A/N: name pronunciation:
Hayden (Hey- Den)
P r o l o g u e
I draw the people I hate at school. I see them everywhere, just walking down the halls with their fake personalities; their smiles and charms... even though secretly, behind each other's backs, they're cheating and spreading rumors and destroying the other's social status. And then I see them in the bathrooms, crying and puking up the last of what is already nauseating cafeteria food; because word got around that they gained weight or that they didn't have a perfect body.
And there I sit, watching point blank, as this disturbing and chaotic institute houses all these hormonal schizophrenics, still convincing us all it's a high school and not Asylum. Those fabricated and altered personas around me seem to be never ending. Perhaps directors and movie producers should come here for their casting roles. Our drama club sucks ass, but the fake smiling masks and happy giddy girls that walk arm in arm are the masters of the deceiving world.
Of course I see through all of this, not that it's that hard, because I've been here from start to finish. I've grown up with these jocks and nerds, bimbos and bïtches. And they all seem so scared to show who they truly are- which is why I draw them exactly as that. I draw you because I can see you...
The noise that surrounded me just increased louder as people tried talking over each other in order to be heard. A dozen voices mixed into the air and only slight random words distinguished themselves against the rumble.
I heard it all, bits and pieces of it, but enough to know what was circulating the school. Most of it was fake; Shannon didn't get a breast augmentation. Her father might be rich and spoil her, but their relationship was becoming strained. Why wouldn't it? He was disturbed that his daughter was now the replica of his young and lustrous new girlfriend. And even worse, that his own very friends were looking at his daughter like the piece of ass she was.
In reality, her bra was padded with those gelatin balloon enhancers that were sold in the lingerie department. I heard her friends freaking out one day because one ruptured and was leaking thanks to a flying locker, and her boob shrunk down to a B.
A big difference when the other one's a D.
I shifted my weight to my palm and continued darkening the eyes. Max barely made the Football team which surprised me. Though he'd been playing football since he was born... he wasn't the smartest. And yet somehow he managed an act of God and passed his history test, letting every coach and fellow player sigh in relief.
My pencil glided over some shapes, darkening the color and making it stand out greater against the white of the paper. My blonde hair had tumbled off my shoulder and it lied on the edges of my paper, just out of reach as my pencil glided by. I made a mental note that Marcus had cheated on Emily again. For the eighth time.
But that was all the little trivial stuff; the mundane stuff that even I felt reluctant to draw. I wanted more; I patiently waited for word again of the fund raising funds that always seemed to come up short. Of the faculty sneaking around to the copy rooms in their attempt to re-code the cheat sheets; always wanting to have the best grades in their class in hopes a promotion was on the horizon.
But what I truly craved- above all else- was the true self of those around me. Not the cheating, not the fake rumors... not the pathetic babble that could be heard in the air.
No, what I wanted was hidden in their actions, subliminal movements and messages that meant so much more. What I wanted was the thing that was never meant to be known. And where rumors and gossip helped fuel the basis of each drawing... it was that dark secret my own eyes deciphered that would cast a replica below in a jumbled mess of graphite lines.
YOU ARE READING
Just Smile And NodTeen Fiction
"I draw the people I hate at school. I hear the gossip, I hear the lies; but I draw what my own eyes see. And I see the embarrassing, devastating, beautiful secrets my peers are try to hide. And I have quite the collection of humor; a sketchbook ful...