Paint The Ice

Chapter 28

RILEY

ON TUESDAY, I'M STILL FIRED UP.

With my plastic rain boots on, I march to the Dean of students' office. 

Now, I've been in trouble before. I've been called to the principal's office in high school more than three times for various reasons. Like the time my Trig teacher thought I was being rude just because I told her that the answer she wrote was inaccurate. I could have worded it differently but it was too late and the class had already laughed.

Or that time in junior year when I fought a senior because he called my friend a whore for wearing a choker and bright red lipstick.

And that the time I skipped class, missed my exam because a younger me thought that was the better choice than sitting there writing my name on the paper and bombing the whole thing.

I didn't care about the continental and oceanic plates colliding. I didn't care that Antarctica was the fifth largest continent in the world. I didn't care that Iceland was located on or above the Mid-Atlantic Ridge.

I cared about perspective. How I shaded. Making sure my lines are smooth when I'm drawing. How I'm supposed to improve my mistakes. If I'm even good at sculpting or wood carving. Those were my concerns.

I've also done illegal stuff. Like graffiti which is considered vandalism but it's art and it's mine.

I'd understand if I did something wrong to be having a hearing to prove myself. That's not the case here. I'm here to prove that my own art belongs to me. How ridiculous is that? Younger me couldn't foresee something like this happening but I'm just gonna roll with it.

I draw the hood of my puffer jacket over my head as my shield. Over the course of twenty four hours, it's gotten colder and I can feel my cheeks going numb with every step I take. Lightening ripples through the clouds startling my body before thunderous crackle follows, rattling the trees. There are no birds in sight. Naturally, my heart beats at a pace that's certainly not ideal for me. I watch the sky grow dark, ugly and angry but I'm determined to see the Dean so I keep walking.

My eyes stay aware just in case anything happens. Not too long after, I'm in line with the building. I exhale a breath of relief when I'm inside, away from the storm brewing. Through the doors, I catch a glimpse of students scattering to find shelter before it downpours. One of the lovely staff members inside directs me to the office where the Dean is supposedly waiting for me.

The door creaks the minute I open it which makes my teeth feel like they're being pushed against each other. The physical discomfort writes itself on my face and I freeze.

"Riley Becker? Come on in. I should really get that door fixed. It makes that awful sound every time." The blonde woman behind the wooden desk gestures for me to fully step inside.

I don't make the same mistake twice. When closing the door, this time, it's quicker to get it over with. One and done. I'm now standing in the dean's office for the first time and all I can think about are the amount of frames and what exactly are in them. Some of the words are too tiny. I can't see what they are but I'm sure it's all the dean's accomplishments. People like to broadcast everything they've achieved.

An insane amount of files are topped off on the desk with two pens. The dean's down for business where she peers at the laptop in front of her that I assume has information.