The Boy who Broke the Rules

13

On the right hand side of the painting was a signature.

NH

"It's lovely, isn't it?"

I jumped a foot and turned around guiltily. Mrs. Garland was sitting up now, smiling as she looked at me.

"There are more of those. That one he drew when he was..." she narrowed her eyes and tapped her mouth with her finger, thinking. "Ten years old, I think. He wanted to give his mama this pretty necklace he'd seen in the market, but he had no money. I told him to draw me a picture of his favourite place, and I'd give him the money to pay for the necklace. He made me this one," she said, looking like a proud grandmother.

"Some of the paintings in the hallways are his, aren't they?"

Her brows rose. "Why, yes, they are indeed."

I waited a beat.

"Noah's?"

She smiled, her eyes twinkling. "Yes, my dear."

"He's very talented," I said casually. I wanted her to keep going, to tell me a story about him, without appearing too obvious.

"Without a doubt. Got it from Esther, his mama. That's her on that picture. You don't see her face here, but what a very beautiful woman."

"His mom is an artist?"

She shook her head, a sad smile on her lips. "Oh, how I pleaded with her to pursue her dreams. She was my best student and I was friends with her mama. Esther wanted to finish high school then go to school to become a painter, but she fell in love, you see. The heart of a young girl is easily fooled by the thrill of first love. He was a bad apple, knew it the first time I laid eyes on that boy."

"Mr. Hunter? Noah's dad?"

She looked like she wanted to spit. "Promised her the world, he did. Never much a man of his word. He is a sad excuse for a man, that's what he is. I cannot believe that man is allowed to have children!" Her hands began to shake, but she pulled herself up and took a deep breath.

"My dear, I don't care much for gossip, which this town is very fond of as they don't know anything productive to do with their lives. They live boring lives and dream of an adventure, but will never have the guts to go for their dreams. Her boy Noah has adventure in his mind," she continued. "And he will follow his dreams, you watch. I will tell you this. No one I know deserves more from life than that boy."

"Mrs. Garland—"

"Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. You will hear no gossip from me, my dear. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She gave me a kind smile. "I'll tell you something. That boy has so much love to give it's bursting out of him, but he keeps it in check, you see. Keeps it locked in. Once a heart has been broken and whipped too many times, a person protects it by putting up thick walls. But you can tear a wall down if you keep at it now, can't you? Especially if you know that behind those walls is something special." She picked up her novel and carefully sat on the lounge, eyeing me knowingly. "You go on now, sweetheart. The keys are in the drawer to your left. You have a wonderful evening. Tell your daddy and mama I said hi now, understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Was it possible to forget someone who had touched a chord inside your heart?

Even at ten years old, Noah could draw beautifully and expressed his feelings with his sketches. I felt it. And when I heard from Mrs. Garland that he bought that necklace for his mom, I was a goner.

He's got you hook, line and sinker.

Still... he'd told me to stay away.

Well, you are never known for being obedient.

The next day, Professor Layton came in dragging a whiteboard with him. He positioned it in the middle of the class and sat on his desk, crossing his arms in front of him as he stared at the class.

"Take notes."

That was it.

"This is ridiculous," Ruth hissed under her breath. "He could have just given us a copy of this crap instead of making us write it. Get with the program, Professor."

I silently agreed.

"Why aren't you copying notes, Mr. Noah Hunter?" Professor Doom asked.

I held my breath when I heard Noah's name. Everyone in front of me turned their eyes toward Noah. I wanted to look, but I didn't.

"Well, professor, he still probably has his notes from last year, you know what I'm sayin'?"

There were ooooohs in the class as Drew yelled from across the room.

I felt angry toward these people. This time, I looked at Noah. He looked bored, and I noticed for the first time that he had a bandage around his hand. What happened? Did that wild cat he was feeding bite him? Maybe he had cut himself. He was always fixing something in his house.

But couldn't the professor see the bandage? He had hurt his writing hand.

His drawing hand. Oh no!

"Did I ask you to speak, mister...? What's your name?" Everyone knew Professor Layton had an obsession with knowing the full names of his students. This was an obvious insult.

I felt slightly appeased.

"Drew Mountain, professor," he replied tersely.

Ruth had told me Drew Mountain sold weed in our school. He drove an Audi and acted like he was the man and often spit, "You know what I'm sayin'?"

In my old school, weed dealers were usually very friendly, often relaxed guys who wanted to be friends with everyone, but Drew was a huge troublemaker. He also smelled weird, like old coffee and a hundred sprays of musky cologne as if he was trying to mask his smell. Probably the dope smell. He wasn't succeeding. 

When Drew was properly chastised, the class resumed, but now I couldn't stop myself from looking over at Noah.

I had this ridiculous urge to protect him.

Ruth said Noah had a temper. If he did, he wouldn't have been able to ignore Drew... right?

The bell rang.

"I have to go to the city for my cousin's bachelorette party, Parks. And it's on a Friday, but I'm not sure which Friday yet. I'll let you know. Sorry, Parks," Ruth apologized.

I was in a bad mood all week and this just capped it off. She didn't wait for my answer, bounding off to her next class. Letting out a loud sigh, I grabbed my backpack and swung it behind me vigorously.

"Crap!" I yelped, hitting something behind me.

I turned around and found Noah, picking up his pencils on the ground. I had hit him and now his stuff was all over the floor.

You just levelled up your humiliation from Uranus to Neptune now, Parks.

"I'm sorry!"

I bent to help him and froze when I reached his notepad. It was lying open and a picture of a girl was sketched on the paper in charcoal.

And it wasn't me.

Was this how a broken heart felt like?

I had never experienced it before. There was an ache in my heart that felt like cruel hands were squeezing it.

I pulled my shoulders back and strapped on my big girl panties as I reached for the notepad, stood up and handed it to him. I didn't meet his eyes.

So much for big girl panties.

When he took it, I spun around and walked as fast as I could away from him.

How could I feel that I had lost something when it was never mine in the first place?

***

A/N: Who do you think was the girl on Noah's sketchpad?

Happy Valentine's Day, loves! Any plans today? :)