Parking Lot Kids

Chapter 12 : Piano Man

Senior Year: October

Remus

The paint brush effortlessly glided across the canvas I was working on, bringing the image in my head to life. Grays and blues mixed together as I tried to find the perfect shade for the woman, the subject of my painting. The color I had made was too light so I added more blue into the mix. I swatched it on my wrist. Still too light. Maybe a little grey and blue. Swatched the new color on my wrist right next to the previous one and perfect. It was just the right shade.

I started on the women's arms. The most important part of her body. It showed her confidence and her freeness. They twisted with her body as she danced and gave her an open stance. She was not tiny and small, she was brave and unlatched. Free to express herself in the way she moved.

Maybe I was thinking too much into my painting, but I think that's what makes a painting better. A meaning behind it.

I was dipping my paint brush into the paint when I felt my earbud yanked out of my ear.

"You should really turn down your volume, I had said your name at least twenty times," I turned around to see Sirius with his stupid smirk.

"Maybe I was ignoring you," I said trying to return his stupid smirk at him.

"You would never" Sirius over dramatically gasped, putting his hand over his heart. Ever since the night of the dance I had become closer with Sirius, James, and Peter. Mostly Sirius. Yes, I stand with everything I had thought before. He was annoying, dramatic, and needy, but he also was pretty chill. I'd sometimes invite him to smoke, and he would always agree, and he'd tell me about him and his friends and the stupid shananagons they got into at this school. Maybe it's stupid and I'm looking too deep into everything, but I felt like I belonged somewhere. I felt welcomed and not lost.

"What were you even listening to that was SO interesting that you had to tune out everything else?" Sirius asked sarcastically, interrupting my spiral of thoughts.

"Nothing good," I answered back while putting my paint brush into the water cup. Sirius' dramatic entrance was a sign that I was done painting today.

Sirius made a grab for my phone, and I let him. I learned not to fight Sirius because he has a mindset that he gets what he wants. "Piano Man by Billy Joel? This isn't 'nothing good'." Sirius scolded.

And he was right. This song was not 'nothing good' to me. In fact, I had this song on repeat while I painted. This song was just like everything else I felt today. Cheesy and looked into too much. The song was the gate to a memory I had when I was 12.

I had lived with this one foster family at the time for over three months. The family had a tradition to sit in the living room every couple of nights and listen to the radio. They would sing and dance to all the songs that they knew. For the first three months I had felt too shy to even open up my lips. Felt like I would intrude on this perfect family, but one night they turned the radio on and this song began to play. They grabbed my hands and pulled me up from my spot on the couch and we sang all together and danced and I felt alive. I felt for once a part of something.

So maybe I looked into this song too much just like how I looked into the painting, and Sirius' stories, but yes. This song was more than 'nothing good'.

"Are you done painting? I want to show you something," Sirius asked, once again interrupting my thoughts. I need to stay focused. Maybe a smoke would help.

"Yeah," I agreed, "but can we take a smoke break first?"

"After!" he said while grabbing my hand and dragging me out of the art room. I hadn't cleaned up my spot. I guess I would have to return after wherever Sirius was bringing me.