On Mute

Chapter Four: Chocolate Biscotti

Chapter 4

That's it...

"Dear, where did the young man go?"I tore a page from my sketchbook and smacked it onto my desk.

"He forgot that his parents were... expecting him for dinner."I pulled a pencil from my set and began to carve the paper; the hard surface underneath ground the lead into black powder and I blew it away before I could smudge it.

"Well, I hope he comes again sometime... such a nice lad." Two round irises shrouded in darkness, in anger, I drew it all. The fleetly part to the hair, the deep powerful eyebrows and the etches and folds between them as they furrowed together. The pencil was my tool, the lead the expression of my rage. I stopped; I sharpened my weapon then examined my enemy. He looked so naked, so bare of any detail, he was just an outline, and I could see right through him. But...

I started from the right and ended in the left, my pencil brushing over the parchment like fingers over skin. Into every shadow, every crease I breathed life. Now it was solid, it was real, it hid all his secrets... it was him. I clenched my fist.

"Honey?"

"Yeah?" I spun around, the portrait in my hand somehow slipping into the pocket of my tote bag.

"Is something bothering you? You didn't eat much at supper." It didn't help a certain someone made me lose my appetite.

"I'm fine mom." She closed the door and gave me a serious look."Mom?"

"I want to talk to you about something Hun."

"Is this the talk?"

"Of course not," She motioned me to sit on the bed and she took the chair. "You already got that one at school." I rolled onto my belly and hugged my pillow.

"Then, what is it then?" I knew it would come up eventually... boys.

"Boys." Nailed it. "I have realized you are at the right age to start to be interested in the opposite sex and..." then I went into auto pilot. I nodded here and there, stared at the space between her eyes and daydreamed of better things. "... so I want you to know that if you ever want to... maybe date one, I don't want to be the kind to... hold you back." I burst back into reality.

"Wait, what?! Time out!" I sat up with my hands shaped in a T. "What brought this up all of a sudden?" then it occurred to me... Marc.

"He didn't leave because his family was expecting him; he left because he was nervous." I eyed her, and she returned the glare. "Am I right?"

"No, not exactly." He wasn't nervous; he was insulted because I was being rude, because he was being nice... because he was being a jerk because I was being ignorant because he was being a smart ass! " He... really was expected to be home. He... had detention; I think he was probably grounded too."

"Detention?" She mouthed slowly. I saw the cogs working in her brain, I got her.

"Yeah, real bad boy, I hear he has a motorcycle too. From the bad streets in the slums, he is a real delinquent." She was in awe.

"So, he is not your friend after all?" I lifted my sketch book from the bedpost.

"Like I said before; he only came to give this back." I returned to laying on my belly.

"Well, I guess he can't be all bad then." Mom stood up and faced me with a smile, I was confused. "I try to see the good in people, do you?" She turned towards the door, and she was gone.

I sat up and looked at my tote. Well, I guess that didn't work?

The next morning I squatted by a chain link fence with my sketch pad in hand. Opening up to a clean page I posed my pencil ready to strike, ready to form a masterpiece! The butterfly was just sitting there, posing like it wanted to be drawn. Ever so slightly I formed the rough outline without disturbing it, when I got to the details though it began to flutter its wings so I had a hard time picturing the full thing in my head.

CRRAAASH went the bush beside me. I flinched and the butterfly took off. In anger I turned around and was met with a smirking half frown and dark humorous eyes.

"There, now we're even." I bit my tongue as I held back some rather colourful vocabulary. He huffed, then turned to leave but I wasn't letting him.

"What's your problem?!" In one swift leap I grabbed his arm. He shot his head back, his eyes staring but no words coming to his lips. It was like we were playing chess, and he was waiting for me to make the next move. My eyebrow rose.

"Yes, whatever." His hand grasped mine and squeezed tightly, then pried it away from his arm. "I don't care okay?" I fell back from him. What was he talking about, he wasn't making sense? I saw him flush and he turned away, then quickly muttered "shit" and walked off.

~X~

I stood against the wall, people rushing past anxious to get home and out of these white wash hallways. Every way I looked, waiting to see that mountainous head and torso rise and part from the crowd, I was waiting to see those glaring dark eyes and that half frown set jaw. I tapped my thigh impatiently. Where was he? How could I lose a mountain?!

I gave up; I made my way to the front corridor and out into the courtyard.

"Here." I flinched, a brown paper bag flung itself towards my face and I recoiled in order to focus. "This is for you." What the heck, who would throw a paper bag in my face? I stooped my neck to see the person behind the obstacle... it was Marc, and all his intimidation.

"What is this?" I asked cautiously.

"Rat poison." I huffed. He could be sarcastic with the most straight face. "It is Sir's biscotti; he wanted me to give it to you." Oh right... from the shelf organizing.

"You take it." I pushed it back. "You did all the work; you deserve it more than me."

"Yes, I do." Modest much? He could read my face. "Yeah, just being a prick... that's what I am after all, better start acting that way."

"I never called you a prick,"

"But you didn't deny it either." He grabbed my outstretched hand and clasped it to the bag. "Later." Then he shoved off for home, kicking a coke can the whole way.