graffiti (completed)

Thirteen.

Hey guys! Long time no see on my part, huh?

Just wanted to tell you that Graffiti will be coming to an end pretty soon! I plan to have 22 chapters at most. Maybe more? Who knows?

Afterwards, I'll be working on some of my other projects (especially Light Up The Night) before rewriting some of these early chapters!

Well, I hope you guys enjoy! Have a sp00ky October, yeah?

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For me, it was all set.

I was leaving in a week, whether I was a coward or not, without any hints or evidence, and nobody could stop me. I told Drew that I changed my mind, and would go with him and the rest of the crew that weekend, which wasn't necessarily a lie. Of course, I would take some of the supplies from the trip with me. Nobody mentioned the argument, or me storming off, or anything of the sort. Everyone figured out that, if it was mentioned, it would cause problems. For the rest of the week, I grabbed my food and ate outside, sitting somewhere and watching the blossoms flutter down from the blooming trees. It would be a nice, quick farewell to the washed up, sad excuse for a town.

That is, until that Friday.

All the kids gravitated towards the side of the school, where a small crowd had already gathered. Murmurs and whispers filled the crowd, along with a few mischievous smiles, all staring at something. Pushing through the best I could, I eventually reached the front of the crowd. When I finally saw it, the corners of my lips couldn't help but curl up a little.

" P R I C K S" was the word, sprayed on in black paint for the world to see. It wasn't graffiti, the kind where the purpose was to show who you were, and make art. It was the kind made to simply damage property, to get attention. It was funny, in the dumbest way possible.

The crowd's form was disturbed as someone pushed through, and as soon as the "excuse me"s were within earshot, you could tell who it was. Headmaster. He pushed himself to the front, obviously curious about all of the whispers and laughs emitting from the small group. When his sharp eyes finally saw what we all did, his face became pale.

"Who," he spoke, voice barely a whisper, like the calm before a storm, "Is responsible for this?"

Like some kind of routine, the entire crowd went silent, even though no one dared to look at each other, or step up for their crime. I knew people would glare towards me, whether it be because of my reputation, or my actual work with some cans and a wall.

"I'll repeat myself," he said, walking up to the wall, and turning to the crowd, pointing, "Who, is responsible for this?"

Once more, he was greeted with nothing but wind, and the chirping of baby birds nearby. I thought of smiling at the silence, at his thought of someone confessing in public, but I knew that would make me look guilty.

"No one has anything to say? Fine then. The culprit, when found, will get five days suspension, and have detention for a week afterward. They will also be kicked out of all clubs and extracurricular activities," he said, the tips of his ears turning red, "Unless, of course, they come up front, here and now."

This time, he didn't let the silence settle. After a few seconds, he cleared his throat and took a deep breath. "I want you all to visit your lockers, go to your first period class, and have a good day." A rough translation; he wanted us to mind our business, or be prepared to get caught.

. . .

"I know I fidn't write it," Caleb said, mouth full. He swallowed before continuing. "It seems like a waste. They're just gonna cover it up, and you're just gonna get suspended."