The New American Dream

Part One: Before | Chapter Three

"What am I supposed to paint or draw? I have no idea what," I protested, really not feeling up to making any art.

"I don't know, it literally doesn't matter though. Draw the Homesick Soldiers boys if it helps you. You have such a beautiful imagination, do something with it. Don't just stare at walls and let your mind decay."

"Maybe I will," I assured him, just so he would drop the topic, "how was school?"

"Boring as always. The others miss you if that makes you feel any better. Especially Cassie, she's the only girl now." I practically heard his smirk.

It made me laugh after all. "Yeah I can imagine. Y'all are dumbasses."

Weirdly enough it did make me feel better. My friends were the only thing worth living for these days, so hearing that they missed me made me at least feel loved, something that I didn't feel in this house.

"Mr Simmons said he feels kind of bad," Nate went on.

"Good, he deserves it," I said bitterly, the good feeling of being loved from three seconds ago instantly gone.

Nate sighed again. "Don't be so hard on him, he did what he had to do."

"And it resulted in me being in this awful state. I'll thank him personally on Monday."

"Don't get yourself into more trouble Allie, it's not worth it."

I didn't react.

"There's something else. I'm not sure if you want to hear it." He sounded a bit nervous now. "Actually I'm rather sure you'll be angry."

"Tell me," I demanded. He couldn't just not tell me now.

Nate was quiet for another moment but then spoke after all. "There will be a speech in a few weeks on guns. But not like you would like it. It's pro-gun and part of some political agenda."

"They're sending people into schools now to advertise guns?" I asked in disbelief.

"Like I said, it has to do with some political rally or something."

"This is unbelievable."

"I know. I just don't think it's worth getting into even more trouble for," he said as if he knew my mind was already plotting.

"Nate, let me judge that for myself, okay? You don't have to be part of anything if you don't want to get into trouble."

"Allie," Nate sighed, "you know I won't just let you get into trouble alone, right?"

I heard the grin on his face and sighed. "I guess not. But I'll need more information on it anyway, I'll have to wait until I'm back in school."

The idea of someone giving a speech on how good guns were, possibly encouraging young people to buy a gun as soon as possible disgusted me and kept spooking around my head. I was enraged, to put it simple. Enraged enough that at about four in the morning, when I hadn't even slept yet but only stared into the dark for hours, I crawled out of my bed and stumbled thorough the darkness to my painting supplies. I turned on my standing lamp and found everything that I needed, some A3 sheets of paper, some brushes and acrylic paint. I didn't even bother to sit down at my desk or use my easel, I just sat down on the floor and started painting.

After a good forty-five minutes I looked at my finished work. I had painted a red gas mask with black blood puring from it's eyes, a bulled wound gaping on it's right temple, black blood puring from that, as well. There was a machine gun underneath it. Lastly I painted the words 'THE NEW AMERICAN DREAM?' underneath it and was satisfied with my work.

Impatiently I laid the paper aside to dry and took the next one, a new idea had sprung into my head. This time the painting showed a grave. The headstone read 'HERE LIES THE FUTURE OF OUR GENERATION' and it was surrounded by several forget-me-not's. There was also a welcome mat reading 'HOME SWEET HOME' in front of it. Here I also painted 'THE NEW AMERICAN DREAM?' underneath and placed it on the floor next to the other one, taking up the next one immediately.

This one was a bit more... visual. It showed a person, painted only in black as though they were a shadow, hanging from the ceiling, his neck snapped in half and in a noose. Red blood trickled out of where his mouth would be, a chair was lying next to him. On a chair in the foreground sat a man with a gun in his hand that was aimed at the hanging person. Once more I painted 'THE NEW AMERICAN DREAM?'.

After all I was satisfied with my work. My hands and forearms were covered in paint here and there, a few specks were also on my legs and even on my shirt but I didn't mind. I looked at the paintings and a great satisfaction filled me as I thought to myself that they would look great as posters.

I got an idea.