The Art of being Strangers

ii.

The clock was ticking. I could hear the other students talking to each other, but I kept quiet.

I wasn't necessarily good at school, but I wasn't horrible either. English was my favorite subject. Art too. But sadly, I sucked at art. I always wanted to paint landscapes, but they'd turn out awful. At first, I was upset, but then I understood art wasn't meant for me. It was surely meant for Basil. He was a student among us. We had some classes together, nothing special. He was known for his paintings – landscapes, more specifically – that now hang on the hall's walls. I remember always looking at Basil's paintings. I'd stare at them for hours. He liked painting forests. Creeks, more exactly. That was very ironic looking back at it because my name is Creek Joosten.

"Joosten," the teacher called.

"Yes?" I replied. My eyes refused to meet hers.

I, in fact, did not like my math teacher. Her name was Charlotte. She was a tall woman in her thirties. Her black hair hung in a perfect bob. She always wore brown eyeshadow and her eyebrows were thin and dark. Most days, she came to school dressed in suits. I figured she wasn't really a fan of skirts or dresses. However, she was a classy lady; she was originally born in the Philippines, though as a girl she moved around a lot. She lived in places like Brazil, China, Japan, even Russia, before moving and settling down in the US when she was nineteen.

She told us all about herself on the first day we met her. I was honestly surprised that I managed to somehow remember all the information about her. I tend to forget things. As big as they are, I'd still forget about them until the last minute—or not even that. I always wrote the stuff I didn't want to forget on a note. Now my drawers are full of them.

"You didn't turn your homework in again," she said looking quite disappointed.

I remained quiet. I could not inform her about the actual motive why I didn't do my homework yesterday, could I? It's not like I wasn't motivated to do it, because I was. But the part where it gets messed up is when Basil appears. I couldn't possibly tell her what happened, so I said nothing. I let the silence sink in.

Ms. Charlotte noticed my hesitation, so she opened her mouth to speak again. "I'm afraid I'll have to do something about your indifference."

And then I realized she was probably thinking of calling my parents. Here's the thing: me and my parents aren't that close. Nor have ever been. So, of course, I really didn't feel the need to bother them.

"No, no, Ms. Charlotte, I promise it won't occur again. I was just... Distracted," that's the best I could think of to say.

"Distracted you say, huh?" she replied, one of her eyebrows twitching.

"Yes, that's correct."

"Distracted by what, exactly?" she insisted.

"I'm a photographer," I shrug. "These previous weeks I kept working on some important photos. I know school is more important and is my priority, however, I couldn't help myself. I apologize," I lie. Not all of it is a lie, though. I am a photographer. Or possibly I like to believe I am one.

Her frown disappeared in a matter of seconds, her face shifting into a slight smile. "Really? That's great. I'm glad you have a hobby. But I want you to focus on school. This is the last chance I'm giving you. Don't make me regret it."

"Yes, miss, thank you," I mumbled.

"And while we're at it, I'd love to see some of your photos sometime," she says smiling.

Hah, no way I thought. However, I nodded in silence and avoided eye contact for the rest of the lesson. There were only a few minutes left until the bell finally rang, and time began to blur. Ms. Charlotte was still talking but I didn't hear her anymore. My mind kept running back to Basil. After the incident that happened yesterday, I was quick to realize that other people didn't acknowledge Basil's presence. I spent hours looking for answers last night. I didn't really get much sleep, to be honest. Was he really dead? Why was he murdered? Why am I the only one who can see him? Am I really the only one that can see him? My thoughts were interrupted by the bell. The first thing I saw when my eyes focused was the homework Ms. Charlotte left for us. I wasn't all that excited about doing it, but I was really grateful for the chance she'd given me.