nights; h.s.

11

eleven

brooklyn

As time passed Harry and began to grow apart. Nothing significant really happened. One day he didn't show up to the art room for lunch, then he didn't come the next day, or the next day.

One day I went to grab a soda from the cafeteria vending machine and I saw him sitting with a group of boys. I didn't smile or wave, I just rushed out of there before anyone could see me. About a week later I saw him driving some kids home. Eventually we just stopped talking, a few late night calls turned into two hey texts a week, into barely a smile in the halls, to nothing.

It disappointed me, but what could I expect, Harry was too cool for me- can't believe I let my guard down for that kid. I knew this was gonna happen. How could I be so-

"Brooklyn?" Ms. Michaels called from across the room. I poked my head out from behind the canvas I was painting on. "Huh?" I answered obnoxiously. My mother hated it when I responded like that, she said it's how my father always answered. Ah, remember when I had a mother? I haven't been seeing much of her lately.

"Did you hear me? I asked where Harry's been."

"Oh." I sighed, rolling my chair over the the aisle separating the two sides of desks. "Well, I don't really know. We don't really talk anymore." I responded, taking a cup of chocolate pudding and a plastic spork from my backpack.

"I sure didn't hear that right. The talkative bunch broke up?" Ms. Michaels asked walking over from her desk and sitting on the on the one infront of me.
"I think so." I chuckled unsealing the cup of empty calories and sugar.

"How've you been, sweetheart." She ran her hand over my head and I just shrugged, licking my spork clean of the sugar. "Honestly, not good. I kind of forgot how lonely.. being alone is. I don't really have anyone, all my friends don't talk to me anymore. I never see my mom, and my little brother doesn't wanna talk to me anymore.."

"Have you contemplated moving back in with your father?" Ms. Michaels asked and I chuckled dryly, scraping my spork against the plastic. "I don't think that's an option.." i said quietly, so quietly she didn't even hear me.

"Anyways," i put down the cup of pudding, walking towards my canvas and turning it around. "I finished my piece!" I said excitedly, she smiled. "It's beautiful, baby," her eyes wandered around the canvas as I smiled proudly.

"The place seems really dark and depressing, but the colours you used provide a really nice contrast because they're so happy. It makes you think, I love it." She complimented me and I nodded. "Thank you, it's the playground behind my house in Detroit. My dad he fixed it up, but it killed him every day to see kids playing on that thing." I said, admiring my painting once more before placing it back on the canvas stand. The bell rang scarily right after I did so.

"Alright, well, thanks for the company. I'll be back to get my painting and help you clean up after freshman art," I smiled reaching down to string my backpack through my arms. "Actually.." Ms. Michaels stopped me, "I'll get someone to drop off your painting. But I have an assignment for you. Go to a party tonight, and meet someone and I'll give you an extra credit."

I just laughed hysterically. "Ms. Michaels.. You can't be serious?"