PART III: Chapter 11

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A/N
I will admit that I rushed through proofreading this one and the next one because my day has been crazy busy but didn't want to be late! If you see any typos or misspellings, please leave an inline comment :) Thanks for all of your support thus far; your comments make my day!

CHAPTER 11 – PLASTIC EYES AND INVISIBLE TEARS

After a long and sleepless night, Friday – somehow, miraculously, slowly – finally came. We still had to get through it, though.

Frank was in class, but didn't look happy at all. I hoped he'd be at lunch so I could ask for his perspective and, most importantly, why he thought what he had done was worth the consequences.

Ray and I talked in Chemistry. "Why are you coloring over your notes?" came my conversation starter, watching him draw a swirly pattern on top of his notes in yellow crayon as if it were a blank page he wanted to fill.

"Trying to get better at art," he muttered lamely.

"Why?"

"Gotta impress all the girls..." He seductively licked the crayon, then bit off the end. I laughed when he realized his mistake and started spitting out the wax.

I raised an eyebrow. "How's that working out for you?"

"I'm joking. I just want a better grade."

"Sure, like you can fail an art class." I rolled my eyes.

He looked up. "Ha-ha, like your grade in your art class is so stellar," he commented sarcastically.

I thought about agreeing with him, but I simply loved art too much to let that slide. "Actually, it is. Ninety percents and more every day."

His crayon literally fell out of his hand. "How...?"

"I'm already an established art tutor. Want me to help you out?" I offered. I'd only had one tutoring session with Frank so far, but it made me sound cooler to say I had experience. "Free of charge for people I like."

He chuckled. "Let's see your drawings."

I shrugged nonchalantly, though inside my heart skipped a beat. Everyone looked at my art differently, and even if Ray was my best friend, I wasn't comfortable with it. Even Frank seeing my drawings had been scary. I frantically thumbed through the pages in my sketchbook without taking it from the shield provided by my bag. I paused on the one of the two of us as superheroes, but then decided against showing him that one. How creepy was that, drawing him without his knowing about it? I paused again on the gothic turtle that I was pretty sure he knew existed. So before my socially acceptable amount of time to take out a sketchbook was terminated, I flipped it to the turtle and showed it to him.

"Whoa... Gerard...!"

I tried not to make a face.

"That's ridiculously good... Wait, is that the zombie turtle?"

I smirked. "It is indeed."

"Nice." He turned his attention back to his dramatically marked notes.

"Ray."

"What."

"Tutoring?"

"Right!" He looked up again – all the way up, at the ceiling – in thought. "I'd like to get my grades up, but... How long would it take? I'd hate to blow you off, but there's only a certain amount of art I can really take."

"Understandable. How about half an hour, once a week?" I could do double time, right?

"Sounds perfect."

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