Acrylic

Graphite 2B

-graphite 2B-

Tessa tapped her feet twice each on the asphalt. A slight buzz carried throughout the park, and she tilted her head, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from. Looking at the person sitting with a small picnic, Tessa resumed sketching the long hair and the hook nose. The subject was frozen in a state of perpetual picking-up-a-sandwich mode.

Each stroke was a hard line against the paper. She found it relaxing and each line eased the tension between her fingers.

She wasn't fond of erasing.

However, every day she would be sat in the park for a good two to three hours. There wasn't a set time, but her mother encouraged her to go whenever it wasn't rainy outside. The rules, though, were that Tessa had to call in every hour.

It had just passed the hour mark and the abandoned mobile was tossed into the bottom of Tessa's art bag after a brief conversation. After all, the person she was drawing wouldn't stay there forever. The person in question arrived every day for lunch; she always ate the same thing.

Tessa wondered if she was on a budget cut.

The sound of feet walking on the blacktop made her look up. A new person, dressed in a light red jacket and a blue scarf , was approaching her bench. Most oddly though, he was carrying an umbrella. And not just a plain umbrella. Patterned ducks in rain puddles decorated the exterior.

Tessa looked up at the sky. There was not a rain cloud in sight, and clouds were scarce. She looked back at the boy. He was coming closer.

Why, then, did he carry an umbrella?

Before she could form a logical answer, the boy slid onto her bench, and with a quick glance at her, he closed the umbrella and set it aside. The ducks scrunched inwards.

She studied him out of the corner of her eye. He slouched backwards so his jacket hit the wood bench, and a slight smile graced his lips. A second later, he turns to her, and Tessa was caught inspecting him.

His smile never left his lips, and he jokingly said, "Are you staring?"

Tessa didn't know what to say. So she stared at her feet, tapped them again on the asphalt.

The boy spoke again, but she dared not to look up. "It's all right." He sounded sincere, which was a rare thing to Tessa. Considering so many people didn't understand her, she felt relief at the prospect that he didn't know. "I like to people watch too."

She started drawing again. Rough lines gathered at the edge of the paper and Tessa watched as her subject started to pack up her lunch. The moments passed by. She had been too involved in the other person and she hadn't finished her drawing.

The pencil tip snapped. Tension flowed between her fingers and she felt antsy.

A voice cut through the air. "Hey, are you okay?" Tessa glanced upwards to see the boy's concerned face hovering a foot away from her face. His lips had stopped smiling, and Tessa itched to pull the corners back up. She shoved her hands under her thighs.

"Fine." The tone was flat, and she didn't nod along with her answer. The smile slowly inched its way upwards until Tessa was looking at a full blown smile.

The boy stuck out a hand, the fingers long and made for piano. "My name is Orion. I think I've seen you at school." Tessa stared at the hand for a minute. She didn't understand.

Four seconds passed. The silence became awkward, even though the sounds of people living surrounded them. Orion slowly withdraw his hand, and she glimpsed his smile withering a little.

Orion cleared his throat and looked wistfully out towards the green hills. He slung one arm over the back of the bench. "Sorry," he apologised. "Sometimes I don't know if I'm too talkative. Maybe my hand was too sweaty. Miranda, that's my sister, always complains about that." He swiped his hands over his jeans a few times and leaned forward.

Tessa just stared at his profile. She guessed that he might have been a football player.

"Yes." The one word answer was enough to bring Orion's gaze back to Tessa. One corner lifted. She supposed that was the best she could probably get him to smile. Of course, if he didn't know, then maybe he would treat her normal. Not like other people.

He turned sideways and tucked his arms in, so his palms were facing her. "What, my hands? Do these look sweaty to you? I'm no Neanderthal."

"No?" Still, the tone was flat, and Tessa struggled to find the right intonation. She looked at the sketch book on her lap, concentrating on the abrupt stop her broken pencil had made. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't say them.

Orion didn't seem to mind. He went on talking to himself, no problem. Tessa really looked at him. She noticed his teeth and slightly crooked canines. She noticed the way he hunched himself inwards, as if it was protection from the world.

Yet it was the way he tried to hide the haunted look in his eyes that made her want to sketch him.

Why did people want to hide who they were? Perhaps out of fear. After all, when people knew, they treated Tessa differently. Because they didn't know how to interact with her.

She still didn't understand. And she didn't understand why Orion looked sad. Her fingers itched for a pencil. Any pencil, any shade.

But all she had was a pen.

The sounds around them became louder and louder, until Tessa couldn't stand it any longer. Her fingers tapped a rhythm on the bench. Orion kept talking.

Finally, Tessa decided to leave. It was impromptu, only an hour and a half from leaving her house. It threw off her routine. She hastily threw everything in her art bag and stood up, conscious that Orion was now looking at her.

She couldn't find the words. So, she walked away, figuring that if she didn't come to the park the next day, he wouldn't care. After all, nobody really did.

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A/N: so this is written for steptember, which is a great initiative for writing diversity. Thanks for reading.