The One That Got Away // Sprace

1

Jack - Where were you?
Race - Art room.
Jack - Oh, someone doodlin again?
Race - Psh, least I don't doodle as much as you. I've seen ya planna, it's filled wit David, Davey, Dave!
Jack - ...
Davey - But you've had 5 classes before this.
Race - Yeah...
Jack - Hand it over bucko.

Race rolled his eyes ,but smiled at his friends. They showered him in compliments every day. Telling him that one day his work would surely been hanging in a museum. Race could beg to differ. He wanted to pursue in art, but he knew he would never be that good,the best he could get was an animator. And that was perfectly fine with him. He slid his binder across the table to his eager buddy's.

Daveys eyes skimmed the paper. Each drawing was so lifelike, incredible. He recognized some places, like the garden outside the history room. He recognized the smiling face of Races happy dog. He recognized many of the people, each with their own expressions, drawn on the paper. He had seen them all drawn before. Crutchie, Finch, Romeo, Skittery, but the one person that stood out was Spot. It was obviously Spot, couldn't be anyone else. His floppy hair was tucked together with his bright beanie, his eyes looking down at whatever worksheet sat in front of him. It was beautiful, as far as Spot Conlon could go, but Race seemed to ave a talent that he could make anything beautiful.

Jack - Spot Conlon. He's a new one.
Race - Yeah, in my comm arts class.
Jack - Mphm. Looks good, fa once in his life, am I right.
Davey - That you are.

—-

Spot could feel Races eyes burning into his skull. He knew the boy was looking at him. He would glance down at his binder time to time, then back up at him. What was so interesting about him? Everything, Spot knew he was all that, and everyone couldn't take their eyes off of him. But Racetrack Higgins had been the one person who seemed to try his hardest to avoid Spot. Now suddenly today it was like he had completely changed his mind.

The sound of the screeching bell rang through the school. Signalling the start of lunch. Spot knew Morris would be waiting for him at his locker, so he had to get there as soon as possible. Before exiting, Spot took one last look behind his back to see if he could eat a look at whatever was in that binder of his. Nothing, it was closed. Race was looking down, he couldn't see the glare Spot was sending him, he couldn't see the determination and choice Spot had made in that moment.

He was going to find out what was in the binder.

—-

Race was in his usual spot right next to Jack and Davey. Race had been late to lunch, he had been staring out his table ever since he sat down. It came to Spots senses that he was now the one staring. But, that was because he had a goal, he had something he needed to do. Race had no reason, no reason at all. It wasn't that Race looked at him that made Spot feel this way. He was confused, yes, but most of all he was just curious. And the determination and badass attitude that naturally came with him overtook the curiosity, making it almost seem like anger.

Morris - Spot? You okay?
Spot - Huh?
Morris- You've been brain dead all of lunch. Staring. What's up?

He might as well be honest.

Spot - It's Race.
Morris - Racetrack Higgins?
Spot - No, Racecars from NASCAR! Fuck yes.
Morris- What'd he do?
Spot - Kept looking at me in Comm Arts, doodlin in dat binder of his.
Morris - So?
Spot - So, he's da one person who doesn't look at me like I'm some angel from heaven. Now he can't take his eyes offa me? He wrote somethin in dere, and I wanna know what it is.