving onto the next person.

"Sir? Who even says that?" She rolls her eyes and saunters to the sink to wash up. I have actually heard a lot of students saying it around school but I don't tell her that. When the bell rings our teacher heads downstairs, mumbling something about going to the cafeteria. I stay with Tamara while she spreads white paint over her canvas, grumbling something about her rights.

"Thanks for staying back with me," she says, dabbing at her canvas. I shrug my shoulders and go to the sink.

"The sinks are clogged from the paint," I say to her. "I'll be right back" Rolling up my sleeves, I go around the corner to the washroom.

"You're such an idiot, Todd," I hear someone shriek ahead of me. It's Cynthia with Todd and Blake. For a second I consider turning around but decide against it and keep on walking.

"Yeah, you idiot," Blake adds, his voice full of humor. He closes his locker and playfully punches Todd.

"Dude, what is Obama's last name then?" Todd whines. I keep my head down as I try to sneak past them without them noticing me.

"Hey, Audrey! Are you trying to sneak past me?" Todd says. He pushes away from the locker and gives me a wide grin. "I'm a freaking ninja. Nothing gets past me."

"Yeah, a freaking fruit ninja," Blake mutters. Todd glares at Blake before pointing at my hands with his chin.

"What's on your hands?" he asks.

Looking at my hands I smile. "It's charcoal. I just had Visual Arts."

"Cool. I suck at Art," Blake pipes in. I'm surprised by his good and carefree mood. It suits him better than the brooding and bitterness he was supporting this morning.

"Me too," Todd mutters. "Hey, you should eat lunch with us today. I promise Cynthia won't be a bitch." Todd flings his arm over Cynthia's shoulders who rolls her eyes at him.

"I have to get to the cafeteria, Aditi is probably waiting for me," she seethes and tries to slip away from Todd.

"It's okay. I have some stuff to do but thanks for asking," I say quickly.

"Aw, that sucks," he says, his grey eyes filling with sadness. "See you later then, alligator." He and Cynthia head towards the way I had come, his arm still over her thin shoulders. Blake doesn't move to follow them. He opens his mouth to say something but then he closes it.

"See you around," he finally says.

"You too." I'm tempted to ask him what his favorite Oasis song is but decide it's better that I don't.

After washing my hands, I go back to my class to collect my things, a smile plastered to my face despite Cynthia's sour attitude. I can tell she doesn't like me very much but I'm not going to let her get to me. My smile fades when I see my canvas, a giant painted 'x' covers my drawing. The paint drips onto the floor, making small pitter patter noises. "What the hell?" someone says behind me. "Why would you do that?"

Tamara comes up beside me as the tears start to well up in my eyes. "I didn't do it."

"Then who did?" She looks as baffled as I am, so she couldn't have done it. "I wanted to tell Gabriel that we would be a little late. I didn't see anyone come in." But I did. Cynthia had come towards the classroom while I went to the washroom. I can see her doing something like that but not Todd. Anger bubbles up inside of me but I close my eyes and try to suppress it.

"Why does she have to be so mean?" I ask.

"Who?" Tamara asks.

"Cynthia. I saw her coming this way when I went to the washroom." Calmly I collect the paint and start covering the canvas. The paint mixes with the charcoal, turning it a light grey color. I would have to start again.

"Are you serious?" Tamara says, shocked. "You're going to let her get away with it?"

"What else can I do? I don't even know why she would do something like this."

"I know. Because she is a complete bitch. God, we should totally get her back."

"No." I don't want to do anything. "Just forget about it, okay?"

"You're no fun, Audrey. It's your choice. Whatever." She shrugs and goes into the storage room, leaving me alone with my grey canvas.

|| Author's Note ||

Thanks for reading, guys. It's much appreciated. It's been ages since I have updated this story. Hopefully, I will do a better job at updating in 2017.