Mom always says that I should go out to play. That way I can socialize and have more friends. I think it’s not really about how I do things but how others approach me. Maybe they think of me as someone who dislikes lot’s of things and is a picky type of person. Though if you knew me well, you would know that’s not the case.
It’s October 2nd today. The weather seems fine still considering how fall can be a bit irritating sometimes. Like always, the hall is crowded with the group of girls always talking about their social life, cloth and other things of that sort. On the hand is the gang of boys who are loud with the music blasting. You can’t really hear to the music or any words, so what’s the point? Of course a stereotypical hallway has it’s couples flirting with each other every now and then which is how ours is. By “our”, I mean the teachers and I, since my group consists of a few people close to my age.
“Dude I did it for hours yesterday and got trash! I freakin’ rage quit,” says Brian as his group of four or five friends slowly trot over.
I hear people say that lot’s of things can happen in a few seconds of time and it just happens so that today was that day when I bump into Brian who’s walking quite close to my side. Suddenly you hear paper flapping through the air and a notebook goes splat on the ground.
“Crap, I’m so sorry,” Brian cries with a sense of guilt.
His friends laugh behind him whispering, “what is he doing,” and other things like that as He slowly helps pick things up for me. Then too as I pick up my open notebook for drawing purposes, I spot his eyes trying to catch a glimpse of my work. The whole interaction lasted about two minutes yet what happened is worth about ten. As I leave the spot of commotion, I hear him talking again.
“Hey, you guys know who he is?”
“Are you stupid? That’s Ted and you have like 3 classes with him, including 4th period.”
“Why would I know, weirdo?”
It’s only common knowledge that annoying people bother you, but this one doesn’t know when to stop. Then the disaster came in sixth period art. Painting was the last step of my project due in a week and of course when I talk about this, I mean that Brian has made a small catastrophe. At least for painters. About 10 minutes ago the teacher was yapping for Brian and his small group to stop messing around. Naturally having him near me while I painted was not the best idea.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” I cried out loud in an assaulting manner.
“I’m sorry! I clean it up!”
Anyone knows that paint… well paint is for painting. It’s like a pen. Once you make a mistake, you can’t erase it. Of course, trying to erase paint will only smear it. With his elementary school brain, he did just that making the spots on my work blend even more and making it look like a drooping scene.
“Oh, crap!” he cries.
With his friends in the background talking to the teacher and Brian here, I finally exhaust what I have to say.
“I am so sorry Ted.”
“Just go do your own work and shut up. Why do you keep bothering me today?”
“I just want to see what you were working on.”
I chuckled, “You think it’s funny? Want to see it now? You know that I have to restart right?”
An artist would know that sometimes you can’t produce the same piece of work. When you do restart, The work would typically be less of quality, or it will be better in which case has a small chance of happening.
“I said I’m sorry.”
“Well guess what, a small sorry doesn’t always make up what’s been done.”
This time the exchange lasted for ten minutes. Most of it was just me trying to clean up and Brian crying hi about how sorry he is. I suppose he should feel bad but again, I had to restart. It was 2 days later when he came over to me in 4th period and started another conversation.
“I’m sorry for what happened a few days ago-”
“Well, if you are, then stop doing stupid things.”
“Hear me out first.”
“Ok, I’ll listen,” I replied to his proposal in disgust.
“Have you got an idea for what to do for your project yet?”
“Of course not,” I grumbled.
“Well how ‘bout this: you can come to my house after school; I’ll help you with finding ideas for the project.”
“What kinda crap are you trying to pull? Why should I go to your house?”
“Come on, I’m just trying to help.”
“Alright I’ll go, just let finish my work.”
“Don’t go to a stranger's house,” they say all the time. Maybe this is a bad choice? Today is October 4th. This means there are only 5 days left until the due date.
“His house is rather big” I thought to myself Maybe his parents have more income? My mom worked for shorter hours while my dad works to about 9 at night.
“Hey don’t bother us in my room,” Brian cries with demand to his dad.
“No need to say, I already know.”
“Was that your dad?”
“Yeah he’s out from work early today. Here, I have a few things that might interest you.” door slams shut. “It’s mostly video games though.”
“Whatever. I just need some ideas on what to do.”
“Also, just ignore the other stuff in my room. It’s kind’ve messy.”
That’s how it began. My habit of a few days. The action of entering a stranger's house which doesn’t seem that strange anymore. Everyday when I go back, Mom would ask where I have been. I’d reply with, “a friends house” which then would have a response of, “I’m glad you have someone to work with.”
“Dude what’s your progress today?” Says Brian
“I’ve got the layout done.”
“That looks pretty op.”
“It’s from what I played yesterday right?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sor-”
“Seriously, just shut up already. You’ve probably said that over 15 times for the last few days.”
“I’m just saying.”
Many would think that for art to be good you had to be good at drawing. My skills are only average, but I think this piece came out alright. It wasn’t too bad or wasn’t too good. I pack up my belongings ready to leave early before it starts pouring, when Brian comes to the door.
“You're leaving already?”
“Yeah, too bad I couldn’t stay a bit longer. It could start pouring anytime y’know.”
“Oh well. So you want to try the game I played yesterday? The one you got your ideas from?”
The question he asked to me was a big choice. This is one way a story between two individuals, who almost have opposite attitudes, could have. The moment had an infinite number of possibilities. I could have said no, and ended the moment at the offer for friendship, or I could have replied yes. Instead of either of those, I answered with a small smile.
“Maybe next time.”