arms // {phan}

chapter one - dan

"I wonder," Logan continued a bit louder, wandering towards Ms. Lewis' desk and grabbing the attention of some stray classmates. "What could possibly be so much more interesting-" Logan took a couple more steps closer to her desk. Step, step. "- in this book-" Step, step. "- than class?"

He was right behind her desk now, right there, hands hovering over what would be my most certain death. I could feel Eli's left hand gripping the back of my chair, a solid reminder that if I dared move, I wouldn't get far. As if I could- I was too frozen in shock and horror.

I held my breath, my lungs expanding and heart contracting painfully, as Logan's fingers began to pull back the cover of my sketchbook, revealing my drawing of Melissa Stone. She was a senior here at our school, one that always wore shitty daisy flower crowns her friends had made and shirts that showed just enough cleavage to be considered not slutty.

The drawing itself was fairly harmless- it was the first portrait drawings I'd ever done. She had been sitting across the cafeteria at lunch with her friends, her head thrown back mid-laugh, and I remember thinking she looked so beautiful and content. I was entranced, this overwhelming feeling building up inside me, like I just had to capture that- that emotion, like I just had to draw her.

Now, I wasn't that far off the social radar to know that asking some beautiful girl you didn't know if you could draw her- especially when you were a lanky, awkward, sociopathic teenage boy- was completely fucking weird and considered social suicide. Not like my social status was anything to brag about, and there was that small issue about how I didn't talk... So I drew her in secret. It became quite addicting really, drawing people. I just began to see all the little emotions of life in the faces of everyone, and would feel this engulfing urge to capture it down on paper- as if it were something special that needed safe keeping.

Although, not all my drawings were as innocent. I was a hormonal fifteen year old boy after all. Flip a couple more pages into my "precious" book, and you would find many drawings of some very, very naked classmates. I felt my stomach clench as I realized I may or may not have drawn two very naked versions of the two asshats humiliating me at this very moment.

Damn my fucking artistic licensing!

"Well, well, well," Logan said picking up my book in one meaty hand, the other poised in the air, ready to flick the pages to my predestined demise. "Looks like twinky over here is a frickin' pervert."

I felt a hot flush crawl up the back of my neck, and paint the tops of my cheekbones, my eyes fluttering closed. I knew there was about six more page before they found anything truly conspicuous, the tension in the air almost suffocating my already tight lung passages.

By now the entire class had caught on to what was taking place and was captivated by the intense scene, some with faces of curiosity and shock, others snickering and nudging one another.

I heard Logan flip a couple more pages, my eyes still hidden from the embarrassing turn of events. One, two, three.

"Wow kids! We've got ourselves a bonafide stalker!" Logan announced. Everyone teetered as I opened my eyes, my entire being burning with humiliation, praying with every fiber that the teacher would come back into the room.

"What's a matter?" Eli mocked, as Logan flipped another page. Four. "Cat got your tongue?"

I felt tears pricking at the edges of my vision at the pure unfairness of it all. If only I could speak- say something- anything! But I couldn't, I was trapped. I could only sit there, drowning and floundering in the sea of mortification.

I saw Logan flip another page. Five.

Oh god. I held my breath ready for-

"Oh, would you fuck off Marters!" I heard from the back of the class. All the air came rushing out of me in one breath as I whipped around to the sound of my saviour- only to find none other than Phil Lester sauntering down the aisle.