Chapter Ten - Experimenting

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First proper story - not counting fan fiction - that actually got to chapter ten :) I’m proud. 

The conversation on the walk home stayed friendly, but reserved. Neither of us quite knew what to say to each other, but on the one occasion when Steven tried to bring the topic up, and apologise again, I just told him to forget about it. There wasn’t much more to say. 

We reached my house, empty and cold looking. The rain had grown during the last lesson of the day, from a drizzle into heavy thunks. Welcome to England. 

“Steven,” I began, “where do you actually live?” It had occurred to me that although he’d said “near you”. he’d never actually told me where he lived. 

He looked nervous now, staring at his feet. “Wakefield Road,” he mumbled, “off the High Street.”

I frowned. What? “That’s streets away, nowhere near here.” I was confused, not to say the least.

“Yeah, I know.” he sighed, his gaze not moving. “I wanted to walk home with you, to spend more time with you outside of school.”

Okay. “Oh,” I replied, inadequately. I was even more confused now. 

“Bye, then.” He said, turning and walking off before I could say anything more.

I let myself in after a few seconds of staring aimlessly at his retreating back. He would now have a walk almost twice as long as the one he’d just done, and he did it before school, as well. 

Oh.

Collapsing on the sofa thoughtfully, nursing a glass of apple juice I’d just retrieved from the fridge, my mind began to work a bit better again, after being shocked into stillness. 

Wakefield road, the school, and my house were almost in a straight line, with the school in the middle but slightly closer to Steven’s house. 

I decided that tomorrow, I would tell Steven not to bother calling for me. As nice as it was, it was ridiculous, that he should walk so far, just so he could spend more time with me. If he wanted to be with me, we could meet up after school, or go into town or something. 

I was also flattered, although why he couldn’t have just asked whether I wanted to go to the park with him, I didn’t know. 

I finished off the apple juice, and, switching on my laptop, collected the book I had homework for and placed them in a pile on the table. Whenever I could, I preferred to do my homework alongside other, suitable, distractions, like YouTube or Facebook. 

It was a wonder that I got anything done at all. 

I was contentedly outlining my art homework, which was, quite simply, to draw a person. I’d chosen Storm, of course, and although later, I’d need him to sit still for a bit so I could finish it off, I knew I could do most of it without him.

My art teacher had been particularly ambiguous when she’d set this homework, and I could tell that a lot of people would draw what she like to call a beginner’s human - a motionless, face on person, shoulders and hips level, arms by sides, looking as realistic as a stick figure. Not that drawings move, but if you want to make someone in art look real, then have them doing something - even if it’s only swinging a bag over their shoulder, or walking.

So I pictured Storm sat in an armchair, curled up and reading a book. More challenging, yes, but also a better drawing, hopefully. I would do the background and the chair first, with the actual person as just an outline, until I could get Storm to pose for me. Then I’d fill in the rest. Briefly, I wondered who I would say he was, if anyone asked, but then I smiled. I’d call him my imaginary friend, and make sure he was there to hear it. 

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