charcoal and scars

chapter 2

I don't want to wake up, but Nanda yanks back my curtains, sending me further into my comforter, groaning.

"Get up, Kat. It's three o'clock. You need to run around the block twice, and then take a shower. We're meeting your principal at five."

"I don't want to!" I whine, the sunlight piercing right through my blankets.

"You have to get your schedule, tour the school and meet all of your teachers. Do you really want to figure all this out on Wednesday?"

"If it means not getting out of bed right now, then yes." My comforter is avulsed and chilly fall air strikes every part of my body, causing me to cry out indignantly.

"Get up, Kat. I finally found your running shoes in the cooking pots." She leaves, closing the door behind her.

I sit up groggily, scanning my afternoon-lit room. Everything's the same, but I feel different for some reason. My eyes fall on my open sketch book lying next to my bed.

I reach out and pick it up, careful not to smudge the charcoal. I find myself looking at someone I honestly didn't expect to see.

I had drawn him sitting on a bench behind a window, looking out at the viewer. He has the same expression as the one last night; it's the only one I've seen on him, so its hard to imagine anything else.

I can't deny something about the stranger interests me. It isn't his shades or the boots he wore. No, it's something else that I can't quite put my finger on.

"Kat! Are you up?!" Nanda yells at me.

"Yeah!" I put down my sketchbook and slowly dress in sweatpants and black t-shirt. I yank a comb through my unruly locks and splash water on my face in the bathroom, ending my morning ceremonials; I'd brush my teeth after my shower later.

I hop down the stairs, pulling on my sweatshirt. Nanda had put my running shoes by the door, so I send a silent thank you to her before strapping them on.

I then open the door and leave the house.

Half an hour and four laps later, I'm walking back into my house, panting and sweating. I can smell rice pilaf and tomato soup cooking, and thank my lucky stars that Nanda is a good cook.

As I'm walking up the stairs, Nanda pokes her head around the kitchen door.

"Ah, you're back. Take a super fast shower; we're running out of time, 'kay?"

"'Kay." I wait until her pink hair disappears before taking the last few steps in one leap. I listen to Nanda and take the fastest shower I've ever taken. Coming back into my room with one towel around my waist and another over my head, I quickly slip into black jeans and a dark gray turtleneck. I leave my hair alone, as it has a habit of doing what I want it to after showers on its own.

I glance at my clock. Four fifteen. I still have forty five minutes. I grab my sketchbook and supplies and head back downstairs to the kitchen.

I slide onto a stool in front of the bar, just as Nanda is setting a bowl of soup and a plate of rice in front of me.

"Eat quickly." She tells me, getting her own bowl.

"We have time." I open my sketchbook, holding my spoon in my mouth.

"Do you have to do that while we're eating, Kat? You'll get charcoal in your soup." I ignore her and start sketching simultaneously with eating. Nanda sighs, dumping her rice into her soup.

"So who's the principal?" I ask, making small talk.

"Mr. Samson. He's a super nice guy, so don't be an ass while we're there." Ouch.