The Sun Shines Bright

Surfaces

                 "Marine!"

                 "I have to agree with Marine, he's kinda a pain" Amy says

                 "See told you so, you would eventually get fed up with him" Blaze snickers to herself.

                 "Yeah Blaze, I know, You're always right, not like that's surprising anyways"

                 "You're the one who helps Silver with Math, you're the right one usually."

                 "Well what about-"

                 "Can you guys please stop complimenting each other?" Marine says dragging her eye bags down in fake pain

                 "Yeah I agree with Marine" Cream states

                 "We weren't doing it that m-" Blaze starts to say

                 "Whatever, stop it."

                 Blaze crosses her arms and Amy looks away. Cream and Marine just look at each other. Cream continues what she was trying to say.

                 "We can't just say that about Silver. They still have emotions, even if he can be a bit annoying."

                 "Still annoying." Blaze states.

                 "Yup" Marine and Amy say at the exact same time

                 Art Class is still a pain. But at this point Amy will do anything to get away from Blaze and how she makes her.... feel. Doesn't matter anyways. Amy focuses on her project with nothing else. Except for thoughts of Blaze that attempt to litter her head. She suppresses them as much as she can. Still failing exponentially. Also somehow still not acknowledging her feelings for Blaze. She still thinks this is about having some appreciation for her friend. Nothing special. Nothing romantic. Blaze is nice, that's it. That's all. There is absolutely nothing to elaborate on. Nope. Not one bit. Absolutely Positively nothing at all, nothing, nothing. Nothing at all. Everything is good and normal and nothing is out of the ordinary. Everything is good, no need to mess it up again. Like before. Nothing can go wrong now. You're her friend and nothing should change that. Absolutely nothing, friends and that's all they will ever be. Just Friends.

                 Art Class is a slog. It takes way too long for something that her and Knuckles don't even know if they can solve. A giant puzzle that nobody understands. At best they're close, at worst they are not even on the right track. It's the monotony of it all. The repetitive nature of it all. Not only of the drawing but also of everything else, the room, the chairs, the materials. Everything is the same. Again and again. It seems like this room is designed to be boring. Nothing to look at. Nothing to distract yourself for even a moment. Unless you wanted to stare at anyone else or twiddle your thumbs. Nothing changes. Everything seems to slow down here too. Nothing changes. This room seems that it is down to the very nails and materials to be engineered to be uninteresting. Manufactured by data points and research of what everyone finds boring. This would be fine for a quiet study hall or an active class. But it isn't. It's two kids and a teacher in a classroom. Teacher doing paperwork. Students doing extremely hard may even work that could be called a sisyphean type of work. Maybe it's busy work. Maybe it's to crush all of the possible dreams out of them so they'll become what the school wants to design what they'll become. Maybe the teacher got fed up with school but already had tenure and decided to take all her rage on the students. Maybe the secretary is lying. Who cares right? Amy does. She so dearly does she makes up any possible reason for this. The paper burns into her eyes. She's had nightmares, not particularly bad ones but bad enough to have a nightmare about this Art Project. Waking her up in the middle of the night. Her thoughts only allowing her to go asleep when... she doesn't want to think about that. Present and Perfect. Maybe it is an impossible task. Going after perfection or a certain style. The symbol is still up there seemingly taunting her. It's faded a bit. But other than that nothing has changed. All the possible flaws will be wiped eventually. Has she asked the janitors to not clean the chalkboard? Why does she even have a chalkboard? Most of the school went digital a long time ago. Now that Amy thinks of it, this is the only class she really uses paper for. Consistently at least.

             Tradition? Is that it? Is that what her teacher has been searching for in them? Is she so old that she can only think of teaching one possible way and any possible deviations are unfactorable in her mind? Is it actually impossible due to her teacher's impossible way of drawing? Is this some ego test for the teacher? Whatever it is, this shouldn't stand. The bell rings and Amy goes out, leaving her teacher happily in the dust. Not like the woman who sits in that chair even notices. She doesn't care, so why should Amy?