Red Ribbon Tree

Chapter 2: Milo

These guys were a joke. My eyes burned from staring at my fifty-two inch flat-screen TV. I stretched my arms and reached for the soda I often kept at my gaming station. It knocked over and I sat up ready to clean up the mess only to hear the clang of the empty can against the pile of empty cans on the floor. Ross's voice came shooting through my headset. "Dude, did you see that headshot?"

"No man, I re-spawned on the other side of the map," I said, gripping my controller.

"It was awesome. The guy was flying through the air and I like sniped him before he hit the ground."

"Think we should have gone to the basketball game tonight?"

"What for, dude? You hate sports and it's not like she was going to run off the court and suddenly give you the time of day."

Footsteps outside my door thudded. "Milo, turn that game off! You have school tomorrow and I'm not fighting to get you up in the morning."

"Okay, Mom, I'm turning it off. Just let me finish this round."

An hour later I turned off my gaming system and plopped down in bed. Staring at the ceiling, I connected the dots into a pattern. My sketchpad. I turned on my bedside lamp and picked up my sketchpad, turning it over. I ran my fingers across the binding and flipped through my old drawings. The charcoal immediately stained my fingertips and covered the corners of every page. The final drawing was dated over a month ago. I picked up my charcoal the same way I did every night and turned to a blank page, but as expected, nothing came to me. Not one line. I had been blocked for my longest span ever. I sighed, placed my sketchpad and charcoal back on my side table, and turned out the light.

The next day at school the entire student body was buzzing about the basketball game. Ross didn't seem to mind being out of the loop, but I couldn't help feeling like more of an outsider than I already was. I eyed the students chatting on their way to class. I was better than everyone in this prison and it annoyed me that no one knew. A row of lockers on both sides of the hallway with the occasional break for classroom doors made things crowded. The mixture of students stopped at their lockers and students passing in and out of classrooms made the hallways impossible to navigate. This warzone was worse than the ones Ross and I virtually battled through every day.

"Brooksy!" Scott Wood yelled across the hallway.

I turned around and there she was. Eliza Brooks. Scott Wood put his arm around her and a sharp pang of jealousy sliced my gut. Awesome. I was becoming more of an outsider and, thanks to basketball, Eliza was becoming the center of the school. I turned to face my locker, unable to stand the sight of them for another second. I shoved my backpack into it and pulled out my sketchpad. I felt her getting closer as she crossed the hall. Something slammed into me.

"I'm sorry," she said.

I dropped my sketchpad from the shock of it all, and looked down to see Eliza. "Oh, it's fine," I said. I started sweating. I had had at least twenty pick-up lines ready, just in case I ever got a chance to talk to her. Nothing. Not a single one.

She scrambled to pick up my sketchpad, her smooth cheeks filling with color. I helped her to her feet noticing she had charcoal all over her hands. "It's messy stuff," I said. Ugh, I hate myself. I forced myself to smile.

She handed me my sketchpad. She pulled her curly hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. She smiled. Could she see me sweating?

Chris Palmer came up behind her and put his arm around her. "So, Brooks, can I walk you to class?"