His Afrodite ✔ | #Diverselit

VIII

 We had 20 minutes before the bell would ring, and classes would officially start. Even as though, the hallways were filled and crowded with students of a variety of heights and voices.

 I had left Elisha and Yuri a while ago. I made my way alone towards art class. It was a little along the end, though it was away from the lockers, so the number of students decreased the more I walked along. But there was always one or the other lingering around somewhere. 

 Anyways, I had quickly made it to art class, my time limit in mind.

 I didn't have art at the moment, I just like to go to art in the morning and finish up some of last week's drawing assignment or to just lounge around. In the art room, it feels like home. 

 The loud smell of paint, the dim lighting above us, half-done canvases hanging around. It was beautiful in the midst of it's mess.

 Soon enough I entered the room. There was more than one person inside. A few other artists such as myself, and of course the teacher. Mrs Orange. She seemed to be talking to one of the students. Though her eyes found me for a second as I entered from the doorway. 
"Hello Jasmine..!" She greeted, though she was quite busy it seemed.

 The student she was previously talking to looked back at me. She wore brown pants, a rue 21 shirt under a grey and black cardigan with a black bonnet on her head. Julia Brodeur. 

 Thick eyebrows, beauty mark over upper lip? That's her. She's been in art class as long as I have. Since sketchers era. 

 We are sort of acquaintances outside of art but in the art room we were likely partners. 

 She's quite proud of her background. Sort of. She refuse to call herself caucasian, even though her dad is white. Everyone on her mother's side, as i've been told a thousand times, is purely french, and her ancestry of french goes way back to the 1600s. 

 Even though I don't care, she says it alot.

 I don't know why she hates the idea of being white so much. I mean, these are her views. I never cared but I guess it's annoying for her when people at school call her that. It's not that big of a deal. But yeah, she's french. 

 She often speaks in french on purpose so everyone can acknowledge the fact that she speaks french.

 She brags about growing up in France as a kid and moving here as a pre-teen. And she calls us racist whenever we ask her about the food, more specifically the bread and crepes, and when we try a french accent.

 Isn't she fun.

 She's usually stoic. She doesn't talk to people outside her group, so she basically ignores everyone else. She has a dimple on her right cheek, though she doesn't usually smile.

 I wouldn't say i'm exactly in her group of people, but she talks to me so who the heck knows.

 I walked further into the room. Other students were walking around trying to reach their destination and finish their task. My only task at the moment was to find my canvas. "Hey Mrs Orange.." I say, walking up to her.

 She seemed to be looking for something in the cupboards and cabinets we had. "What was it Julia?" Mrs Orange asks, even though she's sort of occupied at the moment.

 Julia stood next to me. 

 "I was just asking about our solar project this week and was wondering if there was any objective?" She raised her thick eyebrows slightly. I stood there next to her. Sort of awkwardly. That must've been what it looked like from someone else's eyes.