Melting Hearts | ✓

s n o w ║iv

s n o w ║iv

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"So," I bit into a chocolate chip cookie as I leaned against the counter, "Can I go?"

My mother put down the file she had been burning holes through at the table and a laughed a little. Of course she would let me; my mother always seemed to jump at the chance for my leaving. I shrugged and stuffed the rest of the cookie in my mouth.

"I digress." I said softly before heading off to my room.

I sunk into the window seat and pulled an empty sketchbook from under the pillow. I opened it and marveled at the clean page. Although it was silly to say, my favorite part of drawing was when it didn't even exist. I loved looking at an empty page, imagining what it could be.

I lifted a pencil out of the mug I kept near the foot of the seat; it held many pencils and few pens. I rested my hand on the page and let the pencil do the talking. The pencil took me up and around, creating a tree. A swing blossomed from the thick branch the pointed outwards and suddenly a sad blond haired girl sat on the swing. Her head was turned down and her hair his her face, but it was easy to tell she was sad. Her frail body seemed almost huddled on the wooden seat. Her small hands clutched the swing as she plummeted her feet forwards.

Tears welled in the corners of my eyes, but didn't dare to fall. My hand dropped the pencil and it hit the ground in circles, tumbling slowly. It hit with a tiny thump that you could only hear if you were paying close attention. I ran my hand down my jeans and felt the rough fabric. Quickly, maybe not quick enough, I slammed the book closed and tucked it away.

I cloaked myself in sadness and curled up into a venerable ball. Something was missing in my life, but what? Was it more friends? A better figure? New clothes? A boy?

I got up and sulked straight into my bed. My eyes looked fiercely at my bag, which held a math book and a Biology assignment I needed to do. All I could think about was the giant footprint not doing my work would leave on my nearly perfect GPA. If I couldn't be the perfect daughter on the outside, I could at least keep the inside good.

I gave in and moved briskly to the bag. I tugged out the book and took a seat back on my bed with it. The numbers seemed foreign and I sighed at having to do the work. I let my mind drift off, only for a second. I was walking into school, I was happy. I walked like I owned the whole school and took myself right up to Oliver. I lifted up the camera I had around my neck. I smiled and he smiled back.

I snapped myself out of it. I've never been good at photography; in fact, I'd ruined my cousin's weeding pictures by cutting her out of them! How was I going to connect with Oliver through something I couldn't even do?

Rubbing my eyes I went back to the work. I heard a door slam somewhere in the house and I knew it was going to be one of those nights. Each week, once a night, my mother locked herself in the bathroom for a "pamper evening". Basically, it meant she'd ignore me for hours and use my shampoo.

I cursed myself again for getting off track. I rubbed my head now; I'd developed a quite severe headache. Finally I was ready to work. I used the pencil that I had tucked in the spine of the book early in the day and began to work out the first problem.

I was cascading down and almost done when the phone began to ring. The white sleek cordless sat in my room, but there were a few in other places in the house; one in the kitchen, living area and bathroom. I was exactly sure why one would need to phone someone while on the toilet, but oh well. I'd never used it, but I'm sure my mother has.